Every Waking Moment

by Meryl Sawyer

  “We had a fight,” Raoul said with a shrug. “I was out walking along Ocean Avenue.”

  Shane would bet the fight was over crystal meth. Raoul was getting hooked, and Trent wanted him to stop.

  “What are the odds of this happening? None of us has an alibi,” Brianna said.

  “Shit happens,” Shane said under his breath.

  Doyle picked up the telephone. “I’m calling Alan Friedman. He’s a first-rate criminal attorney. He’ll know what to do.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what the lawyer would tell them. Don’t talk to the police without a lawyer being present.

  “I called Mother,” Trent said while Doyle contacted the attorney. “The doctor gave her a sedative and she was sleeping.”

  “I think we should go over there,” Taylor said. “When she wakes up, she’ll need us.”

  Shane drove Taylor to her mother’s Coral Gables home. Yellow and black crime scene tape was strung across the driveway and yard. Uniformed officers were stationed at the front door. They let them inside, but told them most of the house was off-limits until the investigation was complete.

  Caleb Bassett was standing in the hall just outside the door to Vanessa’s bedroom. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see my mother.”

  “She doesn’t want to see you. Not after what you did.”

  Shane grabbed the front of Caleb’s shirt and shoved him up against the wall. “Don’t you dare accuse Taylor. She—”

  “Was jealous of Renata. Vanessa changed her will, leaving everything to Renata.” Caleb glared at Taylor with sadistic intensity. “That’s right. Everything. She loved my little girl, and now my baby’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry about Renata,” Taylor said, struggling to control her anger at his accusation. “I didn’t kill her.”

  Taylor tiptoed into her mother’s bedroom while Shane kept Caleb outside. The blackout drapes were drawn, the only light coming from the luminous dial on the bedside clock. She waited a moment until her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

  Taylor admitted she hadn’t liked Renata, but she never wished the woman dead. Renata hadn’t had a good life, and now she would never have a chance at making her life better.

  Her mother’s small frail shape was huddled into a fetal position beneath the covers. Oh, God, she thought. Renata’s death would destroy her mother. She’d been so convinced the woman was her daughter.

  “Caleb, is that you?” her mother called, her voice hoarse from crying.

  “No, Mother. It’s me.” Taylor walked over to the bed and switched on the lamp on the nightstand.

  Taylor bit back a gasp. Not only were her mother’s beautiful blue eyes bloodshot and red from crying, all the color had leached out of her face. Her lips trembled as she attempted to speak.

  “Should I call the doctor?” Taylor asked.

  “N-n-no, there’s nothing anyone can do. Renata’s dead.”

  Taylor sat on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s such a tragedy. Renata had everything to live for, especially now.”

  “She was your sister, you know.”

  Half sister, Taylor mentally corrected her mother.

  “We were just getting to know each other,” Taylor fibbed. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with the stripper who was trying to pass herself off as her half sister.

  “I miss her so much.” Tears seeped from her mother’s eyes and trickled down her pale cheeks.

  Taylor reached for a tissue on the nightstand, then gently dabbed away the tears. “Do the police have any idea about what happened?”

  Her mother scooted into an upright position and Taylor helped adjust the pillows behind her head. “All they’ve said was that someone shot Renata at point-blank range.”

  “Did anyone hear the shot?”

  “No. I didn’t hear a thing. Neither did Caleb.”

  “Was there any sign of forced entry?”

  “I don’t know, but the burglar alarm wasn’t on, and the gate to the pool area was unlocked. Anyone could have gotten in very easily.”

  “You’re usually more careful,” Taylor said before she could stop herself. “You always set the alarm.”

  “Not since Renata and Caleb came. Renata liked to go out to the clubs at night. She’d come home very late, and she didn’t want to fool with the alarm. I got out of the habit of setting it.”

  “Did she go out last night?” Taylor asked, wondering if some nut had followed her home.

  “No, she was exhausted from working in shipping, and she wanted to get to work early again. She kissed me good night around nine—”

  Her mother’s voice cracked and she gulped hard, tears again supping down her cheeks.

  “That was the last time I saw her. I’ll never see her again. I’ll never have the chance to make up for giving her away.”

  Taylor didn’t know how to deal with her mother. She couldn’t help wondering if her mother would be this upset had she been the one to die.

  “Oh, Mom, don’t be so hard on yourself. You did the best you could.”

  “No, by changing my will I may have put her life in danger.” Tears still shimmered in her eyes, but her voice had the steely edge Taylor remember from her youth. “That’s what Caleb says.”

  Caleb again. The man had far too much influence on her mother. Could she possibly be thinking someone in the family was responsible for Renata’s death?

  “You all knew I was going to change my will, didn’t you?”

  Taylor saw no point in denying it. “Yes, we did.”

  “Caleb warned me not to use Ridley Pudge. He was a family friend, and he would tell, but I wouldn’t listen.”

  Caleb was right, she silently conceded.

  Her mother’s stare was so accusing, it sent a tremor through Taylor.

  “Mother, surely, you don’t think one of the family killed Renata.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on … I’m so heartsick. So confused.”

  “Mother, please don’t think …” Taylor let the words trail off, not knowing what else to say and realizing Caleb had planted the seed of suspicion in her mother’s mind.

  “Caleb spoke to Renata last night just as she was going to bed. She told him she’d been threatened with death, and”—her brittle voice faltered—“Renata believed one of you was behind it.”

  “Who threatened her?”

  “One of the Cubans in the shipping department, but she was just a messenger.”

  Taylor squeezed her mother’s hand, puzzled by what she’d just heard. “I can’t imagine why any of those Cuban women would threaten Renata. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Her mother nodded very slowly, and Taylor could see just what a toll this had taken on her.

  “Why would those women be mean to my girl?” her mother asked. “And what was Renata doing in the shipping department? It’s miserable down there. Just miserable.”

  “She wanted to learn the business from the ground up,” Taylor managed to say with a straight face. Undoubtedly Renata would have preferred to start in sales where she could sample all the products.

  Her mother’s pale blue eyes assessed her the way they had when she’d been a teenager and trying to get away with something.

  “Renata never had a chance,” her mother said, “to be all that she could be. All that she should have been.”

  Chapter 15

  “Life isn’t about the chances you’re given. It’s about the chances you take.”

  No-see’ums buzzed through the sultry night air, riding a beam of moonlight. In the distance, strains of salsa music blared from a radio tuned to WQBA, Miami’s Spanish-language station.

  “The preemptive strike was chancy given the short time I had to plan. But life isn’t about waiting to be given a chance. It’s about seizing the moment—making your own chances.”

  The wail of a police siren cut through the night. It wasn’t coming this way. Why would it?
>
  No one knew the truth, and no one ever would.

  Who would be clever enough to figure it out?

  Shane Donovan thought he was hot shit, but he didn’t have a clue.

  “With Renata dead, everyone is in a tailspin. Just the way I wanted it.”

  The radio clicked off and the sudden silence seemed oppressive to him. The dead air almost had a physical weight to it. The silence became louder and louder until it pounded in his brain like a drumbeat.

  What was there about noise that comforted? In the distance, two alley cats geared up for a fight, yowling to the heavens in long, high-pitched screeches that were death threats.

  Ah, that’s better.

  “Vanessa is really in agony. Just what I wanted. By the time I’m done, Vanessa will suspect everyone in the family of killing Renata—even Taylor, her own daughter. Little does she know I’m going to kill Taylor as well.”

  The cats were fighting now, clawing and screeching. The sounds ripped through the hot, thick night air like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Perfect music.

  “Taylor doesn’t have long to live and getting cozy with Shane Donovan isn’t going to save her.”

  “My mother’s so upset, so confused,” Taylor said to Shane. “I think Caleb has convinced her one of us killed Renata.”

  “That man is nothing but trouble.”

  “Mother has known me my whole life. How could she think I could possibly harm anyone?”

  “Did she come right out and accuse you of it?”

  “No, but I could tell she was suspicious.”

  “She’s not herself right now,” Shane told her. “Caleb Bassett isn’t helping.”

  It was after ten and they were sitting on Shane’s sofa with Auggie at their feet. Shane’s arm was around her, the way it had been almost constantly since they left her mother’s home around noon.

  He was so close she could smell the elusive citrus-like scent of his aftershave. Taylor was drawn to his strength. Suddenly, the intimacy she’d been working so hard to avoid seemed comforting.

  Trent had taken off with Raoul, and she couldn’t reach him. Her best friend, Lisa, was still missing in action even though the murder had made the headlines of the Miami Sun. Brianna and Doyle were at the hospital with her mother, who’d taken a turn for the worse.

  Shane Donovan was the only person she had right now. A steady, reliable man, she decided. She hadn’t liked him at first, but she’d changed her mind.

  The phone rang and Shane jumped up, saying, “I’ll bet that’s Vince.”

  He’d called Vince earlier in the day to get him to use his contacts on the police force to see what evidence they had. Taylor listened, watching Shane and noticing two deep lines of worry appear between his brows. Evidently it was Vince and what he was saying was upsetting.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked the second he hung up.

  “Nothing really. It’s a good new bad news deal.”

  He lowered himself into the place beside her and put his arm around her again. He kissed her forehead lightly.

  “The bad news is the police found your fingerprints in Renata’s room, which is no surprise.”

  It was impossible to steady her erratic pulse. “Are they going to arrest me?”

  “No. The good news is they also found several sets of prints they haven’t yet identified. Your brother’s prints, as well as Raoul’s, are also in the room.”

  “What? That’s weird. I can’t imagine why they would have been there.”

  His eyes darkened as he held her gaze. “You need to consider the possibility your brother might have killed her.”

  “No, not Trent. He couldn’t.”

  Her protest didn’t have as much conviction as she would have liked. More and more lately she’d discovered she didn’t truly know her brother as well as she thought she did.

  “That’s all the police have—fingerprints. They’re in the process of getting search warrants for the three of you as well as Doyle and Brianna. They’ll be looking for the murder weapon.”

  “They won’t find it at my place. I don’t own a gun.”

  He frowned, his eyes level beneath drawn brows. “Do you know anything about Santería?”

  “Not really. It’s Cuban. A mix of voodoo and religion. I don’t know much about it, but Brianna probably does. Why?”

  “Vince said Renata was wearing an arichanet pin when she was murdered. It’s a bead of jet that dangles from a gold bar.”

  “A pin on her nightgown? How odd.”

  “Apparently, it’s supposed to help ward off a hex. What bothers me about it is Renata called me down to the shipping department just about closing time yesterday. She complained one of the Cuban women had put a hex on her. She wanted me to move her to another department.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her to talk to you.”

  “She didn’t contact me. Maybe she was waiting until the next day.” Baffled, Taylor rested her head against Shane’s sturdy shoulder. “The women in the shipping department are Cubans and they may believe in Santería, but I can’t imagine them putting a curse on Renata. Why would they?”

  “Good question, but I spoke with Renata and she was upset. She is—was—a very superstitious woman.”

  “Did she say who put the hex on her?”

  “No.” Shane shook his head. “I should have asked, but I didn’t, and now it’s too late.”

  “You know, a hex is one thing. Cubans can be very superstitious, but Caleb claims Renata told him her life had been threatened.”

  “Really? She told me the hex was supposed to bring bad luck. She didn’t mention any death threat. Something must have happened after I left.”

  “I find it difficult to imagine Renata being frightened by a hex. She seemed too tough to me.”

  “She was superstitious enough to take the trouble to drive over to Calle Ocho. Vince says that’s where those—arichanet—jet pins are found.”

  “If she’d been frightened, you’d think she would have bought a gun.”

  “Maybe she had. Who’s to say she wasn’t shot with her own gun, although that doesn’t seem likely. How would the killer have known where she kept the gun?”

  “You don’t suppose Raoul Cathcart hired someone to kill Renata?” Taylor wondered out loud. “He claims to know the best hit man in Miami.”

  “A pro didn’t shoot Renata. According to Vince’s contact, a pillow was used to muffle the sound. A professional hit man would have had a silencer on the gun.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She heaved herself to her feet. “It’s been a long day. I’d better go.”

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  Shane stood up and led her to the door. Auggie trotted behind them, wagging his tail, obviously hoping for a walk.

  “I’m a light sleeper. If the police show up in the middle of the night with a search warrant, I’ll be right over.”

  Clouds gloved the moon, and the light in the courtyard was out. Something moved in the shadows and Auggie lunged toward it. A tomcat streaked across the flagstones and disappeared into the bushes.

  Shane chuckled. “Once Auggie wouldn’t have dared chase a cat. He’s becoming a regular dog now.”

  She paused to unlock her door, then turned to thank him for helping her today. She honestly didn’t know what she would have done without him. Shane’s gaze was as soft as a caress and just as seductive.

  His lips dangerously close to hers, he traced the high arch of her cheekbones, then slowly eased the tips of his fingers into her hair. Suddenly, her blood thickened like warm honey. She knew he was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

  Gently covering her mouth, his lips pressed against hers. Strong arms drew her into the heat of his body, forcing her to acknowledge the hard length of his legs and powerful chest. His tongue brushed her lips, and with an inward sigh, she opened her mouth. Her arms slid upward, a scant inch at a time. Finally, one arm
circled his neck while the other clung to his shoulders.

  Shane’s arms tightened around her as his tongue mated with hers. Desire, dark and urgent, swept through her, chasing away her attempt to think rationally. The longer he kissed her, the more she needed him to keep kissing her.

  Too soon, he pulled back, and she heard her own serrated sigh with a surge of embarrassment. Lordy, what he could do to her without half trying.

  “I’ll be here tonight if you need me,” he said, his voice slightly husky.

  Taylor was in her nightgown and ready to climb into bed. Had she no willpower? Why couldn’t she resist Shane?

  She still loved Paul, didn’t she? Becoming involved with another man felt as if she were betraying him.

  “Get a grip,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s been almost three years. Life goes on. Just be careful. Take your time.”

  She heard a knock at the front door. Expecting the police with a search warrant, she threw on a robe and answered the door. Lisa stood there, smiling, a hot-pink shopping bag in her hand.

  “Look what I’ve brought you,” she said, walking into the apartment as she handed Taylor a paisley canister. “Here’s my first product, Love Dust. It’s dried ground honey and guarana. That’s a root product from the rain forest. It looks like amber talcum powder, but it’s totally edible.”

  Taylor couldn’t believe her friend was rattling on about what was obviously some Kama Sutra product when Taylor’s life was in such turmoil.

  “You use the miniature feather duster inside to whisk the love dust all over his body. If he hasn’t ravished you by then, you lick it off.”

  “Off who? What’s this all about?”

  She swallowed hard, trying to control her anger. She’d put off calling Lisa and asking her why she’d returned to Miami without contacting her. Now, here she was, practically accusing her of having an affair.

  Lisa tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, a familiar gesture, but one that Taylor now found irritating.

  “Come on. I was here half an hour ago. I saw you kissing that hunk. What was his name? Shane something. I left and went back to my shop to bring you the Love Dust.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. It was just a kiss.” She put down the canister. “It didn’t mean anything. I have too many problems to be thinking about men.”