Deadly Devotion

by Sandra Orchard

  In the parking lot, Tom darted around two officers. He never should’ve let Dad talk him out of pulling Kate from the lab. Tom punched her number into his cell phone. It rang five times, then cut to voice mail. He tried again. Come on, Kate. Pick up.

  Daisy’s charcoaled journal should have proven to Kate that no one could be trusted. What did he have to do to get that fact through her brain? Spell it out with tulips in a giant flower bed?

  He sped out of the parking lot and headed for A Cup or Two. The Kishes lived above the store, so with any luck they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves by threatening Kate where a shop full of patrons might overhear.

  Have you ever known a criminal in his right mind, Detective?

  The recollection of Kate’s flippant remark doused his wishful thinking like a splash of icy water.

  As he turned onto Main Street, he slowed his car. The warm spring evening had drawn people out in droves, Friday night revelers celebrating the start of the weekend.

  Crowds were good. Darryl wouldn’t try anything with this many witnesses around. Then again, a scream above a noisy street might scarcely be noticed.

  Tom spotted Kate’s empty VW Bug outside the bakery, and his emotions seesawed between relief and worry. He parked across the street and jogged over to check it out.

  Elsie Wagner bustled through the front door of the bakery trailed by a yeasty aroma. “Ach, Tommy. Look at you.” She smushed his cheeks in her doughy fingers. “You need to eat more. Come. I give you schnitzels to take home to your dad.”

  “I can’t now. Thank you. I’m looking for Kate Adams. Have you seen her?”

  Elsie’s eyes twinkled with the same matchmaker’s gleam she’d sported the night he’d escorted her daughter to the high school prom. Except tonight his heart was pounding a hundred beats a second for an entirely different reason.

  “Ja, she was here. Half an hour ago, maybe.”

  “Thank you.” He sprinted the half block to the front door of A Cup or Two and scanned the shop through the front window. A teenager was wiping down tables. A couple of booths had patrons, but no sign of Kate. Taking a deep breath, he plunged down the side alley.

  A cat screeched and streaked past him.

  He gripped the metal handrail and mounted the stairs two at a time. Rust crumbled beneath his palm. The trash-tainted air tasted foul. Tom didn’t want to think about what other foul-smelling secrets they might be hiding behind their fancy storefront.

  At the top of the stairs, he willed his heart to slow. How would he explain his sudden appearance on their doorstep without making Darryl suspicious?

  Tom recalled the twinkle in Elsie’s eye. Yes, a ruse could work, if necessary. He tapped on the door.

  Darryl, his shirt rumpled and hair a mess, as if he’d been wrestling something or someone, frowned. “Detective? May I help you?”

  Tom looked past Darryl’s shoulder as discreetly as possible but couldn’t see beyond the narrow hallway. “I’m looking for Kate. I saw her car down the street, and she’d mentioned she might drop by to visit your wife.”

  Darryl’s taut stance relaxed a fraction. “Kate,” he shouted down the hall. “You have company.”

  Kate appeared in the hallway, eyes wide with surprise.

  At the sight of her unharmed, Tom’s concern melted. “There you are, sweetie,” he crooned, stepping forward to catch her hands in his. “You had me worried.”

  An adorable flush washed over her cheeks. “Tom?” The inflection she added to his name asked, Why are you here, acting like my boyfriend?

  “I made our reservations at the Wildflower for five.” Tom shifted his gaze sideways to indicate the ruse was for Darryl’s benefit. “You must’ve lost track of time.” Tom showed her his watch.

  Kate blinked, looking a little stunned. “Oh. Is it that late already? I’m sorry.” She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter.

  He took the opportunity to survey the room. Aside from her purse, the counters and table were empty. A tropical tree with a spiny greenish-purple fruit stood next to the tiny window overlooking the side alley. He stepped back to let Kate go in front of him and scanned the tiny living room off the other side of the hall. A ratty sofa, two chairs, and a TV were the sole contents. The couple was definitely cash-strapped.

  Kate hitched her purse strap over her shoulder. “Was that you on the phone earlier? I had my hands . . . oh, never mind. Let me say good-bye to Beth and then we can go.”

  For Darryl’s benefit, Tom flashed her a grin that said, “I can’t wait.”

  The color in her cheeks deepened. Kate was a natural. She couldn’t have acted the part of besotted girlfriend better if they’d planned it. The gentle sway of her hair as she flitted down the hall awakened a yearning to run his fingers through her curls to see if they were as silky as they seemed. Maybe stopping by the Wildflower for dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. For appearances’ sake. After all, they had to eat, and he wouldn’t want Darryl to catch on that this had been a ruse.

  “I’m surprised Kate never mentioned you two were dating,” Darryl said a little too offhandedly for Tom’s peace of mind, especially since his latest suspect in Daisy’s murder investigation now stood between him and the door.

  If Kate’s safety didn’t hang in the balance, Tom would’ve liked nothing more than to interrogate Darryl right then. Instead, Tom rubbed his jaw and said, “Well, you know how it is. Until I closed the Leacock investigation, I wasn’t at liberty to make my feelings known. But . . .” He lifted his palms in an exaggerated shrug, letting his gaze drift down the hall in the direction Kate had disappeared, wishing he’d trailed her in order to catch a glimpse of the bedroom.

  He forced his attention back to Darryl. “I think the attraction is mutual.”

  “Huh,” Darryl grunted. “I’d kind of gotten the impression she despised cops.”

  The revelation jabbed Tom square in the chest. Being despised was part of the job description, but Kate didn’t seem like the type who would share the revulsion. “Really? Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know. Just this attitude she gets when anyone talks about being caught speeding, that sort of thing.” Darryl elbowed Tom’s side and gave a couple of exaggerated winks. “Maybe she thinks getting in good with someone on the inside will get her out of a ticket.”

  Kate flounced toward them, wearing a sassy grin. “I do believe Darryl’s jealous.” She breezed past Tom and tapped Darryl’s chest. “And no, I won’t ask Tom to fix your speeding tickets.”

  Tom laughed. Ah, he could love this woman. “Sorry, Kish. Do the crime. Pay the time.”

  Darryl snickered, but with just enough edge to suggest a guilty conscience.

  Tom rested his palm at the small of Kate’s back and urged her toward the door. “We’ll see ya.”

  Kate fluttered her fingers at Darryl as she stepped onto the outside landing. She continued to play the part of love-struck date until her feet hit the ground and the click of a deadbolt echoed in the narrow alley. “Now, do you mind telling me what that was all about?”

  Uncertain whether Kish might be listening through an open window or watching for them from the front of their apartment, Tom hurried Kate forward, still touching her waist. “The show’s not over yet. I’ll walk you to your car. We’ll talk at the Wildflower.”

  She stopped and gawked at him. “You really have a reservation?”

  He winked.

  A jumble of emotions, from surprise to befuddlement, paraded across her face. The fact she didn’t seem at all displeased by the idea of joining him for dinner prompted him to silently pray that a table would be available at the busiest restaurant in town.

  As they emerged from the alley, Tom glanced up at the Kish apartment and glimpsed movement behind the window. Tom dipped his head and whispered in Kate’s ear. “We’re being watched.” Her fragrance—lavender, if he wasn’t mistaken—teased his senses, and he let his gaze linger on her profile. Her creamy complexion radiated a natural beauty he had no b
usiness noticing when he should be focusing on the case, but he couldn’t resist. Surprisingly, for the first time since his partner’s death, Tom didn’t want to resist.

  To Kate’s credit, she kept walking down the sidewalk toward her car and surprised him by entwining her arm around his. “Honestly, Tom. If you wanted to go out with me, all you had to do was ask.” The teasing smile on her lips made his heart do a tiny flip. She slipped her arm free and tapped the unlock button on her key remote.

  At the beep, he opened the driver’s door and met her gaze. “All right then, will you join me for dinner?”

  “I’d love to. Thank you.”

  The mischief in her eyes made his legs buckle. Oh, boy. How was he supposed to ensure she stayed out of danger when she had enough firepower in one glance to do serious damage to his common sense?

  He hurried across the street to his own car. Once inside, he dug the business card for the Wildflower restaurant out of his wallet and dialed the number. If there hadn’t been a hit-and-run in the restaurant’s parking lot his first week on the job, he probably wouldn’t have known much about the town’s hottest new establishment, let alone had its phone number.

  The hostess answered on the first ring. Tom gave his name and asked for a reservation for two as soon as possible.

  “Oh, I remember you,” the hostess squealed. “You’re that nice detective who tracked down the guy who hit Sally. Just a minute, I’ll see what I can do.”

  Tom set his cell in its holder and pulled onto the street behind Kate’s car. Good thing for him he’d solved the hit-and-run case, or the hostess might have told him to eat somewhere else . . . like Mike’s Truck Stop on the edge of town. He might never have had a steady girl, but Tom was smart enough to know that you didn’t take your date to a restaurant where all the clientele wore plaid shirts and baseball caps, or where the tables had laminated place mats with ads for the local septic tank cleaning company, or where dollar-store plastic vines were wrapped around an indoor arbor spiked with artificial flowers covered in more dust than last winter’s snowfall.

  “Detective,” the young woman came back on the line. “You’re in luck. I have a table for two that will be available in about ten minutes.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” Now all he had to do was figure out what reason he’d give Kate for cutting short her visit with Beth. A reason that would make her cautious around Darryl without divulging her boss’s possible link to Daisy’s murder.

  The hostess led them to a small table tucked into the corner, perfect for a private conversation.

  Out of habit, Tom took the chair that backed to the wall so he could watch the room. The place was packed with casually attired couples in their mid-thirties to fifties—not a plaid shirt in sight. No one showed any special interest in him or Kate. Soft music played in the background, and flickering candles added to the romantic atmosphere.

  After the hostess left them with their menus, Kate looked at him with a mix of curiosity and delight. “I can’t believe you brought me here. I thought for sure you were just worried about my visiting Beth and made up the dinner plans so Darryl wouldn’t know you were still working the case.”

  Tom rubbed the back of his neck and lifted one side of his lips in a sheepish grin. “I was worried. And I did make up the story, but after you accepted my invitation, I couldn’t resist following through. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of taking a beautiful woman to dinner.”

  The color that rushed to her cheeks reassured him that Kate, loyal Kate, was the sweet, innocent, hometown girl she seemed. Nothing like the woman who’d hijacked his partner’s heart and cost him his life. Maybe when this case was over they could enjoy a real date.

  “You know . . . you don’t have to flatter me to get the information you’re after.”

  “Trust me. That was not flattery.”

  “That coming from the man who told me to trust no one?” she teased, ducking behind her menu.

  He tipped the laminated page forward. “I believe those were my dad’s instructions. I’m the one who launched the recovery effort after you marched into Kish’s apartment despite Dad’s warning.”

  Kate’s eyes rounded, the mischievous twinkle supplanted by apprehension. “You thought Darryl or Beth would hurt me? They’re colleagues, friends. You’re supposed to be getting the evidence to lock up Edward.”

  “Beth followed you last night and then sped away. I think that’s suspicious.”

  “You think everything is suspicious. Is there no one you trust?”

  “Yes.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice in the hope she would do the same. “I’m trusting you to stay out of trouble.”

  “Well, all you have to do is arrest Edward.”

  Tom held in a sigh. If only the solution were that simple. “How did Beth explain her actions last night? I assume that’s why you dropped in on her.”

  Kate laid her menu on the table and realigned the salt and pepper shakers. “The person following me couldn’t have been Beth. She’s too sick to go anywhere.” Kate met his gaze for only an instant, then fussed with the pansies on the center of the table.

  He picked up the vase and moved it out of her reach. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Kate’s shrug, a clear sign that she intended to deny the obvious, dampened his appetite.

  “If you want me to help you, I need all the facts,” he said.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re moody? Because I could recommend a tea for that.”

  “Yeah? Do you have one that will get uncooperative witnesses to talk?” That earned him a smile.

  “Okay, Beth mentioned that she lets Molly borrow her car. Molly’s been helping her out by running errands for her. Last night she used the car to pick up groceries for both of them.” The shift in Kate’s gaze suggested she’d been selective in which facts she shared.

  “Who’s Molly?”

  “The counter girl at A Cup or Two.”

  “Really?” Maybe Darryl had given the girl some extra work trailing Kate.

  “She’s also Edward’s fiancée. They got engaged last night.” Kate’s gaze dropped to the fork she was fiddling with. “Molly seemed kind of . . . insecure . . . when Edward ran into me at the shop yesterday. I think maybe she followed us.” Kate stopped fingering the cutlery and met Tom’s gaze. “But now that Edward has asked her to marry him, I’m sure she won’t worry anymore.”

  “In my experience, jealous lovers are exactly the kind of people one should worry about.”

  Kate frowned and then gnawed on her bottom lip. “I don’t think she’s jealous, exactly. No, definitely not. I spoke to her outside the bakery and she was positively twitterpated. I just hope she doesn’t blame me when you arrest Edward.”

  “I’d be doing her a favor.” Tom let out a frustrated sigh. He’d hit nothing but dead ends tracing Crump’s history in search of outstanding arrest warrants. “It could be some time before I have enough evidence to make an arrest. You need to be on your guard.”

  “Me? What about Molly?”

  “She’s a waitress. Edward isn’t going to kill her for her money.”

  “No, but the longer this goes on, the more devastated she’ll be. What more do you need? Edward did it.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  Uncertainty crept into her gaze. “You still think Daisy killed herself, don’t you?” Kate said in scarcely more than a whisper.

  He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “No, I believe you.” But divulging his reasons was too risky. He’d have to figure out some other way to convince Kate to lie low and let him handle everything. He dropped his gaze to their hands and traced the edge of her bracelet. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s a medic alert bracelet. I’m allergic to hazelnuts.”

  Reflexively, he squeezed her fingers. Life was way too fragile. “I promise you, I will get whoever is responsible for your friend’s death.”

  Dutiful maid of honor that she was, Kate
felt too guilty not to spend Saturday morning helping Julie take care of wedding details. She sucked in her stomach as the seamstress zipped up the back of the satin bridesmaid gown.

  “I should probably let it out on the side,” the woman mumbled around a mouthful of pins.

  Kate barely took a second to admire the drape of the gown or how well the emerald green suited her complexion “It’s perfect as is,” she said on what little air she could breathe in. The sooner she got through Julie’s to-do list, the sooner she could check into the newest theory tangling her thoughts like vines of creeping Charlie.

  Julie frowned. “Are you sure the waist isn’t too tight?”

  “It’s fine.” Kate wiggled to prove she wouldn’t pop a seam and made a mental note to cut out the corn chips for a couple of weeks. In the floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the enormous octagonal fitting room, her multiple fidgeting reflections looked like a crowd of bridesmaids with gnats in their knickers.

  She motioned to the seamstress to unzip her.

  Julie didn’t look convinced. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  “Why would I be mad at you?” Kate lifted the dress over her head. They still had the caterer and florist to visit before she could get away. Not that she was complaining. The errands had been a perfect excuse to pass on Edward’s invitation to go through Daisy’s belongings. Of course, Julie needn’t know that Kate was being unselfish for selfish reasons.

  “You’ve been kind of distant since I force-fed you a carton of ice cream.” Translation: since I held you at spoon-point while you bared your soul. “And you weren’t too thrilled this morning when I told Edward you couldn’t help him today.”

  “Trust me. Edward is the last person I wanted to spend the day with.” Kate hated keeping her suspicions about Edward a secret, but Tom and his dad had been insistent that no one be trusted.

  And Julie did love to talk.

  After the seamstress carried Kate’s dress out of the dressing room, Julie whispered, “Do you think Edward poisoned Daisy?”

  As Kate pulled on her slacks and T-shirt, she debated how to answer the question without answering it. “Let’s just say I share your uneasiness about him.” As soon as she finished her maid of honor duties this morning, she intended to unearth the proof she needed to bury him. A notation she’d found in one of Daisy’s journals suggested the proof might be on the research lab’s computer.