I laughed. “Number one, Cash is about six years younger than I am. Number two, I just met him at his dad’s party.”
Something fluttered in his eyes. “So you were just there?”
“I went with a friend of mine. She lives next door.”
“Ah.”
I realized that this moment was the sort of thing Parker would want me to pursue. Trying to sound casual, I said, “I know they’re saying someone walked in there to Mr. Cantwell and handed him a poisoned drink. It’s so hard to imagine! Do you remember seeing anything?”
He paused in the adjustment of his camera. “I don’t think so—I’ve been trying to go over it in my head. Do you think the police will ask me that?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t asked me anything yet.”
“It’s funny—I never really liked their dad. I mean, I wasn’t around when they were growing up, but in all the time I’ve known Cash, I always thought the dad was kind of a jerk.”
I remembered my instinctive discomfort around Cantwell when I stood in his living room; but Ellie had assured me that he was a delightful man, misunderstood by many. “What made you think he was a jerk?”
He shrugged. “Let’s get you right in the window here; yeah, that’s good. Just leave your arms by your sides, but look at the camera. Pretend there’s a little tiny mouse peeking out of the lens. Yeah, good. Amused is good; now pretend it’s not a mouse but a lizard. Okay, that one didn’t work.”
We both laughed; Stella made a sort of snorting sound, and Mick licked her cheek. I said, “It’s got to be a challenge, getting people in touch with their own faces.”
Wade was fussing with his camera again. “Yeah. It’s fun, though. You actually have very mobile features. It makes for interesting photographs. And your eyes have a lot of depth, especially in this light.”
“Wow.” Then, trying to sound casual: “Anyway, you were saying, about Mr. Cantwell?”
He grinned. “I wasn’t saying, but okay, if you want some gossip. I would be over there sometimes, and I’d hear him laying into the two older brothers for one thing or another. Don’t get me wrong; those two are idiots, and they probably deserved it. They’re like Laurel and Hardy dressed in expensive suits. And that Scott thinks he’s the only person who’s ever had a law degree. It’s kind of pathetic.”
His lip twisted as he snapped some more pictures. “But maybe they got it from him—from Marcus. He never had a kind word to say, as far as I could tell.”
“Did you ever speak to him?”
“Look out the window now. Pretend you’re pining away for someone. Like a woman waiting for her lost sailor.”
This one wasn’t hard; I recalled too well how it felt to miss Parker.
“That’s good! Yeah, I spoke to him now and again. I talked to him on the day he died, too, but only for a minute or so. I said happy birthday and stuff and then got back to work. He did thank me for taking pictures—I’ll give him that. But of course he was paying me handsomely. Or maybe the kids were. I’m not sure who was footing the bill. But I did get paid.”
I thought about this while Wade Glenning poked at my shoulders. “Don’t hunch up; that ruins the effect,” he said.
“Do you think Marcus was hard on Cash?”
“Hell yeah. Cash didn’t even want to go into finance, which is what his dad had him majoring in. It’s funny, because he clearly liked Cash the best—well, everyone does—and yet it was like he kept trying to turn Cash into Scott or Owen. He couldn’t just let Cash be Cash, which is a strength, not a weakness. He couldn’t let people be what they were, and even Amber—” He looked almost angry when he said this, and he snapped his mouth shut.
“This Amber sounds intriguing. Was she at the party?”
I had lost him again; it was almost physical, the way he receded inside himself. “She was there for a while, yeah. Okay, a couple more and we’ll be done. I want you to look away, and then quickly look back at me. Let your hair fly around a little. Don’t worry—it will look good.”
I did it, feeling stupid. “Good! Yeah, that’s good. You’ll be surprised. You look mysterious, and definitely sexy, if you’ll forgive me for saying it.”
“I don’t mind anyone calling me sexy,” I said. “The question is whether or not I believe them.”
He laughed again. “Okay, we’re all done. Let me and Stell stow some stuff in my car, and then I’ll give you a sneak preview on my camera.”
“Great—thanks!”
As soon as he went out to the driveway I grabbed my phone and pressed speed dial number one: Jay Parker. He answered tersely. “Jay! It’s Lilah. I only have a second. You need to ask Cash Cantwell about someone named Amber.”
“Amber? Amber who?”
“I have no idea; he just said Amber.”
“He who? You need to be more specific, Lilah.”
“Wade. Oh, shoot. I can’t talk now.”
I heard Parker saying something in the background, but I was focused on looking innocently at Wade Glenning as he came back into the kitchen. “Okay, you ready to see some great shots?”
“Sure,” I said. Into the phone I said, “Thanks so much for calling, but I have to get going. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Lilah, what’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing. So will you be stopping by tonight? I can make dinner.”
“That sounds good,” Parker said, his voice wary.
“Okay. Talk to you later. I love you.” I clicked off the phone.
Wade was already seated at the stool on which I had posed, scrolling through photos. “Take a look at these,” he said. Stella had apparently not returned.
Curious, I leaned down and looked at his display screen. The woman in the photos seemed to be me, but a much better version of me. “Oh wow,” I said. Then, as he kept scrolling: “Oh wow! It’s going to be really hard to decide.”
“Like I said, you’ll get a whole CD full of photos, so you can select quite a few of them. Then I’ll touch them up, although it doesn’t look like they’ll need much work. I can have it to you in about a week.”
“That will be great,” I said. “Thanks so much, Wade. I know you must have a busy schedule.”
He shrugged and flicked off his camera, then started zipping it into a case. “On weekends, yeah. Weekdays are easier, especially with Stell around. So it just worked out.”
I went into the next room and wrote him a check, then returned and handed it to him. He thanked me, pulled out his wallet, and tucked the check inside. Something suddenly dawned on me. “Hey—you were taking photos at the party. Don’t you think the police will want to study them, just to see if they can spot any clues?”
He frowned. “They were at my house the next day. They said I could give them my camera or they would subpoena it, so I figured I’d just hand it over. They said they’ll have it back to me soon. Meanwhile I’m working with a spare. Good thing I have that, or my business would be in jeopardy, right?”
“Yeah. Still, what if they find the murderer from your photos? That would be pretty great. You might be famous.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I doubt that. But sure, glad to help. And that one cop is pretty hot—the tall, dark-haired one?”
“That’s Lola’s aunt—did you know?”
He stood still. “No, I didn’t. So she—is related to Lola? Wow. That’s a weird coincidence.”
“I guess.”
He put his wallet in his back pocket and slung his camera bag over his shoulder. “Nice working with you, Lilah. I’ll be in touch next week. Your boyfriend is a lucky man. And it’s sweet that you guys say I love you over the phone. My family was never big on the I love you’s, but it’s nice when someone’s not afraid to say it out loud.”
“Uh—yeah.” I walked him to the front door, waved as he walked to his car, and shut the door, th
en locked it. Then I went to my couch and collapsed on it, saying, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” Mick walked up to me, concerned enough to leave his basket, and I shook my head. “I blew it, Mick.”
I staggered into the kitchen and dialed speed dial number three: Jenny Braidwell. “Hello,” said Jenny’s sweet voice.
“Jenn. I have an emergency.”
“Lilah? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I was talking with Parker on the phone. But I was distracted, because I had someone else over, and I was trying to send Parker kind of a secret message, and then this other person walked in—”
“Slow down, Lilah. It’s okay.”
“No, no! Because I had to go, and I said I’d see him later, and then I said I love you just before I hung up the phone. Just automatically, the way I say it to Cam or my parents.”
“So?”
“So we aren’t at the I love you stage, and Parker is the most restrained person on earth, and he certainly won’t want to be rushed into love, and I might have blown it. What if he gets all distant now, like he used to be? He’s been so sweet and friendly lately, and now I’ve probably scared him half to death, and he hasn’t called back—oh God, he hasn’t called back! Isn’t that a terrible sign?”
“Lilah.” Jenny’s voice was decidedly calm and tinged with sarcasm. “Stop for a second and listen to reason.”
“Okay.”
“First. He is at work. Even if he wanted to talk about this, do you think he can do it in a busy police station in the middle of the day?”
“No, maybe not. I don’t know.”
“Second. Do you love him?”
“What? I don’t know! Yes.”
“I’m going to assume your third response was the truth,” she said lightly. “So if that’s the case, you have every right to say it.”
“Jenny, you don’t know Jay Parker.”
“No, but you do—so well that you fell in love with him. You can’t stop that train, and neither can he. Just go with it now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“‘Que Sera, Sera.’ Remember that Doris Day song your mom used to sing with us, back when we were in college and she made us watch old movies?”
“Yes. Oh God. Am I overreacting like a weird teenager?”
“Yes. But it’s cute. I haven’t seen you this moonstruck since the early Angelo days.”
“Oh no—Angelo! I have to be on the show tomorrow, and I don’t have my food prepared. I have to run.”
“Everything will be fine. Hey, can you two come for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. He might have to join me there, but he said yes. Assuming I haven’t scared him off.”
“Lilah, don’t be silly. Go do your job, and later on you can talk to Jay like a mature, sexy woman.”
“God, now that you’re engaged you sound like a television psychologist.”
She giggled. “See you tomorrow. I’ll text you with the details.”
We said good-bye and hung up; Mick was still watching me with doggy concern. “She’s right, Mick. What’s done is done.” Mick nodded.
I ran back into my kitchen and started assembling ingredients. Not only did I have to make an Irish one-pot stew on Angelo’s show, but I had to deliver a Reuben sandwich casserole to one of my private clients, and I hadn’t started either one. It had been a long day already. . . .
Two hours later I was almost finished and washing my hands at the sink; such had been my state of flow as I worked that I realized for the first time that I still wore my sexy silk blouse and short black skirt. This made me laugh aloud, and Mick lifted his head in his basket, ready to share the joke. I called him to the door so that he could go out for his evening yard walk.
“I don’t normally try to be alluring just to work with food, Mick,” I told him. He didn’t seem to find it as absurd as I did. He went outside and sniffed around; two minutes later he came back in.
Still smiling, I went into the living room and headed for my little spiral staircase, bound for my bed and some relaxing TV watching. The dinner hour had come and gone; I had no idea when (or if) to expect Parker, and I was suddenly weary. As I pulled off my shoes, I thought about what Wade Glenning had said about Marcus Cantwell. Every single person who had known Cantwell painted him as a different sort of person. Jay had known him as a good, fatherly influence. Most of his children suggested a sort of Jekyll and Hyde type of father, alternately neglectful and indulgent, while Wade Glenning depicted him as critical and mean, a cold father. I sighed and glanced out the front window in time to see police lights on Dickens Street. To my shock, they turned into my driveway and came all the way back in the growing dusk. The lights went off and the car materialized into Jay’s. He leaped out and ran to my door.
Fear paralyzed me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to open the door right away when Jay pounded on it. What was this? Why was he speeding to my house? What terrible news could he have?
I finally got the door open, and Parker lunged in. He grabbed my arms, about to say something, but then his eyes darted down to my daring outfit. “I— Lilah, what are you wearing?”
“Oh—I—this—ha-ha. It’s kind of funny—”
“Was that a man’s voice I heard on the phone?”
“Um—yes. That was Wade,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean, That was Wade? Who’s Wade?”
“Parker, I—it’s a secret. I don’t want to talk about it.” For the life of me I couldn’t figure out a good excuse, especially under his intense scrutiny, and I felt a bit angry that he was trying to ruin my surprise. I scowled up at him, and his face, normally shuttered and uncommunicative, flashed several emotions at once: surprise, jealousy . . . and fear. It was the last one that made me relent.
“Lilah—?”
“Okay, fine. You’ve ruined it.” I punched his arm.
“Ow,” he said automatically, his face still shocked.
“Wade is a photographer. I was trying to take some sexy pictures. For you. They were supposed to be a surprise. I thought maybe if I gave you the pictures, you—”
“I what?”
I looked past him, out the window at his car, and said, “No, you answer some questions now. Why did you come racing up my driveway with your police lights on? What the hell is going on? Did someone get murdered again?”
He shook his head. “No. I was in a hurry, so I cheated. I’ve never done that before.”
“What do you mean, you cheated?”
“I used my lights to get through traffic more quickly.”
“Why?”
He slid his arms around my waist. “You keep scowling at me.”
“Parker, I swear to God, I am about to punch you again if you don’t—”
He put his face an inch from mine. “You told me you loved me on the phone, didn’t you?”
I felt the telltale blush on my skin. “Accidentally.”
“Because you didn’t mean it?”
I stuck out my chin. “No, I meant it.”
“I couldn’t call back because it got so hectic, so for the last few hours I was worrying, wondering what you would think that I didn’t call. But I wanted to come in person.”
“Okay—?”
“To say that I love you, too.”
We stared at each other.
“Jay,” I managed. He yanked me against him and kissed me hard, and my hands floated up into his hair while his slid up and down my back, and then those same hands were stroking the silk of my shirt and sliding beneath it to find my extremely hot skin. “Ah,” I said, with my eyes closed; then Parker had turned away, but one of his hands grabbed tightly onto mine, and he pulled me after him as he marched the ten feet to the spiral staircase that led up to my loft bedroom.
We didn’t say a word. We got to the top,
where my bed sat covered with colorful pillows and a lavender duvet. Parker smiled at it for a moment, and then he pulled me against him once more to press his mouth on mine. “Lilah,” he whispered. His lips grew softer, more tender, and he paused for breath, his forehead touching mine. “I see you whenever I close my eyes.”
With a burst of intensity I shoved him backward onto my bed; he was laughing when I dove on top of him, but moments later neither of us was laughing and he was flinging pillows onto the floor, muttering, “What is the point of all of these?”
“They add something special,” I said defensively. “They brighten my world.”
He smiled and touched my hair. “That describes you exactly,” he said, and his hands slid under the chocolate silk and eased it off my shoulders.
CHAPTER NINE
At six o’clock the next morning we shared a makeshift breakfast of toast and jam, smiling contentedly at each other. “I have room in my closet,” I said between bites. “If you ever want to leave some stuff here.”
“Me, too,” he said. “And I can get a dog bed and some food or whatever. So you wouldn’t have to leave early to tend to this guy.” He pointed at Mick, who had already eaten and retired to his basket.
I smiled at my dog. “He came wandering up late last night; I think he was surprised to see you there.”
“He needs to get used to it,” Parker said, studying me with his azure eyes.
“Yeah, he does. Do you feel like . . . resting some more?”
He grinned. “That’s tempting, especially because your robe is falling open and I can see some things I’d love to explore in more detail”—I gasped and hastily adjusted my clothing—“but I have to get to work. And you have a TV show to tape, glamorous girlfriend. How about tonight?”
“Tonight we’re having dinner with Jenny and Ross. And then after that we can come here. Or your place. Whatever.”
“Okay.” He stood up and put his plate in the sink. “I’ll wash that later,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ve got to run. I have to stop at home and change my clothes, and if I don’t get to work before Maria I will face an elaborate grilling and some intense mockery.”
Pudding Up With Murder Page 11