Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two)

by Amy Saunders

  Bennett squirmed again. "She claimed she didn't know it was in her pocket, and had some ridiculous excuse that someone mistook her jacket for theirs."

  Jonas arched his eyebrows. Sounded reasonable to him. "And she denied ever visiting Sawyer's room before then?"

  Bennett nodded again. "But she just did. So that could easily be a lie."

  Jonas smirked. Unlikely. That woman could not lie to save her life. "You do realize you're repeating the whole What's-her-face situation, but in reverse?"

  "I am not." Bennett's eyebrows wrinkled together.

  "Yes, you are. Last time, you dove in too fast and let go too slow. This time, you almost didn't dive in and now you're jumping out of the car with it full-speed ahead. For no reason."

  "I have every reason."

  "Really?" Jonas folded his arms. "As a police detective talking to a former uniform, let's examine the facts." Jonas wiggled his fingers, counting down on them. "One, you found a key card that opens Sawyer's door at his inn in Belinda's pocket. Two, she denies all knowledge of said key card. Three, you have no physical evidence or eyewitness testimony that proves Belinda has ever been in that room before or cheated on you with Sawyer."

  "I don't have evidence that disproves it either." Bennett glowered, clearly irked that Jonas was slamming his argument.

  Jonas laced his fingers together. "Knowing Belinda, I think there's another logical explanation for this. She's, well, kind of a snoop. And this scenario looks like one of her schemes to me. I also think, deep down, you've thought of that too. So, question is, what are you going to do about it?"

  Bennett's gray eyes bore into Jonas' green ones, neither of them backing down. Finally, Bennett said, "Fine. I'll look into it. Happy?"

  "Overjoyed." Jonas smiled broadly to prove it.

  Bennett aimed at his final victims on the table and shot them to eternity.

  ~ * ~

  After contriving the perfect outfit for spying in a bar—dark jeans, a slim fitting navy top, and solid shoes for booking it if necessary—Belinda found a parking spot near the Ginger Alley and hiked over the cobblestones. She passed Bennett's SUV and slinked her way upstairs to the bar, where she was crowded in and not easy to see. The pool tables were sequestered in the back and unless she exposed herself, she couldn't see Bennett. And whomever Bennett was with. Eventually, she figured he would come out of hiding.

  And the person he was playing pool with.

  But she was actually there to see about one potential boyfriend thief. While glancing around to make sure Bennett didn't show up without her knowing, she spotted a brunette with glasses tucked into a corner near the windows. She wasn't playing pool, and Brooke was alone, her phone on the table like she was waiting for a response.

  Belinda's jaw tightened. Once again, Brooke was in the same building with Bennett. Coincidence? The text to Brooke about meeting here was not from Bennett. At least, not Bennett's usual cell phone. But Bennett was clever and could see all the angles. Would he use a disposable phone or something just to talk to Brooke so no one (namely Belinda) would find out? It seemed far-fetched, even in Belinda's warped frame of mind. But she had to know all these things for sure.

  Either way, it was time for Belinda to make her presence known. That she was still in the picture. That she was paying attention. That Bennett was not Brooke's to run off with.

  Belinda squeezed between two back to back chairs and plopped into the available seat.

  Brooke looked startled, then mystified. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came for a drink," Belinda said flatly.

  Brooke blinked a few times as she seemed to wrap her head around that. "Alone?"

  Because no one ever went to a bar alone? "Yep. But when I saw you sitting by your lonesome too, I thought I'd come over and join you." Belinda smiled, which took more effort than she imagined it would.

  Brooke didn't look thrilled about that. Her face transitioned from unhappiness to worry and she moved her phone to her lap.

  "Is something the matter?" Belinda said. "You seem out of sorts lately. Since the runway show actually."

  Brooke gulped what appeared to be soda. "It was scary...someone dying right there where you were. Weren't you freaked out?"

  Belinda zoned back to those first few minutes after Caleb passed out. The memory was blurry, which told her something about how scared she actually was. "Meeting someone?" She eyed Brooke's phone.

  Brooke hesitated. "No. I just needed to get out for a while. I have a studio and it gets claustrophobic at night sometimes." Brooke shifted and adjusted her glasses. "I went to that jazz place the other night."

  "You were there too?" Belinda thought back to Sawyer's shift in mood after he saw someone while they danced. And he made sure Belinda didn't see who it was. Could it have been his secret girlfriend, Brooke?

  Brooke's eyes were all over the map now. Something was seriously wrong with her. "Just for a little bit." Brooke sounded unsure. "I didn't know you were there. But I didn't hang around long." She shrugged. "I didn't know anybody."

  Belinda smiled. Brooke was lying. "You wanna play some pool? Get another drink?"

  Brooke's seat squawked as she pushed up. "No, thanks. I need to go. See you later." Without any more adieu, Brooke squeezed around the lingering patrons and out the door. Belinda followed suit quickly. But she didn't move fast enough. Some scruffy guy in a baseball hat blocked her way around the bar, looking her over. Belinda had gone for practical with her outfit, but she had to admit those jeans and the top did nice things for her. Her bad.

  "D'you know what time it is?" was his brilliant pick up line.

  "What?" Belinda said. "Can't you read your watch?"

  His grin immediately disappeared. And so did whatever triumph Belinda felt at her sassy comeback. She was trapped, and now the half-drunk buffoon was mad at her.

  "I was just trying to be friendly!" he snapped.

  A man's hand landed firmly on the guy's shoulder. She could see one side of Bennett's face. "Leave her alone," he said in his non-negotiable voice.

  Well, she saw instantly that was headed nowhere happy. The buffoon spun around, his arm shooting out at Bennett's face.

  The good news: Bennett saw it coming and ducked.

  The not-so-good news: Jonas did not see it coming and the buffoon's fist caved right into his jaw, hurling Jonas onto his rump.

  Belinda grabbed the nearest beer mug and aimed the pee-colored liquid at the buffoon. But he lost balance in the complicated act of turning and swinging and crashed laterally into the bar as the beer sailed past him and broke across Bennett's face.

  It was like the world paused and the entire bar stopped to watch.

  Bennett opened his eyes, liquid streaming from his face and down his shirt, his gray eyes fixed on Belinda. And he was not a happy puppy.

  "Oops," Belinda said.

  Jonas pointed at the bartender from his position on the floor, which was nasty and unsanitary and probably teeming with rare diseases. "Get the police down here. Tell them this guy–" he pointed at Belinda's new non-BFF "–just punched Detective Jonas Parker."

  He may have been out of it, but the buffoon registered that statement loud and clear.

  "It's 10:15, by the way," Belinda said sweetly as the guy stammered apologies now that he was about to be arrested for punching an officer.

  Bennett grabbed Belinda's hand, yanking her across the floor, and the three of them marched out of the pool hall, probably never to be allowed inside again. Jonas muttered behind them. "I just wanted to play some pool."

  "Sorry," Belinda said over her shoulder.

  "I'm not mad at you, honey. I'm mad at Lateral Bob in there. He should have just backed down."

  "Are you okay?"

  Jonas waved his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. He didn't have much force going into it. I'm mostly surprised."

  That made two of them. Belinda hustled along to keep up with Bennett's stride. His eyes were straight ahead and he held her hand in a
death grip, droplets of beer still slipping off the tip of his chin. Whatever chance she'd had of following Brooke was gone now.

  "Where's your car?" Bennett barked.

  She pointed and spat out one-word sentences to describe it. He pulled her along until they found her silver Mini down the cobblestone road. She started to dig for her keys, but Bennett tore her purse from her hands, found the keys himself, and unlocked the car. He opened the door and stuffed her inside, leaning over her to start it.

  "Were you here to meet Brooke?" she blurted. Belinda basically knew that wasn't the case, but it was too late to retract the question...and the insinuation behind it.

  Bennett stayed bent over her.

  Belinda spoke to the back of his head. "She was waiting for someone and I saw her...I saw her at the Portside Inn the night...the night..." She pulled her lips tight, refusing to finish that sentence.

  Bennett paused, but ignored her remark. "What makes you think she was waiting for anybody?"

  Belinda gave that question a moment's consideration. She didn't really have anything concrete. "Well, she had a look about her—like she was expecting someone to show up. And she kept her phone in easy reach like someone might call or text. I was going to follow her, but Lateral Bob intercepted."

  "So you didn't get information, and you were almost assaulted."

  Belinda chewed on her lip.

  "Lock your doors," Bennett ordered and slammed the door shut.

  Jonas looked a little befuddled by the whole thing, but he had just taken a hit to the face.

  Belinda managed to get out onto the main street without following her impulse to crash into the back of Bennett's SUV. The jerk had ignored what she said about Brooke and treated her like an imbecile! Maybe she should have thrown beer in his face on purpose.

  Once the anger subsided, which happened in about the time it took to drive from one light set to the next, Belinda had to fight the nuclear meltdown coming on. She got home without losing it and fell inside.

  "I covered the hole!" Kyle said from the couch, raising both arms in triumph. Belinda started to sob. Kyle lowered his arms to a half-triumph. "I taped it up good." Belinda only wailed louder. Kyle sighed and went and picked her up off the floor and carried her to the couch. "What's wrong, Bels?"

  Belinda only shook her head.

  "I've seen you this bad once...maybe twice. Both times over some guy. So...what happened with Bennett?"

  The sobbing escalated so Kyle twirled his thumbs while she detoxed. Belinda's crying receded after a minute or two and she managed to explain what happened in hoarse spurts. "Everyone at that runway show is nuts!"

  "What about Kori?"

  "Kori's nuts too." Belinda blew her nose. "They only care about their stupid careers. And you know what? None of them are that special. You could buy what they design at any old store. I doubt any of them will ever be that famous. And one of them probably committed murder!" Belinda covered her face and started crying again. "If it weren't for this stupid fashion show, none of this would have happened!"

  Kyle clenched his arms around her. "Don't be mad at the fashion show, alright? It didn't mean it, and it's for a good cause. After Bennett cools off, you'll patch things up and everything will be fine."

  "What if it's not? Kyle, I really like him. What if I just blew it?"

  "You didn't blow it."

  "How do you know?" Belinda rested against him, hot tears still trickling down her cheeks.

  "Because he's a stand up guy and he clearly can't resist you."

  "That's exactly why I'm in trouble! He's not going to take some woman playing games and making a fool out of him."

  "But you're not some woman playing games trying to make a fool out of him."

  Belinda sniffed. "But it looks like it with the stupid key card and Sawyer..." Kyle sighed as the wailing returned. "I'm so stupid! I should have kept Sawyer as far away as possible."

  "Looks that way."

  Belinda smacked his arm.

  "Well, I'm sorry but I agree with you," he said. "You're my sister, but you do have lapses in judgment from time to time."

  Belinda sank into the couch. "This is the worst yet in my opinion."

  "I'm telling you it's going to be okay. You'll get some sleep and things will look better tomorrow."

  Belinda wasn't sure where that Mom-worthy statement came from, but with everything looking grim, she would take it.

  Chapter 11

  Bennett didn't sleep well that night. He'd driven home after following Belinda to make sure that's where she went and then vainly tossed and turned for hours. He had too many thoughts—most of them involving Belinda—crammed in his head. So he gave up once it was light out and spent the morning cleaning, responding to client e-mails, and taking off to the beach with his kayak. Even after getting sprayed over and over with cold salt water, he swore he could still smell beer on his skin. And those activities still provided him with too much time to think. So he took refuge in the one place he could always find it: his grandmother's.

  Bennett plopped down on the porch of her beach cottage after waking up from a nap in the room he'd slept in as a kid all summer for years. It was surreal sitting there with a bowl of her homemade granola, listening to the water lap along the shore of the inlet her house sat tucked inside. Her kayak was propped on its nose in a corner next to a towel drying on the rail. Her cat, S'mores, snored in a coil next to him. The wind chime made of shells swung in circles below the roofline. He felt the way he always did. Sheltered from the mania of downtown—and his own life.

  "So, how's Belinda?" His grandmother sunk into a chair next to him, her short salt and pepper hair spiking out around her head and her reading glasses folded in on her shirt collar. Bennett had a lot of her features. Her dark hair (well, her hair used to be almost-black like his) and smoky eyes. She was still a beautiful woman, and Bennett loved that she refused to act like an old lady.

  Bennett balanced his bowl in one hand, studying the granola. They hadn't talked yet. He'd come over and after a short exchange, she'd told him to go get some sleep. But he chose not to answer her. Not because he was being stubborn, but because he didn't know how to.

  "Uh-oh." She set her mug of tea down and sat up straighter. "You have your bad news mouth." She quirked her head. "What's wrong, baby?"

  Bennett licked his lips. He intended to quickly summarize the situation, but he always struggled to be as succinct with his grandmother as he was with other people. It was something about the way she listened. She just drew out all of these things he would never tell anyone else. He wanted to ignore all the details and get to the point, but as he started relating the story from the top, he drifted and digressed until he felt he'd pretty much said every thought and feeling he'd had since. It was like he channeled Belinda.

  His grandmother just listened with her hands tucked between her knees, not even interjecting with an uh-huh, until he concluded. Bennett shook his head, resting his face on his palm. He might need another nap. Just going over it all exhausted him.

  She leaned sideways on her lounger, mulling over his story. After a long silence, which could swing either way for him, she spoke. "Why are you really letting go of Belinda?"

  A probing question. Her favorite kind.

  Bennett stared overtop the sea grasses swaying in circles, unsure what she wanted him to say. He could just make out the patch of beach his grandmother walked to sometimes, and the old school wooden bathhouses across the road from it. It was the kind of thing Belinda would like.

  His grandmother sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, not waiting for his answer. "You know, when your father said he was getting married, I worried that he was doing it mainly to spite me."

  Bennett glanced at her sideways. So the probing question had a story linked to it. Not surprising.

  "You see," she said, "before that we had a chat about your mother, and I pointed out some things that concerned me." She rubbed her berry-stained lips together. "She never made an
y bones about how much she wanted her career in New York, but I knew your father would never go. He liked living simply, and he's no city dweller. He would never agree to move."

  Bennett raised one eyebrow, unsure where this was going and why she started talking about his parents. His least favorite topic.

  "He thought I disapproved of her," she continued, "which wasn't the case. I just didn't think their goals would meet in the middle. So they had their overnight romance and got married." She sighed. "Pretty soon thereafter, it became clear that neither of them wanted to give on the New York issue. And eventually I learned she'd left."

  Bennett glanced down sadly.

  "Your father never said a word and kept on with what he wanted to do here. I think he expected some sort of 'I told you so' from me, but I stayed out of it. Then, of course, Lisa discovered she was pregnant with you and came back until you were born. But they were still at odds, and I knew she'd leave again at some point."

  Bennett looked up. If this was her idea of cheering him up, she was failing. "Why are you telling me this?"

  "Because you can make essentially the same mistake your father did, but in the opposite direction." She shook her head. "I love your father. But he can make decisions for all the wrong reasons. You shouldn't be with someone to prove your mother wrong. And you shouldn't leave someone because you're afraid she'll leave you first."

  His grandmother leaned forward. "You're entirely your own person, Bennett. But you do have some of both your parents in there. You can be a little unreasonably stubborn like your dad, and a little rigid like your mom. I spoke up to your father before because I didn't want him to get hurt. You have to make your own choices, but I'm going to say this for what it's worth." She placed a hand on his arm. "Don't give up Belinda, sweetheart. Not without examining the real reasons you're doing it."