by Debra Jupe
The past fourteen plus years she’d done everything in her power to keep him out of her mind. She’d thrown her efforts into school, college, and work. The few men she dated, including the guy she was once engaged to, were exactly opposite of the tall, dark headed, young man who dominated her adolescent dreams.
It only took one encounter and fantasies of Jack began to weave into her daydreams. Reflections of him overshadowed the past and her job loss. Even in the wake of Hazel’s murder, or the detective’s interview didn’t deter her yearnings.
She promised herself she wouldn’t do this. Go crazy. She should deal with the memories, dispel old feelings, and hopefully continue with her life without looking back. Thinking in reverse made her pathetic. And her showing weakness just ticked her off.
Except for the first time ever he’d paid attention to her. Her fingertips trailed over the wisp of hair he’d stroked. Okay, the interest wasn’t exactly as she’d fantasized. His eyes, greener since he’d matured, showed more concern than the wanting she’d once longed for.
Stop daydreaming and move forward. She hurried into the kitchen area and located a bottle of wine. She popped the cork and filled a goblet with the amber liquid, and then she picked up the glass and headed into the bathroom. It’d been a long, curious day. She needed to unwind.
Drink on the counter, she went to the tub, twisting the faucet knobs. Once she’d regulated the water’s temperature, she lifted the handle in the middle to hold the contents inside. Hands on her hips, and stared at the rushing stream. “Salts.” She swirled to a nearby cabinet and added vanilla scented crystals. “Can’t have a relaxing bath without ’em.”
Satisfied, she pinned her hair on top of her head, undressed, retrieved her wine, and sank into the filled tub. The warm soak was heaven. Soothing heat penetrated her skin, loosening the tension throughout her body. Lids closed, she relaxed against the porcine. Her thoughts drifted into nothingness and remained in the state for what seemed like hours. An echo of Jack’s warning softly whispered… innocent people are sent to prison every day.
Katie shot out of the water. Chills bristled over her drenched body, only not from the cold. She didn’t want to believe he was right, but she may be a viable person of interest in the death of her former employer.
How had she gone from a sought after wedding consultant to an unemployed, possible murder suspect, within the span of twenty-four hours. The premise seemed bizarre, yet as sure as she was of anything, she knew the police would want to speak with her again, and the next visit wouldn’t be polite.
She dried, slipped on exercise shorts, a long sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of socks. Wineglass in hand, she returned to the kitchen, and removed a pot from the refrigerator. She placed it on the stove to let the contents simmer and went take it easy on her sofa.
Rest was far away. Hazel’s murder smacked her conscious. Katie loved her job, even with the discord within the company. The women did bring her into the business, and, the association with Weddings Fantastic provided her with many contacts. Though she had little love for her former boss, she must concede the woman wasn’t all bad. She wiped away a stray tear. Hazel was a part of Katie’s life for countless years, and she couldn’t believe her mentor was gone.
A light tap came from the front entrance. She froze. Jack? Or had the police come for her?
“Katie?” said a muffled voice from outside.
Katie released a thankful sigh and set her glass aside. She rushed to the doorway and extended an arm to unlatch the lock. She stopped.
The door was unlocked.
Hadn’t she bolted it when she arrived home? She shook her head. Normally she made a habit of keeping everything secured, especially because she lived alone. Maybe this new chaos in her life caused her to be forgetful.
She threw open the door.
Jules, her closet friend since grade school, stepped inside. “Why didn’t you call me?” she scolded, wiggling out of her coat. “I was worried after everything that’s happened.”
Katie ignored her questions and returned to her stir her food, simmering on the stove. “Soup’s ready.”
Jules followed her. “Your mother’s, right?”
“I don’t do homemade.”
“I’m aware you severely lack, in comparison to your mom’s kitchen’s skills.” She laughed. “Hard to believe you’re related.”
“I cook,” Katie defended. “I prefer a healthier diet.”
Jules wrinkled her nose. “Healthy is one thing, but this constant regime of boiled bean sprouts and kale is hardly appetizing.”
“I’ve already had a rough day. Therefore, I’m ignoring these blatant abuses of my culinary talents and tastes in cuisine.”
Jules walked to the bubbling soup and inhaled a satisfied hum. “Gosh, I wish I could convince Lila to work for me.”
Katie indicated toward the pot. “I’m assuming you want a bowl?”
“Of course. And some of whatever you’re drinking too.” She nodded to an oversized bag she’d laid next to her jacket. “If we run out, there’s another bottle from the restaurant in my purse.”
“That one is yours. After today, I need a whole one to myself. Maybe more.”
“I can go back and get extra after we close.”
“Not necessary. I keep a couple of extras for special occasions.” She looked at her friend with a wry grin. “Although this isn’t anything close to a festive event.”
Katie handed Jules a wineglass and returned to the stove to dip a second bowl of soup. They carried their filled dishes, goblets, and decanter into the living room to sit.
Jules spooned the broth and glanced at Katie. “I suppose this non-festive event is referring to Hazel’s death?”
Katie held up her goblet and studied the clear liquid inside. “It’s hitting me now,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I’ve only heard bits and pieces.” Jules picked up the decanter to fill her glass. “You must be in shock. The woman wasn’t your favorite person, and I doubt you’ll shed a lot of tears over her passing, still you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t experience some sadness.”
“Hazel wasn’t nice, though she did give me an opportunity to learn the business. I’ll always be grateful for the chance.” Katie returned her flute to the table beside her and swirled her soup with her spoon. “No matter how awful she behaved, she didn’t deserve to be murdered.”
“Is it for sure a murder?”
Katie nodded. “I’ve been inadvertently privy to some information that happened at the scene.”
Jules leaned forward. “Like?”
“Like Vanessa showed up at Hazel’s after they discovered her body, and she aimed the detective’s in my direction.”
“Figures.” Jules tone was full of disgust. “Someone offs her boss and she’s already causing trouble. They should be looking at her.”
“I know, right?”
Her friend shook her head. “The woman has no scruples at all, does she?”
“None. There’s a never ending list of people who might want Hazel dead, and yet she’s made sure I’m the top suspect.”
Jules gaze snapped to Katie. “You think so?”
“Hazel fired me yesterday. Supposedly that’s a strong enough motive to make me the police suspicious of me.”
“I guess, though you shouldn’t worry too much. They’ll eliminate you the moment they talk to you.”
Katie hoped her friend was right. Vanessa was a liar and a conniving one. Could she be skilled enough to keep Katie in trouble for an extended period? The authorities closely watched her as they interrogated her. She had to wonder what information her adversary gave them about her that they weren’t ready to reveal.
“The detectives already called me in to speak with them. I had to go right away.”
“You’re joking,” Jules’s intonation escalated. “What kind of questions did they ask you?”
“The last time I saw Hazel. My whereabouts. Can anyone vouch for me at during those
times?” Katie faltered. “Why she fired me.”
“So they grilled you pretty hard?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never even had a speeding ticket, much less questioned in a murder investigation.” She peeked at her friend. “I gave them your name as an alibi. They’ll be contacting you.”
“No problem. So we’re on the same page, you left my place about two, right?”
“I hope they determine the time of death yesterday evening instead of this morning. That would get me off the hook.”
“Told you to spend the night.”
“If only I had a crystal ball.” Katie took a long drink then held up her glass. “I’m going to need a lot of this before tonight’s over.”
Jules drained her goblet and reached for the bottle. “You were so upset last evening. We didn’t talk much about why Hazel fired you. I don’t understand the ol’ bats reasoning. Weren’t you her top consultant?”
“Yep. She released me because I refused to play by Vanessa’s rules, which became Hazel’s rules.”
“The whole taking kickbacks from vender thing.”
“Right. I suppose she made more money unethically opposed to what I brought in. Besides, my commissions were high. If Hazel thought she could cut a corner and put extra coins into her piggy bank, she didn’t hesitate.”
“Basically you were a sliced corner.”
“Seems so. Maybe she did me a favor.”
Jules looked at her surprised. “How?”
“You’re aware, I’ve considered going on my own. This gives me that extra push. Getting fired might be a good thing.” Katie gave a cynical smile. “Or would’ve been if someone hadn’t killed Hazel the same day.”
“What will happen to Weddings Fantastic now Hazel’s gone?”
“No idea. I bet Vanessa is parading around the office like she’s taking over.” Katie laughed. “I predict a huge mutiny if she tries.”
“Or a lynching.”
“Yeah, and I’m going to miss it, darn it.”
Jules chuckled. “Glad you’re taking the high road.”
“I can’t think about it, right now. I have to focus on my predicament.”
“Understood. Not to change the subject, but there’s a rumor your old crush is back in town. With his tail between his legs.”
Katie’s insides turned to ice. She’d hoped Jules hadn’t discovered Jack’s return yet. “You’re talking about Jack Pharrell?”
Jules shot her an exasperated glare. “Who else occupied your every thought growing up? Of course, I mean Jack Pharrell.”
Katie tensed from the mere mention of his name. Her mind’s eye seized the sight of those knee-weakening, green eyes. Memories of exchanged smiles, accidental brushes, and his fingers stroking her hair—thoughts of Jack—brought on an upsurge of hormonal electricity that bolted through her.
“Um, yeah. We’ve already run into each other.”
Jules’s brows lifted. Katie so didn’t want to explain, except she couldn’t lie to her friend. Realistically, today’s encounter with Jack made no difference. Sure, he’d been nice, but a few ticks of politeness wouldn’t take away years of unreciprocated, youthful heartache. She may as well spill.
“He was here, at the loft,” Katie said uneasily.
“Jack Pharrell? Here?” Jules almost demanded. “How is that possible?”
“He’s staying at Aaron’s guest cottage.” Katie exhaled. “I went by earlier to speak with Aaron. He wasn’t home, but Jack was. He informed me about Hazel’s death.”
Jules stared at Katie.
“Jack discovered Hazel’s body.”
“Oh, well that makes sense.” Jules paused, her expression vexed. “Not. How did Jack discover Hazel? And how did he know of your connection with her, and why was he at your house?”
“Still pretty upset when I got to Aaron’s, I kind of blurted out the entire story about Hazel, Vanessa, and losing my job. Reduced to tears is more like it.
Jack had been jogging and found Hazel dead. He’d met Vanessa at the scene and told me she’d indicated me as a suspect. I was nervous when the police called. He drove me to the station. Then, he volunteered to review my contracts with Hazel, we stopped by here to pick up them. That’s all.”
“I doubt it.” Jules sat her soup bowl to the side. “You’ve had a thing for him since you were eight. A crush that continued until Jack went away for college. I think you still hoped for something once he left, even after the horrible things he said to you.” Her friend eyed her. “How is he now?”
Katie removed the clip from the top of her head, letting her hair tumble to her shoulders. “He was...Jack. We’re friends, sort of, maybe.”
Jules leaned closer. “You’re sure?”
“He didn’t notice me any more today than he did when we were kids. I must accept that. You’re correct too. He was clear on how he viewed me back then. I doubt if his opinion has changed much.” She hesitated. “I think he wanted to apologize, though.”
“He should. He hurt your feelings.” She studied Katie. “He didn’t get to, right?”
She ducked her head to conceal her warming face. “No. I stopped him. The past is better left behind.”
“Not sure why you’d let him off the hook, but it’s on you if he doesn’t express regret.” She stopped. “I assume you plan on seeing him again?”
Katie nodded. “He’s reviewing my Weddings Fantastic contracts to verify if I can move forward with my business without legal complications.”
“You just can’t let this go, can you? You had a perfectly nice fiancé, and you blew him off. Yeah, you claimed there were issues, but I know you. I’ve always believed Jack was the reason you called off the wedding. You never dealt with his snub.”
“Jack isn’t the cause of Carter and my parting ways. Jack didn’t live here when were together, heck, he hasn’t been around for ages. I’m long past his brushoff. My ex and I wanted different things.” Katie huffed. “What provoked this attack from you? I thought you had my back.”
“Always. I’d hate for him emotionally pound you again.” Jules looked dismayed. “It’s been a long time. You’ve both grown up. I’ve seen photographs of him in the news, Katie. The guy may be a first class ass, but he’s yummier than ever. I don’t want your ancient dreams to set you up for another fail.”
“He is good looking, but the attraction has disappeared.” Katie assured her friend. “I need to meet with him once more and then we’re done. As far as the past, I can only hold on to anger for so long before it becomes childish and spiteful.”
“True. But you have unresolved feelings, and until you get the matter settled, there will always be an internal conflict.”
No use arguing, Jules could read her like a book, yet she refused to concede on the subject. “May I remind you, the man’s got his own problems to deal with?”
“You may, and you are correct. The guy clearly needs to get his act together.” Jules made a face and wiggled. “What am I sitting on?” She lifted her bottom, and dipped a hand between the cushion. She held up a paring knife and frowned. “You keep a chef’s knife in your sofa? Now I’m really going to rag on you about your kitchen skills.”
“I don’t know how—oh.” Katie sat her empty dish aside, and stared. The sharp, silver blade gleamed in the dim light. Tremors vibrated though her, her body instantly went ice cold.
“The edge has a corroded crust over the blade.” Jules examined the knife. “What in the world were you cutting?”
“I didn’t use it to cut anything.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not mine.”
“I don’t understand.”
Katie swallowed and gaped at the new discovery. “The knife doesn’t belong to me. I don’t know where it came from.”
Chapter 6
Jack overlooked the pounding in his head to rise off his pillow, simultaneously lifting his lids. Yellow eyes retuned his stare. His body winced, spurring a gray streak to leap from his chest. Sharpness p
enetrated and sliced into his bare skin.
Jack straightened and hissed through his teeth. “Son of a bitch.” A hand flew to cover the fresh slashes. He glared at the huge cat vanishing around the corner. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He moved his palm away to examine two bleeding scratches, releasing another sputter of air. For the moment he forgot about the feline and rolled out of bed. A whirlwind coiled within his head. “Oh shit, gravity works.” He gripped the bedpost, and clutched his forehead with a bloodied palm until his world stopped whirling. He recovered his wound and hurried into the small bathroom.
With an elbow, he rotated the cold faucet handle while he plowed through the cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for. He tossed a washcloth under the rushing stream until it was soaked. He picked up the cloth, and dabbed at the streaks trailing down his middle, then held the cool wetness against the crimson gashes. His stomach rolled. He’d hoped years would pass before he had to deal with the sight of blood again, but the plasma demons obviously had different ideas.
The flow finally stopped. He flipped the stained rag onto the edge of the sink and washed his hands and forehead. Back in his room, he dug out his last clean pair of boxers, and swept up the sweats he’d dropped on the floor the night before. He snatched a T-shirt draped over a chair, sniffed the material before he pulled it on, gasping in agony. He could almost ignore the sting across his chest, but his brain was about to explode, and discounting that pain was out of the question.
Someday he would need to cut back on his alcohol intake. A glance at the opened closet full of expensive suits had him seizing a half-filled beer container from the nightstand, and finishing the warmed beverage in one swallow. But not today.
He moved into the kitchen, to a cabinet, and removed a bottle. Pain gripped his head like a boa constrictor squeezing the gray matter from his skull. He popped the lid and shook out four aspirin, dry gulped the pills.
A blast of cool air surged through the room. Jack rotated and took a step toward the front of the house and stopped short. The latch on the door didn’t catch unless closed tight. The early November wind must’ve blown it open.