Liver Let Die

by Liz Lipperman

  “Okay, then. Come on, honey. Let’s let our girl get some sleep. She must be exhausted.” He nudged Lola toward the bedroom after he clicked off the television. “Good night, Jordan. Tomorrow, I’ll run down to Myrtle’s and pick up some of her Chocolate-Chip Coffee Cake.”

  Jordan smiled. She loved this man. She lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket up to her chin, her mind still on the video of Derrick at her front door.

  She wondered if Brittney’s mom had intervened and forced her daughter to break it off with him. If so, he would be one mad hombre, looking to blame everyone but himself.

  Is that why he was here tonight?

  She decided she didn’t want to find out. Tomorrow she’d confess everything to Ray and face his anger for keeping it from him in the first place.

  Right after he brought her the Chocolate-Chip Coffee Cake.

  CHAPTER 20

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee tickled Jordan’s nose, and she slowly roused, but it took several minutes to acclimate herself to her surroundings. Along with the realization she was not in her own apartment came memories of the night before. She shot up from the couch, nearly colliding with a smiling Ray, standing in front of her with a plate of Myrtle’s Chocolate-Chip Coffee Cake in one hand and a cup of java in the other.

  “We were worried you might never wake up,” Ray teased, handing her first the cup, then the cake. “You must have been exhausted.”

  Taking a sip before leaning back into the cushions, Jordan smiled up at him. “Mmm. You should think about making coffee for a living, Ray.” She set the cup on the end table then sampled the cake. “Oh wow, I’ve died and gone to the big newsroom in the sky.”

  Inhaling sharply at her own words, she looked from Ray to Lola, a war of emotions raging in her stomach. It was too soon to be making jokes about something that had come so close to being reality.

  “I still can’t talk Myrtle into giving up this recipe,” Ray said, changing the subject. “She says I’d have no reason to come by and flirt with her if I could make this baby myself.” He winked at Lola. “She was just kidding about the flirting part, sweet pea.”

  “You old coot,” Lola said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Never forget I have an authentic voodoo doll down at the shop. I’d hate to see your name on it along with several long pins attached.”

  “Ouch!” He feigned fright. “You know I only have eyes for you.” He turned to Jordan, who had just shoved the last bite of cake into her mouth. “Want seconds?”

  When she nodded, he made a beeline for the kitchen.

  “I’m not helpless, Ray. I can get it myself.”

  “Oh, let him wait on you, sweetie. It makes him feel useful,” Lola said, smacking his bottom when he passed by.

  Jordan smiled, thinking she should be so lucky to find someone that devoted to her. Gratefully, she accepted the plate upon Ray’s return. Before she had a chance to dig in, the doorbell rang, and she nearly dropped the cake.

  “Chill out, honey. I’m sure that’s just Victor or Michael,” Ray said, heading for the door.

  A surge of excitement coursed through her body when Ray opened the door and she recognized the voice. Quickly, she smoothed her bed-head hair and swiped at the line of mascara she knew had ended up below her eyes. Her morning raccoon look, she called it.

  Alex walked in, nearly catching her rubbing her finger back and forth across her front teeth.

  As if that would sweeten up morning breath.

  She lowered her eyes, feeling the color creep up her cheeks. Did she think the man was going to take her in his arms and ravage her right here on Ray’s couch? Mentally, she cautioned herself to get a grip. But bad breath or not, the idea did have its merits.

  Alex eased down on the sofa beside her, studying her face with a curious intensity. “Were you able to sleep last night?”

  “Yes,” Jordan lied. The truth was she hadn’t stopped thinking about Derrick Young showing up at her apartment since she’d seen the security tape. It had been well after three when she’d finally drifted off.

  “You’re lying.” He touched the soft area under her eyes. “The peepers always tell the true story. You don’t get dark circles like these after a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yesterday’s mascara,” she mumbled, embarrassed she hadn’t had time to wash her face yet.

  “What do you take in your coffee, Alex?” Ray interrupted, giving Jordan a much needed reprieve from the scrutiny.

  “Just black.”

  Ray snorted. “Now I know you’re a real cop.”

  When Ray returned with the steaming cup, Alex settled back to take a drink, allowing Jordan a few minutes to study him discreetly. With olive skin that contrasted nicely with his dark blond hair still slightly damp from his morning shower and eyes that belonged in a bedroom, Alex Moreland leapfrogged up her sex-appeal meter. Even faster now that she no longer thought of him as a bad guy.

  He turned to her, catching her giving him the once-over, and his eyes flickered with mischief. “Hold that thought,” he said simply. “I have to run into Dallas today to brief my boss about the operation. I’ve already been assigned to another case, and I’m heading out early Monday morning. But for tonight, I see you, me, and a home-cooked dinner with candles.” He paused before adding, “That’s if you say yes.”

  “Unless you like bologna du jour, I’d say that scenario ain’t happening anytime soon,” Ray interjected, shaking his head and grinning.

  Both Jordan and Alex laughed. “If Jordan agrees, I’m going to show her how an Italian boy like me can razzledazzle her with a tray of lasagna.”

  “You’re Italian?” Jordan asked, surprised. “Moreland sounds English.”

  “My dad’s a Brit,” he explained. “But my mom’s a second-generation Sicilian. My nana was born in Palermo and only came to the States as a teenager.”

  “In that case, I can’t wait to taste your lasagna,” Jordan said. She stopped herself from admitting she wouldn’t mind getting a taste of him, too. “I’ll bring the bread.”

  Glancing at his watch, Alex’s face suddenly turned serious. “I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to let you know both Roger Mason and his chef, Aaron Daniels, are in custody downtown. After I interrogated them for several hours, Daniels gave it up. By early morning, my counterpart in Canada had already executed a search warrant at the meatpacking plant and discovered more than ten million dollars’ worth of blood diamonds waiting to be transferred.”

  “Did Mason admit he killed J. T.?” Jordan prayed the answer was yes.

  “Said he had nothing to do with it, even though the bloody knife found across the street in your neighbor’s yard definitely came from Longhorn Prime Rib. Mason can deny it all day long, but the evidence against him is too strong.”

  Jordan would have preferred it if Alex had been more convincing about J. T.’s killer and had shot down her anxiety over Derrick Young’s visit last night. She decided when Alex returned from Dallas, she’d tell him about her suspicions over dinner. He’d probably laugh at her paranoia and convince her there was no doubt Mason was the killer.

  He stood and walked to the kitchen to put his empty coffee cop in the sink. “Gotta run.” On the way to the door, he stopped by the couch and bent down to kiss Jordan on the forehead. “Wear something sexy tonight. I’ve got a special dessert planned.”

  Jordan loved his attempt at humor but decided the joke would be on him. She had just enough time to run out to the mall and pick up something that would have him thinking twice about leaving Ranchero. Maybe even get a pedicure while she was at it. She’d show him all about special desserts. After all, didn’t they call her the culinary queen of Ranchero?

  Of course, she’d have to eat beans and weenies all week, but it’d be worth it. Remembering the way his Levi’s hugged his butt on the way out the door only confirmed her decision to blow this week’s paycheck on what might turn out to be a wise investment or, at the very least, a fun one.

  After he w
as gone, she helped Lola clean up the kitchen before heading back to her apartment. Crumpling on her own couch, Derrick Young completely forgotten, she decided she’d better sneak in a power nap.

  Alex apparently had a big night planned—and so did she!

  The shrill ring roused Jordan from her much-needed nap. Shooting up off the couch, she grabbed the phone, not even bothering to check caller ID.

  “Hello.”

  “Miss McAllister,” the unfamiliar voice started. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Who is this?” She glanced at the clock. Almost five. She’d been asleep for two hours. So much for the ten-minute quickie and her trip to the mall to pick up something to wear tonight.

  “Derrick Young.”

  She froze, her eyes darting to the door to make sure the chain latch was in place. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t stop the fine hairs on her arms from prickling at the sound of his voice.

  “I don’t have much time. I’m here at the stadium cleaning out my locker. If you get here in the next hour, I have something you really need to hear.”

  Jordan laughed more from nervousness than anything else. “What kind of fool do you think I am? Remember, I saw the bruises on Brittney’s arm. I also know what happened in San Antonio, why you came to Grayson County College instead of going to a bigger school.”

  She heard him gasp.

  “Those records are sealed.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s just say I have friends who can be very persuasive.” She took a deep breath, making it up as she went. “I know you get off on hurting defenseless women half your size.”

  “I’ve changed,” he muttered. “I’ve been talking to the school chaplain about it.”

  “That’s all well and good, Derrick, and I’m glad for your sake, but it still doesn’t make me dumb enough to come over there right now. Whatever you want to tell me, I’d suggest you do it over the phone.”

  “Can’t.” He lowered his voice. “What I have to say is worth it, but I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m leaving town in a few hours. It’s now or never.”

  Talking to him gave her the creeps, and she swallowed hard. It would be idiotic to even remotely consider facing him by herself. Every instinct in her body told her to hang up and let him ride out of town like the abuser he was, yet she hesitated. What if she went with a hidden tape recorder and got him to admit to killing J. T.?

  “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” she said, slapping her head with her hand the minute the words left her mouth. Visions of stupid people in movies who went down a dark stairway to the cellar after hearing a noise, or who opened the door to check out a scary sound, popped into Jordan’s subconscious. Watching them, she’d always wanted to scream, “Can’t you hear the music, you moron?”

  After hanging up the phone, she ran into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then ran a comb through her hair. A two-minute change of clothes and she was ready in less than ten minutes. Now all she had to do was grab Ray and get him to go with her to the college. She could only imagine the lecture she was in for on the ride over. But as Derrick had said, it was now or never.

  Almost out the door, she remembered the voice-activated recorder she’d used when she and Brett interviewed the Texas Longhorn athletes back in the day, and she ran back in to retrieve it. She was determined to trip Derrick up and capture his confession on tape. Glancing at her watch and noting there were only thirty minutes left on the deadline Derrick had imposed, she pounded on Ray’s door.

  When Lola answered, Jordan burst through the entrance. “Where’s Ray?”

  “He’s not here, sweetie. Can I help you with something?”

  “Where is he?”

  “He left about an hour ago to run into Dallas to return the security camera to his friend. I don’t expect him back until right around dinnertime. You know how Dallas traffic can be, even on a Sunday.”

  “Crap!” Jordan slammed her fist on the door.

  The smile on Lola’s face faded. “What is it, child? You look really upset.”

  Jordan sucked in a gulp of air, trying to calm down. Okay, so Ray wasn’t there to go with her. She could either forget about what Derrick had said or go by herself. She winced, hearing the Jaws music playing in her head. She didn’t want to be that woman, who was too stupid to live, answering the door at midnight to find a psychopath on her doorstep.

  “I got a call from Derrick Young,” she explained to Lola, who was now patting her on the back, trying to comfort her. “He’s leaving town and he wants to tell me something before he heads out. I don’t have time to wait on Ray.” She turned and kissed Lola’s forehead. “Tell him I’ll explain everything when I get back. It’s probably nothing, anyway.”

  “Who’s Derrick Young?”

  Jordan stopped in her tracks, realizing no one but Victor knew about the quarterback, and absolutely no one knew he had shown up to her apartment the night before.

  “I can’t tell you now, but suffice it to say he might be someone with important information about who killed J. T.” She failed to mention he might even be the killer himself.

  “I thought Mason did it.”

  Jordan sighed. “I have to be sure. Tell Ray I’ll fill him in when I get back.”

  “I saw Michael go out the front door about a half hour ago, but I think Victor is home,” Lola offered.

  That was it! Jordan was determined not to miss out on an opportunity to find out if Derrick was behind J. T.’s murder. She’d have to settle for Victor. “Thanks, Lola. I’ll see you in a bit.” She turned and headed down the hallway.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Lola hollered. “No way you’re going to meet him by yourself. If Ray can’t be by your side, then you’re stuck with me.” She grabbed a sweater from the rack and slammed the door behind her.

  Jordan hesitated. but only briefly. If she couldn’t have Alex or Ray, it was probably wise to bring a crowd. There was that safety-in-numbers thing her mother had always preached when Jordan and her high school friend and cohort in crime, Sally Winters, went anywhere.

  “Okay, come on. Let’s go get Victor.” She grabbed Lola’s arm and dragged her down the hall.

  After several frantic knocks, the door swung open and Jordan had to bite her lower lip to hide the smile. Victor had on a pair of striped cargo pants that stopped below the knee and matching knee-highs that came almost to the edge of the britches. His flaming red Hawaiian shirt make him look like he’d just stepped out of a fifties golf tournament—for cross-dressers.

  “Don’t ask,” he said, before Jordan could say a word.

  “Is Michael home yet?”

  When Victor shook his head, Jordan made a snap decision. “I need you to come with Lola and me to Grayson County College to meet with Derrick Young. He’s leaving and he might have some valuable information for me.”

  “About what?”

  “Victor, I don’t have time to explain. Will you come with us or not?”

  “Where’s Ray?”

  Lola and Jordan spoke in unison, “In Dallas.”

  “What in the world could Derrick possibly have to tell you that’s important enough for you to rush down there on a Sunday afternoon to hear?”

  Jordan grabbed Lola’s arm. “Come on. We have to go.”

  “Wait,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I’ll probably regret this, but if you give me a few minutes to change clothes, I’m in.”

  “No time,” Jordan said, reaching in and grabbing him by the collar. “Maybe nobody will notice what you’re wearing.”

  He let her pull him out into the hall before shrugging and slamming the door to his apartment. “We’ll just say I’m Jack Nicklaus Senior if anyone asks,” he deadpanned, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Jordan couldn’t resist. “Or Jacqueline Senior.”

  “You’re a real comedian, Jordan. Now gimme the keys. I might be dressed funny, but I don’t have a death wish. I’m driving.”

  Another door opened and Rosie stuck her head out. �
�How’s a girl supposed to get her beauty sleep with all the racket out here?”

  “Sorry, Rosie,” Jordan said. “We’re on a mission.”

  The older woman’s eyes lit up. “Where are Ray and Michael?”

  “It’s a dangerous mission and we can’t wait on them,” Victor said. “Tell Michael I went out for a minute with Lola and Jordan, but don’t tell him about the dangerous part.”

  “Hello! There’s no way you guys are going without me. I love danger.” She slammed the door before asking. “Do I need my purse?”

  “No,” they all said in unison, heading to the parking lot, where they piled into Jordan’s Toyota. Five minutes later, they were crossing the Connor-Ranchero border and heading for the college.

  Once again the scary music blared in Jordan’s head.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Tell me again why I’m driving like a madman to get to the football field before”—Victor glanced down at his watch—“five forty-five?”

  “I need to talk to Derrick.”

  “We get that, sweetie, but don’t you think you should tell us why? That way we might be able to help when you find out what he wants.”

  Jordan turned slightly so Lola and Rosie could hear. “I need you all to stay in the car. Derrick might not open up if he sees all four of us. Don’t worry, I’ve got my recorder and I’m hoping he’ll slip up and confess—” The three friends gasped in chorus, effectively cutting her off.

  “Confess what?” Rosie’s escalated voice from the back seat seemed to reverberate across the entire interior of the car.

  Jordan did a quick time check, hoping to buy time before answering. They were almost there, even had a few minutes to spare. She decided telling everybody what she suspected was definitely not the right thing to do, even though it was probably the smarter thing. For sure, they’d try to stop her.

  She turned again so both Lola and Rosie could hear her from the back. “Okay, here it is. I found out Derrick Young …” She looked directly at Rosie, remembering Rosie had no idea who she was talking about. “He’s the quarterback at the college. Anyway, he’s been beating up on his girlfriend. She just happens to be the younger sister of J. T.’s best friend, Eric, who’s in College Station at A&M.”