“Whoa. You’ve found like fifty dead bodies now,” he said, his eyes wide.
“Don’t exaggerate. It’s only four.”
“Damn. That’s still four more than I’ve found.” He lowered his voice. “Was it bloody and gross?”
“When have I ever shared any details like that, Cole?”
“Um, never. Which is why I’m asking.”
“Get back to work.”
Irritated, I ripped off my apron and headed to the office. Cole had been one of only a handful of people to ask me about finding Chelsea, but it was such déjà vu for me that I was already sick of dodging the probing questions. I felt guilty for feeling sorry for myself when Kira and Trevor were undoubtedly hurting over this. I closed the door and picked up the phone to call Kira.
She answered this time, but her voice was quiet and shaky. “Hello.”
“Kira, it’s Juliet. I called to see how you’re doing.”
Kira let out a long, tired-sounding sigh. “I feel like this is a bad dream I can’t wake up from. Besides being so sad about Chelsea…” She whispered, “I’m terrified.”
“I’m sure you are. If you need anything—a place to stay, someone to talk to, or anything—please call me. You’re welcome to take as much time off as you need—”
“I can’t. I need the money, especially now,” she said, sounding like she was trying to choke back a sob. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”
I heard some shouting in the background.
“I need to go.”
“Wait, Kira, where are you staying? Do you have a friend that—”
She cut in, “I have somewhere to stay.”
There was more yelling in the background, and it sounded like an angry male voice.
“I have to go,” she whispered, immediately ending the call.
A bit disconcerted after such an odd call, I got up and went back out to the front of the house to empty the trash bins. Kira had seemed frightened, although it was natural for her to feel that way after what happened to her roommate, and in her own apartment, no less. I supposed it was the yelling in the background that bothered me the most. It didn’t sit well with me that some guy was yelling at her at a time like this. As I dragged the two heavy bags of trash down the back steps and out to the dumpster, it hit me how exhausted I was—physically and mentally. Maybe Kira had been at a sporting event or simply passing an angry person on the street while we were talking. It was highly likely I was reading way too much into this thing.
A little after five, Pete came in as promised to help out with Kira’s shift. As he approached me, he sang, “ ‘I’m burning, covered in blisters. Wish I could kiss her. Juliet, Juliet.’ ” It was a sure sign he was in a good mood if he was singing a “Juliet” song to me.
I wrinkled my nose. “Love the song, but did you have to pick the grossest line out of it?”
“Of course. By the way, you look like you’ve been run over by a truck, Jules.”
“Thank you,” I replied dryly. “You certainly know how to talk to a girl.”
He laughed. “I’m here to help—that is, as much as I can with only the one arm.” He gestured to the sling cradling his broken wrist. “I don’t think I’ll be slinging any ’spros tonight in my sling.”
“No, probably not. But you can take money, handle the counter, and wipe down tables. That’s more than enough to do.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Pete and I traded off filling Kira’s spot the rest of the evening. Once the place started clearing out around nine, we were able to take a break at the same time and sat together on the comfy, well-worn couch facing the front window of the coffeehouse.
“How was your appointment with your head shrinker today?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Meh. I feel a little better this week, but I think it’s more due to the oxy they gave me for my arm. Oxy is good shit.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
We saw Trevor and Ryan walk up outside. They came in and spotted us, weaving through the tables to grab seats opposite us.
Trevor fell heavily into a chair. “I think I’m going to fail my midterms tomorrow. The cops have been hounding me all day, and I can’t calm down enough to study.”
I asked, “Did Detective Stafford talk to you? He said he was going to, and he promised to be nice.”
“Yeah, he was pretty cool. But afterward, that old fart Cromwell came over and started giving me the third degree over some prepaid cell they found in Chelsea’s apartment. According to him, she only ever called one number from it—another burner phone. Then he and your boyfriend ransacked my apartment looking to see if I had the burner phone she kept calling. They acted like I should know about it, but I don’t. She never mentioned it to me. I don’t know why she’d have two phones.”
Pete cocked his head to the side. “Why would a college girl need a burner phone? Don’t people usually use those for…” He stopped, his eyebrows raised high.
Bleak realization dawned in Ryan’s eyes, and he finished Pete’s sentence. “Drug deals.”
Pete replied, “I was going to say affairs. Old, married assholes use untraceable cellphones to booty call their young mistresses so their wives won’t find out.”
Trevor’s eyes welled up with tears.
“Now, let’s not jump to conclusions, guys,” I said quickly.
Noticing what our discussion was doing to his friend, Ryan changed the subject. “Hey, Pete, what happened to you?”
“Rock-climbing accident. Other than a broken wrist, I’m good.”
“Which bone?” Ryan asked interestedly.
“Hell if I know.” Pete peered at Ryan’s swollen, bruised eye. “You look like you had a little accident yourself.”
Ryan couldn’t suppress his grin. He turned to Trevor. “Can I tell him?”
Trevor looked pointedly at me. “I’m sure he already knows.”
I held up my hands. “Hey, I haven’t said a word.”
Ryan said, “Long story short, Juliet and I created a diversion so Trevor could get past a cop and inside Chelsea’s apartment this afternoon.”
“What?” Pete cried, glaring at me.
Trevor took over the story. “I needed to return her real phone. It was a pretty sweet plan, actually. Ryan pretended to get mugged to lure the cop away from guarding the door. Juliet was there to be the lookout, but she ended up having to keep Chelsea and Kira’s nosy neighbor busy. Ryan fight-clubbed himself, and Juliet spilled beer all over her shirt. Any other day I’d be laughing my ass off about it.”
Pete was not amused. “Juliet, you said you were done messing around in murder investigations.”
“A little B and E never hurt anyone, especially if you’re returning something instead of taking it,” I joked. “And it’s not like I was chasing a murderer around, although Apartment 28 Jasper is kind of creepy. Maybe he did it.”
Trevor nodded uneasily. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Chelsea was complaining about him a few weeks ago. He kept trying to follow her into her apartment every time she came home. He would pop up around campus and try to start conversations with her, too. It bothered her enough she filed a complaint to campus security. I think they had a talk with him, and he quit for the most part.”
“That guy sounds like trouble,” Pete said. “Jules, has he ever bothered you?”
“Other than this afternoon, no.”
Trevor said, “He was the reason Chelsea was so adamant about not going anywhere by herself at night. She didn’t want to run into him alone. After that girl Amelia went missing, she was scared all the time.”
“I didn’t realize that,” I said. “Did you tell Stafford everything you just told us?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “He said he’d have a chat with Jasper. But I still feel like the cops are closing in on me. Every couple of hours they seem to have a new reason why I’m the killer.”
Pete shook his head. “Sorry to hear that, Trevor. I’ve been there, and it sucks.” H
e nudged me, leaning in to say quietly, “And it took someone moving heaven and earth to get them to change their minds.”
I smiled at him, thinking back on everything I’d had to do to clear his name. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Pete, but I never wanted to go through that particular hell again.
I hadn’t realized Pete and I were staring into each other’s eyes until Ryan cleared his throat and said uncomfortably, “So…we just came over here for some coffee and cookies. We need to get back.”
Snapping my head toward the boys, I replied, “Since it’s almost closing time, cookies are on the house. Tell Cole I said so.”
“Thanks,” they both said in unison, heading for the counter.
“Jules.”
I knew what was coming. “Yes, Pete.”
“Promise me you won’t—”
I sighed. “I promise I won’t get involved. I’m in deep enough shit with Ryder as it is.”
“Good. Now go home. Uh, I mean, go to Ryder’s house and get some sleep. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter 7
I’d tried to wait up for Ryder, since he promised he’d be home last night, but it was no use. I was out the moment my head hit the pillow. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because he didn’t come in the door until I was on my way out at six o’clock the next morning. We passed each other in his living room, sharing a quick kiss and a hug before he collapsed onto his couch. He was snoring lightly by the time I picked up my purse and keys and slipped on my shoes. Poor guy. His normally handsome face was drawn and pale, and I’d never seen such dark circles under his eyes. I did not like the hours his new job had him keeping.
To break up the tedium of the day, I had a lunch date planned with Ryder’s friends Maya and Brooke. Maya was a private investigator, and Brooke was a nurse at Vanderbilt Hospital. I was under the impression he and Maya had at one time been an item. Brooke was one of his late wife’s old friends. I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
After spending the entire morning stressing over this lunch, I became increasingly jittery and agitated as one o’clock approached. I’d snapped at Camille, totally unwarranted, and I’d spilled an entire cup of coffee on the floor behind the cash register before I’d locked myself in the office, hoping not to cause any more destruction. I paced around for a good ten minutes trying to calm down.
There was a knock at the door.
“What?” I barked, cringing at the edge to my voice.
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
I opened the door to find Ryder smiling down at me. I dove into his arms and let him hold me for a minute, hoping he could soothe my frazzled nerves.
“Are you okay? You seem a little tense.”
“You think? I don’t know why I let you talk me into having lunch with your old girlfriend and your wife’s bestie. They probably already hate me, and I haven’t even had the chance to stick my foot in my mouth yet.”
He smiled down at me. “You’re going to do just fine. Maya and I were never serious, and Brooke and Amanda only worked together. Neither of them have any reason to feel threatened by you, and vice versa. They’re going to love you. Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Then lighten up and have fun.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
Ryder gave me a lingering kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it home last night. It kills me to know you’re in my bed and I’m not there. I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise. I’ll be home by ten.”
“I’ll try to get out of here early, then. I’ve missed you.”
After a little more kissing, Ryder left to grab his lunch and I did a quick touch-up to my hair and makeup. I didn’t want to feel like a total troll upon meeting these friends of his. When I emerged from the office, I found him out front talking to two beautiful women. I gathered my courage and approached them.
When I came up next to Ryder, he circled his arm around my waist. “Ladies, this is Juliet Langley. Juliet, this is Maya Huxley and Brooke Nussbaum.”
The three of us exchanged hellos, and Ryder pulled out chairs for us at an empty table nearby.
Smiling, he continued, “I’m sure you lovely ladies will hit it off. In fact, I was just telling Juliet—”
Maya, who had a charming British accent, said, “Oh, please. Spare us the gracious gentleman bit, Hamilton. We all know it’s utter bullshit. Now get out of here so we can talk about you.”
After punching him on the shoulder, she sat down at our table. I liked her instantly. She’d probably had no problem holding her own with Ryder. She could have passed for a model, with dark eyes and long dark hair swept into a loose bun.
Brooke said to Ryder, “Yes, your services are no longer needed. That is, unless you want to buy us lunch.”
Another feisty one. Ryder knew me well. Brooke had just enough of a red cast to her strawberry blond hair that I was sure she had the requisite redhead attitude. I’d seen her in Java Jive before—quite often actually—but I’d never struck up a conversation with her.
“I’d be happy to. Everyone good with today’s special?”
We all agreed, and he left to go order our lunches. My palms were sweaty, but other than that, I seemed to have control of my nerves. Or so I thought.
Brooke turned to me. “Juliet, you look like you’re facing the firing squad. I promise we don’t bite.”
I smiled. “I’m sorry. I feel like a charity case, having to get set up to meet other women, that’s all. I really do have friends…they’re just all guys.”
Maya nodded knowingly. “The good detective doesn’t want you running about with other men, so he’s trying to find you some lady friends. I knew he had an ulterior motive.”
I didn’t know why that thought hadn’t occurred to me. “Maybe, but I don’t think he minds me spending time with other—”
Brooke shook her head. “He’s an alpha male. He minds.”
Maya nodded toward Ryder, who was waiting near the counter for our food, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “He’s an alpha all right. Have you ever noticed he always stands either with his hands on his hips and one thumb hooked around his badge, or with his arms crossed, flexing?”
I laughed. “I never noticed it, but yeah, you’re absolutely right.” Not that I minded, because he always looked good doing it.
Brooke said, “All joking aside, Juliet, he’s a great guy. A little overzealous when it comes to his job, maybe, but that’s not always a bad thing.”
Ryder appeared then, balancing our three plates, serving them to us with a flourish. “Your lunch, ladies.”
I winked at him. “Hey, you’re pretty good at that. If you ever want to quit homicide and come work for me, I’ll hire you in a heartbeat.”
“You’re working homicide now?” Maya asked.
He chuckled. “Yes, for almost a whole week. And I’m already on my first case.”
“That’s brilliant. Good for you. It takes a bit of a different skill set to track down sociopaths rather than pencil-pushing frauds, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “And speaking of that, I’ve already taken too long a break. I have to go.” He leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek before heading toward the door.
“Thanks for lunch,” Brooke called at his retreating back. Turning to me, she said, “I bet you hate it that he’s tracking down sociopaths now.”
I groaned. “I do. I worry about him constantly.”
Maya waved her hand. “He’s one of the best policemen I know. He’ll be fine.” She eyed me for a moment. “Wait a minute, you have no room to talk. I seem to remember him bellyaching to me several months ago about some gorgeous redhead butting in and derailing his investigation. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Wincing, I said, “Yes. That’s how we met.”
“And you dumped him soon after like a hot potato. The poor bastard couldn’t get you out of his head for weeks.”
“Really?” I hadn’t known
that.
Brooke was studying me as well. “Are you the one who keeps showing up on the front page of the Nashville Gazette?”
I rubbed my eyes. “That would be me. And what do you mean by ‘keeps showing up’? Have I been in the Gazette lately?”
“Your name was mentioned in this morning’s headline story, but there was no photo of you. You found that girl? Your neighbor?”
Damn Don Wolfe. But at least this time he didn’t slap a horrible photo of me across the front page like he usually did. “Yes, and it happens to be Ryder’s first case.”
Maya nearly choked on her sandwich. “I bet he loves that.”
“It hasn’t been a good week for us.”
Brooke shook her head. “I feel so bad for that girl. There has been way too much violence toward young women lately.”
“Yes, and the worst part is that Chelsea, my neighbor, was taking every precaution to stay safe after the other girl went missing. She did everything right and still ended up being a victim.”
Kira came in the front door then, a little early for her shift. I waved at her and smiled when she walked past our table, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Brooke with an almost frightened expression on her face. Flicking my gaze toward Brooke, I noticed she had locked eyes with Kira, too.
Busy typing something into her phone and oblivious to what was going on, Maya said, “I’ve heard through the grapevine that the cases are connected—the missing girl and the dead girl.”
I didn’t know if I was allowed to comment on that or not, so I kept my mouth shut. Kira had moved on and was now chatting with Camille behind the counter, and Brooke was acting as if nothing had happened.
Brooke bit into a coconut chocolate chip cookie that had come with the lunch special and sighed. “Oh, these are heavenly. You guys always have the best desserts. If I worked here, I’d weigh five hundred pounds.”
I smiled. “Thanks.” Some days, at five in the morning, I wondered if anyone gave a crap that I got out of bed early to make pastries rather than buying mass-produced ones from restaurant supply like we used to. Comments like hers made it all worth it.
Maya stood up. “Ladies, I have to go. I need to do some surveillance work this afternoon. It’s bloody boring, but it pays the bills.”
A Whole Latte Murder Page 6