The index finger on his right hand bore a stripe of white skin—like he'd been wearing something there for a long time. A ring.
The click in my head was so loud, I was sure Grayson had heard it.
“The town is so crazy lately,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee and lifting it off the table. “The fires and then there's Abigail's murder.”
“It's shocking,” Grayson agreed. “I can't believe that happened. I've never been to the library myself, but the loss of a responsible young woman is always terrible. From what I heard, she was a lovely girl. Unlike that sister of hers.”
“Abigail?”
“That's the one. That girl's a bad influence. She's trouble.”
“How so?”
Grayson lifted a cupcake and took a bite of it, avoiding my gaze.
“Do you know where Abigail might have been on the morning of the murder?” I asked.
“Me? No. I was out of town. I had to run to Houston for a business meeting, but I did hear a rumor that she was spotted at the local store near the time. An odd place for her to be since she usually gets her groceries delivered.”
“Is that so?”
“That's so.”
That gave Grayson an alibi I could either confirm or disprove. If he was lying well... he'd become my prime suspect. I'd have bet my last strawberry cupcake that the engraved, bloodied ring had fallen from his finger.
The only question was when it had happened.
But none of this got me any closer to the truth about the fire. “Say, Grayson, is your son around?”
“No,” he said, stiffly. “I don't know where that boy has gone.”
“Things have been pretty tense between you two lately, haven't they?”
“I don't see how any of that is your business.”
“I just—”
“Now, if that's all you wanted to talk to me about...” Grayson checked his watch. “I've got an appointment with a contractor for the renovations on the restaurant in fifteen minutes.”
“Sure, OK. Thanks for your time.”
He didn't say it was a pleasure or I was welcome. The butler strode into the room to see me out, and I left the Tombs' residence with more questions than answers.
21
“Well, this is depressing.” Gamma’s arm was hooked through mine, her head tilted back. Smulder stood on her right side and I was on her left as we studied the remains of the kitten foster care center.
It had taken six months for the contractors to renovate and get the place in tip-top shape, and they’d been mere days from completion. And now what? All that handiwork had been undone.
The day was warm for this time of year, the sky clear and blue, the clouds scudding by, fluffy as cotton wool. But the gorgeous day didn’t change the damaged inn, the blackened walls, the work that would have to be done.
“Look at it,” Gamma whispered. “It’s just… gone.”
“It’s not completely gone.” Part of the roof had caved in, and the outside walls were blackened, the glass in the window panes having popped and shattered. “We can still rebuild.”
“Rebuild.” Gamma tasted the word, as if she’d never said it before. “I’ve rebuilt many things in my life, but never something like this. This was a dream.”
“Your dream,” I said. “And you’re not going to give up on it now.”
“What did the inspector say?” Smulder turned toward us. “Arson?”
“Now’s hardly the time, Brian,” I snapped. “Can’t you see Georgina is going through something right now? Don’t be so—”
“It’s fine, Charlotte.” Gamma straightened, brushing off her coat. “Yes, it was arson. From what the inspector told me, it started at the back of the inn, inside the newly renovated section. Gas. Gas and a match.”
“Old school,” I said.
“Or rushed.” Smulder walked forward but didn’t traverse the back stairs—probably a good idea since the porch was unstable, and a section of the roof had fallen onto it and broken through the wood.
“I will rebuild,” Gamma said. “I’m not going to let anyone stop me from having this center. Of course, this will likely mean I’ll have to reapply to be certified by the shelter. They’ll have to come inspect the property again once the renovations are complete.”
“That’s good.” But I was distracted. “Gas and a match, huh?”
“Or a lighter,” Gamma said. “The man could’ve had flint and a stick for all we know.”
“The man? You’re assuming it’s a man?”
“I hadn’t thought of it yet.” Gamma brushed a hand through her silver-gray curls. “But now that you mention it…”
Smulder froze in one of the flowerbeds. He’d been in the process of examining the shriveled grass and the empty soil.
I ignored him.
“Do you think it was Jessie Belle-Blue?” I asked. “She’d have a real motive for wanting to burn down the center. She threatened you about it, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“Do you think she’s capable of something like this?”
“I don’t.” Gamma sighed. “The woman doesn’t have the backbone for it. She’s more likely to steal my contractors or to try steal kittens out from underneath me than she is to burn a place down.”
“I haven’t seen her around here lately, either. But Brian did find a set of footprints leading away from the greenhouse and into the trees on the afternoon of the fire.”
Smulder straightened. “Ladies, perhaps it would be best if we left this to the proper authorities.”
“Oh please,” I said. “The proper authorities have their hands full. There’s the murder, the festival, the Valentine’s Day Parade.”
“There’s a parade?” Smulder asked. “But we just had the festival.”
“Don’t even get me started.” I shook my head. “Gamma, what about Sebastian?”
My grandmother tilted her head to one side. “Hmm. There’s a thought. We did see him with the… you know.”
“Yes. At the place.”
“What place?” Smulder asked. “What did you see him with?”
“Nothing. Nothing. And ‘you know who’ didn’t seem to know where he was,” I said.
Gamma made a noise in her throat. “Seemed awfully mad about him too.”
“And remember when we were at the restaurant and he—?”
“Yes, yes, of course. But there’s no real proof.”
“That’s exactly the point. We’d need to find proof.” Perhaps, if we set up a tail, we could catch Sebastian in the act. Two places had been burned down, and I couldn’t help thinking they were connected to the ring. But I wasn’t exactly clear on what that connection might be.
“Charlotte.” Smulder marched out of the flowerbed toward me. “Charlotte.”
“Did the fire compromise the integrity of the inn?” I asked Gamma, ignoring him and his impending lecture. “Was the basement affected?”
“Thankfully, no. Everything’s fine.”
“Good.”
“Charlotte,” Smulder repeated. “We need to talk.”
“Then talk,” I replied.
“In private.”
“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Georgina.”
Smulder shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Georgina had intimidated the director of the NSIB—for Smulder, it would be like giving a debriefing in front of a hungry lion.
“Problem?” Gamma asked.
“If you get involved in an investigation of any kind,” Smulder said, “I’ll have to report you to Grant. And you know what that will mean, Charlotte.”
“Oh relax.” I flapped a hand at him. “We’re just talking. I’m not going to do anything.”
Smulder gave me a hard stare, and a few butterflies flip-flopped around in my stomach.
“I’m serious, Brian. I’ve got enough to keep my busy. Georgina will need all the help she can get fixing up the back of the inn.”
“Th
at’s right.” Gamma patted Smulder on the shoulder. “I’ll keep her busy. Besides, we’ve got the Valentine’s Day dinner to plan.”
I grumbled, “We’re not seriously going ahead with that, are we?”
“Oh, of course. In fact, I’d like to talk to you about that. Perhaps, you and I can go out to dinner?” Gamma gave me a pointed look.
“I guess.” I forced myself to put on the reproachful tone. I doubted that Gamma’s proposed dinner had anything to do with Valentine’s Day. She’d already planned all of that out with Lauren. And that left one reason for the covert meeting of minds.
To track down Sebastian and find out whether he’d started the fires.
22
“Would you relax, Charlotte? You look fine.”
“I look ridiculous.” I tugged on the glittery dress I’d put on for tonight. Thankfully, I had a thick woolen trench coat to cover it up with. And Gamma had forced me into a pair of her high heels—by some miracle, we wore the same size. Or maybe that was just genetics.
I strode down the sidewalk, my heels tapping along, wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole. I’d been undercover in a variety of scenarios before, and I would remain professional here, but these were people who saw me at the inn on a daily basis. The gossip would be rife, and that would only make things awkward.
“The Bottoms Up Bar is down here,” Gamma said, halting on a corner.
“It’s past 10 pm,” I said, plucking at my slinky silver getup. “I’d feel much better if we didn’t loiter on a street corner for too long.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gamma replied. “You’re dressed appropriately for a night out.”
“We should’ve parked closer to the bar.”
“And risk discovery? I think not.” Gamma was also dressed in her best, but she wouldn’t be going into the bar. She’d used her age as an excuse, but that was a load of… poo. She just didn’t want to rub shoulders with the ‘nightlife’ in Gossip. “There, see?” She pointed down the road toward the bar, its sign lit up in neon pink, and the doors opening and closing as the young, hip and happening entered and exited.
“I’m too old for this, too, you know.”
“You have a youthful complexion,” Gamma said, patting my cheek. “And thirty-two is hardly old.”
“Neither is seventy.”
“I’m not going to get into this argument with you again, Charlotte.”
I huffed out a breath. “Fine,” I said. “But if I catch my death out here, just know it’s on your head.”
“You’ll be fine. You’ve got the trench coat.” Gamma checked the coast was clear of listeners then leaned closer. “You’ve checked your mic is in place?”
I’d put on a wire underneath the ridiculous dress. “We already did a sound check,” I said.
“It doesn’t hurt to double-check. It’s firmly attached?”
I lifted my dress away from myself and looked down my front. The mic had been taped to my breastbone. “Yes. It’s in place.”
“Good. I’ll be watching and listening. And in your ear.” Gamma brushed my long dark locks in front of the ear that contained my earpiece. “I know you don’t need luck, Charlotte. You’re a professional.”
I swelled at the compliment from one of the most decorated NSIB agents of all time. She patted me on the cheek then tottered off back to the SUV. My grandmother had a black as sin SUV for secretive occasions just like this, and no one knew she owned it.
“Do you read me, Charlotte?” Gamma spoke in my ear.
“Loud and clear,” I muttered.
“Let’s go.”
I strode down the sidewalk, portraying confidence as my cover. The front of the bar bore loads of windows and gave me a glimpse of the inside. Folks sat at the bar or partied on the dancefloor, and a few had taken private booths to talk.
“Are you in?”
“Not yet,” I murmured.
“Come on, Charlotte, we don’t have all night.”
“Debatable.”
I opened the door and walked into the bar. No one took any notice. I scanned the place for Sebastian. According to our research and Gamma’s source—Lauren, of course—this was Sebastian’s favorite hangout spot. If he wasn’t here, we’d find out where he’d gone. Most of the popular young adults frequented this place and they were friends with him.
“Head for the bar,” Gamma said.
I couldn’t keep muttering under my breath without looking suspicious, so I did as Gamma had asked instead of replying. The place was decorated in polished walnut, sleek chrome, and mirrors spanned the room, giving the revelers a chance to check themselves out.
I grabbed a stool.
The bartender appeared. “Hey,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just a soda, thanks.”
He smirked but poured me one then slid it across the table. “Here you go. Consider this one on the house.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gorgeous. And because the Bottoms Up Bar has a ladies drink free promotion on tonight.”
“Flirt with him,” Gamma whispered. “He might be able to tell you more about Sebastian.”
Cringe. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” I touched the back of his hand. “You been working here long?” I grabbed a paper straw, stripped it of its wrapping and plopped it into my soda.
“Yeah, I have, actually. I haven’t seen you around before.” The bartender presented a cheesy grin. He wore his hair in a blond quiff and waggled his head as he spoke like he thought that upped his charm quota. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he was no Smulder.
Where did that come from? A blush crept up my throat at the silly thought.
“I’m making you blush already?” the bartender said. “I don’t even know your name, gorgeous.”
“Tell him,” Gamma whispered.
“Charlotte Smith,” I said. “And you are?”
“Dennis.” He grabbed my hand and plastered a slobbery kiss on the back of it.
Cringe number two. I’d have to set up a cringe count for tonight. “Nice to meet you, Dennis.” I pulled my hand out of his and wiped it on my trench coat under the table. “Say, I don’t come here often, but I heard this place is pretty popular with the in crowd. Is that true?”
“Depends on what you class as the ‘in crowd.’”
“Oh, you know, people like Sebastian Tombs or Abigail Rhodes.”
Dennis’ lip curled. “Sebastian Tombs. Well, yeah, he hangs out here. He’s all kinds of trouble.”
“What kinds?” I asked.
“All kinds. Thankfully he’s not here tonight. But Abigail’s right over there.” He nodded past me, and I turned in my stool.
Abigail was in one of the booths near the front windows. Her friend, Jenna, who’d talked so much smack about Abigail, sat next to her checking her nails occasionally.
“She’s so full of herself,” Dennis said, behind me. “She thinks she runs this place just because her dad and mom are rich.”
“And she’s rich too.”
“I heard that—”
Matthew, the blonde bushy-haired IT guy who said he was Abigail’s boyfriend, crashed through the front doors of the bar. He stumbled and straightened, looking around. He spotted Abigail and practically sprinted to her table.
“—you are,” he said.
I could barely hear him over the music in the bar—a pop song I didn’t recognize.
“Abigail’s there?” Gamma asked.
“Should’ve worn a camera too,” I murmured, angling my head downward. No one was looking at me, and they wouldn’t hear over the music.
“Next time. Try to get closer to Abigail.”
I got up and walked a few paces closer, taking my soda with me and pretending to scan the rest of the bar.
“—such a freak!” Jenna spat in Matthew’s direction.
“Just get out of here,” Abigail snapped. “I don’t want to talk to you, Davis. I told you that. Why can’t you, like,
get a clue or something?”
“Yeah, get a clue!” Jenna said.
Matthew’s fists clenched and unclenched. “But we have to talk. This is important.”
“Get lost.” Abigail’s flicked her fingers at him.
Another guy, burly and wearing black, stepped up. “Is this clown bothering you, Miss. Rhodes?”
“I’m leaving. I was just… I was just leaving,” Matthew said, and headed for the door, glancing back every few steps, regret painted on his face.
“Why’s he so obsessed with me?” Abigail asked.
Jenna patted her on the arm. “Everyone’s obsessed with you, honey. You’re Abigail Rhodes.”
That wasn’t a lover’s spat. That was Abigail dismissing a guy she doesn’t like. One who’s been hanging around her like a fly.
He’d lied to me. And if he’d run from me and lied to me about his relationship with Abigail, what else might he be hiding?
I put my drink down on a table nearby then headed for the door. I pushed out into the cold night and looked both ways. Matthew was already at the far corner, heading deeper into town in the direction of the suburbs.
“Georgina,” I said, under my breath. “I’ve got a suspect on the move.”
23
I’d kicked off my shoes and tailed the suspect into the ‘bad part’ of town. In Gossip, that just meant the houses weren’t double story and instead of having picket fences, they had chain-link. My directions had led Gamma and the SUV to a parking space under a tree on the opposite side of the road.
Now, we sat in the car together, our gazes glued to the house.
It was rundown like the others in the street, but unlike them, the lights were on in the windows. Flashes of blue indicated suggested a TV inside too.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Gamma asked.
I reached down the front of my dress and freed the wire from my skin then ripped it up and placed it on the back seat.
“You can be gentler than that with my equipment. It’s state of the art.”
“Sorry. And yes, he’s in there. That’s definitely the house.” I’d already told my grandmother what had happened at the bar, and how Abigail had looked at Matthew as if he was something she’d peeled off the underside of her designer stiletto.
Mission Inn-possible 02 - Strawberry Sin Page 9