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

by Amy Saunders

  "Snoring." Victoria glanced out through the open French door. "What're you up to?"

  "Collecting evidence, I think." Belinda peeked around the door. Bennett sniffed the inside of a martini glass. "He just told me to get plastic bags, so I'm doing it."

  They shuffled back out to the bar. Bennett wrapped a sandwich bag around his hand and held out the glass he'd sniffed. Belinda picked at the opening to a gallon-size bag, finally prying it open, and secured it again after Bennett tucked the glass inside. "You don't think what happened was an accident?"

  Bennett ignored her question and nodded to the box of sandwich bags.

  "What?"

  Bennett's eyes glinted. "You're going to help."

  "Help do what?"

  Bennett nodded toward the trash. "More than likely, he drank or ate something that nearly killed him. We need to collect as much as possible."

  Belinda shook her head. "I'm not going through the trash. I'll open plastic bags and close them, but I'm not digging for half-eaten food. You can do that."

  Victoria watched on the sidelines, just enjoying the show.

  "Besides," Belinda folded her arms, "I don't have time. Goodness knows what kind of dent this will put in my week, so I really need to get home and work." Or hurry up to Sawyer's inn while he's still in the hospital...but Bennett didn't need to know that.

  Bennett's eyes narrowed slightly like he knew what she was thinking, because he knew she didn't feel anything was more important than someone almost dying at her pool party. "Take a sandwich bag," he said.

  Belinda huffed. "No. You just...you just kissed my assistant and made me look like a fool! You go through the trash." She snapped open a plastic bag. "I'll be happy to seal the bags after you fill them." There was no way she was doing as she was told. If it came to that, she'd just leave him there to do it by himself.

  Bennett appraised her, seemed to decide that was fair enough, and bent over to rifle through the paper plates, plastic silverware, shriveled up limes, and assorted food bits.

  "You think someone tried to kill Sawyer?" Belinda whispered, watching more eagerly than she'd ever admit to him.

  Bennett frowned. "It could be he ate something by accident...it could be. But he was carrying an epi injection. If you're so allergic to something that you'll go into anaphylactic shock if you eat it, do you think you'd just eat random food at a party?"

  "He may have been distracted," Victoria said. "He was busy making drinks."

  "Exactly." Bennett raised his eyebrows, his gray eyes lighting up like when he was excited about something. "He wasn't paying attention. Sawyer may have had something to eat nearby that was perfectly safe and someone could've put something on it or in it that he's allergic to while he was distracted making drinks."

  Belinda considered his idea. It was possible in light of the murder, except that she couldn't think of why someone would want to off Sawyer. "That means someone here knew what Sawyer's allergic to and has to have a motive to want him dead." Did Mrs. Sykes want him dead? She knew about the allergy. But from what Belinda had heard, she needed him alive.

  "Sawyer's business partner, April Arteau, was just murdered," Bennett said. "He's close enough to this situation for me to suspect this is an attempted murder."

  Belinda sighed. Getting involved in the runway show, as fun as it had sounded originally, was a very bad idea in retrospect.

  Bennett pulled out a napkin in the trash buried under some plates, unfurled it, and examined the partially eaten canapé nestled inside. Belinda stretched her neck to look closer without looking like she cared to look closer.

  "We should collect samples so we have something to compare this to," Bennett said, examining the canapé in his hand.

  "Allow me." Victoria snatched some bags and moved to the appetizer table, carefully bagging samples of the food.

  Once she was indisposed, Bennett changed topics. "How are you doing?" he said quietly. "I know you and Sawyer...are friends."

  Belinda slammed the highball glass she was sniffing on the counter. "We are not friends!" She was tempted to chuck limes at his head. When was he going to get it through his bacon-fat thick skull that she did not like Sawyer?

  Bennett opened his mouth to say something, but Belinda formed a pincer with her index finger and thumb to signal for him to think twice before opening his mouth. He could just stand there and listen for a change.

  "Did you see the fight I saw earlier?" Belinda said, her brown eyes flashing gold. Victoria kept her distance with her samples. "You know why Sawyer tackled you? Because he likes Brooke! He likes Brooke. He likes Brooke. He likes Brooke!" Belinda stomped her foot.

  Bennett stared neutrally, like she wasn't acting crazy, which she knew she was.

  "And did you notice when I screamed and threw a tantrum?" Belinda squeaked. "When you kissed Brooke! You kissed my PA, then I screamed, and then Sawyer attacked you. See the pattern, smarty-pants?" Belinda gripped the highball glass. "I'll spell it out for you. Sawyer doesn't like me and I don't like Sawyer. But apparently, the two of you like Brooke."

  She pushed the glass away before she smashed it on the tile, because then she would have to clean it up and she needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

  Other than raising his eyebrows a notch, Bennett didn't look fazed. Victoria examined her fingernails.

  "Make that one," he said.

  "One what?"

  "One of us likes Brooke. Didn't you notice when I kissed her?" Amusement lit up his eyes. "When Sawyer flirted with you. He flirted with you and then I kissed Brooke. See the pattern, smarty-pants?"

  Victoria dropped her samples on the bar. It was perfect timing because Belinda was about to smash something, possibly over Bennett's head.

  "We need to pick up for the cleaning people," Belinda said shortly. "Do you have everything you need?"

  Bennett gazed at her for a moment. "Almost."

  That threw her off balance. Belinda had no response, so she got to work and helped him pack up the samples and he carried them out to his car, looking back at her one more time before leaving through the fence gate.

  "You're closer," Victoria said, once sure Bennett was out of earshot.

  "What are you talking about?" Belinda tossed used limes and napkins into the trash Bennett just picked through.

  "I'm talking about you and Bennett making up."

  Belinda stared at her in disbelief. "You call that closer? He still doesn't get it!"

  "You sure?" Victoria set down a tray, gathering up dirty glasses. "It sounded to me like he might be starting to realize the Sawyer thing at the cocktail party was not your idea."

  "He was making fun of me."

  "He was teasing you, which by the way is normal." Victoria shook her. "He's acting like he did pre-cocktail party!"

  That was sort of normal, wasn't it? And he did look back at her before he left like he wanted to see her again, which was a change from their recent encounters where he seemed distant and indifferent.

  "You're closer." Victoria nodded encouragingly. "Now come on. Let's get this cleaned up so we can go investigate. I know you've got something up your sleeve."

  What Belinda had up her sleeve, or in her purse, was Sawyer's room card.

  They parked far away from the inn Sawyer had moved to after whatever-it-was that happened with Bennett at the Portside Inn and walked. In case anything dangerous happened, Victoria (and Baby Hart) stayed outside. Victoria would whistle their secret signal from their teen years if anything went amok.

  Belinda snuck around staff members and slipped into Sawyer's room. There was nothing in plain sight of interest. She swung the closet door open, almost expecting a jack-in-the-box. What she got instead was just a rack with suits on it, and a couple suitcases. She looked them over, and noticed only the smallest one was locked.

  Curious.

  She lugged it out, recalling that she didn't see any keys on the dresser with Sawyer's other belongings back at the Sykes' house. Surely he carried th
em with him, especially if he had a lock on his suitcase.

  Unless someone took them before Belinda got upstairs. And it felt like a big delay between Sawyer's reaction and when she went up to the spare. Probably plenty of time for anyone to go up there and steal them.

  Belinda tried to work out the most likely suspects when Victoria's whistle cut through her thoughts—and then the latch on the door clicked. Little late on the signal. Belinda froze, then panicked and squished into the closet with the suitcases. The door clicked softly, and Belinda held her breath, ignoring the pain in her elbow where she clobbered it tripping on the way in. And the fact that she was now enveloped in Sawyer's custom suits.

  The carpeting muffled the footsteps, but not the sound and sight of the closet door coming wide open. Light streamed in and Belinda and Mrs. Sykes stood face-to-face. Or as face-to-face as possible with a heather gray blazer sleeve blocking her mouth and nose like a bandana.

  Mrs. Sykes made a squeaking sound in surprise, and glanced at the suitcase quickly. But not quickly enough. She'd been in the spare room to get Sawyer's auto-injector. Where his wallet, cell phone, and most likely keys had been.

  She had the key.

  Which meant something important was in that suitcase.

  It took a split second for Belinda to decide. She tackled Mrs. Sykes, wrapping her arms tightly around her as they staggered into the wall behind them. Mrs. Sykes squirmed and wriggled, but Belinda was determined, and possibly a bit stronger.

  Her feet were a different matter.

  Mrs. Sykes stomped one of her three-inch heels onto Belinda's foot. Belinda screamed and let loose enough for Mrs. Sykes to push away. Belinda wanted to grab her poor foot, but Mrs. Sykes scrambled in her purse and pulled out...a gun? No, it wasn't. It was an aerosol can.

  An aerosol can?

  Before she found out what unpleasant experience awaited her, Belinda karate kicked the can, knocking it up to the ceiling, and ran to the open window. After punching out the screen, she dove for the sprawling branches of the nearby tree, gripping the limb by her fingertips. She squealed and kicked as she bashed into the fence.

  Victoria clasped her hand over her mouth. "Hang on! I'll get help!" She ran toward the front.

  Belinda ignored the pain in her shoulder and foot, and how her hands and arms started to sting. It would only be a minute more...just one minute...one minute....

  "Belinda!" Belinda dared to twist her neck, which didn't hurt—yet. Bennett stood on the ground beneath her. "I'll catch you! Let go!"

  "What're you doing here?" Belinda couldn't see him that well and wasn't sure letting go of her tree limb was such a good idea. Especially with her shoulder burning from her run-in with the fence.

  "I followed you. Let go!" He held his arms out.

  "I think I'll wait."

  "You'll tire out before they find the stupid ladder. I promise I'll catch you. Trust me."

  Trust him. "You kissed Brooke!"

  Bennett reached farther. "You kissed Sawyer."

  "He kissed me, Bennett. I did not kiss him back, unlike a certain treacherous assistant." Belinda's fingers started to slip and she squealed.

  "I didn't want to kiss her."

  "Then why did you?"

  "Because you kissed Sawyer."

  "Me! He kissed me!" But it was too late to worry if she could trust him to catch her. Belinda lost her grip.

  When she opened her eyes, her face was squished into the grass, her shoulder, foot, and now nose, chin, and forehead aching. But she could feel all of her extremities, which she reckoned meant she wasn't dead or paralyzed. She heard a muffled groan and realized that her torso was crushing Bennett's face. Belinda rolled off in a daze, the sunlight blinding her.

  "You ridiculous woman," Bennett murmured, his voice hoarse.

  They both laid still as Victoria and most of the inn staff came bustling out to assist, gathering around to view the spectacle. Belinda thought she heard the sound of a camera shutter and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 17

  It was all Jonas could do to not laugh when he saw the two Hardy Girls stuffed in a corner of the police station, eyes to the ground in shame. It was like when a child does or says something they're not supposed to, but it's funny and you don't want to laugh to encourage them but you can't help it. Jonas had the two most innocent looking women in Portside in his station for breaking and entering and all he wanted to do was giggle.

  "The next time you want to break into a building in Portside," Jonas said, swinging a chair around and sitting on it backwards, "would you please ask for my permission first?"

  Belinda and Victoria lifted their chins, a bandage covering the tip of Belinda's, nodding solemnly. Jonas couldn't suppress it any longer and let out a belly laugh. "Stop looking so glum. You're fine."

  "What about Mrs. Sykes?" Belinda squeaked. "Did she escape?"

  Jonas laughed again, but stopped at the pained look that passed over Belinda's face. He cleared his throat. "She didn't escape. In fact, I'd say it's totally the opposite. She was caught—and took the suitcase you described from that room apparently. We're hunting her up as I speak."

  Jonas laced his hands together. "So...what were you doing in Sawyer's room anyway?" Jonas held up a hand. "Let me rephrase: what prompted you to snoop around Sawyer's room?"

  Belinda recapped learning about the mysterious Riley Cole, who worked for Sawyer and the Sykes, then snatching the key card from Sawyer's wallet. Jonas' eyes twinkled and he kept his hand over his mouth to keep from cracking up during the retelling. He especially loved the part when Belinda leaped out the window.

  "Do you know how Sawyer's doing?" Belinda asked.

  Jonas tapped his thumbs on the chair back. "Sawyer's going to be fine. He thinks he bit into some sort of canapé before the, um, smackdown with Bennett." Jonas smirked. "I wanted to talk to you about that actually. I need to know who made the food."

  Belinda's eyes widened. "We bagged it!" She flailed her arms excitedly. "Bennett went through the trash and found it wrapped up in a napkin. He wanted me to go through the trash, but I said absolutely not. I made him do it." Her head spun. "You know, the whole wrapped in a napkin and buried in the trash thing. It looks...it looks..."

  "Like hiding evidence," Jonas finished.

  Belinda caressed the bruise on her elbow. Just when it was getting to be short sleeve weather. "So I don't know if this is important, but I saw Brooke and Sawyer making out the night of the cocktail party. She didn't come, but then she showed up outside all suspicious-like and Sawyer went out and they huddled together and made out."

  "How do you know?"

  "I watched them out the bathroom window."

  Jonas raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling for the first time in a while.

  "Long story." Belinda waved it off. "The point is that they acted like strangers, but clearly they aren't. And you know about Sawyer's outburst at the party. Thing is, Brooke booked it after that, and despite calling her, I haven't heard a word since."

  Victoria perked up. "Sawyer and April were in business together, and April was accused of design theft in the past. And Brooke is close to Sawyer. So maybe she knew something about April."

  "Or was jealous of April's previous involvement with Sawyer?" Belinda offered. "Maybe Brooke feared they'd heat up again working together." Belinda crossed her arms.

  Jonas swung up from his seat. "You mull over that while I straighten out this hotel mess."

  Belinda waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about us. You have a murder to solve."

  "That I do. But I want my favorite consultants free to help."

  Jonas left and Belinda hugged her purse, wondering where Bennett had gone to.

  "You know you stole ten years of my life when you jumped out that window," Victoria hissed.

  "Well, your signal was late by about the same." Belinda crossed her arms. "I'd almost escaped by the time you whistled."

  "It took me a minute to realize why Mrs. Sykes was there,
alright?"

  Belinda leaned her head on the wall.

  Victoria did the same, pouting her lips. "I wonder what Dan is going to say to me—or not say as the case may be—when I tell him about all this."

  Belinda scrunched up her nose thinking about Bennett calling her ridiculous. They both sighed. Belinda left Victoria to figure out what to say to her husband while she went to find the restrooms. After meandering around, she found them at the end of a corridor, and pushed the door open with her elbow. She wasn't sure why, but she had the urge to slather on hand sanitizer.

  "You could have broken your neck climbing out that window," Bennett said from the shadows.

  Belinda spun around to find him. So was he hanging around the restrooms all this time? "It wasn't the most brilliant idea, I know," she said.

  Bennett took a few slow steps in her direction, coming into better view. She expected him to look peeved, but he just looked, well, like himself. "No, it wasn't."

  Belinda made a sour face. "You and your blunt...your bluntness!"

  "Bluntness?"

  "Yes. Bluntness." Belinda folded her arms. She felt rattled. And not because he was about to lecture her. His whole presence was so...was so.... Comfortable. Well, not entirely because she'd just admitted she felt rattled. But he was comfortable with her, and she hadn't felt that way since the cocktail party.

  "It's called honesty." Bennett backed her into the wall, his gray eyes less than an inch away from hers, his breath right on her lips. "And I am being honest when I say that I do not ever want to see you jump out of a window again."

  Belinda swallowed.

  "When did you learn about Brooke and Sawyer?" he asked. "The pool hall?" Belinda shook her head. "Did she tell you?" Another shake. "Then how did you find out?"

  Belinda hesitated telling him. He was making her nervous anyway, but the story was kind of embarrassing. "At the cocktail party." She paused to take a breath, then told the whole bathroom story—again. Belinda's eyes darted from the floor to Bennett when she finished.