by Gina LaManna
“I suppose,” I said. “You’d just need them for the day?”
She nodded. “One day. Practice in the early afternoon, show late in the evening.”
“That’s feasible,” I said, still seeing blinking dollar signs that could lead to additional construction money. Even with the help of Dane Clark’s hefty salary paid to my account, cash seemed to disappear faster than I could earn it. “Sure, that’s fine. Let’s do it—I shouldn’t keep a collection this beautiful hiding in my closet, anyway.”
“There’s the spirit,” Regina said. “We’ll take precious care of your babies. What if you swing by my office this week? I’m down near the pier in rented space next to Dungeons and Donuts—and bring a few of your favorite pairs. We have to choose a headliner of course.”
“Sure. Any in particular?”
Regina winked. “I trust your judgement. Drop by with a selection and we’ll choose together. I’ll have all the paperwork ready for you to sign and half the money as a down payment. We can negotiate there.”
I raised a hand and stuck it toward her. “Sounds great.”
We shook, wrapping up quickly as we both broke into fake coughing fits when a group of mourners flowed from the building, one of the women crying freely.
“Oh, don’t feel so bad,” Marcus said with a pleased smile. “Andrea would have loved that a gathering in her honor brought new friends together over fashion.”
In a strange way, he had a point—but the moment was gone. Regina signaled goodbye, then gestured for Marcus to accompany her from the building. He scurried after her like a quick rabbit, unlocking the door to a sleek black rental car parked illegally in a handicapped spot.
As they drove away, a hand came to rest on my shoulder, startling me. Shortly after, the familiar, spicy scent of Dane Clark hit me with a wave of recognition, and I sunk instinctively closer to his touch. By the time I turned to face him, my lips held a hint of a smile.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked gently. “You disappeared after the funeral.”
“I’m fine. I met someone who recognized my sunglasses and we got to talking.” I shrugged. “By the way, did you know Andrea was going to be the lead model in the biggest fashion show of the Sunshine Shore festival? I was just recruited to help supply the shades for the event.”
Dane frowned at my question. “No, I didn’t. I told you, Lola—we didn’t talk for enjoyment, not really. If we did, it was Andrea speaking to me, and...”
His face colored red.
“And you tuned it out?” I offered. “It’s okay, I understand.”
He looked down at his feet. I rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Look, Dane—the ceremony was really beautiful. I think, in a strange way, Andrea would have really liked it. Come on—I can’t keep you all to myself out here. Let’s head downstairs for some refreshments; I’m sure there’s a queue of people waiting to talk to you.”
I WASN’T WRONG. THE second we left the sunny outdoors and descended to the basement level, eyes tilted toward Dane and whispers followed wherever we moved. I tried to stay chipper and positive and ignore the stares.
“It looks beautiful down here,” I said, gesturing to the gorgeous displays of flowers, wreaths, and photos lining the walls.
The food was a magnificent display in itself—piles of fruit set in fantastic shapes and designs, more desserts than I could ever finish in my life, and enough main courses to please even the pickiest of eaters.
“Wait a minute, isn’t that Mrs. Dulcet?” I pointed behind the buffet tables. “I recognize the guy next to her, too. He works in the kitchens at the castle, unless I’m mistaken.”
Dane sipped from his lowball glass containing a serving of top shelf whiskey. “Yes.”
“You donated your kitchen staff to the event?” When he didn’t seem inclined to answer, the rest of the equation dawned on me. “You fronted the money for this whole thing. The flowers, the decorations, everything.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“Did you get them the car too?”
His somewhat sullen expression snapped into business mode. “A car? What are you talking about?”
“The Tesla. I didn’t see the Ricker’s as the type to go for a new vehicle, but I guess if it came free...”
“What are you talking about?”
“Andrea’s parents. I thought it was weird they bought a new car the week of their daughter’s funeral, but—”
“Gerard.” Dane interrupted me by calling over the caretaker of his cars. “Can you find the Rickers’s new Tesla and give me some details on it? It should be parked in the lot.”
Gerard nodded, apparently used to unusual and vague requests. As he turned on a heel and left, I glanced around at the rapidly convening crowd of mourners swarming toward Dane.
“I’m, ah—I’m going to go with Gerard to keep him company,” I said softly. “Why don’t you catch up with a few guests, and I’ll meet you back here in a bit?”
Dane gave a distracted nod as three guests began speaking to him at once. He didn’t make it out of the castle much, and when he did, it was a spectacle in and of itself.
I scurried along the path Gerard had taken, catching up with him outside in the parking lot. He located the Tesla quickly and peeked through the windshield, his face frowning with whatever he’d found.
Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. “What is it?”
“This car is new; it’s only been driven thirty miles. If I had to guess, the owners purchased it this week.”
“No plates yet,” I said, pointing to the dealer’s name plastered across the front and back of the vehicle. “Definitely new.”
“I know the head salesman there.” Gerard pulled out his phone, put it on speaker, and dialed. “Brett, help me out. Which one of you sold the latest Tesla to some locals recently?”
“I made that sale,” Brett said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You’re talking about those hippies? They paid cash.”
Gerard met my gaze over the phone. “Those are the ones. Say, did they mention anything about why the sudden purchase?”
“Not really,” Brett said. “It seemed like they just decided to come out one day and blow through a wad of dough. I don’t ask too many questions if the paperwork goes through. And they paid cash, so...aww, man. Don’t tell me there’s something fishy about their money.”
“As far as I know, it’s all good,” Gerard said. “Look buddy, don’t worry. I just wanted to confirm you’d sold the vehicle, that’s all.”
“It was me,” he said. “They seemed excited, if that means anything to you. The woman said something about how they’d waited too long to have it, but I didn’t catch the rest of it.”
Gerard said goodbye, hung up, and looked to me. “Any reason Andrea’s parents might have experienced a sudden windfall of money? Enough that they didn’t mind dropping close to six figures on a brand-new car?”
I shook my head, mystified. “No clue. They told me they donated a bunch of money to charity when Andrea’s grandma died. Like I said, they don’t seem like the flashy new car type of people.”
“Grief? People react in different ways.”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“Um, Lola?” Gerard’s sudden change of tone had my hands turning clammy. “I think there’s someone here to see you.”
I turned, feeling eyes on the back of my head, to find none other than Andrea’s ex-boyfriend standing at the door of the church with a glass of wine in his hand. “Ryan? What are you doing here?”
Ryan stood flanked by thin rays of sunshine. His eyes were red-rimmed, and upon closer inspection, I realized the wine glass he held was actually filled with a darker liquid. Whiskey, if I had to guess.
He raised a shaky hand and pointed at me while using his other shoulder to balance against the wall. “You. We need to talk.”
Chapter 17
I EXCUSED MYSELF FROM Gerard, who waited reluctantly near the doorway, watching as I guid
ed Ryan over to a low brick wall that ran the length of the parking lot. I sat him on it, and then stood before him.
Undoubtedly drunk, Ryan swirled his empty glass over and over again, trying to inhale the last few droplets of alcohol as his eyes crossed. “She’s dead.”
“Lola...” Gerard returned to my side. “I think you should leave him alone. He’s unstable.”
“It’s fine! We’re in broad daylight. People are all over the place.” I gestured to the steady stream of mourners exiting the church, some of them returning to their cars while others mingled in small groups. “He’s more likely to fall asleep than he is to do anything stupid. Anyway, Mr. Clark will be waiting for you. Why don’t you let him know what you found out about the Tesla.”
Gerard shook his head. “Lola—”
“I’m just going to sit here while he sobers up for a few minutes and make sure he doesn’t drive,” I explained patiently. “Send Dane outside if that’ll make you feel better.”
Gerard looked across the parking lot, probably judging how long it’d take to rush back should something go wrong. But he must’ve come to the same conclusion that I had—in bright daylight, in the middle of a church parking lot, there wasn’t much risk for something to go wrong. Especially now that Ryan had kicked his feet up and was wobbling into a sleeping position on the wall.
Finally, Gerard sighed, then made his way back into the church, glancing over his shoulder once more before he disappeared inside.
I knew I didn’t have long before Gerard or Dane returned, so I gave Ryan a light tap with my toe. “Hey, you. What are you doing here? What did you need to talk about?”
Ryan mumbled something that made zero sense, coughed, then burped.
“Ryan!” I stepped backward. “Why did you come to Andrea’s funeral? Did her parents invite you?”
“Small town,” he slurred. “I know things.”
“What sort of things do you know?”
“Andrea was going to turn thirty next week; I knew that. I got her a card. I told you that our relationship was a long time ago, but I lied. Sometimes, we still went out. I was her backup plan, you know. I loved her.”
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. This must be horrible for you.”
“It’s right here.” Ryan dug in his pockets, but the motion was too much and he tumbled off the ledge and collapsed in a heap on the ground. “Herrr-umph.”
He’d gone off the far side of the wall, so I approached the bricks with caution. Peeking over the side, I found Ryan in a dead slumber, snoring almost loud enough to be heard from the church.
“Ryan?” I reached out and poked his shoulder.
No response. Unsurprising, judging by the potent scent coming off of him.
Crumpled in his outstretched hand was the birthday card. I retrieved it and stood with a hip resting against the ledge, examining the front page. It was simple, a silver rose engrained in expensive material. The edges of the card were frayed, however, and a stain that looked like coffee took up the lower left corner. Judging by the state of the paper, Ryan had carried this card around for some time.
Another loud snore wracked his body. I felt a little bad snooping while he was out cold, but since he’d been about to show me the card anyway, I cracked it open.
There, written in surprisingly straight handwriting, was a message that read: Happy Birthday, Andrea. I love you.
The simplicity of the message brought a wave of sadness over me, despite the circumstances. I’d hardly known Andrea, and here was Ryan—a guy who’d almost taken my best friend’s head off with a vase—in a stupor on the ground. The whole thing seemed senseless. Andrea had only been twenty-nine—too young to go, despite her flaws.
“Why didn’t she love me?” Ryan shifted on the ground, then looked up at me with a surprisingly clear gaze. “What did I do wrong?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Ryan.”
“I loved her. She was perfect—the perfect woman for me.” He kept his eyes fixed on me. “Why didn’t she love me back?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“There was someone else,” Ryan said. “There must have been. He killed her, but why? How could anyone kill Andrea? She was perfect.”
“Do you have any idea who else it might have been?”
“Him. There.” Ryan pointed over my shoulder. “It must be him.”
I looked over my shoulder to find Dane striding toward us, looking none too pleased about the situation. The clock ticked away from me, and I hurriedly shook my head.
“It wasn’t Dane,” I said. “I am positive it wasn’t him, Ryan. You have to trust me on this. Andrea worked for Mr. Clark, and that’s it.”
“Then why’d she go to the castle at night?” Ryan blinked in confusion. “I followed her there once. When I asked her later if she’d had a shoot, she said no. She was hiding something.”
“When was this?”
“Last week. I wanted to give her the card.” He stared at the note in my hand. “I hadn’t figured out what else to write in there. I needed to hand deliver it to her so I could tell her how I felt with my words.”
“I know, I know,” I said, handing the card back over as he slurred a thank-you. “I’m really sorry about this, Ryan, but she’s gone. I hate to ask you this now, but where were you on the evening she was murdered?”
He turned a blank expression on me. “I just told you I loved her. I wouldn’t kill her.”
“But she’d chosen someone else. Didn’t that upset you? Maybe a heated argument, or a fight or—”
I couldn’t complete the question because two things happened at once. Ryan shook off his stupor and climbed to his feet, reaching for me, his hands grasping at my throat. Surprised, I moved back from the ledge, but he was stronger than me, and I couldn’t pull away from him. I coughed, spluttered, and yanked at his hands, but he wouldn’t budge. His hands clung to me, choking me, stealing my breath as I stumbled backward.
At the same time, Dane must have sensed something was about to happen because he propelled himself across the last bit of parking lot in seconds. He pulled Ryan off me in a single motion, threw him against the ground, and knelt with one knee on Ryan’s chest. “Keep your hands off of her, understand?”
Ryan couldn’t suck in enough air to breathe, let alone speak.
“Dane, let him go. It’s my fault, I provoked him.”
“I don’t care.” Dane spoke in a rumble that registered deep in my stomach. “There’s never a reason to lay a hand on a woman.”
Ryan made a gurgling sound in his throat as Dane sunk his knee into the other man’s chest, all those hours of swimming and lifting weights combining to form an intimidating creature—a man who moved with grace and strength, with unrivaled intelligence.
Dane was completely in control, which made him all the more scary. He watched, eyes alert, as Ryan’s face began to turn shades of blue and purple that couldn’t be healthy. My body remained frozen in place until Ryan’s eyes widened.
Lunging for Dane, I tugged and tugged, but he didn’t budge. It wasn’t until I accidentally brushed against the place on his shoulder that was bruised from the falling rafter that he finally reacted and flinched.
“Dane, please,” I begged. “Let him go. He’s drunk and emotional, and you’re already in trouble. Stop this before you make everything worse.”
Finally, Dane stood of his own accord and backed away. He turned to me, his eyes flashing with anger as he glanced at my neck. My hands raised there, and I flinched as my fingers made contact. Surely there were red marks, if not bruises. My skin felt tender to the touch. Meanwhile, Ryan inhaled deep breaths on the ground.
“What’s going on here?” A deep, male voice spoke from behind us. It was Mr. Clark Sr. flanked by his wife, Amanda, and a small group of mourners dressed in black.
“Dane?” Amanda said in her clipped voice. “What are you doing?!”
Dane brushed his hands off on his clothes, then ignored his parents and
reached over to help Ryan to his feet. The latter didn’t want anything to do with Dane. Ryan crab-walked backward, his eyes livid, spitting as he spoke.
“He’s the one who killed her,” Ryan snapped, raising a trembling finger to Dane. “He killed her, and he just about killed me. Arrest him before he hurts anyone else.”
“You were choking me,” I said, stepping between Dane and Ryan. “You were trying to kill me.”
Ryan stood up, wiped a hand across his mouth. “Whatever you say,” he said, his eyes flicking toward the entrance of the church. The cops that had taken one of the back pews were filtering out, slowly registering the disturbance. “He knows the truth,” Ryan said to the growing crowd. Swiveling his gaze back to Dane, he yelled, “You stole Andrea away from me!”
“Is this true?” Amanda asked her son as the cops convened on us. “Were you dating that girl?”
“Let’s go,” Dane said to me. Resting a hand on my back, he led me away, back to the church where he spoke in low tones with Gerard and Mrs. Dulcet while the police began asking questions to anyone in the immediate vicinity. When he finished, he turned back to me. “Are you ready to go home?”
“My bike,” I squeaked. “It’s locked out front.”
“Make sure it gets home,” Dane instructed Gerard. “You’re coming with me, Lola.”
Chapter 18
“PLEASE PASS THE BUTTER.” Amanda spoke to the table and looked at the wall, but I had a feeling the request was pointed at me. “And the salt.”
I handed over the plate of butter to where she sat at the head of the dining room table, and then I did the same with the salt. Amanda’s husband sat across from her, Dane across from me. Dinner was a tense event, and I didn’t blame Mrs. Dulcet for staying tucked away in the kitchen as much as possible.
We ate the roast in silence for a few long minutes. “It was a lovely ceremony today,” I offered. “That was very generous of the Clark family to prepare it and help with costs.”