A Whole Latte Murder

by Caroline Fardig

  A shiver went through me at his touch, and I took a step toward him. “Me, too.” I looked up into his dark eyes, which felt like they could see directly into my soul. “It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

  “Me, too.”

  Both of us leaned in a little closer, and when our faces were only inches apart, Pete placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me the rest of the way toward him. Our lips met, gently at first. It had been over ten years since we’d shared a kiss, so we were rather shy and tentative to start out. However, when I snaked my arms around his neck, it must have ignited a fire in him, because suddenly his lips were hot and lustful on mine. I responded, pressing my body to his and matching his intensity. He encircled his casted arm lightly around my waist. Everything was perfect. That is, until he pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  Taking hold of his tie, I drew him back and kissed him, picking up right where we left off, our lips urgent and fiery against each other’s. But I couldn’t squelch the nugget of doubt growing in the pit of my stomach. I was the one to pull away this time.

  “Pete.”

  “Yeah?”

  I wanted to be with him, but not until he got his head on straight. I sighed. “I don’t want to be your rebound.”

  He rested his forehead against mine. “I don’t want you to be, either. And I don’t want to be yours.”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the pain in them. “Well, what do we do?”

  Placing a kiss on my cheek, he wrapped me in his arms and gave me a tight hug, burying his face in my neck. This was certainly not helping me control my desire for him.

  After a moment, he lifted his head and rested his chin on my shoulder. “We do what we always do.”

  I was pretty sure he meant we should squash our true feelings and carry on, which was what I did most days anyway. “Promise me one thing,” I whispered, still clinging to him.

  “Anything.”

  “That we won’t wait another ten years.”

  —

  I tossed and turned all night. Again. Big surprise. When I hadn’t been reliving every beautiful moment of my kiss with Pete, I’d been worrying about what it would do to our relationship going forward. We had both decided to get in the right frame of mind before we made the leap to being more than friends, but how long would that take? Months? Years? And what kind of a toll would it take on us in the meantime? It would be excruciating if one of us took considerably longer than the other to be ready for a change in our status.

  To make matters worse, Pete didn’t come in to Java Jive before work in the morning, and he always came in. I fretted for a good hour about this being the beginning of the end of our friendship before I finally got a text from him that read: I overslept this morning (damn oxy), so I didn’t have time to stop in to see you. I know you’re sitting there worrying things will be weird after last night. I’m not going to let that happen.

  My heart swelled, both at his words and at the fact that he knew I’d be stressing, but I fought the urge to allow myself to get gooey over Pete. I reminded myself I’d done this a million times, and after a moment, I found the strength to lock up my true feelings and go on about my day.

  Even more troubling were the fears and suspicions about the girls’ murders and disappearances that had been pinging around in my brain for the past couple of days. I needed a professional sounding board, but Ryder wouldn’t return any of my messages, including the four calls and seven texts I’d sent him after being dismissed yesterday morning once he’d sobered up. I felt like a common stalker. And I hated to bother Stafford with my crazy notions, especially since he was one of the few police officers—quite possibly the only one—in this town who actually took me seriously. But wait—I did know a professional investigator. I called Maya.

  —

  Maya accepted my offer for lunch, and as soon as I put our orders in, I whisked her down the hall to my office.

  “I hope you don’t mind eating in here, Maya,” I said apologetically. “I don’t want any prying ears listening in out there.”

  “Enough said,” Maya replied.

  After we both took seats on opposite sides of the desk, I asked, “How is Brooke?”

  She smiled slightly. “There’s been a bit of improvement. She was in a coma following the attack, and she’s come out of it, but the doctors are worried there is still too much trauma. So they put her in a medically induced coma until she’s stronger. They’re still taking it day to day.”

  “Any improvement is good news.”

  “And how’s Ryder taking all this?” she asked.

  “Horribly, I suppose. I wish I knew more. Between him screaming at me, getting so drunk he was thrown out of a bar, and refusing to return a single call or text for days, I can’t get a read on how he’s doing.”

  Maya shook her head. “None of those things is like him. Tell me more about him getting thrown out of a bar. That’s something I can’t even fathom.”

  “Cromwell of all people called me to come get him. He was in bad shape. I stayed with him all night to make sure he was okay, and in the morning he didn’t want a thing to do with me. Will he talk to you? Or at least take your calls?”

  She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe. I know I should have, but I haven’t reached out to see how he’s handling it. I will, though.”

  There was a knock at the door. Rhonda, who seemed put out by the fact that she had to walk our lunches the twenty feet or so from the counter, set our food down on the desk.

  “Can I get you two anything else?” she asked sarcastically.

  I resisted the urge to fire off a retort. “No, thanks.”

  “Thank you, Rhonda,” said Maya.

  Once Rhonda left, we ate in silence for a while. After several minutes, Maya eyed me and said, “There’s something else going on with you. What is it? You were a bit dodgy on the phone, so I thought there might be something more on your mind.”

  “There is—about Kira. I need some advice. And I know you normally get paid to give it, but—”

  “You’re comping my lunch, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She smiled. “Then consider me all ears.”

  I launched into my story of how Ryder asked me to figure out who Chelsea was seeing, finding out it was Jack, not believing Jack could be involved in the murders, and finally about Kira’s late-night trip to the Genesis Building where Jack’s office was located.

  “Hmm,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought much of it, except for the Genesis Building connection. That’s a red flag.”

  “Right. And I can’t get the way he reacted to finding Amelia Zhou out of my head. He went nuts.”

  Maya nearly choked on her salad. “He was there when you found the girl at Reservoir Park?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Remember when I had to walk around with Rhonda during the search the next day? It was all she could talk about how some doctor went absolutely mental over finding the girl. That was this Jack fellow?”

  I nodded. “It was.”

  “His reaction suggests he’s involved.”

  I sighed. “But I still can’t see him as a bad guy, or even a cheater. He’s always been very much in love with his wife. And plus, he even volunteers what little spare time he has to work with troubled youth in the community.”

  Maya started shaking her head while I was speaking. “In my experience—and I have a lot of experience in tailing unfaithful husbands—that’s the type who are the biggest cheaters. It’s the squeaky-clean upstanding citizens who are the real freaks. They’re compensating for their sins by doing charity work and fawning over their wives. He’s a viable suspect. You have to tell Ryder.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I know, but what if my information is wrong and it destroys Jack’s marriage? A seed of doubt can ruin even the most rock-solid relationship.”

  “He’s tangled up in this somehow. Leave it to R
yder to figure out the details.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him. Mind if I do it with you here for moral support?”

  “Dial away.”

  I called Ryder’s cell, which he of course did not pick up. I left a voicemail message that I had the information he wanted on Chelsea’s affair. Surely he’d respond to that.

  Maya was frowning as I ended the call. “This is bullshit what he’s doing to you. I’m calling him.”

  “Oh, please, don’t—”

  Holding up a finger to cut me off, she dialed his number from her own cellphone. After a moment, her eyes widened and she switched over to speaker, placing her phone on the desk between us. “Hey, Hamilton. Busy much?”

  “Yeah, but I always have a minute for you.”

  My heart sank upon hearing that.

  Noting my reaction, Maya glared at her phone. “Got any leads on your case?”

  “No good ones,” he grumbled.

  “I can sympathize. You’re obviously not taking it so well. I heard through the grapevine you went on a bender and Juliet had to drag your sorry ass home. Awfully nice thing for her to do considering your falling out.”

  I waved my arms and mouthed “no” at her. I didn’t want him to think I’d tattled on him.

  “I don’t know what her deal is. She keeps hounding me. I was hoping she’d get the message I’m not interested and leave me the hell alone.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. Message received.

  Maya looked ready to jump through the phone and throttle him, but she kept her voice calm enough. “She’s probably trying to help you, you git.”

  “I don’t need her kind of help.”

  Looking worriedly at me, Maya said, “Moving on. I was calling to let you know how Brooke is doing today.”

  “I appreciate it, but no need. I called the hospital earlier. I’m happy to hear she’s made a slight improvement.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Bye.”

  She ended the call. “I’m so sorry, Juliet. I would never have called him if I’d known he’d be such an ass.”

  I wiped my eyes and forced a smile. “At least now I can quit checking on him. He obviously doesn’t need it or want it.”

  “He needs it. He just doesn’t know that. Typical male.”

  Chapter 23

  After Maya left, I paced the office, stewing about what Ryder had said about me. I was “hounding” him. Whatever. I was only trying to check in on him to make sure he was okay. If he’d answered even one of my messages, I wouldn’t have had to “hound” him in the first place. Well, he’d made his feelings crystal clear. If he wanted to be left the hell alone, I could do it like it was my job.

  Whipping my phone out of my pocket, I deleted Ryder Hamilton out of my contacts, the screen a little blurry from the tears in my eyes. Angered even more that he’d made me cry, I chucked my phone across the room. Unfortunately, at that moment, Pete decided to open the office door. The phone hit him in the thigh and clattered to the floor.

  “Ow! Damn, Jules, you nearly took out my jewels.” Pleased with his joke, he stood there chuckling, waiting for me to join in. But when I didn’t, his face fell. “Are you okay?”

  I hastily wiped my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. That’s why I’m crying and throwing my phone. What do you think?”

  He picked up my phone, and after inspecting it for damage, brought it over to me. “I think Redheaded She-Devil is hell on phone cases.”

  Accepting the phone from him, I said, “She certainly is.”

  “Who’s yanking your chain?”

  I snorted in disgust. “Guess.”

  “Ryder Likeapony being a dick again? I thought you were through with him.”

  “I certainly am now. Hey, Brooke is a little better, by the way.”

  “I know. When I went to the hospital to check on her yesterday, I met her sister. She’s been keeping me in the loop.”

  I nodded. While I was happy he cared so much about her well-being, at the same time I felt the slightest twinge of jealousy. I knew I’d said last night I didn’t want us to be together until we were both in a good place, but it felt weird to watch him trying to move on.

  “You’re still thinking about him.”

  I nodded again. Better to let him think that than the incredibly petty thing I was actually brooding about.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “If you’re looking for someone to commiserate with you about him, you’re barking up the wrong tree. You know that, right?”

  I smiled. “I know.”

  “I know what’ll take your mind off that douche. I’ve got plans for us tonight.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ve run down Kira’s boyfriend, Martin. He tends bar at a dive over on Elliston, and he’s working tonight.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “How did you find all that out?”

  “I know people.”

  “You don’t know people,” I scoffed.

  He ignored my jab. “We’re also going to talk to that talent agent in the Genesis Building. There are a lot of phonies in this town who’ll promise a young girl the moon only to end up using and abusing her.”

  “I hadn’t really thought too seriously about the talent agent angle. But Kira’s not a performer that I know of. She’s never done anything for open mic night.”

  He shrugged. “It wouldn’t have to be music. She could be looking into modeling or commercials. It can’t hurt to ask.”

  “I suppose not. Who are we going to be this time? I take it we don’t have to do the hooker-john thing again.”

  “Martin knows us, so we’ll have to be ourselves for that one. As for the talent agent, you could always be an up-and-coming singer looking for some representation.”

  “Wouldn’t that probably involve me having to sing in front of the guy? I don’t know if it’s worth putting myself through that.”

  “You said you sang in front of Detective Stafford the other day. You’re moving in the right direction.” He regarded me for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. I’ve got the perfect way for you to get back out there and performing.” He held up his casted arm. “I’m out of commission for a while on the guitar, and I’m bummed I’ll have to wait weeks before I can get back up on the stage here again. Why don’t you play guitar for me to sing at next week’s open mic night? That’ll give us a whole week to rehearse.”

  The mere thought of it made me feel ill. I covered it with sarcasm. “You want me to play guitar for you, the guitar god?”

  “I don’t want to be forced to sit out a month or two while my stupid arm heals. I’ll need someone to play for me. You’re perfectly capable.”

  “How did this conversation turn from planning an exciting night of sleuthing to you trying to fix me?”

  He sighed. “I’m not trying to fix you, Jules, because there’s nothing wrong with you. Truth be told, I have selfish reasons for wanting to see you performing again. There’s a part of you that comes alive when you’re up onstage. I miss seeing that.”

  “Oh.” I knew it felt that way to me, but I had no idea other people could see how performing fulfilled me like nothing else did.

  “So is that a yes?”

  “No.”

  “A maybe, then?”

  I laughed. “I can tell you’re not going to let this go. Will a maybe shut you up?”

  Grinning at me, he said, “I’ll take it.”

  —

  After Pete got his lunch and went back to work, there was not a lot going on at Java Jive. It was so dead, in fact, I got bored and started cleaning the exhaust hood over the grill—everyone’s least favorite task. I was standing on a step stool with my head inside the hood when I thought I heard Ryder’s voice. Figuring I’d heard wrong inside my metal cave, I kept scouring and scraping at the buildup of grease and grime that was holding on for dear life. I heard some murmuring, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon’s
and Wayne’s feet hurry out the door. Someone tapped me on the leg, and when I popped my head out to see who it was, I was so surprised I jumped, losing my footing and tumbling off the stool.

  Ryder caught me around the waist, but just as quickly released me when my feet hit the floor. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” I snapped, hoping the blush I felt creeping up my cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.

  “You left a message for me.”

  Really? A message? Try a few dozen. I knew he was referring to the only one he actually cared about. “Yeah. Jack Beaumont is rumored to be the professor Chelsea Stone was having an affair with. It’s secondhand gossip, so it could be inaccurate. That’s the best I could do.”

  I stepped back up onto the step stool, hoping he’d get the hint and leave. He grabbed my arm. “Thank you.”

  The man looked like hell. I’d never seen him in such a state. He’d lost weight. He hadn’t shaved in days. His eyes were sunken and flat. He had the gray pallor of someone who was sick. Well, tough crap. He didn’t have to live like this. I could have been there to help him through it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. This was his own fault.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

  I removed my arm from his grip. “I’m busy.”

  “There are no customers out front, and I know for a fact you only clean up there when you’re bored out of your mind. You’ve got time.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t feel like talking.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You always want to talk.”

  “I did want to talk, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re not interested in anything I have to say. I know you’re going through a lot, but this isn’t how you treat people who are trying to be there for you. I’m done.”

  Ryder’s eyes became pained. “There are things going on that you don’t know about.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “In that case, we don’t have anything to talk about.” I took another step up on the stool and stuck my head back inside the hood. “You know where the door is.”