by Jane Hinchey
“Kristina. Wake up.” Ben was shaking my shoulder, rousing me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want to return to the pain, so I dug in deeper, refusing to be roused. “Come on, sweetheart.”
Hmmm. I liked the cajoling. That got my attention and I drifted up, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
“Babe, open those beautiful eyes for me,” Ben said.
Oh, that got me. Struggling to the surface, I blinked. Ben had kept the lights off in my bedroom but the door open, allowing the light from the hallway to spill in.
“There you are.” He smiled at me, his face close to mine. I was tucked under the covers, and he was stretched out on top of them, his head propped up on one hand.
“Hey,” I croaked, mouth dry.
“Need a drink?” He was already turning away to his side of the bed, but returned a second later with a glass in his hand. He held it to my lips, and I took a grateful sip before flopping back against the pillow. My eyes drifted closed. As much as I tried to keep them open, I couldn’t.
He chuckled. “Losing you again, eh?” I felt him brush the hair back from my forehead, and then I was out.
“Come on gorgeous, wake up for me.”
Why was he waking me up when I’d only just fallen asleep? Holy mother of God, I just wanted some peace. I rolled away, but a hand on my shoulder rolled me flat on my back. “I know you don’t want to wake up. That’s the whole point, Kristina. The sooner you wake up and talk to me, the sooner you can rest again. I know it sucks, but you have a concussion.”
Right. I’d hit my head. The pain was receding at last, but I was still incredibly sleepy. I dragged my eyes open and frowned at him.
“I’m awake,” I grumbled.
He grinned at me, a dimple showing in one cheek. How had I never noticed his dimple before? I closed my eyes. Damn, but he was cute.
“Hey, gorgeous girl, open those sexy eyes and give me a smile,” the warm, deep voice purred in my ear.
I responded immediately, curling toward him as my eyes fluttered open. Ben stroked my cheek.
“I finally figured it out,” he told me.
“Oh?”
“You respond really well to compliments.”
“Doesn’t every woman?” I smiled, closed my eyes, and went back to sleep.
Then: “You have the most perfect skin.” Fingers stroked across my cheek, and I purred. “It’s so soft I can’t stop myself from touching you. I wonder if it’s this soft everywhere?”
My eyes sprang open. Ben was laying by my side, fingers brushing my face. He looked tired. I glanced over his shoulder and saw that dawn was peeking through the curtains.
“Have you been doing this all night?” I asked, frowning.
He stifled a yawn. “I set the alarm on my phone.”
“I’m sorry.” I felt bad for keeping him from his own sleep.
“Don’t be. I volunteered. It’s good to have you lucid at last. Velma is relieved, too.” He indicated with his head and I glanced down to find my cat snuggled between the two of us.
“You look beat.”
“No offense, gorgeous, but so do you. You might have been sleeping, but it wasn’t restful.” I blushed at being called gorgeous and he chuckled. “I worked out last night that you really like being called gorgeous, beautiful, and sexy.”
“What?” I squeaked.
“And you respond really well to dirty talk.”
“I do not!”
“Oh, darlin’, you so do.” He smirked in a knowing way, dropped a kiss on my nose, and closed his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’re through the worst of it. Now get some rest. God knows we both need it. You’ve kept me up all night, in more ways than one.”
I puzzled over his words until his double entendre penetrated my foggy brain and I blushed. Closing my eyes, I decided I’d worry about it later.
7
It had been two days since my break-in. With my concussion gone, I’d finally been able to process the fact that some ass-wipe had broken into my home. It had to be connected with Ted McNeil’s murder, surely—although the only people I’d talked to about that were Katherine Quinn and Rebecca Keller. Had they set someone on me? Because whoever had been in my house had definitely been male, dressed in black, with a balaclava covering his face.
Ben confirmed this when they lifted size ten boot prints from my kitchen floor—and the bold-as-monkey-balls clue that had been left behind. Jodi O’Flannigans business card for Flans and Things. It was a poor attempt to cast blame on the woman. The card had been left on the corner of the kitchen counter, neatly placed on top of all the mess. The card itself was clean, no flour or egg smeared over it. No way it just accidentally fell out of someone’s pocket and landed there. It had been dusted for prints and came up clean. Way too fishy for my liking.
My question now was, whose cage had I rattled to elicit this response?
“I can see the wheels turning from here.”
Ben’s voice startled me, and I jumped. He’d pretty much moved in over the last two days, initially to look after me while I was out of action, but now that had shifted into some sort of protective detail. While I liked to think I could look after myself just fine, the thought that a murderer might be after me was enough to send an icy shiver down my spine. I was very grateful for the protection Ben offered. I wasn’t stupid. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes and being near him made my body tingle. Didn’t hurt at all.
We hadn’t spoken of that first night, of how he’d talked dirty to elicit a response from me. When we’d both finally woken up later that morning, I’d been curled in his arms, safe, and it had felt perfect. And then we’d gone about our daily lives as if nothing had happened. I didn’t know what to think.
It was also extremely handy that Ben was a witch. He’d swept away all the destruction with a cleaning spell, repaired all the broken crockery, and set the dishes neatly back on their shelves. Even the ceiling was clean. It was as if it had never happened.
“Well,” I turned to find him leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching as I prepared coffee, “I was thinking about our suspects.”
“Our suspects?” He raised a brow.
I ignored him. “Before the break-in, I’d only had the chance to talk with Katherine Quinn and Rebecca Keller.”
He blew out a breath. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He moved across the room and sat at the kitchen table.
“Nope. You might as well get used to it. Now, Rebecca Keller confirmed she’d been having an affair with Ted McNeil, but he’d broken it off the week before, with no warning.”
“I know about the affair,” Ben confirmed.
“Did you know that Ted had called a meeting with his CFO—Paul someone-or-other, I can’t recall his name right now—because the books had been audited and something got flagged?”
“I knew the auditors had been at Ted’s office at his request, but I don’t know the results of the audit.”
“What if…” I carried two cups of coffee over to the table, sliding one in front of Ben as I took the seat opposite him. “What if this CFO chap had been embezzling from Ted’s company and the audit picked it up? What if he panicked and killed Ted so the truth wouldn’t come out?”
“A good theory, but killing Ted wouldn’t have achieved that. The audit results would still be the same. Anyone would be able to look at them and work it out—that is, if this Paul guy was embezzling. And killing Ted would put the company under more scrutiny, not less.”
“Hmmm.” He had a point. And if Paul had been embezzling, wouldn’t Ted have fired him on the spot instead of arranging a meeting a week later?
“We need to find out what the audit revealed,” I said.
“Already on it. Should hear something back today.” Pulling out his cell, Ben called his office. “Really? That much? Paul Keyes. Got it. Yes, please.”
I only got Ben’s side of the conversation, but it sounded promising. He smiled at th
e eagerness on my face.
“Yes, okay, you were right. Five hundred thousand dollars is missing from the company accounts. It was taken in smaller amounts from different accounts over a period of time. The Chief Financial Officer, Paul Keyes, hasn’t been at work since Ted’s murder. He’s been calling in sick. I’ve got his home address.” He leveled a stare at me. “Want to come?”
“Yes!” I jumped up, delighted he was including me.
Shaking his head in resignation, he muttered to himself, “I must be crazy.”
Paul’s townhouse was lavishly decorated, dripping with money and sophistication—unlike the disheveled man who was pacing nervously in front of us. Ben had directed me to sit on the sofa and stay quiet. He sat down beside me, and we both watched Paul for a moment, breathing through our mouths to avoid the stench of a man who had clearly not washed in several days.
Ben cleared his throat. “You know why we’re here?”
Paul nodded. “Ted’s death.”
“His murder,” I corrected.
Ben cast me a glance. Shut up.
“That, along with the recent audit Ted conducted,” Ben said. “Seems there are some anomalies. Care to explain them?”
“What anomalies? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paul was lying through his teeth. He was sweating like a pig. I could see the drops running down his face, and his aura was a very unattractive baby poop green.
“Bullshit,” I muttered.
Ben nudged me with his knee. Right. Be quiet. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my thoughts to myself. If I stuffed this up, Ben wouldn’t bring me along again, and I really liked having him by my side, fighting to clear my name. Oh, okay, he was primarily here to solve a murder, but I liked to daydream that he was doing it for me.
“Why did Ted have an audit conducted?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“When was the last time the company had been audited?”
Paul shrugged. “A few years back. We do our own internal audits on a yearly basis.”
“Yet for some reason, Ted thought it necessary to engage the services of an audit firm. Was he thinking of selling the business?”
“What? No! Well, I don’t think so, anyway. He would have said something to me if that were the case.”
“Yet he didn’t see fit to tell you about the audit,” Ben pointed out. “And you’re the Chief Financial Officer. Why do you think that is?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Have you seen the results of the audit?”
“No. I had a meeting arranged with Ted to go over them, but then he was killed.”
Ben was silent for a moment. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to help myself, that I’d feel the urge to fill the silence, he squeezed my knee hard. He wanted the silence. Admittedly, it was a good tactic. It felt ominous. Paul wrung his hands, stalking back and forth before sinking into an armchair, then just as quickly jumping to his feet and pacing again.
“I know what was in the audit report, Paul,” Ben said.
“You do?” Paul’s eyes widened. He stopped and stared down at Ben, who was still seated next to me on the couch, giving the illusion of being totally relaxed.
“Quite a sum of money has gone missing, Paul. Know anything about that?”
“No,” Paul squeaked, turning pale.
“I’m having a hard time believing you,” Ben said.
Another silence, then Paul folded. “I did it. I stole the money. But I was putting it back! I swear.”
“Why were you stealing from your employer, Paul? To pay for this?” Ben gestured around him at the luxury apartment.
“It was a sure thing.” Paul hung his head. “I met this guy, and he had all these money-making ideas. I mean, they were brilliant. There was no way they should have failed. Yet they did. I initially borrowed money from the company to bankroll the first invention, and the funds from that would have spearheaded the rest. Then I would have returned what I’d borrowed.”
“You met this guy where?”
“At a bar.”
“And he just handed over his ideas to you?”
“Well, yeah. They seemed so brilliant.” Paul went on to explain crazy invention after crazy invention. I frowned. There was no way any of those ideas would have gotten off the ground. Why couldn’t Paul see that?
“So to get your initial buy in, you stole from your boss,” Ben said.
“Yes.” Paul sniffed, wiping a hand across his eyes.
“Why didn’t you sell this place? Borrow the money?”
“I needed a fast turnaround. Plus, this place is already double mortgaged.”
“But that first invention—it failed,” Ben pointed out. “Not only did it not make money, but it lost money. So you needed to regroup quickly. You borrowed more from the company account to invest in the next invention, and then the next, and the next. Am I close?”
“Yes. Exactly. And if Ted had found out about the money I borrowed, he would have fired me. I need the job. Need the salary.” Paul ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“I went over the statement you gave the police after Ted’s death.” Ben changed the subject, much to my surprise. I glanced at him, but his stony face gave nothing away.
“Oh?” Paul slumped into the armchair once more, only this time he didn’t get back up. He looked exhausted.
“Your jacket cuff had blue icing on it. Yet you said you didn’t get a chance to go over to the dessert buffet. I was wondering how you came to have icing on your clothing.”
“I—I don’t know,” Paul muttered.
Ben’s jaw clenched. “You keep telling me you don’t know, but I’m thinking you do. What were you doing at the dessert buffet, Paul? Poisoning the cupcake? Did you think killing Ted would get you off the hook?”
“No! Never! Ted was my friend. I would never hurt him.”
“Yet you stole from him.”
“From the company. Not from him personally. The company can afford to take the hit, and I was going to pay it all back anyway.” Paul exhaled shakily. “No. I did not kill Ted.”
“Then how did you get icing on your jacket, Paul?”
Paul closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose, his face screwed up in concentration. Then his eyes popped open. “I remember. Rebecca gave it to me. I hadn’t been eating much. I grazed a little, but to be honest, I could barely keep anything down. Rebecca came up with a cupcake in her hand and gave it to me. She said I could do with some fattening up.”
“Did you eat the cupcake?”
Paul shook his head. “I couldn’t. Honestly, I thought I might puke.”
“What?” I was outraged. No one ever barfed after eating one of my cupcakes. Ben squeezed my knee again. At this rate, I was going to have bruises, but it did the trick. I shut up.
“What did you do with the cupcake, Paul?” Ben demanded. “Throw it out?”
“I just held it for a while. Then Ted came over and we were talking.”
“What were you talking about?”
“Just useless stuff. Shooting the breeze. How the Reds are doing this season, that sort of thing.”
“What happened next?”
“Ted asked me—” Paul was back to wringing his hands again, and his face was deathly pale. “He asked me if I was going to eat the cupcake. And I said no. And I gave it to him. I gave him the cupcake.”
Holy shitballs. Had Paul been the intended victim all along? And what about Rebecca? I’d thought she was innocent, but she’d hand-delivered the cupcake to Paul. The cupcake decorated with the blue icing butterfly. The poisoned one. I was practically vibrating in my seat, my teeth biting into my lip to stop myself from interrogating the man myself. Shit on a stick, I hadn’t expected this.
“So Rebecca gave you the cupcake, and you held on to it for a while, but didn’t eat it,” Ben said. “You didn’t take a lick or a bite?”
Paul shook his head.
“And then Ted took it from you and ate it?
”
Paul nodded. “He took a bite from it as he was walking away. He was saying how the desserts from this chick’s coffee shop were always amazing. And then he walked over to the dessert buffet. I guess to see what else was there? I don’t know. Oh, shit.” Paul wiped tears from his cheeks, his head bowed.
“Thanks for your time, Paul. If you think of anything else, please call me.” Ben stood up and proffered a business card. I stood up, wiping my palms on my thighs. “Oh, and don’t leave town. I can’t say what’s going to happen with the embezzlement side of things, but running won’t help your case.”
Paul nodded, still in his chair, looking shell-shocked. We let ourselves out.
“Oh my friggin’ God!” I said once the elevator doors had closed and we were heading down. “Rebecca poisoned the cupcake to kill Paul! I did not see that coming.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Ben, ever the voice of reason.
“I’m following the evidence, Watcher.”
“Yes, I can see that. But you’re just assuming Rebecca poisoned the cupcake. What if someone else gave it to her? What if she was the actual target—only she spied Paul looking all washed out and forlorn and decided to give him the cupcake instead?”
I folded my arms. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“No idea. I’m speculating. But we definitely need to speak with her again. Same with this guy Paul met at the bar. I’m pretty sure he must be a Belphegor. Those ideas he was spouting were utter nonsense, but Belphegors are good at seducing people into thinking they are wonderful ideas that will make them rich.”
“So not only do we have Abatwas in Redmeadows now but Belphegors as well?”
“Belphegors have always been around,” Ben said. “They’re attracted by people’s laziness. A big city like Redmeadows is just ripe for the picking.”
8
Roger and Rebecca Keller’s house was a mansion. A friggin’ mansion. A woman in a maid’s uniform answered the door and ushered us into a parlor just off the massive foyer, which was dominated by a grand staircase and a chandelier that sparkled in the light.