Fletcher’s eyes are more than apologetic. “I’ll call you,” he says, then walks off hand-in-hand with Mia.
CHAPTER 70
Against her better judgment, Special finally relented and decided to have dinner with Darius.
His persistence was rather impressive. He’d sent flowers twice that week and bombarded her with a bunch of apologetic cards, texts and phone calls. But the primary reason Special relented was to retrieve the mate to her Christian Louboutin pump. Never again would she use her six hundred dollar shoes as a weapon.
Darius had wanted to pick her up for their date, but she’d insisted on meeting him at the restaurant. Special chose one of her favorite places, Roy’s Hawaiian fusion restaurant in Anaheim. She might as well get one last good meal out of this.
“Hey, babe, please forgive me.” Darius was holding her hand and staring at her with puppy dog eyes. “That chick meant nothing to me.”
Special eased her hand away. “If you say so.”
“C’mon, babe. I dig you a lot and I really want things to work out for us.” He exhaled like he’d had a long day. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve had some issues since my injury. Sometimes I feel a little insecure about myself as a man.”
Yeah, right.
“So when a woman comes at me, it’s hard to say no. These women out here are so aggressive. She just showed up at my door and forced her way in.”
“I guess she also forced your head between her legs too, huh?”
Darius refused to make eye contact for more than a couple of seconds. “I know I was wrong, babe. Please forgive me. I’ve been thinking about getting some counseling. Maybe we can go together.”
You are so full of it. Once a dog always a dog.
Special almost started to laugh. He was such a lousy actor. But the brother did have some off-the-chain skills in bed. It had been over a year since her breakup with Clayton and there was no one else on the horizon. Maybe she should keep Darius around for drought-relief.
But as soon as a decent brother looked twice at her, she was going to drop him like three-week-old leftovers.
“I’m hungry. Let’s order some appetizers?” Special signaled for their waiter, who hurried over.
“We’d like to start with the beef short ribs and the vegetable spring rolls.” She basically knew the menu by heart.
“Any drinks?” the bearded redhead asked.
“The Hawaiian martini would be great.”
He turned to Darius. “And you?”
“Rum and coke.”
The waiter was about to leave, but Special waved him back. She’d already decided on her main course. She didn’t want to prolong the evening any longer than necessary. Her shoe was already stuffed in her purse. She planned to eat and leave. Listening to Darius’ lies was already getting on her nerves.
“We’re ready to order our entrees. I’ll have the ’Ai Kai—” Special tried to pronounce the dish’s Hawaiian name, but gave up and pointed to it on the menu. “The rib eye and the Maine lobster.”
Darius chose the Jawaiian Jerk Spiced Pork Chop. The waiter was about to walk away, but again, Special stopped him.
“I know it takes extra time to prepare the chocolate soufflé,” she told the waiter, “so we want to put in an order for that now.”
“Excellent choice,” he said.
Once the waiter disappeared, Darius put on a sad puppy dog face. “Tell me what I can do to get you back?”
Special had given some thought to playing him for his cash, but she was no Bliss Fenton. And she was tired of all of his begging.
“Why don’t we talk about something else? Let me tell you about that case I was investigating. It’s been crazy wild.”
When she finished her recap, Darius was shaking his head. “So who do you think killed her?”
“Definitely one of the baby daddies. There’s a third one that I doubt the police know anything about. My money is on him.”
As the waiter set their drinks and appetizers on the table, Special started telling Darius about Bliss’ conversation with Jonas’ father at Salt Creek Grille.
“That dude was definitely hot enough to kill. I just wish there was some way for me to figure out who he is.”
Darius stuffed a spring roll into his mouth and continued talking while he chewed. “I’m sure the restaurant has surveillance cameras that show him entering and exiting the restaurant. Ask them for a copy. Then show it to one of the woman’s friends. Somebody close to her probably knows him.”
Duh?
Special obviously had a long way to go before she developed into a top-notch private investigator. She’d just advised those detectives to check the traffic cameras near Bliss’ townhouse, yet it had never crossed her mind that the restaurant might have cameras. Maybe she should keep Darius around for a while.
They talked easily now, both of them much more relaxed, almost as if there had never been any strife between them. Special had downed two martinis by the time they were halfway thru the main course and she was feeling pretty mellow.
Darius excused himself to go to the men’s room. Special tensed as she watched him maneuver his wheelchair in the narrow aisle between the tables. One of the waiters tried to assist him, but Darius waved him away. He hated it when people treated him like an invalid. Special didn’t relax until he’d made it around the last tight corner.
That was when she realized that Darius had left his phone on the table. Special grabbed it and swiped her finger from left to right. Of course Mr. Security Expert would have his phone password protected.
No problema!
She pulled out her own phone and looked up Darius’ password, which she had stored under his name in her Contacts app. She’d studied his fingers as he punched in his password. It had only taken her three times to figure it out.
Special punched in his password—8923—and quickly scrolled through his emails, then his text messages. It was a good sign that she found nothing incriminating. She specifically searched for the name Wilson and saw a text that was an obvious reference to work.
Maybe Darius was telling the truth. If he were still seeing MISSMAC, there would’ve been emails or text messages proving it. But then again, he could have erased them.
Special was about to return the phone to Darius’ side of the table when she decided to scroll back to the day she’d busted him. As she read though a texted conversation, her face grew blazingly hot.
MISSMAC: WTF??? Who was that???
Darius: Old GF, chick has issues
MISSMAC: U told me not seeg any1
Darius: Im not. Its all bout U. Not my fault crazy
B cant let go
MISSMAC: I undstan. I cant let go either. LOL!
K we hookup 2nite?
Darius: Sure. Cum now. LOL!
MISSMAC: OMW!
That lying dog!
Special’s right knee started moving up and down like she was bouncing a baby on her knee. Crazy B? So that’s what he thinks of me?
When she spotted Darius’ wheelchair rounding the corner she slid the phone back across the table.
“I’m so glad you’re going to forgive me. Let’s—” Concern glazed his face. “You okay?”
She forced her lips into a rigid smile. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t look fine. But don’t worry. Whatever it is, I guarantee you Darius will make everything all right. Let’s go back to my place tonight. I have a little make-up present for you.”
He stuck out his tongue and wagged it at her.
Special winced. No telling where that nasty thing’s been.
She took another bite of her steak, which now felt like a flavorless lump of clay. Special so wanted to tell his ass off. She also felt a strong impulse to stab him in the hand with her steak knife. But she had to
get her emotions under control. She’d wait until they got to the parking lot to confront his lying ass. She didn’t want any witnesses to what was about to go down.
Darius was jabbering away, oblivious to her simmering rage. Five minutes later, she could no longer hold it in.
Special leaned in over the table. He grinned and leaned in too, probably assuming he was about to get a kiss.
“Why do men lie so much?” she asked in a facetiously cheerful voice.
Darius jerked back. “What? Where did that come from? I thought we were cool. I told you what went down.”
“Oh, you did, huh?”
“C’mon, babe. Let’s not go there again. That chick doesn’t mean a thing to me. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Liar!” Special spat at him. “I read your text messages with MISSMAC while you were in the restroom. So I’m a crazy bitch, huh?”
She picked up her steak knife and propped her elbow on the table. Holding the knife in the pre-stabbing position, she pointed the blade squarely at Darius’ left eye. “You want me to show you how crazy I am?”
Darius’ eyes expanded. Gripping the edge of the table, he pushed his wheelchair back from the table a few more inches.
“You don’t want to do anything crazy in here.” He anxiously looked around the restaurant. No one was paying them any attention. Probably because Special had such a big smile on her face.
“Let me explain,” he said in a stutter. “I only told her that because—”
“Shut up!” The pacing of her words slowed and her voice dropped so low it sounded like she was speaking through a voice-changing machine. “Lie to me one more time and I swear to God I’ll stab you right here in the middle of this crowded restaurant and happily go to jail for it.”
“You don’t mean that.” Darius refused to take his eyes off of the knife. He seemed to be mentally strategizing a countermove in case she actually tried to stab him. “Just put that knife away and calm down.”
Special jutted the knife forward just an inch and Darius flinched so violently he rocked the table.
“C’mon, Special. This isn’t funny. Put it down.”
She snarled across the table at him for what felt like minutes, but was probably mere seconds. She finally laid the knife across her plate, grabbed her purse and stood up.
The relief on Darius’ face set her off again. So she took a couple steps away from the table, then whirled back around.
Darius ducked sideways and threw up both hands to cover his face as if expecting a blow.
Special bent down until they were eye level, their noses nearly touching.
“If you ever call me again, I swear I’ll hunt you down, chop off your pecker and mail it to MISSMAC.”
As she sashayed out of the restaurant, Special’s only regret was not asking for her chocolate soufflé to go.
CHAPTER 71
Detective Thomas had just finished giving his partner a recap of his interview with Mia Richardson. It was after six, yet they were now on their way to Interrogation Room 2 for their third interview of the day.
“Ms. Richardson definitely wasn’t a fan of Bliss Fenton, but I’m not feeling her as the perp,” Thomas said.
“That’s because you think she’s cute. I saw how you were checking out her ass when she pranced out of here.”
Thomas almost blushed. ”Yeah, right.”
He led the way into the room, extending his hand to Dr. Franco.
The good doctor wore a stiff frown. He seemed to resent being there.
“I had to cancel a half day’s worth of patients to get down here. So I hope it’s not going to take too long.”
Mankowski felt like punching something. Another rich, arrogant prick. But neither Dr. Franco or McClain were smart enough to avoid letting Bliss Fenton get over on them. He wished he could remind them of that.
Mankowski took the lead. “We understand that you and Bliss Fenton have a son together. Aiden.”
“Yes, we do. He’s with me now.”
“So you plan to raise him?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Thomas tried to reduce some of the obvious tension in the room. “This is all just a formality we need to go through to complete our investigation. Can you tell me where you were this past Tuesday night between eight and ten?”
“At home with my fiancée Lena.”
“Where’s home?”
“Seal Beach.”
“We’ll need your fiancée to confirm that.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Mankowski didn’t like babying potential killers. “We understand that you had a pretty antagonistic relationship with Bliss Fenton.”
Dr. Franco shifted positions in the metal chair. “That would be the understatement of the year.”
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your relationship.”
“We didn’t exactly have one. I saw her twice a week for the few minutes it took for me to pick up my son and drop him back off.”
“You guys weren’t able to have a civil co-parenting relationship?”
Dr. Franco leered at Mankowski as if he were a nutcase. “Detectives, I can’t be the first person you’ve talked to about Bliss. So you must know a lot about her. That said, Gandhi couldn’t have had a civil co-parenting relationship with Bliss.”
Mankowski smiled, then turned serious. “What we want to know about is your relationship with her. We don’t care how she treated everybody else.”
“I didn’t kill Bliss,” he blurted out.
“No one said you did. You feeling a little guilty?”
“I don’t have time for these TV cop games. I told you where I was when she was murdered. I live at least an hour away from Bliss, longer with traffic.”
“Can anybody else besides your fiancée corroborate that you were at home?” Mankowski asked.
“It was just the two of us there.”
“And what were you doing?”
“Just relaxing.”
“Did you watch any TV?
“No.” Dr. Fenton inhaled. “I don’t watch TV. Probably listening to music.”
Mankowski kept the pressure on, firing off his questions in rapid succession. “What was Lena doing?”
“Cooking dinner.”
“For the full two hours?”
“Of course not. She made dinner, we ate and I went to bed. I’m an early riser.”
“How early?”
“Four a.m. I work out from four-thirty to five-thirty at the L.A. Fitness on Valley View.”
“What did you eat for dinner?”
The doctor paused. “Let me think. I...I don’t remember.”
“That was only the night before last. You can’t remember what you ate for dinner?”
Dr. Fenton squirmed in his seat again. “I think we had steak, but I’m not sure. I’ll need to check with Lena.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll do that.” Mankowski tried to stare him down. “Did you ever threaten to kill Bliss?”
Dr. Franco’s eyes met Mankowski’s for a second or two, then fell away. He took his time before responding. “Look, Bliss was not an easy woman to get along with.”
“So is that a yes?”
“If I ever said anything out of line to her, it was only in response to her intentionally pushing my buttons.”
“If? So you don’t remember threatening her?”
Dr. Franco took in a lung full of air and slowly let it out. “When Bliss told me she was coming after me for more child support, I guess I lost it. I was already paying her ten grand a month and I couldn’t believe she wanted more.”
“I don’t think you’ve answered my question yet.”
He folded his hands and set them on the table, probably to help keep them still. “Yeah, I might’ve
used some threatening words once or twice, but only out of frustration. I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t hurt my son’s mother.”
“Any idea who you think might’ve wanted to kill Bliss?”
“Man, Bliss was no joke. She had a way of pissing off everybody she met. You should have a very long list of possible suspects.”
CHAPTER 72
As Jessica stood outside Fletcher’s front door the following morning, her legs were so wobbly, she wasn’t sure they’d be able to hold her up. It was crucial that she remained calm and handled this conversation exactly the way she’d rehearsed it.
She wanted to talk to Fletcher alone. So after confirming her visit, she’d made a late appointment with Mia, representing herself as a new corporate client. Mia was probably sitting at her desk right now, wondering why she was a no-show.
Jessica was stunned to see a casually dressed Fletcher enter the room carrying Harmony. Unlike the night when Bliss had shoved Harmony into his arms, he appeared quite comfortable holding her.
“Guess who’s here, sweetie?” Fletcher said. “Auntie Jessica.”
Her heart did a back flip when Harmony cooed and smiled up at her.
“Wanna hold her?”
“Sure.”
She cradled the baby to her chest, basking in her warm softness. Jessica kissed her forehead as tears welled in her eyes.
After a couple of minutes, Fletcher called out. “Hey, Carina, can you come get the baby?”
A curvy brunette bounced into the room and whisked Harmony away much too soon.
“Who’s that?”
“Our nanny. And she’s fabulous.”
That was not a good sign. She had expected Fletcher to be so stressed out from taking care of Harmony that he’d be anxious to give her up. But since he had a nanny doing all the heavy lifting, there was nothing to be stressed out about.
Fletcher led Jessica upstairs, where they sat on the balcony enjoying the expansive grounds below.
“There’re a couple things I wanted to speak with you about. First, I wanted to let you know that I’m planning a memorial service for Bliss and—”
He flashed her a timeout sign. “I’m sorry, but I don’t need the specifics. I won’t be attending. Hopefully, you understand. Bliss put me through a lot. I don’t have a lot of warm feelings toward her.”
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