by Lena Gregory
She dropped to her knees in front of the crate and leaned in. “See, boy. You go inside. It’s your bed.”
Beast woofed once and ran out of the room.
Frustrated, Cass blew her hair up off her forehead and followed.
“Ugh . . . No, boy, not that bed.”
Beast sat in the center of her bed, wagging happily.
“Come here.” She took his collar and led him back to the kitchen. He followed willingly, until they reached the cage. Then he stopped short, planted his bottom on the floor, and held his ground. He wasn’t going anywhere near that cage.
“Okay.” She scratched her head. Maybe she had time to look it up on the computer quickly. She bolted toward the bedroom for her laptop.
The sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway stopped her short. Crap. She ran back to the kitchen.
“Look, Beast. This is not that hard. You just go in.” She tried to shoo him, but the big dog wasn’t budging. His stubbornness showed her why it was all the more important she get him trained. She raked her hands into her hair and squeezed. “All right . . .” She turned around and dropped onto all fours in front of the cage. “Like this, boy. Look. It’s fun. There are toys and a blanket.”
He continued to stare at her.
“Please, boy. I have to go.”
He tilted his head, and his tongue dropped out the side of his mouth.
Sighing, she backed into the cage. “See.” She backed onto the dog bed. “It’s comfy.”
The back door opened, and Beast swung around to greet Bee—who stopped short the instant he laid eyes on her. He frowned as he caught Beast’s paws when he jumped up. “Down.” He dropped Beast back to the floor and petted his head when he sat.
That’s it. I give up. I have to buy a new table anyway. Let him eat the rest of it while I’m gone, and I’ll look up how to get him in the stupid cage—I mean crate—as soon as I get home.
Bee pressed a hand to his chest and fluttered his false lashes. “Far be it from me to tell you how to train your dog, dear . . .”
Yeah right!
“But I have to say, I don’t think you’re doing it right.” He burst out laughing, clutching his side.
Cass crawled out of the cage, stood and brushed off her jeans. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
“I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to be on the inside of the crate.”
“Ya think?”
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” She grabbed her bag from the counter and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
When she started for the door, he held out a hand to stop her. “Aren’t you going to crate him?”
“Not right now. I think I’ll let him get used to it for a while first.”
“From the outside?”
She glared at him.
Laughter erupted again. He held up his hands. “I’m sorry . . .” gasp, “I . . .”
“Give it up, and let’s go.” She strode past him and out the door. Squinting against the sun glaring off all of the white snow, she fished her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on. With a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure Bee was coming, she climbed into the pickup truck.
Bee pulled the house door shut and followed her.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Bee shaking his head and laughing every so often as he backed out of the driveway and headed for the diner.
Fields were covered with a foot of snow, and the branches of the trees dipped with the weight of the snow and ice, and smoke poured from chimneys of the small farmhouses they passed. “So, did you guys figure out who the killer is?”
“No clue.” He shot her a grin. “But I can tell you whose car was parked in front of Amanda Cabot’s all night while her husband was off visiting his mother.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Jeb Simon’s?”
“Yup. I told you last month there was something fishy going on between those two.”
“Hmm . . . You did say that.”
Bee smirked, his expression smug.
“Anything else interesting?”
“I had a run-in with Mitch Dobbs and Jim Wellington in the men’s room before I left the hotel last night.”
“What?” She sat up straighter, her interest suddenly piqued. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t see you afterward. And this morning, well, you were kind of . . . busy.” His smile softened the teasing.
Better to just accept she wasn’t going to live this one down for a while and ignore him. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. Jim walked in when Mitch was on his way out. Jim puffed up his chest a bit, and Mitch stared at the floor and scurried out like a rodent. That’s it.”
“Strange.”
“Stranger, still, is Priscilla was nowhere to be found. I dillydallied until Jim left and followed him out. He got in his car and drove off. No Priscilla. That’s the first time I’ve seen him stray that far from her since they got here.”
Cass pressed a finger to her lips, thinking back over the times she’d seen Jim. He’d arrived at the Madison Estate alone, but Priscilla had come in very soon after. “Actually, the night I crashed, he was alone. At least, he was when I woke up. I guess it’s possible he had Priscilla with him when he found me, then dropped her off somewhere and came back for me after.”
“Seems a little far-fetched.”
“You’re probably right. Let’s just hope another body doesn’t turn up this time. Where did he go, anyway? Aren’t the Wellingtons staying at the Bay Side Hotel with everyone else?”
“I don’t know where he went. I tried to follow, but I’d parked out back so I could bring the sound equipment and stuff in. By the time I ran back through the lobby and out the back, he was gone. I drove past the Madison Estate—at night, by myself, you’re welcome—and his car wasn’t there.” He paused for a minute as he hit the turn signal and turned into the diner’s parking lot. “At least it wasn’t out front. I guess it could have been around back, but no way was I going there to find out.”
19
While they waited for the hostess to seat them, Cass scanned the room. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as last time they were there; the bulk of the lunch crowd had already returned to work.
Stephanie waved from a large round table in the center of the room, and Cass pointed Bee in her direction. As they crossed the room, Cass couldn’t help but wonder where Jim was going when he left the hotel last night. Her mind immediately jumped to Sylvia flirting with him in the ballroom. Had he run off to meet her somewhere? That didn’t seem necessary with a hotel full of rooms at their disposal, but still, if they wanted to be discreet . . .
“Hey.” Stephanie’s greeting pulled her back to reality.
“Hi.” She pulled out a chair and sat. Bee sat next to her, and she propped her bag on the empty chair on her other side.
Tank skipped saying hello, his eyes sparkling with humor.
Could Bee have told them about the cage incident already?
“So. I hear you guys are going to solve my case for me.”
Cass laughed. “Someone’s gotta figure out what’s going on around here.”
Tank scowled. “I seem to remember telling you to stay out of trouble.”
“Hey.” She furrowed her brow, pouting. “I haven’t gotten in any more trouble.”
“Not yet, anyway. Give it time.”
Laughing—because he was probably right—she ignored him and opened her menu.
“Hi there. Sorry I’m late.” The sexy southern drawl yanked her attention from her lunch options.
“Luke!” She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. “What are you doing here?”
He hugged her
tightly for a moment before answering, the woodsy scent of his aftershave invading her lungs, soothing her. When he released her and stepped back, disappointment surged.
“Tank called and said you guys were playing detective, and I didn’t want to miss it.” He grinned—that sexy, cocky, crooked grin that had attracted her in the first place. “It’s good to see you, Cass.” His fingers slid down her cheek then tucked her hair behind her ear.
Heat flared, creeping up her cheeks.
Bee mouthed oh my, and fanned himself behind Luke’s back.
Tank couldn’t drag his gaze from Bee.
“Here, sit.” Luke pulled out her chair.
After she sat, she grabbed her bag from Luke’s chair and hung it over the back of her chair then shot Bee what she hoped was a behave yourself stare. Since he grinned back at her, she had to assume he got the message. Now she just had to hope he’d listen.
“So, what is everyone having?” Bee opened his menu to the breakfast section, since this would be his first meal of the day. “I definitely want something with bacon.”
“That sounds good.” Luke opened his menu to breakfast as well.
While everyone chose and ordered their meals, Cass concentrated on the song playing in the background. “Chantilly Lace.” For some reason, the lyrics brought images of Sylvia in her nightie. “Did anyone else notice Sylvia flirting with Jim Wellington last night?”
“Can you believe her?” Stephanie looked appalled.
“Oh, please.” Bee blew it off. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. If she’d steal her best friend’s husband, a little flirting is nothing.”
“I guess you’re right.” Cass traced an ad on the placemat with her finger. “But Donald said she wasn’t with him the night of Conrad’s murder, that’s why he asked me to be his alibi—”
“What!” Tank and Luke both yelled together. Several customers turned to stare.
“Shh!” Cass chided.
“Sorry.” Luke looked around and lowered his voice. “What are you talking about?” Anger darkened the already deep blue of his eyes.
“My ex asked me to tell the police I was with him when Conrad Wellington was killed.”
Tank’s jaw clenched before he spoke. Never a good sign. “And you didn’t feel the need to tell me that?”
“What?” She feigned innocence. “I just told you.”
“Cass . . .” Tank’s tone held a note of warning.
“Oh, all right. I probably should have told you last night, but I forgot.”
He massaged his temples.
Luke took over the interrogation. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I walked away.”
“All right. Hold on a minute here.” Bee lifted a finger to halt the building anger. “We can possibly make this work to our advantage.”
“Oh?” Tank sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “How’s that?”
Luke just looked amused.
“Well. Since Cass didn’t give him an answer, she could get him to talk about it again, and she could record him with her cell phone.” He sat back, crossed one leg over the other, and smoothed the crease in his slacks. “It’s brilliant.”
Luke leaned forward, pushed his place setting away, and rested his forearms on the table. “What if he catches her?”
Bee paled. “Can’t you guys be there?”
“I doubt he’d say anything incriminating with all of us standing around.”
“What if she did it at the séance? Maybe the two of you could be there, you know, just in case.”
“What séance?” Luke turned to Cass.
“I rescheduled the séance for this Friday. Priscilla called late last night to say everyone will be there. Some of the guests are going to stay until Friday. Others are going to come back.” Cass shrugged. “It seems, if everyone who was there the first time comes back, the killer has to be there. No?”
“So, naturally, you thought it would be a good idea to lock yourself back up in a mansion with a killer.” Luke stared at her.
Tank rubbed a hand over his close-cut hair. “Welcome to my world.”
“All right.” Luke sighed and pulled a notebook from his pocket then patted himself, apparently looking for a pen.
Bee handed him one. “Sorry, dear, but it writes purple.”
Luke shook his head and mumbled something that included “unbelievable,” then opened the notebook. “I presume you have some suspects.”
Stephanie leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I think it was Joan’s lover.”
“What lover?”
“We don’t know yet, but we figure she has one. Personally, I think he killed Conrad out of jealousy and then killed Joan.” She looked thoughtful for a couple of seconds. “I’m just not sure why he killed Joan. Maybe she found out?”
“I think you’re wrong,” Bee interjected. “I think it was that wacko, Mitch Dobbs, and his loony wife. If greed is a motive for murder, those two have it in abundance.” He shrugged. “Plus, they get the added bonus of revenge against a Wellington. They have a giant grudge against Buford, but maybe vengeance on any Wellington is good enough.” He held up a finger. “And, the two of them definitely have the physical strength to have pulled it off.”
All eyes fell on Cass. Should she voice her opinion? It didn’t feel right to tell the police she thought her exes killed Conrad and Joan. Then again, it wasn’t really the police. It was just Tank and Luke.
She was saved from having to answer when the waitress arrived with their food. Luke closed the notebook and set the pen beside it.
The waitress placed Cass’s chef’s salad in front of her.
“Thank you.”
Once everyone had been served, Cass pushed the food around her plate.
“Come on, Cass,” Bee said. “We all know who you think did it, but what’s his motive?”
That was the part that had her stuck. Unless Donald was Joan’s lover. Or Sylvia was Conrad’s lover. Then it made perfect sense either way. Why would Donald have been wiping down Conrad’s room if he hadn’t killed him? Maybe trying to get rid of any sign he’d been there with Joan? Was he the man Emmett had heard arguing with her the night of the murder?
Obviously sensing her discomfort, Bee changed the subject. Sort of. “Can you believe that tacky negligee Sylvia had on?”
Stephanie eyed Cass another few seconds before turning to Bee. “Yeah, but it’s not a crime to wear tacky lingerie.”
He huffed out a breath. “Maybe not, but it certainly should be.” He forked a bit of hash and eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You know. It really wouldn’t have been all that bad. A little less marabou, a few strategically placed scraps of material . . . could have made it enticing . . . alluring even.” He lowered his fork. “Instead she just ended up looking trashy. Who knows? Maybe it’s just her, not the garment.” He thought for a minute then shook his head. “Nah.”
“Have you ever considered doing a lingerie line?” Stephanie asked, looking genuinely intrigued.
“Nah.” Bee waved her off. “Hmm . . . well . . . on the other hand . . . Maybe an offshoot, like a honeymoon line, to compliment my bridal line.” Excitement lit his eyes.
Stephanie grabbed the notebook they’d been using to keep track of suspects and the pen and handed them to Bee. “Get together a list of what you’ll need, and I’ll work up the numbers for you later this afternoon.” Stephanie was a genius with numbers and handled all of Bee’s bookkeeping, and Cass’s, too. She actually handled the books for a lot of Bay Island’s businesses. Though she had a small office in her house, she often visited the shops she worked for, getting to know her clients and their needs. “If it would be profitable, I think you’d be great at it.”
Tank stared at Bee then shifted his gaze to his wife. “Are we done here?” He starte
d to laugh at their blank expressions. “I realize it’s not quite as important as lingerie, but maybe we could discuss . . . oh, I don’t know . . . murder?”
“Are you two going to attend the séance, then?” Bee tilted his head, waiting, while Tank and Luke stared at each other, some sort of silent communication passing between them. “It would be perfectly normal for Tank to attend with Stephanie. He is her husband, after all, not only a police officer.”
Luke shrugged. “And I guess I could go as Cass’s date, right?”
Bee pressed a hand to his chest and fluttered his lashes. “Unless you’d rather go with me, sweetie.”
“You know . . .” Tank tossed his napkin on the table and leaned back. “That might not be a bad idea.”
“No,” Luke said.
“Less suspicious.”
“Not happening.”
“Aww, come on, Luke. Haven’t you ever worked undercover before?” Humor lit Tank’s eyes.
• • •
Luke took the key from Cass’s shaky hand, unlocked her front door and pushed it open, but made no move to enter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Cass nodded. “Just a little tired.”
Running his fingers gently over the bruise on her eye, he examined the small bandage she’d used to cover the cut on her head. “When Tank called and said you’d had an accident . . .” He pulled her into his arms.
Shivering, she curled into his protective embrace. His warmth enveloped her, bringing a sense of safety she hadn’t had since the botched séance. Silence intruded on her moment of peace. Wait a minute. She lifted her head and looked into the open front door. Where was Beast? He should have rocketed for the front door the minute it opened.
Luke released her and stood back. “What’s wrong?”
“Beast should have come to the door.” She started through the house, but Luke gripped her arm. He pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for her to let him search first.
This was ridiculous. She was going to have to put a stop to this. No way could she spend the rest of her life tiptoeing around, wondering if someone was going to try to kill her. She followed Luke through the living room, but paused when he stopped at the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She’d had Emmett install it for her so Beast could roam freely through the house. That might have been a mistake.