Murder on the Rocks

by Allyson K. Abbott

  “Would you care to show me the rest of your apartment?” he said with a suggestive tone.

  My heart began to pound, but from nerves rather than lust. I knew what Zach really wanted. “I should probably check on things downstairs, to make sure they’re handling the crowd,” I said. “It’s been a very busy night.”

  “I’m sure they’re managing just fine,” Zach said.

  “Actually, we could use some help,” said another voice, and it took me a moment to realize Zach and I were no longer alone. I peered over his shoulder and saw Duncan standing in the doorway to my kitchen.

  I pushed myself away from Zach and gaped at Duncan for a few seconds, irritated and confused. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Looking for you,” Duncan said. “It’s getting kind of crazy down there and you just disappeared.”

  “I told Billy and Pete where I was.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me,” Duncan shot back irritably.

  “I wasn’t aware I had to. And how did you get up here? You gave me all the keys, didn’t you?”

  “I did. But you didn’t lock the door downstairs. Rather careless of you. When I found it unlocked I got worried and came up to see if you were okay.”

  “I’m fine. I was simply trying to take a dinner break.” I shifted my attention to Zach. “I need to get back to work, but let’s do this again.”

  “I’d love to,” he said with a wink and a smile.

  We all headed downstairs, Duncan in the lead, Zach behind him, me bringing up the rear. Duncan stopped and made sure I locked the apartment access door before he headed out to the main bar area, leaving me and Zach alone.

  “I had a busy day and I’m pretty beat,” Zach said. “Plus I have to work again tomorrow.”

  Though Sunday was the one day Zach and I tried to do things together, I was glad he had to work for this one. I don’t open the bar on Sundays until five in the evening so it’s my one day during the week to have a little free time, and this week I felt like I needed that time to myself.

  “But I’m off on Monday so maybe we can get together tomorrow night after you close?” Zach suggested.

  I sensed a hidden meaning behind the words “get together” but figured I could deal with it later. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

  “Okay, see you then.” He pulled me close and gave me a kiss good-bye, one with a lot more passion than before. When our lips finally parted, I felt an odd mixture of titillation and relief. I walked him out to the main bar area and watched as he left. Then I checked in with Billy, who sent me into the kitchen to help catch up on food orders.

  Though Duncan was behind the bar when I went into the kitchen, he joined me seconds after I dropped the first baskets of fries and curds.

  “Billy and Pete said they had a handle on the drinks and suggested I help you back here until we get caught up,” he said.

  I sensed from his tone and the bitter chocolate taste it triggered that he was upset with me, though I wasn’t sure why. And at the moment, I didn’t really care. So I simply said, “Okay, can you put together these sandwiches?” I slid two of the food tickets over to him and then went about gathering the ingredients for the three I kept for myself to make. For the next few minutes we stood side by side, performing our duties with silent precision, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with my new set of mismatched knives. I didn’t realize just how tense I was until the timer on the fryer dinged and made me nearly jump out of my skin.

  We finished the tickets we had and took the food out front for Debra and Missy to deliver, then we reconvened in the kitchen with a handful of new orders. We worked side by side in silence, but the tension was getting unbearable. So once the food prep was caught up I turned to Duncan and said, “Are you upset with me for some reason?”

  “Not really. I just wish you would tell me where you’re going before you disappear,” he said, sounding peevish.

  “Why?”

  “For one, I’m worried about your safety. Until we know for sure what’s going on and who’s behind it, I can’t rule out that you’re being targeted somehow. Our prime suspect at this point is on the lam and we have no idea where he is.”

  I was touched by his concern, and if he had stopped there everything would have been fine. But he didn’t.

  “And two, I haven’t ruled you out as a suspect and as such, I need to keep an eye on you. I don’t want you gallivanting off anywhere you want whenever you feel like it.”

  I gaped at him in disbelief for several seconds. “First off, I didn’t go gallivanting,” I said, stressing the word to make it sound even more ridiculous the second time around. “I went upstairs to my own apartment to enjoy a meal break with a friend.”

  “Friend?” Duncan scoffed. “I’d wager he’s a bit more than that.”

  “So what if he is? Why do you care? What I do with my private life is none of your business. And secondly, if you’re so convinced that I’m guilty, and so worried that I’m going to take off and run, why don’t you just put the cuffs on, arrest me now, and get it over with?”

  I held my arms out to him and we stood there, staring at one another. Seconds ticked by and a flood of emotions surged through me, manifesting themselves in a chaotic series of synesthetic reactions. Then Duncan reached out and took ahold of my arms just below my elbows. With gentle pressure he bent my forearms upward and pulled me toward him. Our eyes remained locked, even as I felt my arms come into contact with the hard warmth of his chest.

  Any anger I’d felt dissipated, but it was replaced by confusion. Because with Duncan’s touch I felt a hint of that spark I’d waited so long for. All of my other synesthetic reactions faded away, leaving me with a clear-sighted view of Duncan’s face, and a sense deep down inside that this man, this touch, was somehow right. I wanted more of it, more of him.

  My heart pounded, my legs trembled, and though I wanted to look away from him, his eyes held mine fast, refusing to let go. His gaze shifted finally, moving down my face, settling on my lips. He tilted his head the tiniest bit to one side and edged his face an inch or two closer, still staring at my lips. My insides felt like hot molten lava, flowing slowly but inevitably toward him. His lips parted and the tip of his tongue licked the upper one briefly and I swear I felt it on my own mouth.

  And then he backed away with a heavy sigh, releasing his hold on my arms. “Mackenzie Dalton, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my objectivity when it comes to you and I’m not sure I can trust my own judgment at this point. And until this case is solved, I can’t let my emotions rule my decisions or my actions.”

  “I understand.”

  “So I’m asking you to bear with me, to give us some time to resolve the situation, and to do what I ask of you until we do.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to have someone on you twenty-four hours a day for now for the two reasons I mentioned earlier. If you go anywhere, someone will be watching you.”

  His statement both reassured and chilled me.

  “So it might not be the best time for carrying on romantic relationships.”

  I pondered that, wondering if he was referring to Zach, or to himself. Then I realized it was likely both. I felt awkward and embarrassed by the whole situation and I looked away from him, staring at the wall.

  “You do what you need to do, and I’ll do the same,” I told him. “But my personal life is just that . . . personal. And I’ll do whatever I want to.”

  It was a brave speech but deep down I knew I was being a bit hypocritical because at the moment the only thing I wanted to do was get close to Duncan Albright again.

  Chapter 20

  As the night wore on, Kevin and Tad returned and joined Cora, who had never left. The Signoriello brothers had gone home to bed, claiming they were too old for those “crazy late night bar hours,” but they promised to be back when I opened tomorrow. Lewis Carmichael showed up around eight dressed in scrubs and he joined Cora and the others. He ordered plain club soda to
drink, stating that he had to be to work at the hospital by eleven.

  Shortly after that Jimmy came into the bar and after a few subtle signals to Duncan, the two of them disappeared down the back hallway and stepped into the men’s room.

  After a while they both returned, though they came out separately. Jimmy settled onto a bar stool and ordered a beer. Duncan came out a minute later and stationed himself behind the bar near Cora’s table where I suspected he was hoping to eavesdrop. Good luck, I thought. I’d been trying to do the same thing out on the floor by cruising by the table regularly, but the place was noisy and it was hard to hear, particularly since I kept getting synesthetic sounds mixed in from time to time. Jimmy and Duncan did an admirable job of pretending they didn’t know one another, though I noticed Jimmy kept a watchful eye on Cora’s table. After twenty minutes or so had gone by, Duncan gave me a signal to meet him in the kitchen.

  “What were you and Jimmy talking about?” I asked once we were behind closed doors. “Any news on Gary?”

  Duncan shook his head. “Gary’s still in the wind and I’m betting he’s far away from here by now.” I must have done something that made him think I was relieved because he added, “Don’t relax yet. Until we know something for sure, you need to be careful.”

  “If there’s no news on Gary, what did Jimmy have to share?” I chewed one side of my thumb as I waited for an answer, wondering if Duncan would reveal yet another bit of discovered evidence that pointed to me as the killer.

  “He was filling me in on his visit to Tad’s place,” Duncan said, and I breathed a little easier. “A few questions came up after last night’s talk with him, so Jimmy and another guy went over to Tad’s apartment this afternoon to talk with him some more. They were hoping they might get invited in to look around the place, but his shrew of a wife was there, all haughty and stuck-up, and she refused to let them in. She also said Tad’s office was off limits unless we had a search warrant because it contains confidential financial information on some very important people.”

  “Does she have a say in Tad’s business?”

  “She doesn’t own any of it as far as we can tell, but she does own the office space Tad uses. Besides, she wouldn’t let Tad talk to anyone either, and as my guys were leaving they could hear her yelling at Tad through the door, calling him an idiot and a few other less than flattering things.” He paused and scoffed. “You’d think an expensive penthouse like that would have thicker walls, especially if there’s a shrieking harpy living there.”

  “Wow,” I said, a bit taken aback. “You really don’t like that woman, do you?”

  “Let’s just say I have issues with people who think they’re entitled and leave it at that.”

  The tone in his voice was even more bitter than his words, like unsweetened baking chocolate. “Do you still think Tad might be the killer?” I asked him.

  Duncan nodded. “It’s not hard to see why he wants out of that marriage. But with his wife holding the purse strings, he’ll need to reach a certain level of disgust and desperation before he’ll walk away empty-handed. He could live off what he makes as a CPA but not at the same level he’s at now and I think he’s grown accustomed to certain privileges his wife’s money can and does buy. Plus a large number of his current clients came from his wife’s circle of rich friends. If he leaves her I’m betting they will all leave him. So the guy is stuck. Ginny basically screwed him out of the one chance he had to escape with a decent amount of his own money, and because of that he’s still pretty high on my list.”

  I winced at this, still not wanting to believe that someone I’d known and liked might be a cold-blooded killer.

  “And what’s more,” Duncan said, about to rub salt in my wound, “he appears to have the narcissistic personality of a sociopath.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I countered. “Tad has never demonstrated a big ego, or any indifference toward others . . . outside of his wife, that is.”

  “Wow,” Duncan said with a smile that made me nervous. “I had no idea you were so informed on modern psychiatric disorders.”

  “Yeah, well, when you have a few of those psych labels tossed out and applied to you, you start to learn what they mean. Anyway, Tad’s always been a thoughtful and kind person. Granted he has no trouble attracting the opposite sex and some women tend to fawn over him, but he’s never been smug, or stuck-up, or conceited about it. I’m sure it goes to his head once in a while; it would have to. But if he ever gets his head up there in the clouds, he always descends back to earth quickly enough. The guy can’t help that he’s so good-looking.”

  Duncan shot me a sidelong look. “You think he’s good-looking?”

  “Duh,” I said. “Is the sky blue? I haven’t met a woman yet who didn’t find him physically attractive, and there have been a few men on that list, too. But I’m telling you, he’s always been a very down-to-earth guy with no pretensions or airs about him, which ironically, makes him even more attractive.”

  “You like him,” Duncan said, sounding mildly perturbed.

  “Yeah, I like him. He’s a decent guy.”

  “Given all these admirers of his, has he had any relationships outside of his marriage that you know of?”

  “None that I’ve been privy to but I’m not sure I would be. He flirts when he comes in here but I’ve never seen him do more than that and he always leaves here alone.”

  “You’re quite defensive about him.”

  “I’m not being defensive, I’m simply being honest. What reason would I even have to be defensive?”

  “Have you ever had a relationship with him?”

  The question was so unexpected and so far from where my mind was that I flinched and dropped the knife I was using to slice tomatoes. I turned and gaped at Duncan, sure I’d misconstrued his meaning. “You mean a romantic relationship?” To my surprise and dismay, he nodded. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Duncan said, and then with that crooked smile of his he added, “Pun intended.”

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, think about it. Tad is a good-looking guy; you said so yourself. He’s desperate to gain some financial security on his own so he can escape from Suzanne’s clutches. He comes into this bar . . . when was the first time he showed up here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t remember the exact date . . . two or three years ago I guess. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Tad is a CPA. Any chance he does your taxes or your books for you?”

  “He does now. My father switched everything over to him two years ago because our other accountant was getting ready to retire.”

  “So Tad comes in here and sees what appears to be a successful business operation owned by you and your father. Then he finds out exactly how successful the business is because your father hires him to handle the books. He wants out of his marriage but doesn’t want to lose the lifestyle he’s accustomed to, so he starts flirting with you. He figures that with your father out of the way, you’ll inherit the bar, the business, and any life insurance your father had.”

  “Nice theory but a bit short on facts.” I sniggered. “First of all, while the bar does a decent business and earned my father a comfortable living, it’s hardly been on the level that would afford us the sort of penthouse lifestyle Tad and his wife have.”

  Duncan shrugged. “It might have been a step down but if he had plans to ultimately marry you and then get rid of you, I’m betting this place would sell for well over a million. Add that to any inheritance monies and the life insurance, and Tad could end up with a decent little nest egg.”

  “And there’s the second flaw in your logic. My father, much to my dismay, had one small life insurance policy that barely covered the costs of his funeral.”

  Duncan winced. “Sorry to hear that,” he said. “But maybe Tad didn’t know. One would assume a business owner like your father would not only have a policy, he’d have pretty significant
coverage.”

  “So much for assuming,” I grumbled.

  “Tell me this. Did Tad flirt with you when he showed up here?”

  “Sure, but not just with me. He flirted with every woman he met. It’s his nature.”

  Duncan gave me a give-me-a-break look.

  I shook my head in dismay and went back to slicing tomatoes. “I think you’re targeting Tad because you’re jealous.”

  “Pfft! Hardly.” After a brief pause he added, “All right, maybe I’m a little jealous, but it’s not influencing my opinion of the man.”

  This time I shot him the give-me-a-break look while my insides went squishy over the fact that he admitted to being a little jealous.

  “I can’t convince you?” he said.

  “I think you’re seeing bogeymen where there aren’t any.”

  “Then tell me this. Did Tad grow much more attentive toward you after your father died? Because I’m betting he did. I’m betting he set about wooing the poor bereaved daughter who was about to inherit a ton of money.”

  “A ton of debts is more like it,” I muttered, irritated because Duncan’s guess was spot on. There was a point not long after my father’s death when I thought Tad might have had something romantic in mind, but I was never sure. I chalked it up to a clumsy effort on his part to reach out to a friend he knew was hurting. Now I wondered.

  “You may not have inherited any money, but Tad didn’t know that. He played the odds.”

  Silence while I stewed over what Duncan was saying.

  “And when things with you didn’t pan out the way Tad hoped, he had to put all his faith in the real estate investment Ginny turned him onto. When that fell apart, he snapped and took his frustrations out on her.”

  My gut squirmed uncomfortably and for a moment I thought I might be sick. I swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the prep counter, waiting for it to pass. Duncan’s theory made sense and I realized that it wasn’t that I couldn’t believe Tad was a killer, it was more that I didn’t want to believe it. No one wants to think their perceptions of people can be so easily duped, or their impressions so readily manipulated.