Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2)

by Catherine Bruns

  Rachel's figure was still excellent. She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a white tank top. She was well endowed, and it was painfully obvious she hadn't bothered to don a bra either. Jacques' face turned crimson, and he tried to look elsewhere.

  "How come you weren't at the reunion the other night?" I asked.

  She lit another cigarette with a match from her jeans pocket and stared at me for a moment, then burst into peals of laughter. "Is that why you're here?"

  "Sort of," I said.

  "Why would old Benny boy want me at his house? He always looked down on me like I was some type of vermin."

  "Was that because you ran after his brother?" Jacques asked.

  She opened her mouth in surprise. "What is this? Are you reporters for the Alumni Annual or something?"

  I ignored her sarcasm. "Why don't you think Ben liked you?"

  "Oh, please. I may have been a cheerleader, but I didn't exactly run with the rest of the rich and beautiful crowd. My parents didn't have two nickels to rub together. I had to work a part-time job on weekends just so I could afford the uniforms. But you—you wouldn't understand about that."

  "Excuse me." I spoke calmly. "I do happen to understand. It was just me and my mother. We didn't have any money either. You're not the only one who worked a job while in school. And my money didn't go toward uniforms. It went to help my mother pay the rent for our apartment."

  "Yeah, but I'm sure Paulie took good care of you." Her eyes glittered as they came to rest on my face.

  I counted to five before answering. "Paul and I were friends. That's all."

  She snorted. "Sure you were. You really expect me to believe you two weren't fooling around?"

  Anger formed in a ball at the pit of my stomach and crept upwards until I tasted bile in the back of my throat. I was so tired of trying to defend my friendship with Paul to other people. "I really don't care what you believe. Now, let's hear what you know about his death."

  Rachel's face was shell shocked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? He killed himself."

  I placed my hands on my hips and thrust my chest forward. "No, he didn't."

  She watched me with interest. "After all these years? How do you know? What proof do you even have?"

  Jacques shot me a look of warning, but I shook my head at him. "The proof is none of your business. I happen to know his death was not a result of suicide." I took a deep breath and continued. "And I think you had something to do with it."

  Her nostrils flared as she rose to her feet and walked toward me, placing her face right next to mine. Her breath reeked of beer and tobacco, but I didn't back down.

  "How dare you," she said, the spittle from her mouth hitting my cheek.

  I raised a hand to wipe my face, but my gaze didn't waver. "You used to stalk him all the time. Maybe you figured if you couldn't have him, no one else should."

  She took a step back and sucked on her cigarette again, watching the billows of smoke move through the air. "I was crazy about Paul, yeah, but I never would have hurt him."

  "You were already hurting him. You didn't let the poor guy breathe. Every step he took, you were there, watching him."

  "A few years earlier and she could have been an inspiration for The Police's song," Jacques mumbled.

  Rachel shot him a dirty look and stubbed out her second cigarette. She started to reach for another and then decided against it. Her eyes locked onto mine. "Paul Steadman never gave me the time of day. And I wasn't the only one chasing after him, believe me."

  Here we go again. "I didn't chase after him. We were friends. Best friends, in fact."

  Rachel gave an exaggerated snort. "I wasn't referring to you, sweetie. There were plenty of girls hot for Paulie. Especially my fellow cheerleaders. He didn't play football, but he was pretty easy on the eyes, smart, and he was rich, which didn't exactly hurt his case."

  I clenched my fists at my sides. I hated hearing her describe Paul in such a callous manner.

  Jacques shifted his weight and leaned against the wall. "So you weren't carrying on with him? Never even had a one-night stand?"

  "Hell, I wish. He was always polite to me, but it was obvious he wasn't interested. I hoped he would change his mind after a while." She lifted her bottle of Budweiser from the floor and took a long sip. "But he did have other conquests."

  "Who?" I asked. "Who was he fooling around with?"

  Rachel folded her arms over her chest. "What's it worth to you?"

  Jacques clamped his lips together in a fine, thin line. "Don't waste your time on this one, Cynthia. She's lying. It's obvious she's only looking for a payout. Come on. Let's go."

  I was torn. "If you really cared about him, then you'd tell me. Don't you want to see him get justice?"

  She snorted. "Who cares about justice for him? He's already dead. What about justice for me?"

  I couldn't stand it anymore. "What exactly is your problem? You seem to feel like the world is responsible for the condition your life is in."

  Her eyes blazed with hatred. "Don't you dare talk about my life. You know nothing about me. Go back to your husband, kiddies, and your nice ranch in the suburbs, and leave me alone. Got it?"

  "Fine." I nodded to Jacques. "Let's go."

  As we turned toward the door, she gave a low, cackling laugh. "You're just another one like Michelle Steadman."

  That stopped me cold. "What have you got against Michelle? You were good friends in high school."

  Rachel shrugged. "Michelle was a user. Still is, I bet. She started out like me. Born with a plastic spoon in her mouth but wanted silver. Hey, at least she got what she wanted. That's where any similarities ended for us. She has everything she could ever want out of life. Rich, good-looking husband and a beautiful daughter. Me, I've got nothing. Zilch. A worthless user of a man who knocked me around and stole my money to support his habit. My kids are grown now and won't even talk to me."

  My anger started to turn to pity, but she prattled on before I could add anything to the conversation.

  "I mean…how many of us can say we slept with both of the Steadman brothers?"

  My hand was on the doorknob as her words registered with me. It was insane, ludicrous. My legs started to shake while I whirled around to face her. "Are you saying that Paul slept with Michelle?"

  She giggled. "Kind of changes the way you feel about him, huh?"

  I spotted Jacques watching me out of the corner of my eye, his face full of concern. "I will never believe that. I think you're just saying that because you're jealous of Michelle."

  Rachel gave me a pointed look. "Believe what you want. I saw them leaving the hospital together the day before he died. I'd come by to invite him to a party. The girl at the desk lied and told me he wasn't there. But then I spotted them talking in the parking lot. They looked pretty chummy too. You figure the rest out."

  I exchanged glances with Jacques. A sickening feeling similar to dread descended over me. Was it really possible? No. I couldn't imagine Paul would hurt his brother like that. But why else would they have been together? Doctor Sanchez had said he spotted him with a blonde woman the day before, and they'd been arguing. I'd assumed it was Rachel. Had I been wrong?

  "Did you have an argument with Paul the day before he died?"

  She ignored my question and stretched her arms out over the back of the couch, watching me with curiosity. "Yep, Michelle knew how to get around. And before Ben and Paul, she kept herself busy screwing the quarterback."

  "Carl Williams?"

  She nodded and reached for her beer bottle again. "Yeah. Mr. Blond and Beautiful himself. Gotta hand it to her. Michelle always went for the top of the food chain. Paulie might have had a thing for you, but it didn't stop him from bedding her."

  Jacques glared at her and placed a hand on my arm. "You can't trust anything that comes out of her mouth, dear. Come on, let's blow this joint."

  Rachel placed the beer bottle down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Do wha
t you want. It still doesn't make you any better than me though."

  He cast an irritated glance in her direction. "No one ever said that. Truth be known, I feel sorry for you."

  "Sorry for me?" Rachel shrieked at him. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me. I don't want or need your pity. Now get the hell out."

  Her scathing eyes focused on me again. "And as for you, bitch. You think you're so high and mighty? Yeah, right. If Paul had lived, you would have married him for his money in a heartbeat. I know your type. Love's not important. Cold, hard cash is all that counts in this world."

  I sucked in some air and took a step toward her, so enraged that my vision blurred for a moment. Fortunately, Jacques grabbed my arm just in time, because I wasn't sure what would have happened if I'd reached her.

  "She's not worth it," he said. "Let's go, Cin."

  "Yeah, Cin," Rachel mocked me. "Here's your hat. What's your hurry? Now get out of here." She gave me the finger.

  Jacques pursed his lips. "My, such a lady."

  She leaned back against the couch and belched. "I know. I try not to put on airs, but it's hard sometimes."

  My phone buzzed in my purse, but I chose to ignore it. I couldn't figure this woman out. She obviously hated her life and wanted everyone to be as miserable as she was. Could I trust anything that came out of her mouth? Doubtful.

  I was really pushing the envelope but no longer cared. "You can say what you want, but you never loved Paul. And I happen to know that you were arrested for stalking someone else recently."

  Rachel's face was pinched with anger. "My ex's new girlfriend. She's the reason he left me. Not that I give a damn about him anymore. He turned my kids against me."

  Here goes nothing. "How do we know you didn't kill Paul in a jealous rage?"

  She dismissed us with a wave of her hand. "Like I said, believe what you want. I really don't care. Just get the hell out of my house. Now."

  With trembling hands, I opened the door. Jacques was behind me, his hand on the small of my back in a protective gesture.

  "Oh and Cindy?"

  I turned around. Rachel was now standing beside the couch, beer bottle in hand. For a moment, I wondered if she planned to throw it at us. Her piercing blue eyes of steel focused on my face as her lips twisted into a manic smile.

  "You really should be careful before you go around accusing people of murder. Maybe next time it won't just be the windshield of your car that gets broken."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "Well, there's your answer," Jacques said. "Rachel knows something about Paul's death. I'd bet the Steadman mansion on it."

  At Jacques' suggestion, we had stopped at Starbucks once again. He'd been grousing how badly he needed a latte after spilling his earlier in the parking lot. Not that I was complaining. I was always up for my favorite coffee chain, any time of day or night.

  We were sitting in one of the booths with the welcoming smell of coffee beans and cinnamon wafting through the air. Jacques started to say something else, but I shook my head at him as I finished listening to the voicemail message on my phone.

  "Who was that?"

  I took a long sip of my caramel macchiato. Heaven in a cup, and by some miracle, it had also helped to settle my stomach. "Mildred Reynolds. She wants me to stop over tomorrow morning. Will you go with me?"

  "Sure. What else do I have to do? I mean, it's not like I have a business to run or anything."

  "There goes that sarcastic mouth of yours again." I grinned.

  He smiled and then grew serious. "Why couldn't she just tell you over the phone? It's almost an hour away, even at the speed I drive. I hate to say it, Cin, but this is just another attempt to get you back over there. She's lonely and wants the company."

  I knew he was right, but still, I pitied the woman. "Maybe she remembered the name on the paper. I can't afford not to check it out. And it seems like no one even cares about the poor thing. Come on, how long could it take…a couple of hours maybe? Say, why don't we bring her a macchiato and a croissant too? I bet that would make her day."

  Jacques sighed. "Oh, fine. Just keep your phone nearby tomorrow because Tricia will be calling to let you know what time the inspections are scheduled for on Friday."

  "I wish they could be tomorrow instead. Greg's working from home but not on Friday. I hate to ask Darcy for anything these days. She's so angry with me over the whole Michelle thing."

  Jacques snorted. "Teenagers. Something I look forward to. Not. Okay, we'll go see Mildred first thing and get that over with. How about I pick you up at nine?"

  "Sounds good."

  "What's your theory so far? I'm convinced that nutcase Rachel has something to do with his death."

  I spooned some whipped cream into my mouth. "I don't know. She's obviously a loose cannon, and it sounds like her life has been miserable from the get-go. I suppose it's possible Rachel could have killed Paul in a fit of passion. If she didn't do it, maybe she was an accessory."

  Jacques raised his eyebrows at me. "To whom? So maybe two people were involved? And why was Paul asking the nurse questions about sterility?"

  "That is really weird. But Paul was like a sponge, always absorbing knowledge. Maybe he was asking for someone else."

  Jacques smiled. "Maybe he was planning on proposing to you and wanted to make sure he could have kids, because of the mumps and all."

  I rolled my eyes. "He was eighteen years old and thinking about medical school. Kids were the last thing on his mind."

  "But you, on the other hand, were very much on his mind, my dear."

  How could I have been so blind? As I thought back now, there were signs I'd ignored. Paul wanting to slow dance at the prom and holding me extremely close. Or the time we'd gone to the beach and I'd asked him what he thought of the new bikini I'd bought. He'd looked at me with such a stupid grin I was positive he'd been making fun of me.

  Jacques waved a hand in front of my face. "Are you still with me?"

  "Sorry," I whispered. "I was just wondering how I'd never known."

  Jacques took a sip from his latte. "Maybe you did know. Maybe you chose to block it out because you couldn't handle the truth."

  I twisted a strand of hair between my fingers. "Despite how much I love Greg and adore you, I still miss having Paul in my life."

  "I can understand that." He squeezed my hand. "So what do you think of Rachel's insinuation about Michelle and Paul?"

  I glanced down at the table. "I may need to mention that to Michelle. With some tact, of course."

  "No," Jacques said. "Not until the sale goes through."

  I was astonished. "We're talking about a man's life here."

  "Come on. Do you really think Paul was sleeping with Michelle? After everything you've told me about him, I'm not buying it."

  Of course I didn't want to believe it either. Then I remembered Melanie's words from the other day. "Think back to when you were that age. Say that someone offered you sex with no strings attached. Would you take it? Even if you were in love with someone else?"

  Jacques frowned. "My situation was a little different. At that age I was busy telling my straitlaced parents I was gay. And it didn't go over well, I assure you."

  I detected bitterness in his voice. Jacques rarely talked about his childhood or his parents, who were both now deceased, but I knew they'd never come to terms with his lifestyle.

  "I'm so sorry. But try to put yourself in Paul's shoes for a minute."

  He sighed. "I knew several men that wouldn't have passed it up, especially from a woman as beautiful as Michelle. But from what you say, Paul didn't sound like the run of the mill guy."

  I bit into my lower lip. "That's what makes this so difficult for me to understand. I can't see him sleeping with a woman who was involved with his brother. Paul had morals."

  "Then back to my original assumption. Rachel's lying. Maybe she was the one Doctor Sanchez heard with Paul. You can't believe anything that comes out of that woman's mouth. She's trying t
o make trouble, Cin."

  "Why would anyone want him dead? He was such a good guy." My voice shook slightly.

  Jacques stood and crossed over to my side of the booth, extended his hand to help me out, and then kissed me on the cheek. "Come on. It's past seven-thirty. You should go home and spend some time with your man. We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

  With a sigh, I walked over and threw my cup in the trash and then made my way to the door, which Jacques was holding open for me. He placed a comforting arm around my shoulders. "Go home and get some rest. As Scarlett would say, 'Tomorrow is another day.'"

  We were silent on our way back to my house, and when he pulled up in the driveway, I reached over to hug him. "You sure you don't want to come in?"

  "Nah. Ed's on his way home. He's bringing me some takeout from the restaurant, and then we're going to unwind and watch a movie. I'm in the mood for something light. Maybe a chick flick."

  "I thought Ed hated those."

  Jacques grinned. "He's not getting a say this time. Did he sell a house for over a million today? Hmm, don't think so. I'll pick you up at nine sharp, love."

  I opened the car door. "I'll be ready. Night."

  I waved and watched him zoom off before I entered the house. Shrieks of laughter were coming from downstairs where Greg and the twins were watching an episode of SpongeBob. I wondered what my mother-in-law would say if she could see her son laughing at a starfish.

  "Hi, Mom." Stevie and Seth were consuming popcorn at a furious rate from the couch. Rusty was sitting nearby, waiting patiently for them to drop more kernels on the floor.

  Greg reached up from the recliner he was sitting in to wrap an arm around my waist and pulled me down into the chair with him. "There's my gorgeous girl. I was starting to worry."

  Stevie made a face. "Yuck. No kissing, Dad."