I took Pete’s hand. “Yeah, Pete. Thanks. For everything. Tomorrow’s agenda will consist of figuring out how in the world we’re going to get Scott’s satchel to the police without getting busted for obstruction.”
Pete grinned. “That should be fun.”
“See you tomorrow.” I got out of the car, and as I did, Pete got out, too. “Where are you going?”
He came around beside me. “I thought I’d walk you to your door.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Lots of seedy characters around.”
I looked around the complex. The only “characters” were a handful of not-seedy frat boys stumbling down the stairs and a few girls holding a too-loud conversation between two open doorways on my floor. “I think I’m probably going to be okay.”
Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “You try to be a gentleman, and it gets you nowhere.”
I smiled. “Drive home safely, please.”
He got back into his car, a little grudgingly, I thought. I blew out a breath. Now it was time to deal with Cooper. I marched up the stairs, straight to his apartment, ready to get this over with.
Cooper met me at the door with a pretty bouquet of flowers and a sweet smile. “Hey, Juliet. These are for you.”
I accepted the flowers and breathed in their scent, getting a little stabby feeling in my heart. “Thanks, Coop. They’re beautiful.”
“Come on in,” he said, taking my hand and leading me over to his couch.
“I’m sorry for blowing you off earlier. I had to stay focused.”
“It’s okay. Did you find what you were looking for?”
I’d told him only that I was going to be spending all day out of town working on a big case, but no other particulars. “Yes. And I think we should talk about—”
He laid a hand on my arm. “You know I’m usually not one to interrupt, but there’s something I need to say, so I’m just going to say it. I want to go public with our relationship.”
My gut clenched, and all I could do was stare at him. Into his big, blue puppy-dog eyes. When I finally found my voice, I said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yes, I am. I want to be able to take you out and get to know you outside the bedroom. While what we have now is fun, I know we could be great together if we gave us a chance.”
Oh, no, no, no. I’d suspected he was into me, but I figured I could keep him at arm’s length easily enough. I’d thought wrong. “We should take a step back and think about this.”
“Why? Are you…” His brow furrowed. “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”
“No.” Yes. Our age difference was incredibly inappropriate. Which was probably why our arrangement was so appealing to me. It felt dangerous, but without actual danger, which I didn’t need any more of.
“Then what is it?”
I sighed. “I don’t want a relationship right now. My life is too messy.”
He brightened a bit. “So you’re saying you need some time? I can live with that.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
Cooper leaned over and kissed me. “I’m going to prove to you that this is a good idea.”
—
I yawned deeply as I fought to stay awake while I made the morning pastries for Java Jive. Pete had let me know late last night that the police had released the coffeehouse back to us, so I’d arrived even earlier than usual so I could straighten up after their investigation. I’d managed to wriggle away from Cooper fairly quickly and go home, but to my dismay (though not to my surprise), I hadn’t been able to sleep. While I laid in bed, I felt like Scott’s satchel was mocking me from its place on the dresser in my bedroom. I had to do something about that thing. If the police weren’t already on the hunt for it, they soon would be. So, I’d stayed up all night, devising a plan that would hopefully keep both Pete and myself out of trouble with the law.
When Pete’s grandmother Gertie came in for her daily breakfast, I was nearly asleep on my feet.
“I hope you’re not losing sleep over that bastard ex of yours,” she said as she studied my face worriedly.
Good old Gertie. Never one to pull any punches. She’d already called me early yesterday to give me her condolences after Pete had told her the news. She seemed to have moved on to the anger stage of her non-grieving over Scott.
“Not exactly.”
She waved a wrinkled hand. “Don’t give him another thought, dear. Death turns no man into a saint.”
The old gal had a point. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Pete walked in, whistling. After giving Gertie a smooch on the cheek and plopping down on the stool next to her at the counter, he sang, “ ‘Can’t you see that you’re my sun and moon? J-J-J-J-J-J-Juliet.’ ”
I smiled. Pete was back to his old self if he was singing “Juliet” songs to me. “Hey. Long time no see.”
He chuckled. “I know, right? Let me guess. You didn’t sleep.”
“What gave me away?”
“Those huge purple bags under your eyes.”
Gertie tapped him on the back of the head with her open palm. “Didn’t I raise you better than to say stupid things like that to women?”
Pete grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Jules.”
My phone beeped, signaling an incoming text. I read it quickly and replied, “No need to apologize. I’ve got an appointment this morning, so I will see you two later.”
Before either of them could quiz me on where I was rushing off to, I went to the office to pick up Scott’s satchel and flew out the back door to Ryder’s waiting car.
When I got in, he said, “Tell me again why we have to do this so secretly?”
“I don’t want Pete to try to stop me from doing what needs to be done. I’ll tell him after it’s over.”
—
Detective Delaney stared me down. “You’re admitting to stealing evidence.”
It was all I could do to keep my cool. “No, I am not admitting to stealing evidence. I thought you’d promised to be nice here and not put words in my mouth, Detective.”
He shrugged.
I continued, “As I told you, I was beside myself after witnessing my former fiancé’s death. I took the last remaining personal item of his—the satchel—and went outside to grieve between when the EMTs arrived and when you showed up. I had myself a bit of a tantrum, and at some point during that time I remember flinging the bag into the bushes behind Java Jive. Once the police showed up, things got hectic, and the satchel was the furthest thing from my mind. I went back to Java Jive later to retrieve it.”
Lies. All lies. But it was the only option Ryder and I could come up with to keep Pete out of trouble. Needless to say, Ryder was not pleased about the whole satchel thing, which I’d purposely kept from him until I needed some police advice on what in the world to do with it now that I was done with it.
“And then you took it home instead of turning it in to the proper authorities. Tampering with evidence. Obstruction of justice.”
“Nope, still grieving former fiancé.”
He ignored me and went on, “By someone who happens to be a PI and should know what is and is not going to be considered evidence in an investigation.”
I crossed my arms. “If you’re going to be like that, then I’m not giving up anything I know from my day spent speaking to Scott O’Malley’s friends and coworkers.” I figured I’d leave out the part where Pete and I broke into his house and grilled his wife.
Delaney sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on his beer belly. “You have proof that his death was the result of drug abuse?”
“Not exactly proof. But I do have statements from a number of people who knew him well that point to the fact that he was not acting like himself lately, and confirmation from three coworkers that he’d been fired for stealing drug samples.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you because…?”
I slid the report I’d stayed up all night typing across the table to him. �
�You don’t have to take my word for it. There are names and contact information for the people I spoke with yesterday. Ask them yourself. Contact his former employer and find out what kind of samples were stolen, then cross-reference that with the toxicology report from the autopsy. That should tell you all you need to know.”
Delaney, who I thought had been ignoring me while he flipped through the document, glanced up at me with a smirk. “I’m familiar with how investigating works, Ms. Langley.”
I gritted my teeth and kept quiet while Delaney read through my report.
Once he was finished, he sat back again. “Am I going to find your fingerprints on everything in the bag?”
“Yep.”
“Will you sign an official statement that says you did nothing to tamper with anything you found in it?”
“Yes, although I did unload the gun for you.”
He smiled, but not nicely. “How kind of you.”
“Does that mean we’re done here?”
Delaney rubbed his eyes. “Okay, here’s the deal. I won’t press tampering or obstruction charges against you…unless I find out that you or your buddy Bennett had something to do with my vic’s death. If that happens, I’m going to throw everything humanly possible at you.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief.
He held up one finger. “I’m not finished. Understand that if I find you’ve taken even a gum wrapper out of this bag, I’ll bust your ass so fast it’ll make your head spin. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Now stay out of my investigation!” he barked.
—
As soon as we stepped out of the police station, I slumped against Ryder, drained from my ordeal.
He threw his arm around me and chuckled as he steered me down the street toward his car. “Delaney put you through the ringer, didn’t he?”
“How did you ever deduce that, Detective?”
“I was listening in from next door.”
I groaned. “Great. I had an audience.”
“I wouldn’t call it an audience. It was only Cromwell and me. He’s back from vacation.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I bet he loved watching me squirm.”
Ryder grinned. “It was entertaining. You and Delaney put on a good show.” He stopped me at his car and turned me to face him, growing serious. “But from now on, can you go back to not doing stupid things in the course of your investigations?”
“Sure. If people will quit accusing me of murder.”
Chapter 11
Once I got rid of Scott’s man bag, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me. My life returned to normal, or at least my version of normal.
I hadn’t seen Cooper at all on Monday—I’d been happy enough to assume he was giving me some time like he’d mistakenly thought I’d asked for. But when a bouquet of flowers arrived for me at Java Jive on Tuesday morning, I began to get that gnawing feeling in my gut again. He was doing some serious courting if he got me two sets of flowers in three days. The card simply read, Can’t wait to hear your beautiful voice tonight, with no signature. Anyone else I knew would have signed his or her name and taken the credit for sending me flowers, but Cooper was again trying to show that he respected my wishes by keeping our relationship a secret. I really needed to end this once and for all.
At lunchtime, Pete came in the office and whistled. “Nice flowers, Jules. Must be from a super nice guy.”
One more lie, and then I was breaking it off with Cooper this afternoon, and Pete never had to know. Referring to our now married (and very pregnant) barista and cook, I said, “They’re Camille’s. From Wayne.”
Pete gave me a puzzled stare. “You sure about that?” He snatched the tiny envelope from the plastic pick nestled in the flowers.
I jumped up and tried to wrestle it from his hands. “You can’t look at the card. It’s private.”
He already had the card out and was reading it. “ ‘Can’t wait to hear your beautiful voice tonight.’ ” Turning the card so I could see it, he said, “Somehow I don’t think these are for Camille.”
I hung my head. This had gone too far. “They’re mine.”
“I know. I sent them.”
I snapped my head up to stare at him. “What?”
“They’re from me to you.”
“Oh.”
Pete’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? That’s it?”
“I mean, thank you.”
“Why are you being so weird?”
I retorted defensively, “Why didn’t you sign the card?”
Squinting at me, he asked, “Exactly how many people are you expecting to get flowers from today?”
Frowning, I said, “I wasn’t expecting flowers from anyone.”
“But you thought they were from someone else and didn’t want me to know.”
I didn’t reply.
“Who did you think sent them, Jules?”
I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. “It’s not important.”
“Seems like it’s important enough to lie to your best friend about it.”
Ooh, that got me. I moaned, “Okay, fine.” Covering my face with my hands, I mumbled, “Cooper.”
“Who?”
I took my hands off my face long enough to cringe and reply, “My neighbor,” before clamping them back on.
Pete gently took my wrists and pulled my hands down. A smile was twinkling in his eyes, but he didn’t laugh at me. “Because he’s got a crush on you?”
I sighed. “Because I’m sleeping with him.”
His eyes widened. “Is that even legal?”
Giving him a glare, I snapped, “Do the math, Pete. He’s in grad school, not high school.”
“Oh, right. I don’t know if I should be grossed out or impressed by your cougarly ways.”
“If I were one of your guy friends, you’d be high-fiving me right now.”
Nodding, he said, “You’re probably right. So, in the spirit of not coming off like a sexist pig…” He held up one hand.
I crossed my arms. “I don’t do pity fives.”
He chuckled and put his hand down, but when he spoke, his voice wavered. “So are things, um, serious between you two?”
I shuffled over and threw myself down onto the couch. “No. At least they’re not supposed to be. I thought we could do the ‘friends with benefits’ thing, but I guess that only works in rom-coms.”
Pete came over and sat next to me. “So are you going to end it before you break his young little heart?”
“Yes. I tried to already, but I didn’t do a good job of it. I’ll talk to him this afternoon.”
“Good. Then you can pour out all that relationship angst onstage tonight.”
—
The only problem with my plan was that Cooper was not at his apartment when I went home to get ready for my performance, and I couldn’t get him on his cell. He was likely in class or in a clinical, so I only sent one text in order not to bother him. My nerves were beginning to get to me as I showered and changed into the new dress I’d bought for my performance, and they were threatening to take over when I heard a knock at my door.
Pete stood there, smiling. “Wow. You look like a million bucks. You’re going to knock ’em dead tonight, Jules.”
His words of encouragement were all I needed to replace my anxiety with excitement. He kept the conversation light on our way downtown, listing the famous musicians he’d met today at his job and telling me all about their recording sessions. When we got to the venue, the other members of our band were already there setting up.
I got giddy every time I thought about having my own backup band again. Granted, it was only Pete on lead guitar, his friend Javier on bass, and Mick, my drummer from way back when, but playing with them made me feel like a real musician again.
Setup, warm-up, and sound check were all a blur, but I did happen to notice that the place was filling up fast. Everyone I knew had come out to support me—even my parents had driven down
and brought my cousin Melinda.
Even though everything was going perfectly, my old friend stage fright was trying to sneak in and mess it up for me. I was struggling to blot it all out and focus when Pete came over and took me by both shoulders.
He said, “I see you freaking a little. Don’t. You’re going to be great. And I will be by your side every moment.”
Fighting to steady my voice, I said, “What if I forget the words?”
“You won’t.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he said ominously, “But if you do, I’ll just shove you off the stage and take over the rest of your set.”
I laughed. “That is not what I expected you to say.”
“It was a joke. A terrible one. And it took your mind off your problems, didn’t it?”
“It did.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “This is going to be so awesome.”
With one more squeeze, he let me go, and we got our guitars strapped on and set ourselves up at the mics. The venue’s host introduced us, and then we were playing. The whole thing went by so fast, I felt like I missed big chunks of it. Before the final song, Pete nodded to me, reminding me it was time to say a little something.
I smiled, the energy in the place giving me a buzz of excitement. “Thanks everyone for coming out tonight, especially all of our family and friends. This last song is a newer one Pete and I wrote together. Hope you like it. It’s called ‘I’m Torn.’ ”
After Pete strummed the first chord, I sang.
It’s complicated.
Too scared to love you, can’t bear to let you go.
I’m so jaded.
Unlucky in love, my heart has lost its glow.
But with you, I’m who I want to be.
You bring out the real me.
Shouldn’t fight it, can’t deny it,
Still I’m torn.
So uncertain.
If we don’t work out, will I lose it all?
We all stumble.
You’ve always been there to pick me up when I fall.
With you, I’m who I want to be.
You bring out the real me.
Shouldn’t fight it, can’t deny it,
Still I’m torn.
Murder Over Mochas Page 9