by Joni Folger
“I told her the same thing.”
“Oh, please. You did no such thing.”
“Okay, maybe not in so many words,” she remarked. Good Lord, I’m a horrible liar.
He smirked at her. “I imagine you and the rest of the gang congratulated her on her sleuthing skills.”
Feeling the color rise in her face, she thought back on how they’d done just exactly that. “Well, regardless, trust me when I say that she won’t be doing anything like that again.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before, too. I’d suggest you don’t make promises you can’t keep.” When she made a show of pouting, he rolled his eyes. “Wow. Pathetic much? I’m not buying the ‘poor pitiful me’ act, either.”
“All right, but you’re going to re-interview all three of the Toussaints, right?”
He stopped and stared at her with an incredulous look, letting out a long-suffering sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration. “Yes, El. We’d already planned to re-interview them as well as Toby Raymond regarding the suggestion of impropriety with Third Coast’s books. We’re also going to talk to Garrett Larson about his nonexistent alibi.”
“What? Garrett’s alibi fell through?” Jackson’s grimace suggested that he regretted telling her so much, so she hurried on. “Gram thought he might have fudged on where he was on Friday night.”
He blinked at that and raised his eyebrows. “She did?”
“Yeah. She said she’d always been able to tell when he was being less than forthcoming with information, and when you spoke with him that first time, she’d noticed it right off.”
“When did she tell you that?”
Elise walked over and plopped down on the sofa. “I stopped by the vineyard on Saturday after closing to talk to my mom, and she told us then.”
“So, let me get this straight,” he began with a frown. “When I came over to your place on Saturday evening, you already knew this?”
“Yeah,” she answered slowly, feeling like there was a trap somewhere ahead that she wasn’t quite seeing yet. “Like I said, I stopped by there on my way home.”
“For crying out loud, El. Why the hell didn’t you tell me this that night?”
She sat forward and stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “Seriously?” she sputtered when she found her voice. “In the first place, as I recall, I was busy trying to defend myself against Monique’s unfounded accusations which you were spouting like gospel. So you’ll excuse me if an earlier conversation with Gram slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, but—” he began before she cut him off.
“And secondly, every time I’ve come to you with any information that I’ve collected, I’ve been chewed out for poking my nose into your precious investigations. Can you really blame me for not being as quick to share information as you’d like me to be?”
She took a breath and mentally counted to ten in an effort to defuse her frustration. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t have it both ways, Jax. Make up your mind, already.”
After a moment, he came over to sit beside her on the sofa. “Okay. You have a point, and I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the information, El. Or the help, for that matter. I do.” He took her hand and linked their fingers. “It’s just that I worry about you guys. And when you take risks like Maddy did to listen in on a conversation like that, it makes me crazy. I think about all the things that could go wrong.”
“I know, I know. And I promise to do my best not to cause you any more worry than necessary,” she said, with a mischievous smile.
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
“At least Gram will be happy to know that she can still read Garrett Larson like a book, even after all these years.”
“Evidently. I just wish she would have said something the day I interviewed him.”
“I think Gram’s in a bit of denial because of their history. It’s like she refuses to believe that Garrett could have anything to do with something as heinous as murder. I figure she didn’t want to get him into hot water.”
“Yeah, well, people change. And sometimes they disappoint you when you least expect it.”
She got the feeling he was no longer talking about Garrett Larson, but perhaps about those a little closer to home. Still, she let it go. That was a sore subject at the moment and would probably open up another heated debate when she felt they’d just gotten back onto an even footing.
“So, how did you find out that Garrett’s alibi was bogus? Wasn’t he supposed to be at some conference in Austin on Friday?”
She thought Jackson might not answer at first, but then he nodded. “Yes. He gave me very detailed information about the Central Texas Mead-Makers conference he was supposedly attending on Friday night. And that surprises me, because he strikes me as a very shrewd man. He had to know we would check out his story. If he was going to lie about his movements, you’d think he would have made sure his tracks were covered.”
“How did you confirm that he wasn’t at the conference? There’s a growing interest in honey wines here in Central Texas, so I’m guessing there was a big crowd.”
Jackson pursed his lips in thought before speaking. “Well, I can’t really prove he wasn’t there because he was registered and had paid his fee. It’s just that he never checked in and—”
“If he was there, why didn’t he sign in and pick up his packet?” she asked, finishing his thought.
“Exactly. That’s what I intend to ask the man tomorrow when I talk to him again.” When he turned to her, she recognized the determination in his eyes. “And this time, we’re going to have our conversation in an interview room at the station.”
“Wow. Sometimes you can be a very scary man, Deputy Landry.” Her comment elicited a smile, which is what it had been intended to do. “Are you going to talk to Toby at the station, too?”
“Yes. I’m through playin’ around with these people. Somebody killed both Divia Larson and Grace Vanderhouse on my turf. And I’m gonna get some straight answers, because I think there’s a whole lot more going on under the surface here.”
“You think Toby was cooking the books at Third Coast?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but so far, that’s the impression I’ve gotten from a few folks I’ve interviewed. We’ll see what he has to say about it. I also want to ask him about Grace. She said on Saturday that he’d come looking for her when he found out she was here. She thought it was through Toby that Divia learned of her presence as well. I want to know what his meeting with her was about, what was said.”
“You think both murders are connected, don’t you?” she asked, knowing the answer she was certain to get.
“My gut says yes. I don’t know how exactly … yet. But, yes, I think we’re going to find that they’re tightly linked. And I think it’s the key to solving both cases.”
They sat there on the sofa together for a few moments, both in silent thought, before Elise finally stood up. “It’s late. I should probably get going and let you get some sleep. Sounds like you have a pretty full day tomorrow.”
Before she could walk away, Jackson grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto his lap. “Or you could stay,” he murmured as his lips claimed hers in a steamy kiss.
When they finally came up for air, she smiled up at him and slipped her arms around his neck. “I guess I could stay. But then you’d have to explain your earlier comment—the one that included the ‘L’ word.”
“I suppose I could do that. I might even throw in breakfast. I do have some diet soda in the fridge.”
Her laugh was low and throaty as she pulled his lips back down to hers. “Done.”
sixteen
Elise was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and it was a rare day when she awoke before eight a.m. without the help of
a blaring alarm. So when she surfaced on Monday morning and rolled over, it took her a few moments to realize she was alone in Jackson’s bed—and not her own. Glancing over to his night stand, she was surprised to read the time on the clock. So how was it possible that she was wide awake at six forty-five?
Stretching like a lazy cat, she couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across her face. When she buried her nose in his pillow and breathed in his scent, a flood of memories from the previous night turned her smile into a full-out grin.
Mmm, mmm, mmm, that man has the most fabulous hands—and really knows how to use them. And for the love of God, is that bacon I smell?
Climbing out of bed, she picked up the shirt Jackson had been wearing the night before from the chair and slipped it on. Making a quick pit stop in the bathroom, she glanced into the mirror to make sure her mascara hadn’t morphed into raccoon eyes overnight. Then she followed the tantalizing aroma to the kitchen.
And found Jackson putting together a couple of breakfast burritos that looked quite tasty.
“I find a man puttering around the kitchen making me breakfast kinda hot. And you know how I feel about bacon,” she began, leaning against the door jamb. “But I have to admit, there’s a part of me that’s just a little bit annoyed that you’re fully dressed, making breakfast, and it’s not even seven o’clock. Especially after last night’s Olympic events.”
He turned and grinned, wiping his hands on a towel. And damn if her knees didn’t go weak at just the looks of him.
“When you taste my breakfast burritos, you won’t be annoyed for long,” he replied with a smirk.
Eyeballing the shirt she was wearing—his shirt—that ended well above her knees, he ran his tongue over his teeth. When he raised his eyes and their gazes met, the look he gave her had her pulse picking up speed.
“Nice shirt,” he said, strolling toward her. When he reached her, he lifted her chin with a finger and settled his lips on hers. “What do you have on underneath it?” he murmured against her lips as his other hand began to gather the shirt material against her leg.
“Not a thing,” she replied, melting into him and returning his kiss when his hand wandered higher to further torment and arouse.
But just when he’d gotten her motor good and running, he pulled back. “Though I’d love to continue this delightful morning … discussion,” he said with a sexy smile, “I have to be at the station in about twenty minutes.”
She squinted up at him. “Wow. Are you kidding me with this? Are you trying to torture me by getting me all worked up with no intention of finishing the job? If so … evil, Deputy Landry. Very evil.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Trust me when I say that I’d much rather stay here and finish the job, as you so romantically put it. But I told Jim I’d be there by seven thirty. So, I guess you’ll have to take a breakfast burrito as a consolation prize.”
“Yeah? Well, all I can say is it better be one helluva breakfast burrito, mister.”
Snickering, he went over to the fridge and pulled out a diet cola. Handing her a burrito and the can of soda, he grabbed his coffee and car keys off the counter.
“Lock up when you leave, okay?”
“Seriously?” She stared at him as if he’d sprouted another head. “You’re really leaving? Now?”
“Sorry, darlin’. Some of us do have to work for a living.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I work.”
He gave her a quick kiss and headed out of the kitchen. “Do me a favor and be a good girl today, okay? Stay out of trouble,” he said over his shoulder.
“Oh … my … God. Just for that smart-ass remark, I’m gonna go out of my way to find the first trouble I can get into the minute I get dressed,” she hollered after him. “You big tease,” she muttered to herself when she heard the front door close.
_____
By the time Elise ran home, showered, and changed clothes, it was half past nine. As she hurried out to the car, a delicious idea of just how she could get into the trouble she’d threatened Jackson with popped into her head.
Since he planned on reinterviewing the Toussaints first this morning, perhaps Toby or Garrett would still be at the motel. Maybe a quick side trip would be just the ticket to innocently ask a few questions. It was sort of on the way to the vineyard … in a round-about way … if you drove in the opposite direction and circled back around. Regardless, if neither of the men were there, it wouldn’t be too much of her morning wasted. But if they were …
Before she could change her mind, she started her little red sports car and headed out of town toward Lost Pines Motel.
Fifteen minutes later, she was pulling off the highway and into the motel lot. After parking, she sat in the car for a few minutes to gather her thoughts. Although the idea had sounded like a good one in her head, now that she was here, she had no clue what she would say to either of the men to explain her presence. And just how was she going to get them to talk?
Before she could come up with a plan, the door to Toby’s room opened and an older man she’d never seen before exited. He stepped out into the breezeway and then turned back to say a few words to Toby, who’d followed him to the door. After a moment, both men seemed to come to an agreement about something, and then to Elise’s surprise, they hugged—in a very affectionate way.
So, now who is this guy?
She supposed he could be a family member who’d come to provide support. But to her knowledge, Divia didn’t have family anywhere in Central Texas, or Texas in general, for that matter. And if the man was one of Garrett’s relatives, then what was he doing in Toby’s room? And why would they be so affectionate with one another?
As she climbed out of the car, she watched the man cross the parking lot and made a mental note of the license plate for later. When Toby saw her, she waved and started toward him. Still having no idea what she was going to say, she held tight to her resolve. It was too late to turn back now.
“Hey, Elise,” he greeted her as she neared. “What are you doing out this way?”
“Oh, I just thought I’d check on you and Garrett this morning. See how y’all are holding up, if you needed anything.” She knew her answer was pretty lame, but it was all she could come up with on short notice.
“That’s very kind of you,” he repliedd, though the look on his face said he wasn’t quite sure about her explanation either. “It’s been really hard, but we’ll get through it. Mom would’ve wanted us to soldier on, you know?”
“I understand. We went through something similar a few months ago. Of course, I wasn’t as close to Uncle Edmond as I’m sure you and Divia were.” She glanced over her shoulder to where the man she’d seen coming out of Toby’s room had been parked. “Was that a relative of yours?”
“Was who a relative?” he asked with an innocent look.
“The gentleman I saw leaving as I arrived.”
“Oh … uh … him,” Toby stammered, beginning to look a bit uncomfortable.
“I only ask because you two looked close.” She smiled, hoping to put him at ease. “You know, the way he hugged you.”
“Sam was just offering support.”
When he made no further comment, the conversation fell into an awkward silence, and Elise struggled to find a way to ask him the questions hovering in her mind. In the end, she opted for the direct approach—with as much tact as she could muster.
“Actually, there is something I’d like to talk to you about, Toby. Do you think I could come in for a minute? It’s kind of sensitive.”
He looked a little wary, but nodded. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Come on in, but don’t mind the mess.”
As Elise stepped from the brightness of the breezeway into the room, she had to blink several times to adjust her eyes to the dim light.
Toby went about picking up newspapers, fast
food containers, and clothing that seemed to litter every surface. It looked to Elise as if housekeeping hadn’t seen the inside of the room in several days. Once he’d removed the debris from a chair at the small table in the corner, he gestured for her to have a seat.
“Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked when he’d joined her there.
Not knowing quite how to approach the subject, she took a breath and plunged ahead. “Well, it’s about a rumor that’s been going around. I know it’s really none of my business, but the wine community is pretty tight-knit. Anyway, I know you and Maddy have gotten … quite a bit closer lately, and I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what was being said.”
Toby sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I think I know where this is going. Let me guess. You heard that there was a discrepancy, shall we say, with Third Coast’s books?”
She gave him a sympathetic look and nodded. “Then you are aware. I’m sorry, Toby.”
“It’s all right, Elise.” He leaned on the table and studied his laced fingers for a moment. “I know just who you heard it from, too. Monique Toussaint is a devious, vindictive bitch with a big mouth.”
Wow, tell me how you really feel.
He raised his eyes and the wry grin on his face had her smiling back in response, despite her best effort not to.
“But by the look on your face, I’m betting you know that as well.”
She thought the best course of action was to sympathize with him, and she made a disgusted face. “I will never understand why people feel the need to make things up, to spread terrible rumors. It’s like they have to tear others down to feel good about themselves.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Elise. But unfortunately, the rumors are true.”
“Oh,” she said, unsure of how else to respond. This was just what she’d come looking to confirm, but hearing him say it so matter-of-factly had kind of taken the wind out of her sails.