"I grew up in Long Island, then studied law and practiced in New York City for a while. I earned my own way. I didn't have everything handed to me, if you know what I mean."
Like a train slamming into a car across an intersection, her imagination collided with reality. "You're—you're an attorney?"
"Formerly." He cocked his head. "I'm in real estate now, with a side order of P.I. work on occasion. But I guess once you're an attorney, you're always an attorney. Right?"
Kathryn held out her right hand, and he accepted it with a lifted eyebrow. "Nice to meet you officially, Phillip, the attorney from Manhattan. I'm Kathryn, Assistant D.A. from Perkins County, Georgia, northwest of Atlanta."
“Perkins County. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. It’s a sleepy county, and my town is even sleepier.”
“Sleepier than Cedar Key?”
She curled her upper lip. “No, not that sleepy.”
“What’s the name of your town?”
“Mitchell’s Crossing.”
“Sounds sleepy for sure.”
“Compared to Manhattan, anything would sound sleepy.”
Phillip chuckled. "True. So you're a lawyer?"
"Yes, when I have to be a grown up."
"Law must be treating you right. You don't look as beat up as I did when I was practicing."
"Is that why you quit?"
Phillip pursed his lips. "Uh, I got sick of having to defend people that I knew were guilty."
"Having to?"
"Yeah, my New York family is a bit unruly. Somebody's always getting into some kind of trouble, and I was obligated to defend every crook and thug they knew." He drummed his fingers on the table.
"Seems like they couldn't force you to defend them."
"Yeah, well, you'd have to meet them to understand. Anyway, I wanted freedom. So I moved to Savannah, but the same thing happened there. When my grandma moved back to New York, Ma recommended that I come take care of her rental properties. That's how I ended up here."
The waitress opened the door to the porch carrying two plates of food, and they pulled back their hands. She placed the plates on the table in front of them, grabbed the ketchup off the table next to them, and pulled two straws out of her apron. The older couple left their tip on the table and exited, waving goodbye.
Was Kathryn in a dream? What were the chances this guy would be an attorney? She never met attorneys outside of court. Of course, she rarely got out socially because her case load demanded too much of her time. What would it be like to walk away and never look back like Phillip?
"Kathryn?" He chomped off the end of one of his fries, revealing straight but not perfect teeth.
So there was something flawed about him after all. What a relief, considering Kathryn was a tangled mess of cobwebs. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I was distracted by the—the food." Yeah, that was it.
"Ms. Susan wanted to know if you needed anything else."
Kathryn scrutinized her plate and smiled at the waitress. "No, ma'am. Everything looks great. Thank you."
After Susan left them alone, Kathryn seasoned her fries with salt and pepper. "What'd you get?"
"Deep-fried Pollock on a hoagie bun. Wanna bite?" He held up half of his sandwich.
She protested with her hand. "Thanks, but no. You order that all the time?"
"Not all the time. A guy's got to think about his figure." He laughed and squirted ketchup on his fries.
"Yeah, right." She exploded with laughter.
After Phillip swallowed a mouthful of his sandwich, he pointed at her with a fry. "So what's your last name and what's your story?"
"Bellamy. And yours?" She'd spare him the details of her story. He'd get up and run if she told him.
"My last name? It's a mouthful. You sure you want to know?"
"Of course."
"Tagliaferro. It means ferocious warrior or something like that." He balled up his fists and shook them in the air. "A good, strong Italian name."
Kathryn's mouth flew open. Did he say Tagliaferro? Phil Tagliaferro. As in Maria's ex-fiancé? No wonder he seemed familiar. She hadn't recognized him before because of the beard. The last time she'd seen him was at the wedding that didn't take place between him and her college roommate. Her spot as the maid-of-honor had disintegrated as soon as Phil discovered Maria in the groom's dressing room with the best man. She'd never understood why Maria favored what's-his-name over Phil.
"Imagine the teasing—"
Kathryn's face must have turned as pale as her legs in the wintertime because Phil stopped mid-sentence and placed his hand on her wrist. A fry lodged itself in her throat, and no amount of water would wash it down.
"Kathryn?"
She scratched her eyebrow with her thumb and cleared her throat. "Do you not recognize me?"
He knotted his brow. "I'm afraid I don't. Should I?"
She should reroute the conversation before their friendly bantering came to a grinding halt, but something compelled her to confess their connection. "I was…Maria's maid-of-honor." She squeezed her eyes tight then reopened them one at a time.
His face drained of its color. "You were?"
Kathryn eyed him, the table shaking from the tapping of his foot on the floor underneath.
A crease formed between his eyebrows, and with an eagle's stare, he studied her. "Yes, yes, you were."
A nervous giggle flew out of her like a caged bird upon release. Why did she sound like a Billy goat?
He pointed his long, slender finger at her. "Ah, Kathryn—I don't know why I didn't put the name with the face before now. I should've remembered. I'm sorry."
She waved her hands in dismissal. "No problem. How would you have remembered me?"
"How could I have forgotten you?" He winked. His glasses did nothing to disguise the spark in his eyes.
Kathryn took a generous bite of her patty melt and tried to ignore the heat that trembled throughout her. She'd have to dig deep to resist her curiosity about Phil. She needed to get away from her friend's ex-fiancé posthaste.
#
Phil took another bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth with his fingers. How could he have forgotten Kathryn? Her Southern voice was like sweet tea and a Sunday afternoon on a porch all rolled up into one. She smelled like peaches and cinnamon, and she epitomized the Southern belle. Except for the fact that she was an Assistant D.A. He couldn't imagine this dainty lady, a hair taller than five feet, fighting her way to victory in a courtroom. Instead, he pictured her in a hooped skirt with a parasol tossed over one of her slender shoulders.
Kathryn's cheeks were rosy from his comment, and her eyes glimmered in the early afternoon light. Framed by her silky brunette hair, they looked like onyx stones set into her heart-shaped face, magnificent. Her wispy blouse of coral and green made them glow like a beacon from the lighthouse on Seahorse Key.
He dipped a fry in ketchup and popped it into his mouth. "Now that we know we've met before, you can call me Phil, and you can tell me what brings you to Cedar Key."
Kathryn brushed her hair out of her face. Her pistachio-colored bridesmaid dress from the wedding must have accentuated her glow on that day, especially with those eyes. Too bad he hadn't noticed. Judging by the way things had turned out, it was a shame he hadn't had the opportunity to meet her before she'd become the maid-of-honor and he'd become the groom-to-be.
Get a hold on yourself, man!
She finished her bite of the patty melt and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I'm working on a case, and there's supposedly evidence down here that'll point us to the murder weapon."
"A murder case? Shouldn't your investigators do that for you?"
"They've already been down here. Everybody has been down here. No luck. I thought I might find a detail they missed or overlooked that would lead me to the weapon. Not because I’m a control freak or anything like that."
“Of course not.” Phil snickered.
“I’m not. I p
romise. But evidence points to the fact that there’s a connection between Cedar Key and that missing weapon, and I intend to find it.”
"If you need a P.I., let me know."
"I just might do that."
"I'm heading back to Savannah Monday for a week, but I'll be around all weekend."
"I'm going back Monday too."
"Can I have your number? Just in case."
She made a clicking noise with her tongue against her teeth as if she was calling a dog. "How about you give me yours instead?"
Cautious and beautiful. A deadly combination. Phil wiped his hands on his napkin, reached into his shorts pocket, and pulled out his gold-plated business card holder. He opened it and retrieved a pristine card, extending it between his forefinger and middle finger, to the most cautious woman he'd ever met.
She accepted the card. "Sorry if I seem awkward. It takes me a while to unwind. I rarely get out of the office or take a vacation. This isn't even a vacation. I wish I were here for leisure. I—"
Her ponderings didn't distract him from mulling over their former connection. Was this brunette, electric-eyed classy lady still in contact with Maria? Better yet, was she a Miss Bellamy or a Mrs. Bellamy? Her right hand held no wedding or engagement ring, but Phil had learned that women didn’t always wear their rings when they abandoned home for this Gulf coast escape. He shook his head at his ridiculousness. What did it matter? A friend of Maria's couldn't be a friend of his. Besides, she'd go back to Georgia, and he'd never see her again.
She snickered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble." Her eyes sparkled like the dark marsh at high tide but were distant. Was the distraction caused by her duty or by her disinterest in him because he was Maria's ex?
"You weren't rambling." A school of dolphins slipped through the water beyond the pier, where black cormorants perched on weather-beaten posts, stretching their wings and puffing out their white chests. He pointed, his mouth full, and Kathryn squealed.
"I love dolphins." She clapped her hands like a young girl and smiled.
A sweet smile from a Southern girl. Enough to buckle his knees if he weren't seated. "I do too. I never tire of watching them."
"How could anyone?" She sipped her water and watched the dolphins go on their way.
Susan brought their tickets and a to-go box for Kathryn. Something dipped inside of Phil. He didn't want to say goodbye to this delightful woman. "I can't get over the fact that we've met before. How crazy is that?"
"Yeah, crazy.” She grabbed her to-go box, reached for her ticket, and stood. “Well, I've got to get back to work. Thanks for the company."
"Here, let me get that for you." He tried to slide the ticket from her fingers. She had a death grip on it.
She tugged it away from his grasp. "No, that's okay. I've got it."
"Please, let me treat you to lunch as a welcome to Cedar Key and an open invitation to come back when you have more time to stay."
"Thanks, really. But I can't."
He could take a hint. He must have QUARANTINE or PLAGUE written across his forehead because she obviously couldn't wait to get away from him. Had he said something wrong? He shouldn't have brought up Maria again. Or maybe Kathryn was a Mrs. after all.
Then she tossed her sable hair over her shoulder with a swing of her head and pulled the porch door open. She turned to face him with a smirk. "It was really nice seeing you. I hope I run into you again."
He smiled, and a strange exhilaration shot through him from her sudden change of attitude. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Chapter Three
Had Kathryn really told Phil she hoped to see him again? She'd lost her senses. She should step out into the water and call for all the sharks to come bite her legs off. That was the equivalent of flirting with Maria's ex.
She needed another ice cream to cool her down from her time with Phil and to get her mind back on the case. Had he seen her sweating? It'd taken every bit of control she had not to take him up on the offer to pay for her lunch. What a sweet gesture. No one had done that for her in years.
She was not here to meet men though. She had to focus on this case and not let a man distract her. A handsome man. A friendly man. Maria's ex-man. Ugh!
She walked the short distance to the Island Trading Post and ordered a double scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in a waffle cone. One bite and her mind forgot all about Phil. She'd been so busy over the last few years, she'd forgotten the pleasure of such simple things.
Kathryn reached for a napkin from the dispenser on the counter. "Excuse me. I'm an attorney from Georgia, and I'm investigating a murder case. Have you seen any suspicious activity lately?"
The young man with shaggy brown hair in a red Panama Jack T-shirt scratched his head. "No, ma'am, I sure haven't. Not much of that in Cedar Key. You could talk to the Chief of Police. You'll see him riding around on his golf cart."
Golf cart? "Okay, thanks. Great ice cream, by the way!"
She stepped out of the store, scanning the strip for a golf cart. There were at least ten. How would she be able to spot the Chief? Her ice cream dripped down her hand. Again. She'd focus on the case later. Right now, she was going to enjoy every bite of her treat.
She unlocked her car as her cell phone rang. She dropped her shoulders, set her to-go box on the roof of her car, and dug the phone out of her purse. If only she could ignore whoever was on the other end, but it might be D.A. Schwartz or the public defender's office.
Before she could speak, a piercing whistle sounded through the earpiece. She yanked the phone away from her ear, dropped her ice cream on the pavement, and flung her hand over the phone to muffle the noise. When the whistling stopped, she brought the phone back to her ear. Her ice cream rested in a puddle at her feet. "Hell-lo?"
"I'm watching you. Be careful, little lady," a distorted voice blared then dead silence.
Kathryn gasped and pulled the phone away from her face again. The call log popped up on her screen, but the number was blocked. Who could it have been? Although the voice sounded harmless enough, like someone's great-grandmother speaking through a handkerchief, her arms and legs tingled with adrenaline.
She tugged her car door open, but a white envelope the size of a greeting card wedged beneath her windshield wiper distracted her. She grabbed it and her leftover food, and plopped down into her seat. She cranked the car, turned the air on high, then studied the chicken scratches on the front of the envelope. She ran her finger underneath the flap and slid out a sympathy card. A lock of white and brown fur fell to her lap. Fur that looked like it came from Sadie. She snatched it up and read the words scrawled on the inside of the card.
It would be a shame if something happened to your dog. Watch your step, Kathryn Bellamy!
Her heart hammered, and the knot in her throat prevented her from swallowing. Had something happened to Sadie? Had someone followed her here to Cedar Key? Tears slid down her cheeks, and she swiped them away with the side of her hand.
She wiped the beads of sweat off her upper lip, and her gaze landed on one of her crumpled business cards stuffed in the console—her name and title etched in thin black ink. What was it that put her on the verge of throwing that card and all her other ones in the trash and slamming her office door forever? Whose life and dream was she living anyway?
She’d do anything to make Daddy proud. It was Daddy that wanted her to be the first female judge in "good old boy" county and then ultimately Supreme Court Justice one day. Was that what had pushed her to where she was now? Or had she really wanted the position she held? Whichever it was, it was what had put her life in danger and had given her reason to doubt her dog's safety too.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "You just need to solve this case and take a real vacation. That's all. You've come too far to turn back now." Kathryn tucked the note in her glove compartment in case she needed it for evidence later and then put her car into drive and headed back to the condo. The grocery store wou
ld have to wait.
#
Sadie scurried to meet Kathryn when she returned to the condo after lunch with Phil. Kathryn’s heart skipped a beat like an amateur drummer as relief flooded her to see the dog alive and well. She ran her hands along her coat searching for a missing lock of fur. Everything looked fine. Who'd have left such a disturbing note on her car? Was it someone connected to the Ezzo case?
After two hours of working on the case, pacing the ceramic tile floor, and talking to herself about the unlikelihood of Louie Ezzo's guilt, Kathryn needed a break. Her mind screamed for the missing piece of this puzzle. The Ezzo family was famed for crimes of all kinds, but rarely was a family member found guilty, especially of murder. Someone always took the fall while the suspected Ezzo went free. Four men were dead because of a botched drug deal, though, and Kathryn couldn't let him walk this time if Louie was guilty. She’d make sure he and anyone else involved went away for life.
Kathryn slipped her feet into her flip-flops and grabbed Sadie's leash. "Come on, girl. Let's go for a ride to town." Sadie abandoned her spot on her bed, where she watched the sea gulls and pelicans, and ran to Kathryn. Her bushy tail beat out a rhythm on the bar.
In the entryway, Kathryn caught her reflection in the mirrored clock, shaped like a ship's wheel, and gasped. Why did she look like the victim in a domestic abuse case instead of an Assistant D.A.? Couldn't she at least look good on the outside even if she felt like wet Georgia clay on the inside? If she'd known she looked this ghastly, she wouldn't have eaten lunch with Phil.
Phil? What did it matter? No matter how attractive he was, he was Maria's ex, and she was here to work.
She pulled her compact out of her purse and powdered her nose then smoothed on a bit of Dusty Rose lip balm. She smacked her lips and ran her fingers through her hair. "This will have to do, Sadie. I do believe you look prettier than me." Sadie woofed.
After Kathryn stopped for an iced cappuccino, she pointed her midnight blue Honda toward the city park next to the yacht club. She didn't need a heavy drink like this if she intended to keep the figure she'd worked so hard for, but she craved it because of the heat. Besides, ice cream had proven to be the wrong choice. The cappuccino would do the job. She needed the sugar surge if she was going to muddle her way through the details of this case.
Secrets Among the Cedars (Intertwined Book 2) Page 2