I smiled. That little tidbit of information could go a long way to getting me back into Ryder’s good graces, and with my new team’s help, I wouldn’t have to feel slimy for getting it. It was one thing to bug Chelsea’s mourning friends about her tryst with a professor, but I wouldn’t think twice about hounding these people today for the information. I’d never see them again.
Chapter 10
Stan walked us up to a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in basically the same getup as he was. When Stan clapped the man on the back and he turned around, I tried not to stare at his face. At first glance, I’d thought he was handsome, but the more I studied him, I realized he was…cartoonish. He looked like a real-life version of Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid, and not in a good way. His eyes were an electric shade of blue, and open as wide as possible, giving him a look of constant surprise. He had deep dimples, which would have been rather attractive had they been real. His chin was long and pointy, and his nose was perfectly chiseled, even turning up a little on the end. There was not a single wrinkle on his face, even though I assumed him to be around forty. This guy had to have spent a small fortune on plastic surgery.
He shook Stan’s hand and greeted him warmly. “Hey, Hollingsworth. Good to see you, my friend.” Turning to me with an amused smirk twisting his too-full-for-a-man lips, he said smoothly, “You’re not Jenny.”
I snapped out of my staring. “Um, nope. I’ve definitely never been accused of being Jenny Vaughn.”
Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, Juliet.”
The man took my hand and shook it. “I’m Dean Kingston. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Juliet, is it?”
“Yes. Juliet Langley.”
Dean gave me a mock glare. “And are you a good tennis player, Juliet Langley? Are you going to help us stomp the rest of these losers into the ground?”
I smiled. “I can hold my own. But I thought this was a charity match. You know, for fun?”
“Someone has to win. Might as well be us.”
Stan jerked his thumb at Dean. “Watch out for this one, Juliet. He’s a hardcore competitor. I’m afraid he might make us run laps if we lose.”
Dean clasped his chest. “Ouch. You act like I’m some sort of drill sergeant, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.” He put his hand on my arm. “I’m an easygoing guy, really. Ask anyone.” He turned to Stan. “Say, Stan, are your lovely sister and mother here today to cheer us on?”
Stan’s sister and mother were most certainly not lovely, and neither one of them liked me, not even a little.
Stan replied, “Mother is here, but I believe Abigail had other plans this afternoon.”
“What a shame,” Dean said. “I would have loved to catch up with Abigail.” He turned to me. “Back to business. Are you ready to be part of the best tennis team ever assembled? I’ve been told I’m quite good,” he said with a wink.
A petite brunette joined us, and she seemed to have been bitten by the plastic surgery bug as well, only not quite as many times as Dean. Her eyebrows were arched to the middle of her forehead, and her lips were big pink pillows that wobbled when she spoke. Her breasts were enormous. There was no way she didn’t have back problems from carrying those suckers around.
“My dear brother, are you feeding this unsuspecting girl a line?” she asked, smiling at us.
“I would never do such a thing,” he replied, hooking his arm around her shoulders. “Juliet Langley, this is my sister, Lucinda Kingston-Malloy.”
We shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You, too,” she replied. “Hello, Stan.”
“Lucinda,” he responded, nodding his head.
She smirked at him. “I just spoke with Jenny. She’s none too pleased about being replaced on our team.”
Stan shrugged. “I couldn’t lead the poor girl on, now, could I?”
Lucinda giggled. “She should have known better, dating you. You go through women like water through a rusty bucket.” She looked at me apologetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, Juliet. I didn’t mean—”
I held up a hand. “Been there, done that. Stan and I are only friends. In fact, I think I’m the only woman he’s ever dated who’ll still speak to him.”
“However did you manage to get over the heartbreak of him leaving you?” she asked, feigning pity.
“Oh, I dumped him, but we agreed to let him tell everyone it was the other way around. The male ego is so very fragile, you know,” I replied, trying not to crack a smile.
When Stan’s jaw dropped open, Dean let out a snort of laughter. “Stan, you’ve got a firecracker here.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered in reply.
A voice over the loudspeaker announced it was time for the first match, so Stan and I went to our appointed court and began warming up. For our first match, we played an older couple, a retired doctor and his wife. They were fit for their age and gave us a run for our money, but in the end we beat them. For the next match, I was paired up with Dean. I had to admit, he was quite a better tennis player than Stan, and the two of us whooped the young engaged couple we went up against. If it was possible, Lucinda was even better than her brother, and the two of us girls put a beatdown on the cocky twin brothers we played in the third round. Before the match, they were condescending, promising to go easy on us. But by the end of the match, they were cursing us under their breath, playing full out but unable to beat us.
We finally got a break after the three matches and had time to sit down and talk. Lucinda and I found a table by the outdoor bar, and moments later Stan and Dean came swaggering toward us.
“You’ll never guess who we beat,” Dean said triumphantly.
Lucinda winked at me. “Hmm. Was it John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors?”
“Ha-ha. We beat Dr. Dennison and his child bride, the former tennis pro,” he replied, puffing out his chest.
She scoffed, “Isn’t she like seven months pregnant?”
Dean’s face fell. “Well…yeah, but…”
She slow-clapped for them. “Congrats, boys. Let’s celebrate by you buying us a drink.”
Grumbling, they headed to the bar.
Lucinda laughed. “My brother. Take everything he says about himself with a grain of salt.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad as guys go. They’re all a little egotistical,” I replied.
Snorting, she said, “Especially doctors. Some of these guys think they can get away with anything.”
I saw this as my chance. I nodded. “I’ve heard some of them are big-time cheaters.”
“They’re all cheaters. They play God all day at work and think they can do it at home, too. That’s why I married a musician.”
I neglected to point out that the majority of musicians I knew weren’t exactly the most faithful bunch. “Right. And for the doctors who teach at Vandy, it’s probably like shooting fish in a barrel, with so many ambitious young girls around.”
Lucinda frowned. At least I thought she frowned. Her oversized lips didn’t move right. “Don’t get me started on that subject.”
I was going to need to get her started on that subject to get the information I wanted. I sighed. “It’s a shame that kind of thing goes on.” Hoping to appeal to her gossipy side, I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. “Did you hear that the Vanderbilt student who was murdered earlier this week was having an affair with one of the pre-med professors? The police have no idea who this guy is, and they have no idea who killed her. I say you find one, you find the other.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Now that’s some good gossip. What else do you know?”
I’d already told her way more than I probably should have. Chelsea’s relationship wasn’t public knowledge, but I had a feeling now that Lucinda knew, it would be. “Um…nothing. I just thought it would be…fun to try to figure out who the guy is. I mean, he could be here today, right?”
“Ooh, yes! There’s a good chance—”
“Here are your
drinks, ladies,” Stan announced, interrupting her. He set two bottles of water down in front of us.
Lucinda griped, “Water? I thought you two were getting us drinks.”
“Come on, sis,” Dean said easily, sitting down next to me. “We need to stay hydrated if we want to play our best.” He grinned slyly at her. “A real doctor would know that.”
Unfazed, she shot back, “At least my job doesn’t involve fondling women all day like some pervert.”
Yikes.
Exasperated, Stan shook his head. “My apologies, Juliet. To give some context to their warped idea of witty banter, Dean is an ob-gyn and Lucinda is a psychiatrist.”
No wonder Lucinda had such a chip on her shoulder about male doctors in general. She’d probably had to fight against them tooth and nail ever since she declared her major in college.
I smiled. “Trust me, I’ve heard worse. I’ve said worse.”
We all shared a chuckle, but our merriment quickly faded as a shadow fell across our table. Jenny Vaughn stood beside Stan, glaring down at him like an evil gargoyle.
“Hello, Jenny,” he said hesitantly.
She smirked at him. “Your mother wanted me to convey her displeasure over you going back to…How did she put it? Oh, yes. ‘Slumming with your Yankee whore.’ ”
“The Yankee whore can hear you,” I pointed out dryly.
Jenny didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Typical. Stan flicked his eyes at me apologetically while Lucinda and Dean both covered their mouths to hide their amusement.
Stan said, “Jenny, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call my friend names. I understand that you’re angry with me right now, but this isn’t the proper time or place to get into it.”
Wow. Go, Stan. After he’d been so worried about how he should break things off with her, he was certainly firm and decisive about handling the aftermath.
Jenny sneered, “I’m not angry.” Could’ve fooled me. Flipping her hair, she continued haughtily, “In fact, I’ve already moved on. I’m here with Dr. Cliff Keaton.”
Dean piped up, “Isn’t Doc Keaton our parents’ age?”
Growling, Jenny stomped away, and the four of us again dissolved into laughter.
Stan looked at his watch. “Well, team, break time is over. Juliet, you’re with me again.”
Damn. I had been getting somewhere with Lucinda before the guys interrupted us. Maybe we’d have another chance to talk later. I followed Stan to the court for our next match. When we went to greet our opponents, I was pleasantly surprised to see a friendly face.
“Mallory! Hey, I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I said.
Mallory Beaumont, the doctor friend of mine who had treated Pete’s broken arm, gave me a big hug. “Juliet! How lucky are we to run into each other twice in one week? We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” she replied.
“Absolutely.” While I was at the ER with Pete, Mallory and I had made plans to meet Sunday for a drink.
She tapped the man next to her on the shoulder, and he turned around. “Jack, look who it is. Juliet from Java Jive.”
Mallory’s husband, Jack, turned on his stellar smile. His infectiously positive attitude had always reminded me a little of Pete. At least it reminded me of how Pete used to be. “Hi, Juliet. Long time no see.”
“Good to see you again, Jack.” I gestured to Stan. “This is my friend Stan Hollingsworth. Stan, this is Mallory and Jack Beaumont. She and I were good friends in college. We worked at Java Jive together.”
The three of them exchanged hellos.
Mallory gasped excitedly, the way she always did when she got a big idea. “Hey, our team is going out after the tournament. Please say you’ll join us. Bring your team as well. It’ll be a party!”
Jack said, “Please do, Juliet. It’s been a long time.”
I replied, “I’d love to. Stan?”
He smiled. “Sounds like fun. I’ll ask Dean and Lucinda.”
Mallory said, “Wonderful. I haven’t seen them in ages, either.”
We took our places on the court, and it didn’t take long to figure out Stan and I didn’t have to try very hard to beat Mallory and Jack. They were awful, especially him. Every time I served the ball to Jack, I purposely hit it right to him to help him out, but he missed it nearly every time. Even more disconcerting was his demeanor. I figured he would have laughed off his poor playing, but he seemed to get more and more agitated as the game went on. Mallory was kind and encouraging at first, but by the end of the match seemed a little disgusted with her husband.
Afterward, when the four of us shook hands again, Jack was uncharacteristically quiet.
Mallory said to me, “Meet us at Whiskey Kitchen in the Gulch after the tournament. I’m so looking forward to catching up with you!”
“I am, too. We’ll be there,” I replied.
As we were walking away, Stan said, “That match was ridiculously easy. Was Jack’s head not in the game or is he honestly that terrible at tennis?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never played them before, so I don’t know. Easy points for us, though. Dean and Lucinda will be pleased.”
He smiled. “Yes, we certainly don’t want to be the ones to ruin our team’s standing.”
With extra time on our hands after the quick match, we ambled over to look at the board listing the teams’ rankings.
Stan pointed to the top of the board. “Would you look at that? Our team is tied with Jenny’s for first place with one more round to go.” He looked at me uneasily. “But it looks like you and Dean have to play her and her elderly boy toy in the final round. I’m glad it’s not me.”
“I’m sure Dean and I will have no trouble beating Jenny and her old man friend.”
“Just don’t rub it in her face too much when you do.”
I feigned indignation. “Would I do that?”
He smiled. “Yes, I have no doubt you would.”
Dean and Lucinda appeared behind us. He said, “Hey, we’re winning.”
“For now,” Lucinda said. “Whoever wins the match between you two and Jenny’s team should win the whole tournament, according to the current point totals. Don’t screw it up.”
I began to feel a little nervous, but Dean threw his arm around my shoulders and said, “Juliet and I make a great team. I’m not worried in the slightest.” He said to me, “Come on. Let’s go kick some ass.”
Dean steered me over to the court, chattering away about how certain he was that we were much better tennis players than Jenny and “Old Doc Keaton,” as he called him. Dean’s laid-back demeanor quickly put me at ease. I had to admit, except for his looks, the guy was easy to be around.
When we got to the court, Jenny and Dr. Keaton were already there. Dr. Keaton, although he had to be pushing sixty, was fit and quite handsome. Aside from the ick factor of the broad age difference, Jenny seemed to have reeled in a decent catch.
I turned to Dean. “Do we have to shake hands before the match? Jenny has hated me for over a decade. She’ll probably try to break my fingers.”
His eyebrows shot up, but oddly enough his forehead didn’t move. “So you two have a history.”
“You could say that.”
He grinned. “First we annihilate them, and then I want to hear all about this ongoing catfight. And while Stan’s into good manners and being polite, I don’t give a shit, so we don’t have to shake hands or play nice.”
“I like the way you think, Dean.”
We took our places while Jenny openly glared at me from across the net. I couldn’t imagine a more awkward rivalry, except maybe if I’d been playing this round with Stan. I’d told him it was a bad idea to replace Jenny with me, but he hadn’t seemed to think it would be a problem. Well, now it was a problem.
Dr. Keaton served first. He rocketed the ball over the net and past Dean before Dean could even react. Oh, shit. I just figured out why they were tied with us for first place. Dr. Keaton and Jenny traded places, and it was my turn to receive
his serve. I readied myself for it, and I managed to get my racket on the ball, only to shank it off the handle. The ball dribbled pitifully onto the clay court and rolled over by Dean’s feet. He and I exchanged a worried glance.
Jenny, of course, was smiling ear to ear at our misfortune. She and Dr. Keaton traded sides again, and he served another hard shot at Dean. Dean managed to hit it back over the net, but it went out of bounds, so we still lost the point. Dr. Keaton fired his last serve straight at me. Belatedly realizing I was standing too far forward for one of his hard serves, I tried to jump back, but I didn’t do it quickly enough. The ball struck me square in my right thigh.
“Ow!” I cried, a tirade of curses pouring out under my breath as I rubbed my hurt leg. That was definitely going to leave a mark.
Dean came over to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Who knew Old Doc Keaton was such a machine? I’m sorry to say this, Juliet, but I think we may be outmatched.”
“Agreed. If we can win our own serves and Jenny’s, we still have a chance. But if the doctor’s forehand is as good as his serve, we’re screwed.”
It was Dean’s turn to serve this game. His first serve sailed past Jenny, which was a relief. Dean and I switched sides, and he served to Dr. Keaton. Dr. Keaton fired the ball back across to me, and I lobbed it over toward Jenny. Dr. Keaton stepped in front of Jenny to take the shot. The ball whizzed back, and Dean wasn’t able to get to it before it dropped.
“Damn it,” he said. “If he poaches every ball that goes her way, we’re never going to get ahead.”
As we were trading places again, I murmured to him, “Don’t let him get under your skin. He’s old. He’ll probably get tired soon.”
Jenny actually returned Dean’s next serve, which I hit back with a clean forehand shot. Of course Dr. Keaton was able to get to it, slamming it back in Dean’s direction. Dean got his racket on it, but sent the ball out of bounds. Even more irate, Dean stomped over to get in place for another serve. It was a great shot, but Dr. Keaton easily returned it, and it was coming down the middle of the court. As I was preparing to swing, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean coming toward me, yelling, “I got it!” Before I had time to move out of his way, he swung his racket back and hit me square in the nose. Pain erupted across my face and filled my head, and I staggered back, dizzy. Before I knew it, I was flat on my ass. I could hear stupid Jenny laughing from across the court.
A Whole Latte Murder Page 9