An annoying sound reverberated through the car. Ray was snoring.
Katie turned onto the expressway ramp, grateful there’d be no more conversation during the rest of the journey.
By the time they arrived at Ray’s house, her fury had dissipated, and she was merely super annoyed. She put the SUV in park, yanked the keys from the ignition, and wondered which one opened the front door. All the lights in the house were off, making her feel sure Ray’s daughters were asleep, or else she’d toot the horn to get some help.
Still barefoot, she got out of the vehicle, went to the front door, and tried various keys until one worked. Leaving the door ajar, she went back to the SUV, opened the passenger door, and woke Ray.
Blinking and smacking his lips, he said, “Oh, hey, wife.”
“Hey, yourself. Let’s get you inside.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Yep. Let’s get inside so you can have your way with me, little minx. You were all over me tonight.”
“Don’t start with me,” she warned and supported him as they went inside, and then she closed the door behind them and flicked on a light. “What little—” She searched for the proper word. “—affection we showed each other this evening was just that—show.”
“Oh, no it wasn’t.” He turned and pulled her into his arms. “You wanted me. Bad. I could tell.”
She tried to push him away, but he was stronger than he looked. “Go to bed, and sleep it off, Ray.”
“Come to bed with me,” he whispered. “After all, you’re my wife.” He nuzzled her neck.
“What?!”
The shriek came from the stairwell.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Katie hissed, this time escaping his embrace.
“I’m proud to call you my wife,” he said. “Daughters! Come meet your new stepmother!”
Dressed in a faded, oversized T-shirt featuring Pikachu, Sasha had already stormed into the living room, and Sadie, likewise attired, wasn’t far behind. “You’re married?” she shrieked.
“No, we’re not,” Katie said.
“Yep.” Ray grinned stupidly and spread his arms. “Come give your stepmom a big welcome-to-the family hug.”
“How could you?” Sadie demanded, before bursting into tears and running back up the stairs.
“We aren’t married,” Katie said calmly. “Your dad has had a little too much to drink. Now, would you please help—?”
“Why are you dressed like a hooker?” Sasha demanded, her mouth trembling and tears welling in her eyes. “Where have you been? And where are your shoes?”
Katie felt like crying as well. “Please. It’s a long story. Help me get your dad’s shoes off and get him to his bed so he can sleep it off. He’ll explain everything tomorrow morning.”
“I hate you!” Sasha screamed and fled the room.
With a sigh, Katie looked at Ray and nodded toward the couch. “Lie down.”
At last, he decided to cooperate. He sank onto the cushions and flopped over. Katie removed his shoes and covered him with the afghan that had been on the back of the couch. She looked down at him and saw that he was pursing his lips for a kiss.
Fat chance of that happening!
Knowing he was going to feel like crap the next day—and that was even before his daughters started yelling at him—she turned away in disgust.
Somehow, she managed to leave the house without slamming the front door.
Chapter 17
Tealicious had never looked so inviting. The walls positively sparkled, and all the furniture, mirrors, and picture frames seemed to have been gilded. It was the night of the open house, and Katie was surrounded by luminaries. George and Amal Clooney were congratulating her on the shop when her phone rang. She didn’t have her phone with her. Was it George’s phone? Or Amal’s? It kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Until, at last, George and Amal faded, and Katie realized she’d been dreaming and that the ringing phone was from the real world.
She ran her hand down her face as she rolled over and groped for her phone. Her alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. She neglected to look at the caller ID but thought there had better be an emergency. “Hello.”
“You’ve got our dad’s car, and we need a ride to school,” Sasha Davenport said icily.
“What? Oh, sure,” Katie said. “I’ll be there right away.” She ended the call and looked at the clock, wondering why the girl would call so early. Where is their school? Pennsylvania?
After taking a quick shower and feeding the cats, Katie drove to the Davenport home in her own car. Beeping the horn in the driveway, she was surprised when Ray came outside with his daughters.
He obviously hadn’t been out of the shower for long because what hair he had left on his balding pate was dripping water onto his shirt collar. He hadn’t shaved, and his eyes were bloodshot. Taking a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket, he put them on before opening the passenger door.
Eyes downcast, Sasha and Sadie climbed into the back seat of Katie’s car as their father slumped onto the passenger seat.
“One of you girls tell Katie how to get to your school,” he said before turning to their chauffeur. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem,” Katie grated and backed out of the driveway. Sadie told her to turn right at the end of the street.
It was completely quiet in the car during the drive to school except for Sadie’s terse directions. Katie guessed Ray had instructed his daughters to be civil to her since she was doing them a favor. She could understand their anger. They’d lost their mother only two years before and the wound was still raw. That their father would tease them with the idea he’d married a woman they despised was just plain mean. She hadn’t thought of Ray as mean for quite some time.
Joining the other vehicles in the drop-off line felt weird to her, but Katie didn’t voice her discomfort. Ray glowered when the girls slammed their doors upon getting out of the car without even a token expression of gratitude, but he didn’t say anything.
Driving away from the school, Katie asked, “How are you feeling?”
He groaned. “Exactly the way I deserve to feel. Could we please go back to silence until around lunchtime?”
Without another word, Katie opened her purse and handed him an envelope containing his keys and the money she’d promised him. He didn’t even open it.
Katie shifted the car back into drive and headed for Victoria Square. Upon their arrival at Tealicious’s parking lot, they got out of the vehicle and went their separate ways without a word. So much for their blissful married life.
Katie entered the building and headed to the kitchen to speak with Brad, noticing a couple of take-out orders already tacked above the pick-up window. Although not as many as usual, Brad was optimistic.
“See?” he whispered to her. “It’s turning around.”
She nodded. “Slowly but surely. Hopefully, tomorrow’s open house will be the trick we need to truly right the ship.”
“I think so. Come taste the mini quiches I’m testing. I’ll serve your favorites.”
The savory aroma made her realize how hungry she was. She sampled a prosciutto-and-Swiss quiche. “That’s wonderful.”
“Thanks. How’d the game go last night?”
“I won, and pretty big,” she said. “But I wasn’t very successful as far as the investigation into Jamie’s death goes.”
“I’ll make some tea and you can tell me all about it.”
Just as the kettle boiled, Nick arrived.
“Hey, there! How’d it go last night?” he asked.
“I was just getting ready to tell Brad all about it.”
“Why don’t we discuss it in the dining room where we’ll be more comfortable,” Brad suggested as Katie took over making the tea and he put an assortment of quiches on a large tray and added plates, cups, and napkins.
Once seated, Katie opened the conversation by telling Nick about her winning hands the previous evening.
He laughed. “Than
k goodness! Any wife of Nick Ferrell had better do the name proud. And speaking of Nick, how did Ray fare?”
“He lost. And he got falling-down drunk,” she groused before thanking Brad for the cup of tea he placed in front of her. “I’m so angry with Ray I can barely stand it. I gave him back what he lost out of my winnings. But the game and whether either of us won or lost wasn’t the purpose of our attending the event. We were there to gather evidence about Jamie’s evening there last week and to try to determine who might’ve poisoned him.”
“And how did that go?” Nick asked.
“I did my best, but I still feel as though I failed. And I can only assume Ray’s investigation sank to the bottom of a glass of bourbon as he’s yet to tell me what he came up with—if anything.”
“Don’t be so hasty in writing off the evening as far as the investigation went,” Brad said. “Tell us what you observed.”
“My big winner of the night was something the dealer referred to as the Dead Man’s Hand,” she said.
“You got black aces and eights?” Nick asked. “No way!”
“Yes, way. And after the dealer told us all the story of the hand being held by Wild Bill Hickok as he was gunned down, he said I was either lucky or doomed.” She sipped her tea. “I couldn’t help but wonder if he might’ve recognized me and dealt me the cards on purpose.”
“You believe he cheated to give you the cards as a warning?” Brad asked.
She nodded. “But if he was controlling the hands every time, why would he let me win?”
“Perhaps he wasn’t controlling the hands every time,” Nick said. “Some dealers set a newcomer up to win in order to build his or her confidence. If you lose right away, you’re more likely to hedge your bets and quit once your buy-in is spent.”
“Still, he gave her the Dead Man’s Hand.” Brad plucked a spinach quiche from the platter. “That—if intentional—had to have meant something.”
“True.” Nick appeared to mull the situation over as he finished off his tea and refilled the cup. “I wish I’d gone last night. I think I could’ve gotten a better read on the room than you or Ray.”
“You had a prior obligation and it was last minute,” Katie reminded him. “Besides, I think I did okay. There was a woman at my table named Gina. She seemed nice and even gave me her card and suggested we have lunch sometime. But in the ladies’ room after the game, she asked me if my husband would get angry because I won and he didn’t.”
“How did she know Ray lost?” Nick asked. “Did they speak?”
“I don’t think so. She probably inferred the information by observing the amount of bourbon he consumed. She said she thought we’d both done better than our husbands.” Katie rubbed her forehead. “Anyway, I told her I doubted he’d be upset and asked if her husband would be angry with her. She said he would but that she’d take him to his favorite restaurant, and he’d get over it. But if he’d get ticked off at his wife for beating him, how much angrier would he be at a stranger who won money directly from him?”
“True,” Brad said, “but Jamie was poisoned. Do you really think some guy would carry poison around in his pocket to get revenge on anyone who’d beat him at a game of cards?”
Nick spread his hands. “Some might. Still, poison is a stretch. You’d think the guy would carry a knife or a gun or something else with the intention of threatening, not actually killing.”
“What was Gina’s last name?” Brad asked.
“I don’t know, but her husband’s name was Tony. I left her card in the silver clutch upstairs. Do you want me to get it?”
“Nah, you have a lot to do today. I was simply curious.” Brad polished off another mini spinach quiche.
“But take her up on that lunch date,” Nick said, “and soon. She might be more talkative about Jamie and the night he won all that cash.”
“Okay.” Katie sighed.
“Something wrong?” Nick asked.
“Well…we ran into one of Jamie’s co-workers.”
“What?” Nick wailed.
“Or, at least, Ray did. I don’t think she recognized me dressed as hooker Barbie—”
“Hey!” Nick protested. “That’s an insult to Margo and me for dolling you up.”
“That’s apparently the impression I gave Ray’s daughters,” she deadpanned.
Brad winced.
“But at least we now know where Jamie learned about the game,” she remarked.
“Or did she learn about it from him?” Brad asked.
Katie shrugged. “Ray might know. And if his hangover ever abates, he might just tell us.”
Katie almost did an about-face when she saw Andy waiting for her in Artisans Alley’s vendors’ lounge. She could tell he was waiting for her because he sat alone at the vintage Formica-and-chrome table drinking a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound too bitchy.
“I left about a dozen messages on your phone last night.” He stood and walked closer. “Didn’t you get them?”
“No. I turned my phone off at the game, and I didn’t check my messages when I got home.” She wasn’t about to invite him into her office to talk. If she did, everyone—including even Andy—would think it was a sign they were getting back together. But anyone coming into the lounge would be privy to their conversation. So be it.
“Why’d you call? What was so important?”
“You, Sunshine,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I was fine. I attended a poker game, not five-finger filet or Russian roulette.”
His jaw tightened. “You went to a poker game where one of the players ended up dead less than a week later. I feel justified in being concerned.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m in tip-top shape. Thanks for checking in on me.” She gave him a smug smile. “As a matter of fact, I got lucky.”
His eyes grew wide with anger. “Did Davenport—?”
Katie knew Andy was no longer talking about cards. Before she could come up with a clever retort, Ray walked into the vendors’ lounge carrying the shoes she’d worn the night before.
Holding them up by their skinny straps, he asked, “Missing something?”
“Yes.” Katie took the shoes. “I might need those later—I think there’s a light bulb out in the ladies’ room.”
“Ha, ha,” Ray said. “Got a minute to talk?”
“Sure.” She turned to Andy. “Thanks again for your concern.”
“But—”
She left him standing in the vendors’ lounge as she and Ray entered her office.
And closed the door.
Katie put the strappy stilettos into her bottom desk drawer. “Thanks for returning these. I have no idea how much I owe Margo for them.”
“Eh, they’re not my size. Plus, I don’t know what I’d wear them with even if they were.”
“I thought you weren’t up to talking until lunchtime.”
“The aspirin kicked in sooner than I’d expected it to.” He sighed and looked embarrassed—and rightly so. “I want to apologize for acting like a sore-headed bear this morning.”
“I’m guessing you’d already been harshly interrogated, tried, and sentenced by the time I saw you.”
He nodded. “I’d have been executed, too, if they didn’t need me as a taxi service and to pay all their bills.”
“They don’t need me,” Katie said flatly. “Should I sleep with one eye open?”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt.” He ran a hand over his scruffy cheek. “Thank you for the money. I will pay you back.”
“Not necessary. I won that money, so I’m not out anything.” When she spoke again, her voice had an edge to it. “Besides, we were there to investigate Jamie’s death. You shouldn’t have to suffer a loss for doing Seth a favor.”
“Despite what you probably think, I did investigate,” Ray said.
“Do you remember how any of your investigative conversations went last n
ight?”
“I remember every conversation I had last night.” He gave her a hard stare. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
She snorted. “Oh, yes, you were. I had to practically carry you into your house.”
He leaned forward. “Where you then settled me onto my couch and covered me with an afghan before you left.”
“I would have done that for a homeless person on the street.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, did you learn anything at the poker club?”
“Phyllis was a good source of information,” he said. “I didn’t even have to draw her out. When we went around the table introducing ourselves, she told us her name, where she worked, and that she’d lost a dear friend this week. And she added, ‘Well, all of you probably knew him, too. He was a regular here.’”
“A regular? If he was, Seth didn’t seem to know about it. Did the other players at your table acknowledge knowing Jamie?”
“Two of them did—Helen Ackerman and Clint Billings. Billings said he played at Jamie’s table last week and couldn’t believe what a stroke of luck the guy had.”
Katie took a peppermint from the jar on her desk. She offered Ray one, but he declined. “Did it appear that this Billings thought Jamie was cheating or something?”
“No. Billings sounded more incredulous than suspicious. Helen hadn’t been at Jamie’s table last week, but she remembered him as being handsome and nice. She thought he might be a good match for her daughter.” He inclined his head. “I didn’t tell her he wouldn’t have been interested.”
“And what else did Phyllis say?” Katie asked.
“Naturally, being a retired banker from Connecticut and playing my first game at that event, I knew nothing about Jamie Seifert.” He placed a hand on his chest. “Why, no, I didn’t read about his death in the local newspaper. What in the world happened to the young man?”
Katie rolled her eyes at Ray’s affected gestures and speech. “Please, just give me the gist of what she said.”
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