by Rachel Woods
“Eamon Taylor was trying to ruin my career and my reputation and everything I’d worked for,” she said, determined to continue despite the apprehension in Beanie’s stare. “I told Eamon that if he tried to dig a grave for me, I would bury him in it.”
“Why would you say that to him?”
After a deep breath, Noelle said, “Because Eamon Taylor accused me of sexually harassing him.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beanie stared at his blank computer screen. All morning, he’d been working on his latest story. He had all his facts. He had all the quotes he needed. He knew how he wanted to present the information to his readers. Still, the damn words wouldn’t come, and he was on a deadline.
Exhaling, Beanie rubbed his eyes.
He knew why he was distracted.
Noelle’s bombshell about Eamon’s sexual harassment claim had rattled him. Yesterday, when she’d told him, Beanie hadn’t known what to think or say. His silence had worried Noelle, made her think he was suspicious of her, but he was quick to assure her that he was just beyond shocked. There was no way he would ever believe his wife had sexually harassed a co-worker. It didn’t make sense. Noelle had worked too hard to build her career. She would never risk her reputation to hook-up with some college kid. She would never break their wedding vows or do anything to destroy their family.
The Dr. Noelle Chartres Bean he knew could never do anything so … ridiculously uncharacteristic.
And yet, Beanie couldn’t ignore the crazy thoughts forcing him to wonder if the harassment claims could be true. Beanie had met Eamon once, at a dinner the pharmacy had given for the interns. Eamon Taylor was a good-looking guy. He was charismatic with good conversation skills. Eamon and Noelle seemed to have a friendly, casual relationship but Beanie didn’t remember witnessing anything inappropriate in their interactions. He hadn’t seen any suspicious behavior. No longing glances or secret gazes between them.
Noelle had sworn the sexual harassment claims were false. She’d promised him that Eamon was lying. Beanie didn’t doubt her—or, did he? Noelle had been keeping things from him. Important things like Grady Palmer. If she wasn’t facing this murder charge, would she have told him about the PC-5 thug’s proposition?
Beanie glanced at the photo of Noelle on his desk. He didn’t want to question their marriage. He didn’t want to wonder if his marriage was as solid as he assumed but the questions were in his head, undeniable and unavoidable. What the hell else was Noelle keeping from him?
Beanie rubbed his jaw.
If Noelle was keeping secrets, it meant she didn’t trust him and if she didn’t trust him, then … Beanie didn’t want to think about it. Noelle probably hadn’t wanted to worry him. He understood that. He didn’t like it. He wished she would have told him about that PC-5 thug as soon as the bastard had propositioned her, but …
There was something else Beanie didn’t want to question. Noelle’s innocence. I told Eamon that if he tried to dig a grave for me, I would bury him in it. Was it possible that Noelle had … ?
Beanie couldn’t finish the thought. He felt traitorous even thinking his wife could be capable of what the police had accused her of doing. There was no way Noelle could have bashed Eamon Taylor’s head in with a shovel.
You don’t believe I killed Eamon Taylor, do you?
Beanie would never believe Noelle had anything to do with Eamon’s death. He didn’t care about the shovel with her prints on it or the body found in the trunk of her car, or—
“Beanie, I gotta show you something …”
Beanie glanced up. Sophie Carter dropped down in the chair in front of his old battered desk. Her face alive and animated, she pushed a piece of paper across the scarred surface.
“What is this?” Beanie stared at the print-out of an email.
“Anonymous tip,” said Sophie, dark brown eyes dancing with excitement and intrigue. “It was just emailed to me a few minutes ago. You gotta read it.”
Pushing away the worries about Noelle and Eamon, Beanie picked up the email and stared at it.
The cops have the wrong suspect for murder of Eamon Taylor.
Check out Kevin Cook.
He hated Eamon and wanted him dead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A trip to the grocery store was the last thing Noelle wanted to tackle, even without a rambunctious three-year-old and a fussy, teething ten-month-old to contend with, but she had to.
After Beanie left for work, she’d gotten Ethan and Evan fed, bathed and dressed and then dropped them off at her mom’s house. Without the boys, she could get her To Do list taken care of quickly, but she missed Ethan and Evan. She wondered if she should spend every moment she could with them while she still could, while she was still free.
Noelle pushed the shopping cart through the fresh produce section. She shouldn’t think of going to jail for a crime she hadn’t committed. She wanted to be positive and hopeful, but it was becoming harder to keep a positive attitude—especially about her job.
The day after she’d been arrested, Beanie had called the company to inform them, but they hadn’t given him any indication of whether or not she would be fired.
An early morning phone call from Octavia had shed more light on the situation. The Palmchat Pharmacy HR department had finally made contact. Noelle had braced herself, figuring she’d been terminated, but surprisingly, Octavia had told her the company had decided to place her on administrative leave without pay pending the results of the charges against her.
She probably should have been grateful that she hadn’t been fired and the company hadn’t rushed to condemn her. They had every right to disassociate themselves with a suspected murderer, but they were willing to see how the situation would play out before disavowing her.
Nevertheless, it felt foreign to be shopping for toilet paper and toothpaste at ten in the morning when she should have been working. A wave of intense melancholy washed over her. Noelle gripped the handle on the cart so she wouldn’t sob. Her life was going to hell, and she didn’t know how to put out the flames threatening to consume her. She couldn’t help but think she was being punished for past sins. Her mother encouraged her not to condemn herself, but her mother didn’t know about all the horrible things she’d done, things she’d gotten away with but shouldn’t have …
As she stopped the cart in front of an apple bin, her phone beeped. A text message. Noelle’s heart raced as she pulled the phone from her purse.
The message made her knees weak, filling her with relief and revulsion.
Purple Gecko. 3 pm
It was a response from Grady Palmer, and Noelle knew exactly what the message meant. Before she’d dropped the boys off, she’d sent Grady a text requesting a meeting to talk about his offer to help her. She’d hoped he would get back to her quickly but his text put fear and guilt in her.
In the plan she’d outlined to get proof that the PC-5 had framed her, Beanie would secretly accompany her to the meeting. He would be her backup, watching out for her, keeping her safe. Even as she’d explained that plan to her husband, Noelle had known she wasn’t going to stick to it. She’d known she would have to talk to Grady Palmer alone. Beanie’s safety and the past she had to keep secret required her to handle the situation on her own.
If Beanie went with her to talk to Grady, and she was able to get a confession, then Beanie would want to see the video. Noelle had no idea what she would have to say or do to get the truth from Grady, but she knew their meeting would expose her past. Grady would bring up her former life as Nobody, and he might even reference some of the terrible things she’d done. She couldn’t risk Beanie finding out about her days as a Handweg Ho.
Noelle would not risk destroying Beanie’s perceptions and beliefs about her.
Meeting Grady alone would anger Beanie, but it was for the best. If the meeting resulted in information that would exonerate her, Noelle would take the proof to Octavia and swear her lawyer to secrecy. Beanie would be too overjoye
d about the charges against her being dropped to care about how she’d obtained the truth.
Noelle stared at Grady’s text again. She wasn’t surprised Grady wanted to meet in Handweg Gardens. It was his turf where he could control the situation. The Purple Gecko was a dump, a seedy bar, but at least it was a public place. Although, if things went left, she couldn’t rely on help from any of the bar’s patrons who would not be inclined to get involved in PC-5 business. Handweg had once been her turf, too, though. She’d been away a long time, but she could still hold her own.
Noelle took a deep breath and sent a response.
I’ll be there
Chapter Twenty-Six
“How’d you find out where Kevin Cook lives?” Beanie asked, staring up at the large mansion framed by towering Palm trees swaying in the early afternoon breeze.
“Inductive reasoning,” said Sophie with a sassy wink and a jaunty step as she headed away from Beanie’s SUV and along a path toward the house.
Like most of the homes surrounding the university, it was a sprawling Colonial plantation house, one of the former homes of an early European settler who’d brought his family to the island in the early eighteenth century. Long abandoned or sold by the original descendants, the homes were often purchased by ex-pats and foreign investors who divided the once grand manors into apartments which were rented to students and university faculty members.
Falling into step with Sophie as she walked up the wide flagstone path cut between an expansive lawn dotted with Sego Palms and mango trees, Beanie said, “Hey, before we talk to Kevin Cook, remember that this is Caleb’s story, okay? Whatever we find out, we need to let him know.”
“Of course, we’ll tell Caleb,” said Sophie, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to poach his story. I’m trying to help you prove that Noelle didn’t kill Eamon Taylor.”
Humbled by Sophie’s compassion, Beanie remembered why he liked Sophie—she was smart, had spunk, and she was a go-getter, eager and anxious to make things happen. She was super ambitious, as well, and he wouldn’t put it past her to co-opt a story if she thought she could contribute to the success of it. Sophie wasn’t diabolical, though and he didn’t think she would outright steal a story.
As they approached the door, Beanie’s heart jumped and sped up as the gravity of what was about to happen hit him like a punch in the gut.
Sophie was right. Talking to Kevin Cook was not about a Palmchat Gazette article. It was so much more than some exclusive story or a quote from an elusive source. Noelle’s freedom was at stake. If Kevin Cook had killed Eamon Taylor and then set Noelle up to look like a cold-blooded murderer, Beanie had to find out. He had to ask the right questions to get Cook to confess. He wouldn’t let his wife go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit.
“Kevin Cook rents the attic apartment.” Sophie stopped in front of the intercom system mounted on the wall near the main door.
Beanie nodded as Sophie pushed the button to buzz the attic, his pulse racing.
He’d met Kevin Cook at the same dinner where he’d first met Eamon Taylor. Beanie didn’t remember the intern as being potentially inclined to murder, but why would he have? There had been no reason to think Kevin Cook could be capable of killing someone.
Sophie opened the main door. “Come on; we’re in.”
“We are?” Beanie asked. “I didn’t hear Cook let us in.”
“He didn’t answer, but the door opened,” said Sophie. “Somebody else probably let us in because they didn’t want us pushing the buzzer over and over.”
Following Sophie into the foyer, Beanie took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. When the door opened, and he was face to face with Kevin Cook, he worried he might put his hands around the little shit’s throat. He cautioned himself to remember the object of the questioning. He couldn’t spook Cook or make the intern suspicious although he had to assume any questions about Eamon Taylor’s death might make Cook cautious and cagey. Nevertheless, Beanie had to get the guy to incriminate himself—if, of course, Cook really was guilty. As he and Sophie had discussed in the SUV on the drive to Cook’s place, they had to consider that the anonymous tip might be a scam. The real killer might be trying to point the finger at Cook and away from themselves.
After taking the stairs to the third floor, they entered a small alcove which housed a spiral staircase to the attic. Climbing the steps behind Sophie, Beanie was both eager and filled with dread. Would he get the truth from Cook? Or, was the anonymous tip bogus? Maybe some lonely weirdo with nothing better to do than send them on some wild goose chase?
“Okay, like we talked about it in the car,” said Sophie, “let me ask the questions.”
Beanie exhaled. “Yeah, about that …”
“Don’t try to flip the script, Beanie,” Sophie warned him. “I know you probably want to grab Kevin Cook and demand the truth from him, but we can’t make him feel like he’s going through a St. Killian Inquisition. We gotta be sly, sneaky and smart. Matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t be here. If Kevin Cook killed Eamon Taylor and set up Noelle, then as soon as he sees you, he might wonder if you suspect him.”
“I’m not leaving,” said Beanie, crossing his arms. “Besides, if Kevin Cook is the real killer then maybe he thinks he’s smarter than everybody else. Maybe he thinks I’m too dumb to suspect him. Maybe I should let him think I’m clueless.”
“We’ll see,” Sophie said. “But, follow my lead, okay?”
Beanie had agreed to let Sophie ask the questions while he studied Kevin Cook for signs of deception: shifty eyes, stammering, fidgeting, those classic “tells” of nervousness. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his promise.
Sophie knocked on the door, and when it opened, a familiar face stared at Beanie.
Sarah Linde, the intern who sometimes babysat the boys, looked confused as her lips curled up into a tentative smile. “Mr. Bean? How are you? What are you doing here? Do you need me to watch the boys?”
“What are you doing here?” Beanie asked. “Isn’t this Kevin Cook’s place?”
Nodding, Sarah said, “Sometimes I stay here with him. We’re together, remember? Did you know that?”
Beanie didn’t know if Noelle had mentioned Sarah’s relationship with Kevin Cook, or not. What he knew, or hoped, rather, was that his cordial relationship with the babysitter would make Sarah more comfortable about opening up and being honest.
“Sarah, this is Sophie Carter,” introduced Beanie. “She works with me at the Palmchat Gazette. Sophie, this is Sarah Linde. She babysits Ethan and Evan sometimes.”
After Sophie and Sarah shook hands and exchanged polite pleasantries, Beanie asked Sarah, “Is Kevin around?”
“We were hoping to talk to him,” said Sophie.
“Kevin’s not here,” said Sarah, leaning against the door frame. “He’s at a seminar in St. Croix.”
The apology in Sarah’s blue eyes did nothing to relieve Beanie’s raging disappointment or his suspicions. Was Sarah lying about Kevin being out of town? He didn’t sense any dishonesty in her earnest gaze, but maybe she was a damn good liar. He was probably paranoid, letting frustration make him skeptical but if Sarah and Kevin were in a relationship, then Sarah might be inclined to cover for her boyfriend. Beanie would have to be sly with the questions. Maybe even more so if the babysitter was prepared to protect Kevin.
“You know when he’ll be back?” Sophie asked.
“We need to talk to him,” said Beanie, hoping to take advantage of his relationship with Sarah. “You have his cell phone number so we can reach him?”
“Why do you need to talk to Kevin?” Sarah asked, not quite suspicious, but close.
“I need to ask him some questions about Eamon Taylor’s murder,” Beanie said.
Sophie cleared her throat dramatically, letting him know she wasn’t pleased with his takeover of the interrogation but Beanie didn't have time for sly, subtle questioning techniques. He wasn’t in the mood to coax the truth from Sarah.
>
“Eamon Taylor’s murder?” echoed Sarah, a stricken look on her face.
Beanie pressed her, asking, ”What do you know about Eamon’s death?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” said Sarah, flinching and stammering. “I mean, I only know what I read online and what little information the dean of our college was able to tell us, but—”
“You’re sure that’s all you know?” Beanie asked.
“Beanie,” chided Sophie through clenched teeth.
“Why do you think I would know something?” Sarah asked. “What are you asking me? You think I killed Eamon?”
“Sarah, no, we don’t think that,” said Sophie. “We were just wondering—“
“Did you kill him?” Beanie blurted out.
Sarah looked as though she’d been slapped. “What? No! I would never—”
Beanie persisted. “Did Kevin Cook kill him?”
“Okay, let’s just pause for a second, please,” said Sophie.
Dragging his hand along his jaw, Beanie exhaled. He’d messed up. He tipped his hand too early and had been too quick to reveal their true motives. Now there was no chance Sarah would tell them anything or answer any of their questions.
If Sarah knew anything about Kevin killing Eamon, she wasn’t going to tell them. Beanie wanted to kick his own ass. Why the hell had he come at Sarah with that trite bad cop attitude, barking questions and demanding answers? He shouldn’t have let himself get frustrated and flustered, not when so much was at stake, not when Noelle’s freedom was at risk.
“Sarah, our colleague, Caleb Olivier, was assigned the story of Eamon Taylor’s death,” Sophie said, her tone calm and diplomatic, “and we wanted to help him out by getting some reaction from some of Eamon Taylor’s friends about his death. We decided to start with Kevin Cook but since he’s not here maybe we can get your thoughts.”