Paranormal Erotic Romance Box Set

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Paranormal Erotic Romance Box Set Page 22

by Lola Swain


  “But what happens should the Law be broken? I mean, what can they do to us now?”

  “Sophia!”

  “I’m just asking, as in, hypothetically.”

  “I don’t know, Sophia,” James said and stood from the table. “Ask me why I don’t know what happens when the Law is broken.”

  “Why don’t you know?” I said.

  “I don’t know what happens because no one has ever broken the fucking Law! You didn’t see what rose up to initiate your Soul the other night because your eyes were tightly closed. But let me tell you something, had they been open and you did see, you can bet your tight little ass you wouldn’t be questioning their Law.”

  “Alright, alright,” I said. “I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I fucking do. It’s just that—”

  “No more, Sophia.”

  “Okay,” I said, “no more.”

  “There’s my good girl,” James said and walked over to me and gave me a kiss. “You know what you need?”

  “To be fucked?” I said and unbuckled his belt.

  “Yes, that,” he said and smiled. “But first, let’s take a walk down the beach and watch the sunset.”

  “Okay,” I said and sighed. “Then fucking?”

  “My lord, where did all this robust lust for fucking come from?” James said and took my hand and walked me to the library door.

  “You’ve taught me well,” I said as we walked out of the library and down the corridor.

  “Man, it’s packed,” I said to James as we entered the lobby from the side entrance.

  “Summer,” he said and grabbed my hand and threaded us through the crowd.

  As we came upon the set of French doors that led out to the pool patio, I heard her voice before I saw her when her distinctive English accent shot into my ear as it bounced off the marble walls of the lobby.

  I stopped short and yanked on James’ hand.

  “What’s wrong?” James said as he turned to me.

  “Katt,” I said and looked around the lobby, “she’s here!”

  “Sophia, let’s go,” James said and dragged me toward the French doors.

  “Absolutely not!” I said and tried to wrestle away from his grip.

  “Nothing good can come from seeing her.”

  “Whatever,” I said and yanked my hand from his and set about to find Katt.

  I jogged through the lobby dodging the guests coming at me while James ran behind. I saw her standing at the front desk, rapping her long nails against the marble desktop and tapping her toe.

  She was dressed beautifully, as she usually was. An expensive pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses sat atop her head holding her long, wavy hair, now dyed a rich Auburn, away from her face. I walked up to the desk and stood next to her.

  “Sophia!” James said and stood behind me.

  “I just want to see her,” I said.

  I reached out and ran my fingers down Katt’s cheek. Her face felt very warm.

  “Please feel me, Katt. Know I am here.”

  Her eyes, usually clear blue with shiny whites, were bloodshot. Her lids were red-rimmed and puffy.

  “Katt, I’m so sorry,” I said and touched her arm. “Please forgive me.”

  “Sophia, please. I don’t like to see you upset. Say your goodbyes,” James said.

  “Goodbye,” I said into her ear and pressed my lips against her cheek.

  One of the reservation clerks, a particularly snotty-looking girl named Darla, came up to the desk and stood in front of Katt.

  “I’m sorry, Miss—”

  “Lawson.” Katt said. “I’ve told you twice already.”

  “Yes,” Darla said and cleared her throat, “Miss Lawson. Mr. Conway is not issuing any statements at the moment and we are to refer everyone to the Barnstable Police Department.”

  “I am not a goddamned reporter,” Katt said, then looked around the lobby and leaned toward Darla. “Look, I’m sorry. Sophia Pearson was my roommate and best friend. Won’t Mr. Conway come out and speak to me? Just for a moment? Please.”

  Darla shook her head and sighed.

  “Just another minute, Miss Lawson,” Darla said. “I will see if Mr. Conway is available.”

  “Thank you,” Katt said and let her breath out.

  “Okay, let’s go,” James said from behind me.

  “Are you insane?” I said as I turned to him. “I want to hear this.”

  James looked at the floor and shook his head.

  “Fucking asshole,” Katt said as she continued to rap her fingernails against the marble.

  “See, Katt’s talking to you,” I said to James.

  “No actually, she’s talking about you and right now, she’s on the money,” James said and smiled. “You never told me how gorgeous your roommate is. A ménage à trois with her and you would be heaven!”

  “Ha-fucking-ha. Haven’t you had your fill of ménage?”

  “Never,” James said and winked.

  “Hey, why don’t you go down to the beach now? I’ll catch up with you when I’m finished here.”

  “Not a chance, Pearson,” James said. “I’m staying right here.”

  “Why? I’m not going to do anything to interfere. Are you telling me the man who sticks his cock into me every single day doesn’t even trust me?”

  “Yes. And stop trying to turn this into something it’s not. I’m allowing this, but, I’m staying.”

  “Wow, you’re being a jerk,” I said and stuck my tongue out at him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” James said and pointed over my shoulder. “Close your mouth, here comes Conway.”

  Mr. Conway shuffled out from his office toward Katt. He looked like he aged twenty years in three weeks.

  “Hello, Miss…” Mr. Conway said and straightened his tie.

  “Lawson,” Katt and I said at the same time.

  “Miss Lawson, yes,” he said. “I am Mr. Conway, the Battleroy’s manager. What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Conway,” Katt said and took a deep breath in before letting it out in a huff, “I am, was, Sophia Pearson’s roommate and best friend and I—”

  “Therrault,” Mr. Conway said.

  “Excuse me?” Katt said.

  “Oh, man,” I said and shook my head.

  “Her last name was Therrault,” Mr. Conway said. “Married to Mr. Therrault.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, I was Sophia’s roommate and I need to ask you a few questions. And before I am asked again, I am not a reporter.”

  “Well, Miss Lawson,” Mr. Conway said, “I really don’t know what I can tell you. I barely saw her. In fact, I had no encounters with Mrs. Therrault at all. I only had a brief dealing with Mr. Therrault.”

  “See, that’s important,” Katt said and rummaged through her purse and pulled out a notebook. “That I want to hear about. Just a minute, I need to find my pen.”

  Katt yanked scraps of paper, her wallet and other refuse out of her overstuffed purse and slammed them on the desk as she looked for her pen. No one at the front desk offered her use of their pens, including Mr. Conway and his was right in his front pocket. Katt’s hands shook as she ransacked her purse.

  I looked back at James who, knowing exactly what I was thinking, shook his head at me.

  “I thought you said a long time ago you couldn’t read minds,” I said.

  “Well, apparently I can read one-track minds,” James said.

  “Just another moment,” Katt said as she rummaged, “hold that thought, Mr. Conway. I know it’s here. Ah!”

  Katt pulled her pen out and it flew from her trembling hand and hit the floor. I bent down to retrieve it.

  “Sophia!” James said.

  I froze in my half-bend and twisted around to look at him. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Alright,” I said and stood up, “calm down. It was instinct.”

  As Katt crouched to the ground to pick up her pen, Darla looked at Mr. Conway and rolled her eyes. I fought
the urge to rip Darla’s thin lips from her face.

  “Woo, sorry,” Katt said as she stood up and stuffed some of the mess back into her purse, “disorganized! Okay, so you said you had a meeting with Mr. Therrault, when was that?”

  “M-meeting?” Mr. Conway said. “No, I said dealing. I said I had a dealing with Mr. Therrault; as in encounter. A brief dealing.”

  “Fine, dealing,” Katt said and sighed as she wrote in her notebook. “And when was that?”

  “Um, when was that?” Mr. Conway said as he stared at the chandelier hanging in the foyer while he ran his fingers through his sparse hair. “When was that?”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I said, “It was right after Brandt and Nellie fucking killed me!”

  “Sophia, she can’t hear you,” James said.

  “Yes,” Katt said and shook her head, “I am asking you when you met with Mr. Therrault, Mr. Conway.”

  “I can’t really remember,” Mr. Conway said and rubbed his hands together slowly, “Miss, um…”

  “Lawson,” Katt and I both said.

  “Uncanny,” James said, “I feel like I’m watching one of those parrot shows.”

  “Shhh,” I said.

  “At any rate, I gave that information to the police. Ask them, Miss Lawson. I’m afraid I need to get back to work,” Mr. Conway said and turned his back to Katt.

  “Wait,” Katt said and she reached out and gripped Mr. Conway’s arm and swung him back around. “Why, Mr. Conway? Why did you have a dealing with Mr. Therrault?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Mr. Conway said and tapped his chin as if he was trying to remember something that happened years ago rather than weeks ago, “noise I believe it was.”

  “Noise?” Katt said.

  “Yeah noise, because that asshole and his psychotic whore murdered me,” I said.

  “Sophia, she can’t hear you,” James said.

  “Yes, noise,” Mr. Conway said.

  “Well, what kind of noise?” Katt said as her voice got louder and shrill. “Television noise? Arguing noise? Fucking noise?”

  “Calm down,” I said, “they’ll throw you out.”

  “Sophia, she can’t hear you,” James said.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I get it!” I said.

  “Miss Lawson,” Mr. Conway said and smoothed his blazer, “I can appreciate the emotional nature of this conversation, but we simply do not speak that way here. Now, if I recall, there was a bit of a ruckus, nothing serious. It was their honeymoon, after all.”

  “Did you go to the room or was Brandt called out?” Katt said.

  “I went to the room myself. Mr. Therrault was quite embarrassed and I felt badly that I bothered him,” Mr. Conway said.

  “And Sophia…how did she seem to you?” Katt said as she scribbled in her notebook.

  “I didn’t see Mrs. Therrault,” Mr. Conway said and tapped his chin. “She was sleeping, I believe.”

  Katt stopped writing and looked at Mr. Conway. I knew that would get her attention.

  “Sleeping? Mr. Conway, please try to remember, when you were in the room with Mr. Therrault? Was it still light out or dark?”

  “As I said, I don’t remember the exact time, but I am almost positive it was still light.”

  “Mr. Conway,” Katt said and rested her hand on his wrist, “Sophia never, and I mean never, slept during the day. She barely slept at night. How do you know Sophia was sleeping?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure, Miss Lawson,” Mr. Conway said. “The door to the bedroom was closed and Mr. Therrault was dressed in a robe. It was their honeymoon, after all.”

  “I was dead, Katt,” I said into Katt’s ear.

  “Sophia,” James said, “she—”

  “Don’t say it, okay?” I said.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Okay,” Katt said as she wrote. “So you don’t know if Sophia was sleeping or dead?”

  “Dead?” Mr. Conway said and shook his head. “No, no, no. Mrs. Therrault certainly was not dead when I was in that room!”

  “But, how do you know?” Katt said.

  “I just do,” Mr. Conway said and chuckled. “I mean, Mr. Therrault had a rational conversation with me, Miss Lawson. And he was put together nicely. Yes, he was in his robe, but as I said—”

  “Yeah, I know,” Katt said, “they were on their honeymoon.”

  “Precisely,” Mr. Conway said.

  “But, can you say in your heart that you know, beyond even half a shadow of doubt, Sophia was alive at the time you were in their suite talking to Mr. Therrault?” Katt said and stared into Mr. Conway’s eyes.

  Mr. Conway closed his eyes.

  “Say no,” I said. “Tell her you weren’t sure. Say no.”

  “I can say yes, in all certainty,” Mr. Conway said. “Mr. Therrault had neither the disposition nor the appearance of a person who just murdered someone—his wife, no less. Besides, the police have the killer, Miss Lawson. Bobby Allen murdered your poor friend. Yes, on my eyes, Mr. Therrault did not murder his wife.”

  “May you go blind, Mr. Conway,” I said and hung my head. “May you go blind.”

  “Mr. Conway,” Katt said, “please, could you—”

  “Miss Lawson, I really must get back to work. You are looking for things that are not here. I was at Sophia Therrault’s funeral. That poor young man was beside himself with grief. He practically had to be carried out.”

  “Yes,” Katt said, “I was there too. Mr. Conway, would it interest you to know that despite the fact that, according to the Boston Globe, Brandt Therrault told you he had to leave the hotel to go back to Boston because he had a class at Harvard, he wasn’t enrolled in Harvard? In fact, he wasn’t even a student at any college in Massachusetts.”

  “I knew it,” I said and touched Katt’s arm. “That’s my girl.”

  “That is interesting,” Mr. Conway said. “I am positive he said he was a law student at Harvard. Did you tell the police this?”

  “Yes,” Katt said and bit her bottom lip, “but they weren’t interested.”

  “Well, there you have it then,” Mr. Conway said and tugged on the flesh under his chin.

  “But he lied to you,” Katt said.

  “And that means what?” Mr. Conway said and sighed. “Lying to a hotel manager about being enrolled in college does not mean he is a murderer. As I said, Miss Lawson, the police have the man who murdered your friend—Bobby Allen. Now, I must go.”

  “Has he ever lied to you, Mr. Conway?” Katt said. “Has Bobby Allen ever lied to you?”

  “Who knows, Miss Lawson? Who knows what is up and what is down anymore?” Mr. Conway said and looked over Katt’s head at the copper fountain.

  “I do understand,” Katt said and ran her fingers over her notebook smearing some of the fresh ink across the page. “Mr. Conway, I have just one more question. Did either Brandt or Sophia Therrault have any visitors to see them the day they checked into the hotel?”

  I turned to look at James.

  “She knows,” I said. “She can’t prove it yet, but she knows.”

  “Yes,” James said, “she knows.”

  “Visitors? No. And before you ask, I know his for a fact because the front desk is required to log the presence of all people who come into the hotel. That includes guests and visitors. Neither of them had any guests logged.”

  “But it is possible, no?” Katt said. “It is possible she slipped by you or the other employees undetected?”

  “No, it is not possible,” Mr. Conway said and narrowed his eyes at Katt.

  “A woman or…” Katt said. “Is it possible someone else could have been in that room while you were in there, Mr. Conway?”

  “There was no one else in that room,” Mr. Conway said and frowned.

  “But how do you know? You say the door to the bedroom was shut, that Sophia was sleeping. Please, maybe you remember?”

  “There were no visitors for the Therraults that day, Miss Lawson,” Mr. Conway said
. “There were not even any visitors for Mrs. Therrault after Mr. Therrault left.”

  “I was already dead,” I said.

  “Probably because Sophia was already dead by the time Mr. Therrault left!” Katt said.

  “Calm down, Katt,” I said.

  Mr. Conway stared at Katt as if he had more than enough of her.

  “Just think, Mr. Conway,” Katt said. “Is it possible that you saw a woman that day? A woman, Mr. Conway. She has mousy blond hair, overweight, uh, crazy looking eyes. This girl doesn’t walk, she lumbers, plods along as if on a mission. She makes an impression.”

  Mr. Conway stared at Katt and something flashed across his face. Recognition.

  “He saw her,” James said.

  Katt saw the look too and she reached out over the front desk and snatched Mr. Conway’s hands in hers. She yanked him toward her and Mr. Conway’s belly crashed into the desk. Mr. Conway looked down at his hands, now crushed by Katt’s hands and looked around the room as his lip quivered. Katt lowered her head and tugged on Mr. Conway’s hands as she stared into his eyes.

  “Think, Mr. Conway! Think!” Katt said. “Brandt Therrault had a lover, this horrid woman I described. Nellie, that’s her name, Nellie Daniels. The two of them live in Sophia’s home now…together. The same home I lived in with Sophia.”

  “I told the police everything,” Mr. Conway said. “I don’t know what else—”

  “Listen to me, Mr. Conway, I saw it in your eyes. I know you knew who I meant when I described her,” Katt said. “Do you know how wealthy the Pearson family is, Mr. Conway? And that the poor man you spoke of, he inherited Sophia’s fortune? He kicked me out of the house, were you aware?”

  “I-I’m confused,” Mr. Conway said and shook his head.

  “That’s right,” Katt said. “the day after Sophia’s body was found he marched right into the penthouse, with that whore in tow, and threw me out on my ass. No one believes it. No one will listen to me, but I know the truth. I know you saw Nellie Daniels in this hotel!”

  “Okay, now she sounds crazy,” James said.

  “She’s just upset,” I said and sighed.

  “I know, but she’s losing all credibility. Look at Conway’s hands. They’re purple for Christ’s sake.”

  “You do not know this man, Mr. Conway,” Katt said. “But, I’ve known all along. Sophia didn’t even listen to me. I begged her not to go. I was supposed to be her maid of honor, but I begged her not to marry him. You know, I will kill Brandt Therrault for putting me through this hell for killing Sophia!”

 

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