Mug Shot

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Mug Shot Page 24

by Caroline Fardig


  —

  Surveillance was not all it was cracked up to be. I had been parked outside Delta Hollingsworth’s house for an hour, and my butt was numb from sitting in the cold. It was also dark and rainy outside, so it was practically impossible to see anything going on. Every few minutes I had to turn on my car, either running the wipers to get rid of the raindrops or the defrost to combat my constantly fogged-up windows. I was hungry and had to use the restroom, and I was also bored as hell. I would’ve loved some company, but Pete was in jail, Stan and Savannah were inside at the repast, and Ryder…well, anything we had was over. Again. Finally, people started leaving Delta’s house, and I glimpsed Kent’s burly frame silhouetted in the front porch lights. I started my car and followed behind him, not close enough that he’d notice me.

  Kent drove for a bit and pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Music City Fitness gym Savannah and I had visited earlier in the week. The parking lot was practically a ghost town, so I parked at the fast-food restaurant next door for better cover. Kent’s business seemed to be failing as fast as Java Jive, and for that I felt for him. It didn’t change the fact that I still thought he was a jackass, especially since my finger and my head were starting to ache again. Sitting out in the cold for hours was not helping my healing process.

  Assuming he’d be in the gym more than a few minutes, I took the opportunity to zip into the restaurant to use the restroom and get myself something to eat. I could see Kent’s SUV quite well from my parking space next door, so I sat in my car and ate. There was no way he would recognize me or even notice me all the way over here. He emerged after about thirty minutes and got back into his vehicle.

  Kent pulled out into the street, and I made a move to follow. Before I could get on the road, a sedan cut me off and got behind Kent. Damn it. If this guy drove too slow, I could lose Kent. The sedan driver and I followed Kent onto the loop, and then we all took the exit that would head us toward Belle Meade. I was getting a little suspicious of the sedan, so I hung back a little, just in case. The rain had stopped, so I could actually see now. I looked at the sedan’s license plate, and it was a municipal. Was this a cop tailing Kent? If it was, it would definitely make me feel better, although it might also get me caught. I hung back even more.

  I recognized the area as the same one Grandmother Hollingsworth’s house was in. Assuming Kent was going to her house, which now technically belonged to his wife, I pulled to a stop at the curb and watched the two cars drive down the street and turn at the next corner. Knowing from my past visit that all of the streets in this subdivision interconnected, I went down a neighboring street and came up to Grandmother Hollingsworth’s house from the opposite direction. I parked several houses away on the other side of the street, behind another vehicle to shield me from the sight of the sedan driver.

  After Kent had been inside for about fifteen minutes, the man in the sedan got out and crept up to one of the windows and peeked in. He certainly moved like a cop, but unfortunately all I could see was his silhouette sneaking across the lawn. Suddenly, the front door burst open and Abigail stormed outside with Kent on her heels. She still had a cast on one wrist, but her twisted ankle seemed to be healed well enough. They were yelling and gesturing a lot with their hands, obviously in the middle of a fight. I wished I could better hear what they were saying, but even with my window rolled down, I was too far away to make out more than a few words.

  Kent barked something at Abigail, peppered with a few curses, and she fired something back at him. He said something about their kids. She pointed at him and gestured toward the house, then stomped down the sidewalk. Kent went back inside and slammed the door. The cop, or whoever he was, stayed put, cloaked in the shadows of the house. Abigail wrenched the door of her sports car open and flung herself inside. I had a choice to make, and I had to make it fast. I could either stay here and watch Kent, who seemed to be on Daddy duty at the moment, or I could follow Abigail. I chose to follow her, quickly pulling away from the curb to keep up with her zooming down the street. I didn’t feel like I had to be as careful tailing Abigail, because from what I knew of her, she’d probably be oblivious anyway.

  She drove all the way back into Nashville. This little outing was going to cost me a fortune in gas, but I stuck with it. I had inadvertently let a big truck get between us in traffic, but I managed to spy her little car turning into The Gulch area. Ahead of me, Abigail screeched across traffic, nearly causing a wreck, and careened into the parking lot of one of the trendy restaurants. I wondered if she was still high on painkillers from her accident.

  Waiting until she was inside to get out of my car, I managed to blend into a group of people entering the restaurant after her. When I came through the front door, Abigail was nowhere to be seen. Damn. I discreetly edged around the group congregated at the hostess stand and made my way into the restaurant. I stood behind a plant and scanned the place. Nothing. I headed in the direction of the bar, hoping to find her there.

  Bingo. Abigail was sitting alone at a booth. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, intending to seem like a customer, not the stalker I was totally being. I got out my phone and pretended to send a text, only I was really pointing the camera at Abigail and hitting the record button.

  I nearly fell off my barstool when I saw who approached Abigail, gave her a steamy kiss, and slid into the seat across from her. Alejandro Bastidas. Really? His baby mama was barely in the ground, and here he was, ready to capitalize on her own sister’s grief. This was a new low, even for him. Hitting on someone after a funeral was like going to a wedding with the sole intention of nailing a lonely bridesmaid, only about a thousand times worse. However, in the grand scheme of bad behavior, what about Abigail? How could she be involved with a man her sister had been planning to try to make a family with? I actually felt angry on Cecilia’s behalf.

  Bastidas said something to Abigail, and she teared up, taking a big gulp of her cocktail. He put on a sympathetic face, then proceeded to take her non-casted hand in both of his and make out with it.

  Grossed out, I paused my video recording and took a big gulp of my own drink. The two of them leaned toward each other and began having what seemed to be a serious conversation. If only I could hear what they were saying. What if they were patting each other on the back for succeeding in their plan to off Cecilia and split her life savings? Granted, they probably wouldn’t be discussing a murder in the middle of a busy restaurant bar, but I was still curious. I couldn’t get much closer without them noticing me, so I was kind of stuck. After a few minutes, he went back to work on her hand.

  Evidently Abigail had a thing for getting her fingers sucked, because she slid out of her side of the booth and grabbed Bastidas by the tie, dragging him out the door. I quickly paid my tab and followed them outside. They could barely keep their hands off each other long enough to get into his car. Bastidas drove a few blocks toward downtown, parking in a little gated lot next to a high-rise office building. I had to scramble to find a parking space so I could continue my surveillance. By the time I got into the deserted building, they were nowhere to be found. However, one of the elevators was climbing, and it stopped on the eleventh floor. I hopped into another elevator and followed them up.

  When I got off the elevator, I found a sign noting the names of the businesses on that floor. Bastidas Enterprises was listed. That must have been where they were headed. Creeping down the hall, I came upon the entrance to Bastidas’s office. I put my ear to the door but heard nothing. Surely if they had come up here to do it, they weren’t doing it in the reception area of his office. I tried the knob and had to keep myself from cheering when I found it unlocked. I slipped silently inside the darkened office, and I heard some thumping coming from a door to the left. I tiptoed up to the door and put my ear against it.

  “My sweet Abigail, you are the only woman for me,” I heard Bastidas say. Yeah, right.

  “Oh, Alejandro, I love you, and I want to spend every moment with you,
” Abigail replied breathlessly.

  There was a slight hesitation, and then Bastidas said, “I would love nothing more, mi querida, but that horrible husband of yours does not want to let you go. I cannot say that I blame him. If you were mine, I would never give you up.”

  She fell for his bullshit lines. “You are the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Take me! Take me now!”

  “As you wish, my love.”

  Oh, snap. It was then that I realized I hadn’t completely thought this through. It was all kinds of wrong to listen to other people having sex. However, I had come this far, and I was committed to finding out anything I could. I started to hear some soft moaning out of Abigail, punctuated by the occasional “oh yeah” and “right there, Daddy.” Bastidas let out a couple of guttural groans and cried out “no pare” more times than I wanted to hear. With the way my luck had run lately, it was par for the course that the only conversation I was able to successfully eavesdrop on tonight was their sex talk. On a positive note, Bastidas either didn’t have the interest in Abigail or the stamina to last more than a few minutes, because their screaming quickly rose to a climax and then immediately subsided.

  The things I’d do for Pete. There was no way I would ever be able to unhear what I just heard. I’d bet fifty bucks she faked it, considering it was all over and done with in under three minutes.

  I heard some shuffling, then Bastidas said, “I’m sorry, my darling, but I must go. I have a late meeting with an investor.” Investor, my ass. I’d bet another fifty bucks he had a second lady on the hook for tonight. Pig.

  “You’re such a busy man. I can’t wait until we can be married and I can spend every night in your arms.”

  Bastidas paused again when she mentioned commitment. “Yes, but for now you must go home. You have much mourning to do over your sister.”

  Ouch. Way to kill the mood. Abigail choked out, “Yes…you’re right. I was only hoping to take my mind off her for a little while.”

  “I know what would be a good distraction. You start dreaming up plans for a spectacular flower garden at your new home. With your newly acquired inheritance, the sky will be our only limit. We should be able to come up with a world-class design.”

  My ears perked up at “inheritance.”

  “Oh, Alejandro, I would love that. I was considering giving my soon-to-be-ex-husband some of the money to help out his business. But after the way he acted toward me earlier, I think a lovely flower garden would be a much better use of my inheritance.” She paused a moment, and then added, “I did receive a rather large sum of money from my dear sister.”

  “My darling, if you are in the market to invest in a business, may I suggest Bastidas Enterprises? I am always looking to take on new investors. Then we could work much more closely.” He certainly never passed up a chance to be a total douche.

  “Well, in that case, I’ll write you out a check tomorrow.”

  Seriously? I wanted to shake her and scream, “How stupid are you?”

  I heard footsteps approaching the door, so I sprinted out of the office and around the nearest corner. Holding my breath, I waited until I heard the elevator doors close before I relaxed. I took my time getting to my car and drove straight back to Abigail’s house. The last thing I wanted to witness tonight was Bastidas working his mojo on another potential “investor,” so I figured I’d see if there were any fireworks between Kent and Abigail once she got home. In the back of my mind, I was concerned about her safety. If Kent were to figure out Abigail left to go cheat on him, he might decide to take it out on her physically. Not that I could personally do anything about it, but I could at least call the police if I thought things were getting dicey.

  When I got back to my parking place, I noticed that the sedan from earlier seemed to be gone. Kent’s SUV was still in the driveway where he’d left it. Settling in, I waited for Abigail to get home. I didn’t have to wait long. Kent must have been watching for her, too, because the second she turned into the driveway, he was out the door with a couple of suitcases in hand.

  He yelled at her for a moment and then threw the suitcases in his SUV and took off. Assuming I’d witnessed him moving out, I was curious as to where he’d go, so I gave up on Abigail and followed Kent. And again, I found myself all the way back downtown. He turned into the valet entrance of the Omni, a swanky hotel a couple blocks off Broadway. Parking for me was going to be difficult because I wasn’t about to cough up money for a good spot. I kept driving and lucked into an empty space on the street only two blocks away. Jogging back to the Omni, I managed to get to the lobby as Kent was still checking in. His back was to me, so I nonchalantly passed behind him and entered the library area, sitting where I could get a good view of the lobby. I grabbed a book to put in front of my face so I could watch him unnoticed.

  When he had finished checking in, he glanced around the lobby, as if looking for someone. I ducked down further behind my book and waited. He went and sat down on one of the couches in the lobby, thankfully facing toward the doors and away from me. He was definitely waiting for someone. I stayed put, tingling with anticipation and hoping that my voyeuristic stakeout tonight would finally net me something useful.

  We waited for a good fifteen minutes, and in that time, I got so bored I started reading the decoy book I had in front of my face. When I realized I hadn’t been paying attention to my spying, I snapped my head up and found that there was a petite blonde standing next to Kent. He picked up his bags and smiled broadly at her, gesturing toward the elevators. Hmm. Kent had himself a little something on the side, too. When his piece of tail turned to walk across the lobby and I saw her face, my mouth dropped open in shock. It was Savannah.

  What the hell? Savannah and Kent? I simply couldn’t wrap my mind around it, but there she was, getting on the elevator with him, going upstairs to…I shuddered. I didn’t even want to think about it. Was everyone cheating in this town?

  A moment later someone tapped me on the shoulder. My mind still reeling, I turned to find a ruggedly handsome man standing right next to me. Could my horrible day finally be looking up? I’d always had a bit of a weakness for guys with manly beards. He was tall and well built, too. There was something about him, though, that reminded me of the cop guy who was following Kent earlier.

  Oh, shit.

  I quickly put down my book and smiled at him. “Hi there.”

  He nodded his head toward the lobby. “Why have you been following Kent Fielding around this evening?”

  “What?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “I’m here to meet a friend, but I’d be happy to ditch her if you’d like to have a drink with me instead.”

  Giving me a stern look, he said, “Cut the crap.”

  Unfortunately, this guy was immune to my charms. “There’s no crap. Who are you anyway, that you think you have the right to be in my business?”

  He put his badge on the table beside me and slid it toward me. “My name is John Stafford. I’m a police officer, and you’re interfering in my investigation.”

  If I had a nickel for every time a cop said that to me…

  I pushed the badge back toward him. “You can’t arrest me for taking a drive around town and reading a book in a public place.”

  Stafford glanced down at my finger with the splint and then at the side of my face. Realization dawned in his eyes. “You’re the one he beat up. Is that why you’re following him? Do you have some kind of misguided vendetta?”

  “You’ve got the wrong girl.” I had wasted all night trailing these idiots, and I wasn’t giving in easily.

  “Are we really going to do this? Because I could just call Hamilton now and let him come over and deal with you.”

  How did he know I had a connection to Ryder? I frowned. “That would be a bad idea.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

  Suddenly exhausted, I realized there was nothing more I could do tonight besides go home. I sighed. “Never mind. I’m out of here.�


  Chapter 28

  After tossing and turning all night, I got up and went in early to work. By myself, I rolled out the unholy amount of dough Pete and I had made yesterday, cut it into star shapes, and then started baking. The kitchen was already covered in flour, cookie sheets, and dough scraps by the time the staff arrived. Camille and Wayne were the only ones scheduled to work this morning, so I had Wayne help me make cookies and left Camille out front to handle all of the customers. Well, all one of them. Rhonda of all people came in to buy some coffee on her day off. Even Gertie didn’t show up today, not that I blamed her.

  I was sitting on the couch, taking a break from cookie baking, when Ryder stormed in the front door and headed straight for me.

  He threw a copy of the Nashville Gazette onto the table in front of me and bellowed, “Juliet, did you have anything to do with this?”

  He was good at his job, and sexy as hell when he was mad. Even though we weren’t meant to be, the sight of him could still get me hot and bothered. I looked at the front page of the paper, and not surprisingly, the headline read “Bastidas Enterprises Offers More Bang for Your Buck.” Wolfe totally stole the joke I had used when I emailed him yesterday, but it was worth it. For once, he actually kept my name out of it, calling me only a “credible source.”

  Figuring I couldn’t slip anything past Ryder, I saw no point in lying. I shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a secret. A lot of people know.”

  “If it’s not a secret, then it wouldn’t be front page news, now would it?”

  “Not my problem. After getting up close and personal with that loser the other night, I saw it as my duty to warn the unsuspecting women of Nashville about him.”

 

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