“You’re sure about that?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to reach out and steady her. If he touched her, he’d take her in his arms and never let her go—and that wasn’t his best course of action right now, no matter how much he wanted her.
“I’m sure. There wasn’t much traffic at that time of the morning, and believe me, I was watching for anyone trailing me.”
“I do believe you.” He tapped the phone. “Get rid of that message and let’s call it a wrap. Your bag is in my room, so I’ll give you some time to get ready for bed. It’s been one helluva day.”
Savannah dug her fists into her eyes and rubbed, smearing mascara and eyeliner across her cheeks. “Are you sorry I showed up on your doorstep? Where Savannah Martell goes, trouble follows. That’s what you used to say.”
“I did?” He huffed out a breath. “I guess nothing’s changed, but I’m not sorry you showed up. Where else would you go?”
An hour later, Connor lay on his back in his large bed and stared at the ceiling. Would he be able to help Savannah out of this mess? Did he want to?
He had to face the possibility that she’d killed Niles in self-defense and had blocked it out. It had to have been self-defense.
He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over.
* * *
A FOOTFALL WHISPERED behind her, and Savannah dropped half an eggshell into the mixture in the bowl.
“Jumpy, aren’t you?” Connor reached over her shoulder and plucked out the shell with two fingers. He tossed it into the sink, dripping egg white on the kitchen tiles.
“Don’t make a mess in here.” She whisked some pepper into the eggs and milk. “You didn’t have any bacon or sausage in the fridge. Scrambled eggs and toast okay?”
“Fine, but you didn’t have to cook breakfast.” Connor ripped a piece of paper towel from the roll and swiped at the spot on the floor.
“I owe you...big-time. A little breakfast barely makes a dent in that debt.”
“There’s no debt owed here, Savannah.” He leaned against the sink, his hands gripping the counter behind him.
Her gaze skimmed over his body, drinking in every inch of him, his board shorts hanging low on a pair of slim hips, his tight abs dusty gold from the sun. She’d fallen for Connor Wells the first time she’d laid eyes on him back in middle school. After Mom’s second divorce, she’d moved the two of them from the mountains of Colorado to the sandy beaches of California.
Once Savannah got a glimpse of Connor, all her resentment toward her mother over the move vanished.
Connor had taken to her as well, teaching her how to surf, easing her transition to a new school, a new lifestyle. Life had been good—until Mom met Manny.
Connor snapped his fingers and she blinked. “Earth to Savannah. Where did you go?”
“A little trip down memory lane.” She turned back to her eggs and whipped them into shape.
“Ahh, the good old days.” He squeezed past her and grabbed a tub of butter from the fridge. “You wanna hop on a board while you’re here?”
“Let’s see.” She placed a fingertip on her chin and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m under investigation for the murder of my ex, just missed the murder of my former housekeeper and I’m living under the threat of blackmail. Who wouldn’t want to go surfing? I thought I was the irresponsible one here.”
He shrugged and scooped a couple pats of butter from the container and dropped them into the frying pan. “Those things will still be true whether you’re riding the waves or not.”
“I thought we were going to start investigating today.”
“We are, as soon as you call Thomas Bell.”
“Thomas Bell?”
“The therapist.”
She clenched her jaw as she prodded at the butter now sizzling in the hot pan. Connor was like a dog with a bone.
“That’s the deal.” He nudged her in the back.
“All right. Leave me his number.” She dumped the egg mixture into the pan. “Friend of yours?”
“He is...now.”
“Now?” She stirred the eggs in the skillet and then blinked at the congealed yellow mess. “He was your therapist?”
“That’s right.” Connor crossed his arms, widening his stance.
“Oh, I didn’t know...” As her cheeks heated up, she shifted the pan from the fire to another burner. But she could’ve guessed. Connor had lost a lot in a short span of time—his father, his job, his mother...and her.
Although his life was an open book to the people he held near and dear, he wasn’t the kind of guy to bare his soul to just anyone. He must’ve been in bad shape to turn to a professional.
“It wasn’t my idea. After Dad was murdered and the sheriff’s department started taking over the San Juan PD, they sent me to Thomas as a condition of my employment with them.”
“But you didn’t work for the SDSD.” Connor had quit police work in disgust after Manny’s cohorts had killed Chief Wells.
“I was considering it, so I saw Thomas for a few sessions and then I continued with him.” He turned away from her and reached into the cupboard for a couple plates. “I never thought seeing a therapist would have any value for me. I was wrong. Thomas is a good guy and he knows what he’s doing.”
“And yet—” she slipped two pieces of bread into the toaster “—you never went back to law enforcement.”
“Thomas helped me with that, too. I came to terms with my decision and realized my life had to take a different direction.”
“Now, that does sound like therapy talk.” She waved the spatula at him.
“Guilty.” He held up the two plates. “Eat at the counter okay, or do you want to sit at the kitchen table?”
“Let’s sit at the table. It’s such a pretty view.” She couldn’t wiggle out of this therapy thing, but she didn’t have to tell Thomas anything. The therapist would have to maintain her confidentiality with his good friend and former patient, Connor, too.
As she buttered the toast, Connor reached around her and scooped half the eggs onto one plate and half onto the other.
“There’s marmalade in the fridge for the toast.”
“And salsa for the eggs?”
“You know me. Can’t eat eggs without salsa.”
She did know Connor. He’d always been open, friendly, up-front. She’d been shocked by his open manner when she’d first met him. She figured everyone had family secrets, things you just didn’t tell anyone—her mom had drilled that into her enough times. But then her mother had so much to hide in her own past.
And now Savannah did, too.
She spun around from the refrigerator, clutching a jar of salsa in one hand and a jar of orange marmalade in the other. “We’re good to go.”
As they sat across from each other over toast, eggs, juice and coffee, Connor had to spoil the moment.
“Have you looked at your phone yet this morning?”
“Of course.”
“Anything more from the blackmailer?” He heaped some salsa over his eggs and offered her the spoon.
“If only we knew for sure he was a blackmailer. I haven’t heard anything from him...or her. What does he want? Why would he go to those lengths—murdering Letty—to get that button? I could’ve dropped that button at any time in Niles’s house.”
“But you didn’t. You were wearing that blouse the last night Niles was alive, so you would’ve had to have lost it the same night—and you told the police you didn’t go to the house.” Connor tapped her plate with his fork. “If they catch you in one lie, they’re gonna look at you even more closely.”
She dragged the tines of her fork through the runny salsa on her plate. “What do you think those detectives are doing right now?”
“They might be requesting your phone records. They might be checking the Marina Sports Bar, veri
fying your story.”
The toast she’d just eaten rumbled in her stomach. “Most of that checks out.”
“If there’s CCTV outside the bar, how’s that going to look?” Connor snapped a piece of toast in half.
“It will show me and Niles leaving the bar together and getting into his car, if the camera is pointing that way. I told the detectives we got in Niles’s car, so that’s not a problem.” She shredded the paper towel next to her plate. “The problem is that button, or at least the person who has the button.”
“I don’t see how he—”
“Or she.”
“—or she can use that button to blackmail you now. He’d have to sneak back into a crime scene and plant it.”
“That’s what Letty would’ve had to have done, although at least she’d have a reason to be at the house.”
“In Letty’s case, she could’ve told the police she found the button at the house, picked it up without thinking and then realized later it was yours and it had significance.”
“I suppose so.” Savannah dropped her fork, along with the pretense of eating, and dragged a pad of paper toward her. “You wanted me to start a list of people connected to Niles, and I think the first one on that list has to be Tiffany James, his girlfriend.”
“First—” Connor fished his phone from the front pocket of his shorts “—you’re going to call Thomas and make that appointment.”
She held out her hand. “All right, although I don’t think it’s going to do any good.”
“Humor me.” He smacked the phone against her palm.
Connor had left Thomas Bell’s contact info on the display and she tapped the screen to place the call she’d been dreading. She eased out a breath when it went to voice mail.
“Hi, Thomas. My name is Savannah Martell. I’m a friend of Connor Wells, and I’d like to make an appointment to see you.”
Connor poked her arm and circled his finger in the air.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “As soon as possible. You can call me back on Connor’s phone. Mine is acting up. Thanks.”
She ended the call and shoved the cell back across the table toward Connor. “Happy?”
“Very.” He aimed his fork at her plate. “Are you going to finish those eggs?”
“I don’t have any appetite at all. How you can eat after what we saw last night is beyond me.”
“Really?” He dumped more salsa onto her plate. “Last night when you were going through Letty’s pockets, you didn’t seem that squeamish.”
“I was doing my best not to vomit.” She’d had the same gut-wrenching feeling when she saw Niles’s wounds, but Connor seemed to think she was some coldhearted schemer—and he didn’t even know the half of it.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” He corralled the rest of her eggs with the last corner of his toast. “I don’t have much sympathy for blackmailers anyway.”
Before they finished cleaning up the kitchen, Thomas Bell called Connor back.
“Thanks for returning Savannah’s call so quickly, Thomas. I’ll give the phone over to her.”
Savannah dried her hands on a kitchen towel and took the phone from Connor. “Hello.”
“Savannah, this is Thomas Bell. I can get you in as early as tomorrow, if that works out for you. I just had a cancellation.”
“Sure.” She licked her lips. “What time?”
“Eleven o’clock.”
“I can do eleven.” She could do any time. What did she have going on except the fight of her life to prove her innocence?
Thomas gave her the address of his office, even though she knew damned well Connor would take her and probably escort her inside.
She put down the phone. “There. That’s done. Now I think we need to go see Tiffany today.”
“Won’t she think that’s strange?”
“I have a reason to see her, one she won’t mind.”
An hour later, they were on the freeway up to San Diego, and Connor asked, “How come Tiffany didn’t live with Niles?”
“Honestly, I think it’s because Niles found it easier to cheat on her if they kept their separate residences.”
Connor shook his head. “The one time I met Niles, he did not strike me as a player.”
“That’s because you met him before Snap App’s stock went public and the money really started rolling in. All that money sort of made him like a pro athlete—without all the muscles. Once women found out who he was and what he was worth, they threw themselves at him.” She shrugged. “He had a hard time resisting.”
“Did Tiffany throw herself at him?”
“In the most blatant way possible. Tiffany’s a stripper... I mean, an exotic dancer.”
Connor’s mouth dropped open. “Niles was going to marry an exotic dancer?”
“I don’t think Niles had any intention of marrying Tiffany, despite the big ring he gave her.”
Connor whistled. “Niles was playing with fire. Once the detectives discover all of this, they’re going to have a few more suspects to look at than you.”
“Then I’d better make sure they know about Niles’s cheatin’ ways.”
“Especially if Tiffany doesn’t tell them herself.” He tapped her phone, which was charging on the console. “Aren’t you going to call her?”
“I didn’t want to give her a chance to say no.” She swept her finger across the display on the dash to make a phone call. “But now we’re almost there. How can she refuse?”
The ringing of Tiffany’s phone filled the car and just when Savannah got ready to leave a message, Tiffany answered, her voice breathless.
“Savannah? Is that you?”
“It is. How are you doing? I’m so sorry about Niles.”
Tiffany’s voice broke on a sob. “It’s horrible. I can’t even get out of bed.”
“How did you find out?”
“The police came to my front door and told me.” Tiffany sniffled. “I can’t believe it. D-did the police talk to you? They want my blood or something.”
“They did question me and they want my DNA, too. It’s not a big deal, Tiffany. I’m sure they’re going to ask everyone close to Niles...just to rule us out.”
“I’m shocked and just heartbroken.” Tiffany paused to blow her nose. “Do you think I can keep the ring?”
Connor rolled his eyes at Savannah, but she wasn’t about to judge Tiffany.
“Of course. Niles gave it to you.” She maneuvered the car onto the next off-ramp—the one that would take her to Tiffany’s condo. “In fact, I need to talk to you about a few things, Tiffany. Can I come over right now?”
“Right now?”
“I’m in the neighborhood, right around the corner, actually.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The car’s speakers amplified some whispering and rustling noises on the other end of the line, and Savannah raised her brows at Connor.
“You can meet me at the pool. It’s toward the back of the complex.”
“See you in about fifteen minutes.”
Savannah ended the call and drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel. “Did that sound to you like she didn’t want us in her place?”
“That’s exactly what it sounded like. I thought she couldn’t get out of bed.”
Savannah lifted her shoulders. “Maybe the place is a mess.”
Fifteen minutes later, Savannah pulled her car into the parking lot of the sprawling condo complex.
“Exotic dancing must pay well.” Connor shaded his eyes as he peered out the window.
“I’m sure you can guess Niles bought the place for her.”
Savannah parked where she could find a spot marked for visitors. When she got out of the car, she tugged on the wrinkled legs of her shorts. “At least we’re dressed for the pool.”
&n
bsp; They followed a path through lush landscaping and Savannah inhaled the scent of jasmine as the sun warmed the back of her head. This could all be so pleasant, especially with Connor by her side, if she weren’t trying to figure out who was framing her for murder.
They turned a corner and faced a fenced pool area scattered with chaise longues, the blue water lapping at the sides of the pool. Connor breathed out. “Nice.”
“Wish we were here to enjoy it.” Savannah tried the gate, but it didn’t budge. She hung on to the bars and pressed her face between them, spotting Tiffany stretched out in the sun. “Tiffany!”
Niles’s girlfriend turned her head, her bleached blond hair piled on top, and waved.
Before she could stir herself, another woman pushed out the gate and held it open. “Friends of Tiffany?”
“We are, thanks.” Connor caught it and ushered Savannah through. “You first.”
Savannah’s flat sandals slapped the cement as she approached Tiffany, whose eyes were hidden behind a pair of huge sunglasses.
“Thanks for seeing me, Tiffany. You’ll be glad you did.”
She started to nod and then her head snapped back when Connor came up beside Savannah. She scooted her dark glasses down the length of her nose. “Hello there.”
“Tiffany, this is Connor Wells. Connor, Tiffany James.”
Tiffany held out a limp hand, her long fingernails glittering in the sun. “Hi, Connor. Nice to meet you.”
He squeezed her fingers in an awkward handshake. “Same here. If you ladies don’t mind, I’ll stake out this chaise longue over here and soak up a few rays.”
“So, you’re the famous Connor Wells.” Tiffany shoved her glasses back up her nose, and a little smile played about her full lips.
“Famous?” Connor grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head, putting his rippling torso on full display.
Savannah couldn’t see Tiffany’s eyes behind her sunglasses, but she didn’t have to see them to know where the woman had focused her gaze.
“Oh, Niles may have mentioned you a few hundred times.”
“Sorry for your loss.” Connor stretched out on the chaise longue as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Her Alibi Page 9