by Patti Larsen
I had to agree. “Still, you’re going to check their alibi?”
Crew nodded against my cheek, nose skimming my skin, making me shiver. “Of course. I’m more interested in Malcolm’s accusations, that Gavin owes him money. But again, Malcolm would have no reason to encourage murder.”
“Unless his Chicago bosses wanted it done for some reason,” I said.
Crew grunted softly then. “I’ll check with Liz and see if there’s any connections.”
“Since Gavin bet on Tyler instead of Jack, though,” I said, “and lost, maybe he does have enough motive.” Money again, right?
“How about Tori and Hudson?” Crew inhaled, lips against my ear. He wasn’t doing much to assist my focus.
“What motivation?” I thought about it a second. “Could Tori have been setting Jack up somehow? I think it’s more likely she was using him for his money. And if he was winning, why kill him?” I turned a bit so I could rest my own nose in the hollow right above Crew’s collarbone. “And Hudson claimed to be a big fan. So why did he bet against him and for Tyler?”
Crew shrugged. “More questions to ask,” he said. “As for Tori, she doesn’t have an alibi.”
Huh. I looked up. “She doesn’t?” I’d seen her myself the night of Jack’s death, here at Petunia’s. She’d been with Leo and he’d been comforting her. No, wait. That was the next morning, wasn’t it? Before I even headed to the club. So it was still possible she’d been there that night and done the deed before putting on her little show the next morning.
I mentioned the perfume, remembering only then to bring it up (whoops) and he frowned.
“Robert interviewed her,” he said. “I think I should ask her questions myself, just in case.” He stroked his thumb over my jawline, palm pressing to my cheek. “As for Hudson, he was at The Orange.”
“And Leo?” I leaned into Crew’s touch, rather enjoying our little meeting of the minds more than typical. If this was how Sheriff Turner planned to conduct his investigations from now on, he’d never get my nose out of his business. Snort.
Crew nodded. “They were best friends, but so what? He’d know about the allegations, but would he know if Jack really was cheating?”
“Does he have an alibi?” I slid one hand from Crew’s knee to his thigh while his pupils swelled, blocking out most of the blue. He still managed to answer, though his voice sounded thick, heavy, and carefully controlled.
“No,” he said. “He was alone in his room.”
“That’s a lot of loose ends,” I said.
He nodded, leaned toward me, mouth touching mine, just enough I wondered if we’d get any more talking done when his phone rang and Crew groaned.
It was obvious from his growing frown when he answered the call our private meeting had come to an end. I stood when he did, instantly missing his hand when he squeezed mine then let me go.
“I’ll be right there.” Crew hung up and leaned in one last time, a quick, hot kiss on my lips all I was getting. For now. Yum. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
I shrugged, grinned, let him go, hugging myself after he’d disappeared out the door, sinking down into the sofa again while Petunia stared up at me with an anxious expression.
Just as I was gathering myself to stand, to leave the room and force myself to work instead of sitting there in a bit of a daydream about what I wanted to be doing to my fiancé right about then, two people ducked in like they hadn’t seen me, heads together, their mutual animosity about as clear as the blue sky out the windows.
“I swear to you,” Tori hissed at Hudson, “if you screwed this up for me, I’ll kill you myself.”
***
Chapter Twenty Eight
It was pretty much that exact moment Hudson noticed me, likely because Petunia huffed a small protest that they had, as yet, to pay any attention to her. At least, that was my assumption. For all I knew the silly pug felt their conflicting emotions and wanted to put an end to it. She was pretty sensitive these days, especially since Robert had almost drowned her last August, his presence always making her uncomfortable.
Whatever the reason for her vocal welcome, the pair turned, spotted me, and fell instantly silent, enough guilt on their faces I didn’t have to work very hard to get them to talk.
I rose slowly from the loveseat and joined them, arms crossing over my chest while Tori squirmed in obvious discomfort, her step-father looking about to bolt. Hmmm. Tori didn’t seem to be wearing her signature scent. Because her bottle was gone? Dumped on Jack for some reason? Maybe she’d decided to mark her territory that night.
Those questions would keep. “I understand you two are related.” Start soft, Fiona, atta girl.
Hudson flinched, rounded cheeks pinking but Tori shrugged, anger crossing her pretty face making her not so pretty after all.
“He married my mother,” she snapped, like that said volumes.
Well, maybe it did, though it seemed to me he had more affection for her than she returned, if the sadness that crossed his own expression was any indication.
“It’s true,” Hudson said, voice subdued. “I raised you, little girl, like it or not.”
She pursed her lips like she wanted to argue but instead just met my eyes with enough irritation behind hers I was positive the whole innocent thing was totally an act. “If you say so. But I have nothing to do with him,” she aimed that at me. “Nothing. Including anything to do with gambling.”
“You have your own thing going,” I said, trying not to add the weight of judgment to those words.
Tori looked instantly defensive, though she didn’t argue. “A girl does what she can to get by,” she said. “Uses the gifts God gave her. Mine just happen to be of the physical variety.”
“You’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for.” Hudson actually sounded like he meant it. “You could be anyone you want.”
She shrugged angrily, like she was trying to shed something she’d carried a long time. “I am,” she said. “So leave it.”
Okay then. “The sheriff says you have an alibi,” I spoke to Hudson. “You were at The Orange making bets on the tournament.” I didn’t mention the word illegal. Seemed detrimental to the conversation, though the truth hung in the air and left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
Hudson sighed, sagged, his round belly jumping a bit as he tossed his hands. “I’ve been battling my addiction for years,” he said while Tori snorted and looked away. “And I admit I came to you, little girl, for insider info.” She half-smiled, half-grimaced like she was hardly surprised. “But you have to know your boyfriend’s cheating wasn’t going unnoticed.”
Tori scowled suddenly. “The fact he was unfaithful has nothing to do with his death.” She seemed adamant about that.
“Not that kind of cheating,” Hudson said, enough pity in his voice she flinched before looking back and forth between us, eyes widening.
“Wait, you think he was actually cheating? Like at golf?” She seemed genuinely shocked by the suggestion, which made me hesitate, personally. Surely she would have known if he had been? She was clearly a lot cleverer than she’d initially made out. But perhaps she’d simply been so focused on her own ambitions and missed out on the fact her dead sugar daddy had been playing fast and loose with more than other women.
“You know for a fact Jack was cheating in tournaments?” I let Tori process while Hudson bobbed a nod.
“He bragged about it,” he said. “I overheard him in Santé Fe, when I went to my bookie to pay up. I was sure Tyler was going to win. The kid played the game of his life. It didn’t add up to me that Jack could catch him when he was behind by four strokes. But he did, only to tell my bookie right in front of me how he’d managed to avoid the cameras and improve his own shot lies so he could win.”
Wow. Tori gaped at her step-father while I processed that. “Made you mad, I bet,” I said, purposely choosing the pun tag.
His cheeks darkened, eyes narrowing. “Not enough to kill him.”
&nb
sp; Um-hum.
I turned to Tori. “You seem to have chosen not to wear your perfume today.” She flinched guiltily as I went on. “Funny, but when I found Jack, that was almost all I could smell.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “We had a fight, okay? A big one. And I threw my Sugar Baby bottle at him.” She looked away, angry, so angry. “He left and I didn’t see him again.” Her head whipped around and she glared. “I didn’t kill him.”
I was pretty sure she was telling the truth but went on as Leo appeared. Had he been lurking, listening in? His arm slid around her shoulders and she looked like she was about to shrug him off when she visibly changed her mind and leaned into him. Hmmm. Using him? Likely. Though he was a far cry from the kind of man she was after.
“You, on the other hand,” I said to her, “don’t seem to have an alibi.” Yup, sounding more and more like a cop all the time, wasn’t I? There had been a time I’d pussy-footed around asking questions, but I think I’d been so influenced by both my father’s stoic approach and Crew’s quiet, no-nonsense questioning I had lost the feeling I shouldn’t be poking my nose in.
“I do have an alibi.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, tapped the screen and showed it to me. Images of her dancing, partying at the nightclub at the lodge, all time stamped made me nod. “Whoever told you I didn’t was lying to you.”
Robert. What was his game? Had he lied to Crew on purpose? Of course he had. But why? I could only imagine it was a Rose scheme. What, to make my fiancé look incompetent when he questioned her further? That kind of subtle undermining had her written all over it. Made me wonder how else she was undercutting Crew in small, barely perceptible ways. Because those little bits and pieces? They added up eventually.
Didn’t matter right now, not when Leo tugged her against him a bit more firmly, scowling at me like I’d offended her and, by association, him.
“You’re awfully nosy, Miss Fleming,” he said. “We don’t have to talk to you about any of this.”
Tori and Hudson both looked surprised then rather resentful.
“Actually,” I said, thanking Dad in the back of my mind, “I’m co-owner of a private investigation firm here in town that frequently assists the Reading Sheriff’s Department in such cases. So yes, you actually do.” Okay, so technically nope, but it sounded good, right?
Leo backed down, so I guess my firm and confident argument worked.
“I didn’t know that.” He hesitated, looked down at Tori who pushed him away with both hands, angry again.
“Did you know?” It was the first time I think I really saw her, the real her, a bit scared, worried, frustrated. “Was Jack really cheating?”
Leo glanced at me, licked his lips, face paling. “Yes,” he said, voice dropping. When Tori made a furious sound, he instantly reached out and grasped her upper arms, gentle but insistent, his face twisted in a pleading expression. “I was trying to get him to stop, I swear. Jack promised he had, that Santé Fe was the last time. That’s where I was the night he died.” He looked up at me. “Reviewing his tapes to make sure he played straight. There were a few times he dodged me, so I had to check. To know for sure.”
“Leo,” I said, “did Jack’s cheating go back to the beginning? Did he succeed because of it?”
He seemed to struggle with his answer before he shrugged helplessly, letting Tori go. “Maybe,” he said. “Possibly.”
“Which means,” I said, “you gave up your career for him, that he ruined your chance to be a pro not out of talent or skill but because he was a fraud.”
Leo nodded, dejected. “I guess that’s right,” he said, looking lost and anxious.
“Which makes you an excellent suspect,” I said.
His head shot up, eyes huge, face contorting. “I swear,” he said. “Jack was my best friend. I wouldn’t kill him over golf.”
Tori turned her back on him, arms crossing over her chest once again, disgust on her face while Leo made one last attempt to embrace her. She tossed her head and stormed off without a word to him or her step-father.
“Thank you for being candid, gentlemen,” I said, going for officious. “The sheriff will have further questions for both of you.”
Leo followed Tori, something I could only guess would end badly, while Hudson slunk off out the front door. I texted Crew quickly, filling him in on the fact Robert withheld Tori’s alibi and that I now had witness testimony of Jack’s cheating.
My usually calm and level fiancé texted back almost immediately and his reply shocked me.
THAT’S IT. HE’S DONE.
I didn’t bother answering. It was about time, and though I would have loved to be there when Crew fired Robert’s sorry ass, I didn’t want to steal his thunder by interfering.
I was even more surprised when, fifteen minutes later, Crew came stomping through the front door into the foyer, a grim expression on his handsome face, Jill at his side. Looked official enough I didn’t go for a hug when he approached.
“We’re here for Tyler Hendy,” he said, gesturing for Jill to head to the kitchen which she did with a nod for me.
“I haven’t seen him,” I said. “Did you check the course?”
“He’d already left.” My fiancé looked like he was having a crappy day.
Jill peeked out the kitchen door. “The annex,” she said.
Crew went after her, and I followed, waving at Mom as she watched with wide eyes the procession of two cops and me, Petunia at my heels. It was a short walk to the other building, where Tyler sat at a table, studying what looked like a video of himself on a laptop screen. He glanced up when we entered, welcoming smile fading to concern when Crew and Jill came to a halt next to him.
“I need you to stand up, please, Mr. Hendy,” Crew said.
Tyler obeyed immediately, Jill turning him around and putting cuffs on him. The few other guests in the room murmured as the young golfer stammered a protest but didn’t fight the restraints.
“We found your missing six iron,” Crew said, gravel voice harsh around the edges. He was clearly fighting something that had nothing to do with this arrest. Did it involve Robert? Likely. Whatever the cause, he wasn’t his normal collected self, though he managed to deliver his information clearly and concisely. “Hidden up a tree behind the crime scene. It’s a perfect match for the blow that killed Jack Nethersole. Which means, Mr. Hendy, I’m arresting you for his murder. You have the right to remain silent…”
I listened to Crew recite the Miranda rights on our way out into the parking lot, to the sidewalk where Jill helped Tyler into the back of her cruiser. She slammed the back door and nodded to me again, glancing at Crew a moment before climbing in and heading for the sheriff’s office.
My fiancé, hands on his hips, jaw set in a tight, angry line, turned toward me, the faint tic under his eye, the vein standing out in the middle of his forehead, as telling as any expression he’d ever worn. He used to look at me like that when I interfered with his investigations, but it was pretty obvious, despite a flash of worry he’d somehow backslid into animosity toward me again, it had nothing to do with me.
“Crew,” I said. “I can’t believe it was Tyler.”
He shrugged, looked away. “Evidence doesn’t lie.” I expected him to rush off but he stood there a long moment, head down, breathing through his nostrils while I simply held space next to him and let him collect himself.
“Robert.” Ah, okay then. “Fee. This town.” He squared those big shoulders, squinted at me with angry blue eyes. “I don’t know if I’m going to survive this town.” And, with that, he strode off, climbing into his pickup, driving off while a sick feeling in my stomach made me wish he’d come back so I could hug him.
***
Chapter Twenty Nine
When Crew showed up at my apartment that night for a late dinner and a beer, I wanted to ask him a million questions. Namely, not about the murder investigation and Tyler, but what it was like to fire Robert.
His genera
lly unhappy attitude, not really like him, told me he’d likely been stonewalled, as had his previous comment earlier in the day. I let things go, dying to know but showing amazing restraint if I did say so myself. Whatever was going on for Crew at the moment, I decided instead to be his rock as he had so often been mine, to keep our conversation light, soft and loving.
Trouble was, when you intend to not irritate someone who’s already irritated it can backfire. Okay, so it totally backfired to the point that, halfway through dinner, when I casually commented on how I was glad the golf tournament was almost over so Alicia would stop texting me, Crew practically slammed down his beer bottle and glared at me.
“Just stop answering, then,” he said, “if it bothers you so much.”
Um, wow. I held my temper (go me!) by the skin of my teeth and managed a microsmile that likely only made things worse. “Great advice,” I said. And that came out snarky, didn’t it?
He grunted, hands on his thighs, glaring at his plate, brows pulled together. “Look,” he said, “it’s been a bad day. Maybe I should just go.” He made no move to leave, however, and I exhaled as quietly as I could before reaching over and touching the back of his hand with my fingertips. His body was practically vibrating he was so tense and all of my anger dissipated with that touch.
“Stay,” I said. “We’re going to have to learn to put up with each other when we’re in a crappy mood, right? That’s what marriage is all about.”
He looked up. “I think I have your crappy moods handled.”
Oh no he did not just shoot me down like that. “Excuse me,” I said, knowing my temper was getting the best of me and not sure how to stop the chugging of the freight train as it picked up speed. “What is that supposed to mean?”