“No, I don’t know him.” Deirdre sounded appalled.
“Then how can you judge him?”
“Obviously, sister, you’ve never listened to his drivel that passes as entertainment. He’s an opinionated, misogynistic, sexist pig who does nothing but degrade humankind on his show.” She threw the banana peel at the television where it stuck to Demon’s dimpled smile before dropping on the wooden floor.
“Sheesh. Tell me how you really feel, Dee.”
* * * *
Damon had gone for a run, stacked the recyclables, washed both the Harley and the Saturn, even scrubbed the bathroom and vacuumed through the tiny condo. All before eleven a.m. But nothing eased the unsettled feeling of Julie crawling under his skin. Looking for companionship after getting his rocks off wasn’t the Demon’s usual MO. But then again, the women he usually slept with didn’t have an IQ higher than their weight. Julie definitely had the body, but it was her compassion for her friend that had been the magnet pulling him into her arms.
He’d looked up her number on the internet. Thought about calling, but had dismissed the idea. Dressed the way she’d been, he had no doubt that was how she liked to spend her Friday nights—fast, hot, unencumbered sex. Maybe a string of one-night stands.
That’s all he’d hoped for last night as well. So why was he holding the phone in his hand and sweating like a teenager with a crush? He slammed it into the cradle and decided to go for another run.
Forty minutes later, fresh from his second shower, he sat at the baby grand piano, the only piece of furniture in his living room. Perhaps a little Def Leopard or some classic Stones could ease the ache of this woman who seemed intent on invading his every waking thought. Damon didn’t need to pull sheet music from the bench seat. He’d been playing this instrument far too long not to be able to practice for hours without a single note in front of him.
He let his mind wander, his fingers making the notes in his head a reality. He watched his hands caress the keys, but saw only the ivory white of Julie’s fingers wrapped around his cock. He swayed with the crescendo of the music, hearing only Julie’s cries of ecstasy as she writhed beneath him.
“Shit!” His fists slammed down on the keys, and the piano yelled in protest. Not a nice way to treat his pride and joy. But confusion brought his fists down again. Getting involved with a woman, no matter how beautiful, was a stupid idea. His stay in Delmont was temporary at best.
He stalked from the room, grabbing his helmet on his way to the garage.
* * * *
Dust motes danced on the morning sun, filling the kitchen. Rainbows of color reflected in soap bubbles in the sink as Julie set the last of the breakfast dishes in the drainer. She still wasn’t sure how Dee had talked her into pancakes and cartoons. But that was her little sister.
She should go out and do something. Pick up groceries. Lounge at the lake with a picnic lunch and a book. But none of that held any interest for her.
The box beckoned to her from the living room. There was nothing in it. How would she ever unravel the mystery of Jason? She had had such high hopes with Elvis. But he’d given her nothing but a pitiful container of memories. What was she missing?
Abandoning the dishes, she padded into the other room and hauled the box out from under the corner table where she’d tucked it. She hadn’t wanted Dee to ask her any questions. Her sisters already believed she was nothing but an old maid. Wouldn’t they laugh if they found out she’d turned into an amateur detective to solve a mysterious death that everyone had written off a month ago? The hushed whispers about Jason had finally ground themselves out in the Delmont rumor mill. She should be one of those to let it slip into obscurity. But she couldn’t.
Julie picked up the only thing she hadn’t really inspected—the video. A little walk down memory lane never hurt anyone. This she might enjoy, high school home movies. She pushed the tape into the VCR half of her old media player her parents had given her and hit play.
A picture of the high school gym filled the television screen. The bleachers were crammed with proud parents staring down at a gym floor overflowing with the elementary, middle and high school band members in their red and white uniforms. The date in the corner of the tape informed viewers this was the Christmas concert from her freshman year in high school when the braces made it difficult to play her flute. Julie groaned at the memory.
She hit fast forward. Concerts weren’t exciting when she participated in them. She had no intention of sitting through one on tape. People moved in choppy paces, fingers flew over keys on instruments, feet scurried in jerky tempos, and heads bobbed mechanically back and forth. She giggled. Too bad all unpleasant things in life couldn’t be avoided this way.
The picture of the bright gym morphed into bodies. Two bodies. Two naked bodies. Two very naked male bodies in profile, pumping their hips much too fast for comfort.
Julie hit the play button on the remote, and the picture went to normal speed. The sounds of sexual pleasure pounded out of the television speakers. She hit pause. Frozen in time, Jason stood with his arms around the man bent over in front of him. Even in blurry profile, she recognized her friend.
His right arm held the man tight against his stomach, while his left gripped the thick shaft of the other guy’s erection. She shut the television off and paced. Her heart and heels pounded out the same quick tempo as she paced the floor.
“Julie, this is none of your business.” Her thumbs pressed into her eye sockets, trying to push away the intimate image of Jason with a man. “But maybe this has something to do with Jason’s death.” Julie didn’t know he was gay. Was her friend gay? Or was something here just a little off-kilter?
She forced herself to return to the couch and rewind the tape until the dimly lit room with two men pleasuring each other morphed back into the gym. She pressed the play button again and watched the band members fade away to an empty room.
“That’s not why I’m here, man,” a muffled male voice said off camera. “A little reunion sex, Jase. I’ve missed you.”
Laughter. “Your hand on my dick is making a very persuasive argument.”
Heavy breathing and a shirt flew past the lens, settling on the potted plant to the left of the camera.
“But here? You sure it’s safe?” Julie thought she recognized Jason’s voice, but the sound quality wasn’t good.
“Jesus, of course it’s safe. Just shut up and fuck me.”
Entwined bodies moved into view, hands shucking off jeans until both men stood bare as the day they were born in front of the leather couch. Oh, sweet mother. Julie recognized that inviting leather couch that felt like warm chocolate on your skin. Her nipples peaked at the thought.
She’d been with Damon on that couch—in Elvis’ office.
Julie fell back against her sofa, the weight of her discovery more than she could bear. Was there a chance her encounter with Damon had also been taped? She couldn’t think about that right now. This man with Jason was her priority.
From this side angle, she couldn’t see their faces, but she’d known Jason too long not to recognize his well-developed torso and strong jaw line. Her stomach clenched. This was too personal to watch, but too seductive to turn from.
Jason pulled the man’s back tight to him and buried his face in the other man’s long curls of black speaking muffled words of affection.
The man arched against Jason, begging him to take him. He leaned over the couch and offered himself to her friend. The mystery man’s hair fell forward and covered his silhouette. The low lighting made it impossible to make out any details of the man and the poor sound quality muffled their voices.
Though this wasn’t meant for others to see, Julie couldn’t turn away. If she could get anything, some name or distinguishing feature, she might find a clue about Jason. At the very least, she’d have another person to question about her friend’s death. Julie tried to ignore the men’s intimate sex talk, concentrating instead on Jason’s partner. Focusing
on the tattoo on the man’s left shoulder, she wondered if perhaps it could give her clues to his identity. There was something familiar about the mark, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Embarrassment flooded through her as sounds of their climaxes filled her living room, but desperation to discover Jason’s lover’s identity kept her riveted to the television. Jason’s lover. How had she not known? All these years and her friend had never given any indication that he was gay. The reality of her friendship warped and blurred.
When the world came back into focus, Jason and his partner had morphed back into the high school gym. Julie was left listening to the middle school band’s off-key rendition of “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.”
Chapter 5
The music blared through the speakers while the vacuum cleaner hummed along the carpet. Julie did a stutter step with the lively Charlie Daniels’ song about the devil with fire flying from his fingertips. Demon Jones. She sighed at thoughts of the man who had been her first one-nighter.
She was a modern woman of the twenty-first century. Having unencumbered sex with a stranger shouldn’t be affecting her this way. Love ’em and leave ’em, or was it love the one you’re with? Either way, she shouldn’t be wondering what Damon was up to. He’d made it perfectly clear last night he was only looking for a little sexual release. He probably didn’t even remember her name.
Though he had been nice, sweet, even, when he’d accompanied her to the Escort, carrying the box Elvis had given her, he had said very little. Damon’s tender kiss before she’d slipped into the Escort had held none of the passion that only an hour early had rocked her world.
On the way home she’d wondered if she should have asked him out for a late cup of coffee, but convinced herself it was better she hadn’t. It would have seemed too clingy. Men never wanted anything complicated. Well, she could do that, carefree and uncomplicated.
The new her.
Julie sighed. Maybe she’d go over to Starry Knights tonight and find another man instead of going to Deirdre’s barbeque. Wouldn’t that throw the family?
“Julie’s as predictable as time, brilliant as the sun, comfortable as an old pair of slippers, with enough self restraint to hold back the tide.” Julie repeated the monotonous words. For as long as she could remember, her mother had introduced her that way. At one time it had made her feel important. Now the sayings made her sound like an old dotard ready for spinsterhood.
“Julie, you in there?” The pounding on the window startled her.
“Yeah, hold on a minute.” She flipped off the vacuum, turned down the stereo and rushed for the front door.
As soon as Julie turned the deadbolt, Meghan tumbled inside. “Hey, grab your stuff. We’re heading over to Deirdre’s early.” Meghan swiveled her head as if looking for something. “Why’d you lock the door? You don’t have company, do you?”
Julie had locked both doors when she’d watched Jason’s video a second time. It wouldn’t do to have her family see him that way.
“I was getting ready for Dee’s. I always lock the front door when I go out.” My, how easily lies tumbled one after another once they started rolling off the tongue.
* * * *
Damon couldn’t clear his head. Even the roar of the engine and the excessive speeds couldn’t force Julie Tilling from his thoughts or cool his heated blood. He’d taken a stranger upstairs with the intent of having sex, but ended up walking a woman he wanted to spend more time with out to her car. He’d never found himself in this situation, wishing he could take about five steps back in the sequence of events and begin with a simple dinner date.
Julie’s blasé attitude had been stripped away with her clothes. Wanting to see the real woman, he’d taken off her wig before he’d… screwed her? That seemed too crude. Well, whatever it was, he’d done it a second time before they’d scurried into their clothes. As they waited for Elvis, Julie’s gentle probing and genuine inquisitiveness nicked at his armor, and he ended up talking about how much he hated his job. He hadn’t shared that with anyone—ever.
The motorcycle rounded the corner of the neighborhood lined with maple trees and cookie-cutter houses in a neat row. Not the typical sprawling Maine community with old rambling farm houses. This one must have been designed by an out-of-state developer who only cared about the bottom line, not the picturesque beauty New Englanders enjoyed.
The bike stopped in front of 1694 Wicker Way. Julie Tilling. He didn’t know he’d intended on coming here. But now that he was here—yeah, now that he was here—now what? It would be foolish to drive off now. Not when the curtains on several of the front windows up and down the street were pulled back. People driving Harleys didn’t usually keep their arrivals a secret. Especially not when they held the power Damon had humming between his legs.
He kicked down the stand and removed his helmet. Step one. Now what? He should have called. Was she watching him, wondering if he was stalking her? Filling his lungs with courage, he walked up the front steps and rang the bell. No answer. He knocked. No answer.
Damon didn’t know anything about this woman. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in summer. Her social calendar was probably filled. Dumb. He’d been thinking with the wrong head. This had been such a bad idea. He should go home, drink down a few brews to salve his battered ego and head out to a bar for some wild partying. Right. More likely he’d do what he did every Saturday he didn’t have a gig, spend it banging out sultry jazz and rock classics on the baby grand.
“You looking for someone, son?” The older gentleman leaning on the cane in the driveway next door inquired.
“Julie Tilling.”
“You got business with her?’
“I’m Damon Corey, a friend of Julie’s.” Damon strode to the man and offered his hand.
“John Tilling.” The man had a surprisingly firm grip. “Damon, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you just missed her. Was she expecting you?”
“I was in town and wanted to surprise her. But I’ll give her a call and see if we can hook up later.”
“You dating my daughter?”
That wasn’t expected. “Well, if you call one date dating…” It wasn’t in his nature to lie, especially to a woman’s father.
“Deirdre said Julie mentioned she was dating a Damon. I assume that’s you.”
Dating? “Yes, sir.”
“Well, Julie’s over at the family farm. We’re headed over there now. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss your visit.” If Damon wasn’t mistaken, a twinkle sparked in the old man’s eye. “Why don’t you follow us?”
* * * *
Julie loved her family. She supposed this was a good way to spend a summer evening. They were the only reason she’d come back to Delmont. There was nothing wrong with this life. Lots of people would be happy and satisfied. So why wasn’t she?
Perhaps it had something to do with the way Deirdre was wrapped around Bri and laughing while Meghan and Peter waited to take their turns at croquet. Yeah, everyone had someone but her and that just sucked.
“Okay, you two, enough of that kissing,” Peter shouted from the corner of the lawn where he was poised to win the second croquet match in a row. “Just knock Brianna’s ball across the lawn, Dee. No apologies necessary.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me would you?” Bri batted her lashes at Dee.
“All’s fair in love and croquet, Bri.” Deirdre placed her booted foot on her ball that lay in the plush grass next to Bri’s. The croquet mallet came down hard, and the impact sent Bri’s ball sailing into the bushes.
“I give up. Peter’s going to win again, anyway.” Bri walked away and dropped her mallet in the rack. “Hey, perfect timing, your parents are here. I’ll go in and grab the steaks.”
“Oh, come on, can’t I at least get the satisfaction of kicking some female butt?” Peter yelled.
Meghan threw her mallet toward Peter. “You always win. Why don’t you stack th
e wickets while I help in the kitchen?”
Julie was already gathering the wire arches off the lawn.
“Anyone want anything to drink while I’m inside?” Meghan called.
“Beer,” Peter answered as he pulled the stakes from the ground.
“Make that two.” John Tilling rounded the corner of the house.
“Julie, you want anything?”
“You got any iced tea?” she asked.
“Still drinking those iced teas?”
Julie spun to the deep voice that had haunted her dreams last night. “Damon?” The panic riding on his name was painfully obvious.
“Nice to see you too, Julie.” He bent around the cooler filling his hands and kissed her cheek. “Make this look good. Your dad thinks we’re dating, for some reason.” The words spoken into her ear shimmied down her spine.
“What a nice surprise. I thought you couldn’t make it,” Julie spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, then leaned in again to press her flushed cheek against the stubble of his chin. “What the hell are you doing with my parents?”
“I haven’t figured that one out myself.”
They followed her parents to the picnic table beside the deck and Damon set down the cooler.
“Found him looking for you at the end of your driveway.” John Tilling smiled and slapped Damon on the back before stepping around them both to sit heavily at the picnic table. Julie hated how tired her father looked these days. “I certainly couldn’t leave a young man who’s sweet on my daughter standing alone in the cold as it were, now could I?” He leaned his cane against the edge of the table. “Besides, I wanted to witness the grilling myself. You girls are always entertaining when you’re passing judgment.”
“That’s not true, Daddy. We don’t judge. Everyone’s welcome at the Tilling dinner table.” Meghan came down the back steps and set a tray filled with glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the end of the picnic table.
Peter scoffed as he followed her, handing beers around. “Riiiiight.”
Killer Romances Page 157