A Cutthroat Business (28 page)

Alexandra shook her head.

“Pornography? I hate to be the one to tell you, but that’s not unusual. A lot of men seem to enjoy dirty pictures.”

Rafe looked at me, but didn’t speak.

“A check,” Alexandra said miserably.

A check? “What kind of check? For how much? From whom? To whom?”

She sniffed and started digging in the little black bag she kept in her lap. After a few seconds, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over the seat to me. I smoothed it out, and felt my eyes widen. Rafe glanced down, too, and for just a second the car swerved before he righted it. “That’s a lot of money,” he said evenly.

I nodded. “Where did you find it?”

Alexandra explained that it had been in Maurice’s underwear drawer.

“What were you doing in Maurice’s underwear drawer?” Alexandra must be a lot more forward than I had been at her age. Or for that matter than I was now. It would never occur to me to go through a guy’s underwear. A ghost of a smile tugged at Rafe’s mouth, and before he could offer to explain it to me, I added quickly, “Never mind. I don’t want to know. So it was in his bureau. Hidden?”

Alexandra nodded. “Underneath everything else.”

“So you don’t think he intended you to find it?”

She shook her head.

“What do you think it means? Take a right at the light, Rafe.”

Rafe turned right as Alexandra answered, “Isn’t it obvious? She paid him to stop seeing me. And he took it!” She subsided into another bout of angry and/or distraught tears. Rafe and I exchanged a look, and the same thing was probably going through both of our minds.

The check was for $5000, payable to Maurice Washington. It was drawn on Brenda’s personal business account; the one she didn’t share with her husband, because the name at the top said only Brenda Puckett, Realtor, and was signed by her. The date was for last Saturday, the day she died, and the memo line said simply,
Alexandra
.

“We’re here,” Rafe said ten minutes later, pulling the car to a halt in front of the massive Tudor house on
Winding Way
. It was the first time any of us had spoken in what was left of the trip. He looked around and added, “Nice spread.”

I smiled in wry appreciation of the understatement. “Thanks for driving. I know I said you didn’t have to come along, but I’m glad you did.”

He grinned. “Always happy to oblige. You want I should wait?”

I shook my head. “There’s no telling how long this will take. I’ll get a ride. Or call a cab.”

I had thought he might insist, but he didn’t. “I’m off, then. Nice to meet you, Alexandra.” He turned a melting smile on the girl, who revived enough to give him a shaky smile.

“Thank you, Rafe. You’re my hero.” She gave him her hand through the car window. He kissed it before he gave it back to her, lingering over it a second too long. Alexandra blushed. I rolled my eyes.

“Go away, Rafe.”

“You got it, darlin’.” He put the car into gear and rolled off down the driveway, but not before he had blown me a kiss.

“He is
so
hot!” Alexandra sighed, holding the hand he had kissed against her chest.

“He’s a cocky bastard who thinks that all he has to do is smile at a girl and she’ll fall into bed with him,” I corrected, but without much heat.

Alexandra giggled weakly.
 
“If I were a few years older,
I’d
fall into bed with him.”

“If you were a few years older, he’d probably let you. As it is, stay away from him.”

I turned toward the front steps. Alexandra did the same, as the Town Car’s taillights disappeared in the distance. She sent me a sideways look.

“Um...
Savannah
?”

I nodded.

“Do I have to tell my dad everything?”

I hesitated. “What do you want to leave out?”

“Well, um... I know I’ll have to own up to going to a party instead of spending the night with
Lynn
...”

I nodded. There was no hiding that. Her hair and clothes smelled of cigarette smoke, and somewhere along the way, someone — maybe Alexandra herself — had spilled beer on her top. And then there was the sparkly make-up, faded and smudged now, and the dangling rhinestone earrings, and the high heels, and the short skirt—

“...but do I have to tell him about Maurice?”

“Don’t you think he knows already? Surely your mother told him?” My mother would have been the first to tell my dad something like this.

“He hasn’t said anything about it,” Alexandra said.

“Well... I guess maybe you don’t have to, unless he brings it up. Parents can be awfully difficult about boyfriends. Especially boyfriends they don’t approve of.”

Or men they think are boyfriends, but who aren’t. If Steven Puckett was anything like Dix, I’d prefer keeping the truth from him, too, if only so I didn’t have to sit through the same lecture I’d already listened to regarding Rafe. And we weren’t even involved, while Alexandra was going through Maurice’s underwear drawer.

“Thanks,
Savannah
.” She managed a smile.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned. “We don’t know whether he’ll bring it up. And if he does, you’ll have to tell him the truth. I won’t lie to him.”

“Right.” She squared her shoulders and turned toward the front door. “Let’s go.”

We went.

It was obvious that Steven had thought Alexandra settled for the night, because when we walked into the foyer, he scrambled out of the sectional in the living room, looking very surprised and somewhat disheveled. Maybelle surfaced a second later, and although she didn’t exactly button her blouse, I got the impression that it was a near thing.

To Steven’s credit, he rose to the occasion. “Alexandra! Is something wrong, sweetheart?” And then he saw me, and a frown passed over his horsey face. “
Savannah
?”

“Alexandra has something to tell you,” I said, and gave her a nudge. “Go on.”

Alexandra took a breath and contrived to look her age: young, ashamed and vulnerable. The only thing missing was the lisp. “I’m sorry, daddy. I lied. I told you I was going to spend the night with
Lynn
, when what I wanted was to go to a party.”

Steven looked confused, and Alexandra sent me a pleading glance.

“Alexandra didn’t like the party,” I explained. “She called and asked me to come pick her up. Which I was happy to do.”

No sense in mentioning Rafe. The fact that he’d been there too, didn’t make any difference to speak of, and although Steven didn’t actually know my mother, the fewer people who knew that I’d spent my Saturday evening with Rafe Collier, the better.

Steven pulled himself together. “Come in. Both of you. Sit down.
Savannah
, can I get you something to drink?”

I shook my head. “Thanks all the same. I was just on my way home from dinner when Alexandra called.”

“And quite lovely you look, too.” He looked admiringly at me for a moment before his voice turned severe. “Now you, young lady,” he turned to Alexandra, “from the smell, you’ve had enough to drink.”

Alexandra raised her eyes to his, big and guileless. “It wasn’t me, daddy. Someone just spilled beer on me, that’s all.” She folded her hands in her lap and endeavored to look demure. It wasn’t easy, considering the make-up, and the earrings, and the skirt and top and all the rest of it. Steven’s eyes narrowed.

“Where was this party? Who was there?”

“It was... um... at a friend’s house. In
East Nashville
. And I don’t think you’d know anyone who was there. They were mostly... um...” She tossed a panicked glance my way. I surmised that she had been about to say ‘
his
friends’, which would have been a dead giveaway.

“Alexandra went there with a friend,” I explained. “The others were mostly friends of her friend. Nobody she usually associates with.” Alexandra nodded, looking grateful. Steven looked suspicious.

“Who is this friend?”

“Oh. Um... someone I met a couple of months ago. One night I was having pizza with Lynn and Heather.”

“So Lynn and Heather know this person, too?” Alexandra nodded, crossing her fingers unobtrusively. It helped that her hands were already folded. “And what happened tonight?”

“Oh,” Alexandra said. “Um...” She glanced at me. I lifted a shoulder. She turned back to her dad. “I just didn’t like it. They were drinking and smoking, and all of them were older than me, and when I asked if someone could take me home, they said no. I didn’t have cab fare, so I called
Savannah
.”

She looked at me. I nodded. Steven looked from one to the other of us for a second before he said, “All right. Alexandra, why don’t you go get ready for bed. Take a shower and wash all that goop off your face. I want to talk to
Savannah
some more, and then I’ll be up to say good night.”

Alexandra nodded. “Thanks,
Savannah
.” She gave me an awkward hug.

I hugged her back. “You’re welcome. Give me a call sometime. We’ll talk.”

She said she would, and headed for the stairs, her high heels clicking across the hardwood floor. Maybelle got to her feet. “I’ll just go up with her and see if she needs any help. Thanks, Miss Martin.” She smiled at me. I smiled back, but thought that she was assuming rather a lot if she thought Alexandra was ready for mothering just a week after losing Brenda.

When they were gone, Steven turned to me. “Thank you,
Savannah
. I appreciate your help. Brenda’s death has been difficult for Alexandra.”

I nodded. “I guess she probably just wanted to have some fun and forget about it for a while. When my dad died, I went through kind of a weird phase, too.” It had manifested itself in gluttonous reading and a refusal to venture outside, but there was no denying that it had been weird. I’d gotten a little bit of perspective since then, although I still missed my dad.

Steven didn’t answer, and I added, “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. Nothing happened, and I think she probably learned her lesson.”

Steven smiled. “If she grows up to be as mature and self possessed as you, I’ll be very happy. She admires you a lot, you know.”

“Gee,” I said, “thanks, but...” I really didn’t feel mature and self possessed.

Steven continued, “So did Brenda, of course.”

“I beg your pardon?” If Brenda had felt anything but contempt for me, I surely hadn’t noticed.

His eyes twinkled. “You were everything Brenda wasn’t, and everything she wanted Alexandra to be. Beautiful, well-educated, polished...”

“My mother sent me to finishing school,” I blurted.

Steven smiled. “See? Brenda was born in Bucksnort. All her life she wanted to be a Southern Belle, with everything she thought it entailed. The family mansion, the education, the social standing... All of it was beyond her, so she focused on the one thing she could do, and that was making enough money so that when Alexandra grew up, she would have everything Brenda hadn’t had, and become everything Brenda couldn’t be. I daresay my wife could have done a better job in some areas than maybe she did, but she meant well.”

“I’m sure she did,” I said politely. “She — you both — did a good job with Alexandra. She’s a nice girl. And now that she’s settled at home, I guess maybe I should go. I’m sorry if we interrupted anything.”

I got to my feet. Steven stood, too, just as Maybelle came back down the stairs. From the tiny wrinkle between her brows, I guessed that Alexandra had refused the motherly touches Maybelle wanted to administer. Steven didn’t seem to notice. “We appreciate you bringing her home,
Savannah
.”

Maybelle went to his side and linked a proprietary hand through his arm. “Are you leaving already, Miss Martin? Where’s your car?” She glanced out the French doors to the empty driveway.

“Actually,” I said, “my... um... date dropped us off. I’ll have to call a cab.”

“Oh, nonsense! I’ll drive you.” She smiled up at Steven. “That way you can talk to Alexandra, and Miss Martin and I can become friends.” She transferred the smile to me, bright and hard. There wasn’t anything I could do but to accept, but I don’t mind telling you that the offer made me nervous. Maybelle’s single-minded devotion to Steven was more than a little creepy.

I looked around surreptitiously when we got outside, hoping against hope that Rafe had changed his mind and come back to get me, but of course he hadn’t.

“My car is parked across the street.” Maybelle headed for her own, smaller cottage. I trailed behind, keeping an eye on her back and wondering what she’d do if I refused to get into the car with her.

Of all the people I had come across in connection with Brenda’s murder, Maybelle was the one who set my sensors to vibrating the fastest. She had the best reason of anyone for wanting Brenda out of the way. She wanted Brenda’s husband, Brenda’s children, Brenda’s house, Brenda’s
life
; and she had the kind of personality I could visualize murdering someone who stood in her way. Sweet as sugar on the outside and hiding bubbling cauldrons of malice inside.