Books by Victoria Laurie
COACHED TO DEATH
TO COACH A KILLER
COACHED IN THE ACT
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Coached in the Act
VICTORIA LAURIE
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by Victoria Laurie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2021935213
The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-3440-2
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: September 2021
eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-3442-6 (ebook)
eISBN-10: 1-4967-3442-4 (ebook)
Chapter 1
I found Gilley in the kitchen, tearfully sniffing as he stared at his laptop screen. “Gil?” I asked, surprised to find my permanent guesthouse resident and dear friend so upset. “What’s happened?”
Gilley jumped at the sound of my voice. He obviously hadn’t heard me come downstairs. Once he recovered himself, he swiveled the laptop around so that I could see. There, on the screen was a video clip of M.J. Whitefeather, Gilley’s best friend and former business partner, sitting in a rocking chair, with two babies cuddled against her and a towel draped over her chest. She was obviously nursing the twins.
Entering the screen to the right was a toddler, stumbling a little as she walked, obviously still half asleep. Suddenly, the voice of Heath, M.J.’s husband, could be heard. “Such a good mama, feeding the babies at five a.m.,” he cooed.
M.J. glanced up at the camera, revealing dark circles and half-lidded eyes. She looked so tired, the poor love. I could sympathize. I’d had twins when I was about her age. It’s not for the weak.
“Is she getting any sleep?” I asked Gilley.
He wiped at his cheeks with a tissue. “Not a lot,” he said. “According to Heath, Skylar seems to be nocturnal, and Chase has trouble with gas or something that makes him fussy. Margot just entered her terrible twos, so the whole thing’s a disaster, if you ask me.”
I chuckled and came around the side of the island where Gilley was sitting to hug him around the shoulders. “You really miss them, don’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asked in a choked whisper. “But I especially miss M.J. We were inseparable for almost thirty years, and now the only time I get to see her is when she has the energy to call or Zoom with me, or when Heath sends me a clip, like this one.”
I sat down next to Gil and took up his hand. “It’s going to be really hard for her until the twins are in kindergarten,” I said. “Then things will settle down, and she’ll be in touch more.”
“They’re three months old, Cat. You’re telling me I have to wait five years to connect regularly with my best friend again?”
I squeezed his hand. I understood that, deep down, Gilley was actually happy that M.J. had found her soul mate and was building a family with him, but I also knew that the adjustment of giving her up to Heath, Skylar, Chase, and Margot was exceptionally difficult.
“You could always fly out to see her,” I suggested. The Whitefeathers lived in New Mexico.
Gilley scowled. “I don’t do babies. The dirty diapers alone would have me running for the hills.”
I cocked my head at him. He’d been living in my guesthouse for nearly two years now, and I was still learning new and interesting things about him. “You and Michel have never considered having a baby together?” I asked, referring to Gilley’s husband.
“Nope,” he said, a note of tension in his voice. Michel had spent much of the pandemic locked down in the UK, and it’d put a definite strain on their marriage. And ever since the vaccine had been widely distributed, Michel still continued to take assignments as an in-demand fashion photographer, out of the country.
“Although,” Gilley continued, “I have been contemplating adopting a puppy.”
My brow arched in surprise. “Really?”
“As long as it’s okay with my landlord, of course,” he said.
I waved my hand. “Of course, it’s all right, Gilley.”
In fact, it was more than all right. Poor Gil had been a bit lonely of late, ever since my boys went back to boarding school and I had more time to spend with my current love interest, Detective Steve Shepherd.
I realized as I stared at my dear friend that since the boys left two weeks earlier, I’d hardly spent any of my free time with Gilley. Oh, sure, we saw each other at work—he was my personal assistant—and we typically shared lunch together, but we hadn’t really spent any quality time together, and I suddenly found myself feeling guilty over that.
“Gilley,” I said, trying to pump a little enthusiasm into my voice. “Why don’t you and I go out on the town tonight?”
Gilley slid his gaze toward me, his lids weighed down by skepticism. “Don’t you have a date with Shepherd?”
“We have nothing planned,” I lied, knowing I’d have to cancel our plans for dinner the moment I was out of earshot. “Come on, Gil, it’s supposed to be a beautiful night, and we can go out to eat, do a little shopping, and . . . Ooh! I’ve got it! We could take in that hot new show at John Drew Street Theater!”
I’d wanted to catch the show everyone in town was talking about ever since I learned it was opening in late August. The show was a take on a famous classic, but with a clever twist. “You and I have both said we’d love to see Twelve Angry Men. Why not go tonight?”
Gilley frowned. “You’re kidding, right? Tickets are impossible to get, Cat. It’s totally sold out for the next three months.”
Clearly, Gilley had been doing a little research into this very subject, which made my smile all the wider. “I can get us tickets,” I said.
“You know a scalper?”
“Better. I know Yelena Galanis’s best friend.” Yelena Galanis was the star of the one-woman show, aptly titled Twelve Angry Men, in which she told the story of the twelve rich and powerful East Hamptonites she’d used and abused over the years. Word on the street suggested it was a scintillating hoot.
“You do?” Gilley said. “Who?”
“Sunny D’Angelo,” I said, with a bounce to my brow. “She and Yelena go way back. I think they were college roommates or in the same
sorority. And Sunny has already mentioned that she can score us tickets anytime we want.”
Still, Gilley looked doubtful. With a sigh, he said, “I don’t know that I’m in the mood for it, Cat.”
I rubbed his arm. “Oh, come on, Gil. It’s been forever since the two of us were out on the town together. Besides, what else are you going to do? Sit home and watch VH1?”
Gilley frowned, and I knew that was exactly what he’d planned on doing. “Ru’s doing a special on the best of the drag racers,” he said.
“Record it and watch it later,” I suggested.
He made a face, but I could tell his resolve was cracking. “Where would we go to dinner?” he asked.
“Well, the Beacon is still open for another two weeks, and we haven’t been there in forever. What do you say to that?”
“Hmm, I do love to be seen at the Beacon,” Gilley said of the yacht-club bistro.
I grinned. I knew I had him. “What’ll we wear?”
Gilley couldn’t resist planning his outfits ahead of time. “You should wear that red, off-the-shoulder number,” he said, referring to the new Versace deep red dress with flared sleeves and skirt that I’d purchased only a week earlier. I’d been saving it for a special occasion out with Shepherd, but I could certainly wear it out tonight for Gilley.
“Done,” I said. “And you, sir? What will you wear?”
A smile began to form on Gilley’s lips. “I think,” he said, tapping his lips, “that I’ve been looking for an opportunity to wear my new Ted Baker suit.”
“The light gray plaid?”
Gilley nodded. “I’ve got a gorgeous black silk shirt to wear with it. The contrasts are delicious.”
“Then you must wear it,” I said, watching as Gilley began to show some enthusiasm.
“Okay,” he said after taking another moment to think on it. “It’s a date, Cat.”
“Excellent!” I said, moving in to hug him around the shoulders. “I have a few errands to run before my client today at one, but I can call Sunny from the car and see if she can’t scrounge up a pair of tickets for us.”
“Cool,” he said, hopping off the chair at the island. Pointing to the counter near the sink, he added, “There’s a quiche that I took out of the oven a bit ago. It should be cool enough to eat by now. Let me know if we’re a go for tonight so I can pull out the suit and steam out the wrinkles.”
“Did you want to come with me to run the errands?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Can’t. I’ve got a massage with Reese at ten.”
My brow arched. “Again?” I asked carefully. Reese was an absolutely breathtaking man, who reminded me very much of the late Christopher Reeve at the height of his Superman career. Reese was also someone I knew Gilley had a monstrous crush on.
“Yes, again,” Gilley said moodily.
“You’ve been seeing a lot of him lately,” I said, undaunted, because I needed to understand Gilley’s thinking here. Even though I knew he and Michel were struggling in their relationship, I felt strongly that if Gilley strayed, he’d regret it.
My dear friend sighed. “There’s nothing going on, Cat.”
“Okay, but could there be at some point, Gilley?”
Reese’s sexual exploits into the beds of many of the Hamptons elite were an open secret. He was rumored to be a very . . . shall we say, talented lover, and he had no preference as to which team he’d pitch for on any given day. He was as sought after by women as he was by men.
Gilley glared at me. I held his eyes and didn’t look away. At last, he threw up his arms and said, “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“If you don’t know, Gilley, then it might be best to resist the urge until you deal with your relationship with Michel. And I say that as a friend to both you and him, okay?”
Gilley nodded. “It’s just nice to get some attention, you know?”
I bit my lip, the guilt of a few minutes ago returning. “I do,” I said. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t been paying nearly as much attention to our friendship as I should have.”
The edges of Gilley’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You’re forgiven.”
“Good. Now, come with me to run those errands.”
To my surprise, Gilley shook his head no again. “I’m going to keep my appointment with Reese.” When I again arched my brow, he added, “I may be married, but I’m not dead. I’m allowed to flirt.”
I held back the protest I badly wanted to make and settled for a simple nod. It was Gilley’s life and relationship to work out, not mine. “I’ll text you if I hear back from Sunny before I meet you at the office.”
“I’ll get there a little early and throw on some tea for you and your one o’clock.”
“Thank you, lovey. You’re a doll.” With that, I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, before I headed out the door.
As soon as I pulled out of the driveway, I called Sunny.
“Hi, Cat,” she said, sounding weary.
“Sunny?” I said. I hadn’t seen much of Sunny over the summer, which, I’ll admit, was odd, given that she was Shepherd’s twin sister. And I definitely hadn’t seen much of her while the pandemic was on. As the mother of a baby—and now toddler—she’d been especially careful to protect little Finley.
“Yes, I’m here,” she said, probably thinking that I hadn’t heard her the first time.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Shepherd had told me that his sister had been struggling recently, and by the sound of her voice, I wondered if she might be ill.
“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “I’m fine. Just a bout of insomnia, and Finley started becoming a real handful just after his second birthday.”
“Ah the terrible twos,” I said. My boys had gotten up to all sorts of mischief when they were Finley’s age.
“He’ll be the death of me,” she said, but added a tired smile.
I could tell she was trying to appear like her old self. Sunny had been very aptly named.
I grinned when I heard the old playful enthusiasm back in her voice. “Do you remember when you said that you had an in with Yelena Galanis?”
Sunny chuckled. “You want tickets, don’t you?”
“Only if it won’t cause you any trouble.”
“It won’t,” she assured me. “I’ve been meaning to take Finley over to see her for ages. This’ll give me an excuse, and Yelena always has extra seats on hand for just such an occasion.”
“Have you caught her act yet?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting for Darius to come home from L.A., and then we’ll go.”
“Is he away again?” Darius worked in the music business, and he spent more time on the West Coast than he did at his home here in East Hampton.
It secretly upset me because it left Sunny to care for Finley for long stretches at a time without any help from the boy’s father.
“Yes, but he’s on his way back,” she said. “He’ll be here late tonight, in fact.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s good. And you promise it’s no trouble to ask Yelena for a couple of tickets?”
“I promise, Cat. I’ll call you in a bit to let you know, though, okay?”
I said my goodbyes to Sunny and called her brother.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice warm and throaty. I shimmied a little in my seat. Shepherd could light the home fires with just a greeting, and it was a delicious thing to be the object of his affections.
“Hey there,” I repeated. “Got a second?”
“For you? Always.”
This was a lie, as I knew from experience. Whenever Shepherd was knee-deep into working a case, my phone calls went straight to voice mail. But I was hardly going to remind him of that at the moment. “Listen,” I began. “About tonight . . .”
“Something’s come up,” he said, beating me to the punch.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Gilley.”
Shepherd chuckled. “Ah,” he said. “Our third wheel.”
“Hey, he’s not a third wheel, Shep, okay?” I’d adopted the nickname Shep for Shepherd after I recently discovered that was what most of the other men in blue from the East Hampton PD called him.
“Okay, okay,” Shepherd said, and I could almost see him holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s feeling neglected, though, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “So, I’ve decided to take a rain check with you and focus on Gilley for tonight.”
“That’s fine, Cat,” he said, using the nickname common to most of my friends and family, instead of the more formal Catherine, which he’d insisted on using for the first few months of our relationship.
“I’m free most of this week,” he continued. “Just let me know when your schedule clears up, okay?”
“I will,” I promised. “And if you want to come over late tonight, I won’t say no.”
Shepherd made a growling sound. “You’re a temptress, you know that?”
“I do,” I said, smiling wickedly. “I’ll tell Sebastian to let you in if you feel like spending the night. Gilley and I should be home around eleven, I think.” Sebastian was my AI butler. Much like Google Nest, but much more sophisticated.
“See you then,” he promised.
* * *
A bit later, after I had run all my errands, I was headed back to the house to drop off a few packages before driving across town to my office when Sunny called me. “Hey, where are you?” she asked the moment I picked up the call.
“Um, I’m driving back to my house. Why? Do you need something?”
“I got the tickets,” Sunny said. In the background I could hear Finley fussing, and there was that exhausted tone in Sunny’s voice again. “Can you swing by to pick them up? Finley and I both need a nap.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m rounding the corner onto your street as we speak.”
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