by Amy Saunders
She got to let it slide for a little bit between assignments, then smiled big into the bathroom mirror and returned to the world as happy Belinda. Just in time to distribute the box of flyers in her hands announcing the grand opening on Saturday to the businesses downtown.
With Brooke.
Whom she'd just seen leaving the inn floor where Bennett—her Bennett—wore nothing but a towel.
Belinda paused before opening the car door, swallowing that and letting it go. It might be awkward, but what human interaction for her lately had not been awkward?
After arriving downtown and meeting her assistant, Belinda gave Brooke half the stack of flyers and they split up, starting at opposite ends to work their way back to the middle. Despite not feeling in her zone, the second Belinda opened the first door and smiled, it all came back to her. She chatted, handed out flyers, and bought a gelato. (Business snack.) A couple boutique owners even expressed interest in cross-marketing.
All in all, not a bad afternoon considering how everything else was going.
A bell overhead dinged as Belinda closed the last door behind her, her arms now empty of flyers. Brooke waved from the center of the wharf, enclosed with shops. Her hands were empty too, except for the two coffees she held. Belinda crossed over to the brick courtyard where Brooke waited under the overhanging branch of a tree. She handed one coffee over.
"So we've canvassed the wharfs," Brooke said, walking alongside Belinda. "Plus the main strip. We're pretty well announced now."
"Then why is my head still buzzing if we're so on the ball?"
Brooke shrugged. "Grand opening jitters? I wouldn't worry about it. You're in good shape. It doesn't hurt that you know most of the shop owners, so I seriously wouldn't freak out about it." Brooke set down her coffee on a nearby outdoor table. It was breezy and sunny and the smell of cookies wafted around them, which only made Belinda more hateful. How could she be so miserable with cookies just a few steps away?
Brooke pulled a computer tablet from her messenger bag. It took a second to register, but Belinda knew she didn't have that before. Brooke tapped on the screen, flipping it over for Belinda to see. "See? We're halfway down the to-do list. You have nothing to worry about." Brooke smiled. "And I dealt with those two designers complaining about their rooms. They're officially moved."
Belinda nodded absently. "Where?"
Brooke grinned wickedly. "To a nice place with a view of the harbor...and a nice smell of the fishing boats."
Well, Belinda couldn't help feeling more cheerful about that. "So...when did you get that tablet?"
"Oh...um...a day or two ago I think."
"The organizer was cumbersome." Belinda knew full well she was setting the perfect trap. Cornering her prey. But for once in her life, she didn't even feel a twinge of guilt.
"Yes. I mean, no." Brooke adjusted her glasses. "I mean Bennett suggested it would make things easier."
Belinda narrowed her eyes.
"I asked what I should get after his remark at the show," Brooke added quickly, "and he gave me some suggestions."
Belinda's stomach twisted. Bennett had offered her suggestions? He hadn't even mentioned it to Belinda again since the runway show. Brooke wiggled, adjusted her glasses, fiddled with her coffee cup. "When...when did Bennett do that?" Belinda's voice came out tinny.
"Oh, about the same. A day or two ago. We met...over coffee." Brooke swept her bangs aside for the hundredth time.
Belinda was torn between thinking Brooke was just that naive or just that stupid to volunteer all of this. "You met for coffee." Her fingers and lips were starting to feel numb.
Bennett had met another woman for coffee. A twitchy, day-planner carrying woman, but a woman nonetheless. And they weren't broken up or anything. It was just a rough patch, right? An issue they would work out.
"Just to talk, you know." Brooke blew on her coffee. "Bennett's helping me with something."
"That's nice of him." Belinda focused on her cup. "Where did you meet? The Portside Inn?" Had Brooke come from Sawyer's room last night? When Belinda found Bennett there instead of Sawyer?
That thought made her sick.
Brooke looked puzzled. "No...we met just across the street."
Belinda nodded.
Brooke checked her phone and set it back down. "I'll, um...I'll go get us something to munch on with these coffees. Be right back." Brooke slipped off, heading towards the cookie place.
As soon as Brooke was out of sight, she grabbed the cell phone sitting on the table, quickly trying to wake it up. Why was every phone completely different? Belinda intended to search to see if Brooke had ever contacted Bennett, but the text message on the screen distracted her.
I'll explain the mix-up later. Let's try again. Ginger Alley. 10.
The series of texts before that were similar scraps of information. Like they were both trying not to give anything away in case someone (like Belinda) read them.
Belinda repeated the number to herself, scrambling to shut it off as Brooke came back into view. She needed help to find what Brooke was up to...and who wrote that stupid note in her pocket. She needed, well, Bennett. He was out, but maybe there was a second best. There was such a thing as the big boss' lieutenant.
This sounded like a problem to take to Finnegan.
They stuck to less controversial subjects when Brooke returned, and Belinda tried to study her assistant while letting the sugar from the cookie lighten her mood. Brooke kept shifting positions and adjusting her glasses. This girl was the least likely candidate to make out with Sawyer Gallen in a dark alley and swap cryptic messages with a mystery person.
But she had and she did.
After they finished their snack and split up for the day, Belinda still had a little while before the reporter from the newspaper came to the house (good thing the truck now sparkled from its washing), so Belinda dashed home to get Finnegan's number. She left him a voicemail, hoping he checked his messages, and freshened up her hair and makeup and changed into outfit two for the day, thanks to Victoria's help.
She used the interview with the newspaper reporter as practice for her second on camera interview coming up during the grand opening. Belinda was determined to look more intelligent the second time around and not simply get a one-word spot on the news.
By the time the reporter took her own shots of Belinda with the truck and shook her hand good-bye, Finnegan had returned her call, happy to help. So she called back with the number from Brooke's phone (careful to leave out certain details...like that she spied on Brooke's messages), and to ask how to find out where something (the key card) originated without asking people (Sawyer) if they were responsible.
"Do you have the object?" Finnegan said.
See, she knew he could help! She'd taken the note from Bennett's kitchen drawer, too. "What should I do with them? They've sort of been contaminated."
"You could compare the handwriting on the note to people you know."
"Good idea!" Belinda tapped her fingers on the counter. "Howwww would I do that?"
Finnegan kind of wheezed on the other end. "Good question. Everything's digital these days. Could you ask for something handwritten? Something that needs a signature maybe?"
Belinda mulled over that, feeling more despondent. Maybe her brilliant plan wasn't so brilliant. Considering the number of people at the party, she wasn't sure that would work.
"Just out of curiosity," Finnegan said, "why didn't you ask Bennett about this?"
Belinda came back to the present conversation, a little taken off guard. Maybe Finnegan didn't know about their present problems. "You know, he's busy...and I thought I'd try not to bother him with it. And I knew you could help just as easily."
"Thanks!" That seemed to cheer him up. "I'll work on that phone number for you. You, uh. You don't know if Kori was up to anything tonight, do you?"
Belinda did not. And her antennae were still too sharp to ignore that question. "Any particular reason?" she asked innoc
ently.
"Oh, I was just thinking of asking...asking if she wanted to do something. If she had nothing going on."
Belinda drew an invisible figure eight on the countertop, picturing Kori with Finnegan. It was hard to imagine. "I didn't know you two had a thing going." If Finnegan was going to drop something like that, he would have to spill.
Finnegan laughed nervously. "We...we don't. It's just...the other day, before the show, we were kind of flirting and...and I thought she might...be interested." He wheezed out air again. Apparently saying that took effort.
Knowing what she knew about Kori, she could hardly encourage Finnegan to ask her out. Plus, it sounded odd for Kori, unless she had some ulterior motive. Belinda was sorry to think it, but Kori would never flirt with Finnegan because she was interested. "You know, I don't know that much about Kori's personal life these days, but I've gotten the impression she might be...interested in someone else. Just so you know." That was true. Kori had asked her about Jonas.
"Oh...oh, yeah. Well, you know. No big deal."
Belinda hated to crush him like that, but it was better now than later.
"Have fun playing pool later," Finnegan said, swallowing the unhappy news quickly. "Maybe you can beat him. He always pulverizes me."
"Hmm?" Pool? Later? Belinda's heart pulsed.
"Bennett mentioned going to Ginger Alley earlier. I figured he meant with you."
The message on Brooke's phone. It said Ginger Alley. Tonight. "Right. Right. I've been swamped today. Photo shoot stuff and an interview with a newspaper. Did he say what time?"
"Uh...no. But it's usually later, after Jonas gets off and everything."
"Right. Well, thanks for all the help. You're a lifesaver."
"Hey, I try."
Belinda let him go—in hopes that he came back later with an identity behind the phone number—and disappeared upstairs to forage for outfit number three that day. Playing pool sounded innocent, but both Brooke and Bennett had plans to go there that night.
Granted, she didn't know who sent Brooke's mystery message. But she still felt hair rising on her neck thinking about it. Belinda wrapped a hand around a shirt hanger like a talon. If this girl was trying to wedge between her and Bennett, Belinda would crush her dreams, and maybe the rest of her in the process.
Chapter 10
Jonas could see Bennett coming up the stairs to the billiards room above the pub-style restaurant in downtown Portside. It had been a very long day, with the future looking longer, and Jonas just wanted a little downtime that night. Some pool, some non-case related convo. Between the conversations and sports TV and some band playing beneath them in the restaurant, he'd managed to completely fuzz out for a few minutes while waiting. Bennett looked around until he saw Jonas waving his beer in the air. He strode over, hands in pockets, and joined him at the table.
And he was all frowned up. Great.
Bennett seemed to be trying to make up his mind about something and basically cringed. "Ready to play?" he said.
Jonas swished the beer in his mouth and nodded consent. Bennett set up, doing his precision-master thing while Jonas worked on his beer. There was definitely something off with his friend. Bennett always got everything aligned just right, but he was totally OCD'ing about it, examining the triangle from every side before lifting off the mold.
Then he circled the table like a predator, staring at his targets as if he wanted to chuck them at people's heads. He kept his eyes on the table, finding his first move and stretched out his torso to make his play.
Bennett slid the cue stick back and slung it forward. With a crack, three balls shot in opposite directions, canon-balling into three different pockets. Pool was always a head-to-head game for them and it usually got pretty intense. But Jonas had a feeling he should just relax and enjoy his beer and forget about how he played that night.
"Your turn," Bennett finally said, taking a stance against the wall, intensely occupied with the floor.
Jonas examined his play options. Not that he could win at that point, and he cared more about discovering the cause of Bennett's...issues. But maybe he could squeeze in one decent play before Bennett wiped him out.
Bennett hadn't been in such a fantastic mood the last day or so, had he? Jonas was preoccupied with this little murder problem and had kind of ignored it. But now he realized that this was a major downturn in Bennett's mood since he met Belinda.
Granted, Bennett was always trapped in his own head to a certain extent. But once in a while, it got completely out of control and he basically crawled into the lowest dungeon of his mind, made the bed, and turned the lights off. It was usually due to some perceived failure on his part like a mistake he made once when they were rookies. Jonas had never seen that happen before and he remembered using every known device in his arsenal to cajole the man back to life. None of it worked, but their superior officer said something right and Bennett finally emerged. Jonas had seen it happen here and there since then, but it had been a while.
Belinda. Had something gone wrong there? Jonas had trouble imagining it at this point, but it would explain a lot about Bennett's sudden anger. And now that he thought about it, Bennett had not mentioned her once the last couple times they talked.
"Is Belinda okay?" Jonas said after taking a shot. The ball rolled gently to the other side of the table, not anywhere near a pocket. So much for his one decent play.
Bennett actually laughed. Oh, boy.
"Trust me, if Belinda gets near any trouble," Bennett said, "all she'll have to do is open her mouth to scare it away."
Jonas jerked his head back. Really? "Have you lost your mind?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Maybe you should look a little closer."
Bennett just stared at him coldly.
Jonas shook his head in disbelief. "I think I'm missing some links. Weren't you two all googly-eyed at each other, say, two days ago?"
"Things change."
"Fast, apparently. What happened?"
Bennett drove the end of the cue stick into the floor. "Nothing happened. I was just...she's not who I thought she was." He gazed down at the floor, his anger dissolving into hurt.
Jonas took that in. It was too early for a lover's spat, wasn't it? "Alright, man. What happened? Did you and Belinda have your first official fight?"
Bennett snorted. That was not a good sign.
"Then what?" Jonas didn't become a detective without persistence. "You two were practically running off to elope the other afternoon. Something happened between then and now and I want to know what it is." He had a murder to solve, and Bennett's distraction was not helping him.
Bennett kept his eyes on the green felt of the pool table. "Things aren't what I thought they were."
"Well, that makes everything clear." The Investigator kicked in. "Let's see. My bet for when things went awry is the cocktail party. So I'm deducing from that vague statement that another man is involved." Jonas clicked his tongue. "That designer guy. The straight one. Sawyer something?"
Bennett's eyes flashed almost too quickly but Jonas was paying close attention to him now.
"There's no way she likes him," Jonas said.
Bennett clenched his fists, ready to punch something—or someone. Jonas watched while Bennett rubbed his hands back and forth over the top of his head. "I'm a fool." He glared at the floor.
"Bennett, I've known plenty of fools, and you are not one of them. Now, if you're done brooding, I'd like to know what actually happened."
"She kissed him." Bennett spat the pronoun. "Right in the view of anyone who could see them. Then I found an inn key card in Belinda's pocket at the cocktail party. I followed...that designer." Bennett gritted his teeth, saying the word like it was dirty. "The card works his door at the inn."
He paused, his gray eyes searching the room. "So I convinced Sawyer to move out of the Portside Inn."
Jonas raised his eyebrows. That was an interesting turn of events, and now Jonas was han
ging on his story.
"I left the key card in my house where Belinda could find it." Bennett's voice turned steely. "And she did. I waited in the room, and she shows up last night in this...this hoochie mama getup."
Jonas was impressed Bennett even knew that phrase.
He waited for him to finish. "Is that the end of your story?"
"Would you like me to add, 'And they lived happily ever after'?" Bennett straightened up. "It was obvious why she was there."
"Are you sure? I mean, did she admit to that?" Nothing so far sounded like the pixie Jonas knew. Especially the kissing-Sawyer-in-plain-sight bit.
Bennett looked at him hard. "She showed up at his hotel room. What other proof would you like me to present?"
Jonas relaxed, contemplating Bennett's responses. "You know, I have seen you jump to conclusions on occasion when you've gotten an idea stuck in your head. Sometimes the things we perceive as facts are just that—perceptions. That's a little something I've learned over the years."
"Thanks for the life lesson." Bennett did his little head wiggle thing that he only did about twice a year when at Maximum Sarcasm Delivery Level. Jonas suppressed a smile.
"You didn't answer my question," Jonas said. "Not directly. Did Belinda confess—to you, out loud—that she's cheated on you with Sawyer? Because that's the crux of this whole matter."
Bennett squirmed.
"The wrinkles and gray hairs are coming, Bennett."
"She ran!" Bennett exploded. "We stood right there and she didn't even bother to deny it. She just turned and ran."
Jonas regarded him calmly. Despite typically being completely logical, Bennett had an amazing capacity for bypassing all forms of it when he thought he was right about something. Jonas exhaled slowly and leaned back on his heels, holding in a laugh. "I think you need to take a step back here. You have a tendency to make snap decisions. You decided you liked her immediately, and now that you think she's maligned you, you've decided just as quickly that you don't like her. Did she say how she got the key card? Originally, I mean."