Crazy in Love (23 page)

“
Wouldn’t it be easier to just get a pair of contacts and buy some new clothes if she wanted Chase’s attention?”

“
Sure, but we’re dealing with a CWIL, here.”

“
A quill? We’re dealing with a feather pen?”

“
No.
CWIL.
Crazy Woman In Love. Freya coined the term. She tends to attract men that come with CWlLs attached. It’s a long story, but… yeah. Rhonda is a classic CWIL. She doesn’t want to compete for his affection when she could lose. Her plan is to make it impossible for him not to love her.” Flynn sat back, a self-satisfied expression on her face. “I’m totally right on this. Trust me.” The satisfaction faded into worry. “But, the thing is, why try to kill us? Rhonda’s the only one who knows that you’ve got the laptop, and you’re playing right into her hands, so what’s her beef?”

Jake shrugged.
“If she knows I also have a folder full of information that basically implicates her in the crime, then I imagine that’s her beef.”

“
Good point.” Flynn shook her head. “Except, if she wanted us dead, we were sitting ducks.
Unarmed
sitting ducks. But she just shot and ran away.”

“
If
it was Rhonda who shot at us. This is no time to jump to conclusions.”

“
Who else would it be?”

“
A bad shot who tried to kill us and then got scared off,” Jake said, “or a good shot who wanted to send a message.”

“
What message?”

Jake shrugged.
“
I don’t like you
?”

Flynn raised an eyebrow at him.
“Do you think it’s the same person who killed Elaine Placie?”

“
Eileen Dietz,” Jake corrected.

“
Eileen. Elaine. Whatever. The only person connected to Eileen-Elaine is Chase.”

Jake got up and started to clear the table.
Here comes the tough part.

“
Well, he’s not the only one.”

Flynn was quiet for a while.
“What do you mean?”

“
She screwed me over, babe. That speaks to motive.”

She snorted, watching him to see if he was joking. A moment later, her face went serious.
“Yeah, but you didn’t kill her.”

“
I know that. You know that. But the police?” He shrugged. “They may not know that.”

She pushed herself up from the table.
“Of course they know that. They know you.”

He stopped clearing the table and looked at her.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, Flynn. That pan that they found with the body, the one that was dented and very likely the murder weapon?”

She nodded.
“Yeah?”

He grabbed a plate and held it out to her.
“You want the last petit four?”

She shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes off him.

“Suit yourself.” He popped it in his mouth. “Anyway, the pan was from Mercy’s kitchen. I wasn’t working at the Arms at the time that Eileen-Elaine-whatever was killed, but I ate lunch there almost every day. That speaks to means.”

Even in just the light from the fire and the candles. Tucker could see her posture go tight and freeze.

“Exactly what are you saying, Tucker?”

He grabbed a napkin and wiped a wineglass.
“Tracking the exact time of death is gonna be tricky after six months with the fishes, but they can estimate a fairly accurate window based on the last time anyone saw her. And, considering that I didn’t start working at the Arms until sometime in April, that gives me the death row trifecta.” He tucked the glass into the basket. “Means. Motive. Opportunity.”

She advanced on him.
“The police could viably bring you in for murder, and you’re making jokes?”

Jake stuck the cork back in the wine bottle, then turned to face her.
“Look, I didn’t do it, which means the cops probably have evidence we don’t know about that will point to whoever did. Chances are eighty-twenty I’ll be questioned, fifty-fifty I’ll be brought in, and maybe ten-ninety I’ll be convicted of a murder I didn’t commit. Going to the police with this information about Chase and Rhonda gives them more to go on, and I think it improves my odds. So, no, I’m not really worried about it and I don’t think you should be either.”

Flynn shook her head.
“How can you be so casual about this?”

He walked around the table to her and reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away from
him.

“
The best thing I can do for myself is keep a clear head, so that’s what I’m doing. Gerard Levy is an old family friend. That’s how I started out there in the first place, so that’s something else I’ve got going for me. The chances
are pretty good that I’ll come out on the other side of this okay, so there’s no need to panic.”

Her stance softened a little, and he reached for her hand. This time, she didn
’t pull away, but she wouldn’t look at him, either. He looked down at her hand in his and spoke.

“
I want you to know that if you want to bail, go back to Boston, and let me deal with this by myself, I won’t hold it against you.”

Her eyes flashed with anger.
“You think I would do that?”

He had to take a moment before answering her.
“I think you’d be crazy if you didn’t, Flynn.”

She looked stunned, then hurt.
“Well. Okay then. I’ll just pack my bags and leave you here to deal with everything on your own.”

“
Don’t misunderstand me,” he said. She raised her eyes to his. “I don’t want you to go. I’m handing this thing over to Gerard Levy and I’m out. I don’t even care anymore what happens to Chase. But... you could have been seriously hurt tonight, Flynn.”

“
So could...” she started, but he held up his hand to stop her.

“
I would have been asking for it. I’ve been so focused on getting back at Gordon Chase that if I’d been shot tonight, it would have been well earned. But you... you didn’t sign up for that. And I’m just glad it didn’t take you getting killed for me to finally get that some things just don’t matter as much as I thought.” He swallowed hard, surprised at how difficult it was to get the next part out. “And other things matter a lot more than I ever realized.” He reached for her, pulling her to him. Looking down
into her eyes, he felt sure that everything was going to turn out fine. He didn’t know how; even if he didn’t get wrongfully accused of murder, she was going to leave eventually. But he didn’t want to worry about how it was all going to work out right now. It didn’t matter. He leaned down to her and kissed her slowly, putting into that kiss everything he didn’t know how to say, every question he didn’t know how to ask.

Based on her response, he guessed her answer was
yes.
That had to be a good sign.

When they parted, there were tears in her eyes.

Bad sign.

“
Hey,” he said, wiping his thumb at a stray tear. “What’s this?”

She rolled her eyes.
“Allergies.”

He didn
’t smile. “Flynn…”

She pushed away from him, turned, and grabbed the messenger bag.

“Dampen the fire and blow out the candles,” she said as she headed out. “We’ve got some breaking and entering to do.”

Twelve

F
lynn sat on her Nazi love seat in her flannel pajamas sipping a cappuccino she’d had Herman bring her from the kitchen when she realized that, for the first time since she’d been to Shiny, she’d slept a full night at the cottage without Esther’s interference.

Wow.
Imagine that.

She raised her eyes to the ceramic cows on the shelf, lifted her cup to them in tribute, and returned her gaze to the spot on the wall that she
’d been staring at all morning, trying to sort out the big mass of ugly in her head. First on the roster: the murder of Eileen-Elaine-whatever, and who might have really done it. Next was the attempt on her own life, which seemed so surreal to her that part of her still believed it had all been in her imagination. Rounding out the bottom were Rhonda Bacon, Gordon Chase and their story of twisted love gone trainwreck-ugly, the future of the Goodhouse Arms, and her own future as a cog in her father’s real estate development machine.

And, hovering over all these things,
Jake Tucker.

She sipped her cappuccino and sighed. The night before had taken top honors as the best, worst, and strangest evening of her life. She and Tucker had hardly spoken at all when they broke into Chase
’s office to return the laptop and folder, and the conversation on the drive home had been stilted. He didn’t ask to spend the night, she didn’t even consider inviting him in, and the good night kiss at her doorstep had been cautious and awkward. It wasn’t the Sex That Never Happened, Flynn felt pretty confident they’d nipped that in the bud. It was…

She dropped her head into her hand and groaned.

It was the crying.

As far as mood-killers go, crying when a man kisses you is right up there at the tippy top. She knew Tucker wanted to
kn
ow what was wrong, but he wouldn’t ask and she couldn’t tell him. Even now, she wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew was that when she’d kissed him, she’d thought about him going to jail and her going to Boston and had realized that this
whatever
they had between them was completely, totally, irrevocably doomed. Even if he didn’t go to jail, she couldn’t stay in a town like Shiny for a man she’d known for a millisecond. And there was no other reason to stay, which meant she’d have to leave, and maybe they’d try long distance for a while but the only thing in the world more doomed than a long distance relationship was a Hollywood marriage. Eventually Tucker would move on to live happily ever after with someone like Annabelle and Flynn would spend the rest of her life alone in one of Dad’s antiseptic cookie-cutter condos.

She glanced down into her mug and momentarily regretted throwing out Esther
’s peppermint schnapps. This
was definitely a drinking-in-your-pajamas-type day. Unfortunately, she was dry, the bar was closed, and there were no liquor stores within walking distance.

She
’d checked on that the first day.

She lifted her cup to take another sip when there was a frantic knock at her door. She leaned back into the Nazi love seat and closed her eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” she yelled. “I’m off duty.”

“
Flynn Daly, I swear by all that is holy that if you don’t open this door immediately I will kick it down!”

Flynn stared at the door, a small flame of happiness igniting within. She got up and walked over to the door, pulling it open and grinning when she saw the person on the other side.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Flynn said.

Freya answered her with a glare, then stepped in and dumped the three large suitcases she was hauling inside the cottage.

“Oh. My. God.
What
have you been doing here?”

Flynn glanced around, not sure where to start.
The ceramic cows? The lace? Getting shot at?

“
So,” Freya began, taking the cappuccino out of Flynn’s hands, “I get home late last night from Tucson to find Dad waiting for me at the airport. The man has never picked up anyone at the airport in his life, so I assume it’s the second coming or a tax audit or something equally catastrophic, but no.” She sat on the love seat and looked up at Flynn. “It’s you.”

Flynn sat next to her.
“Me? What’d I do?”

“
Beats the hell out of me. All I know is he picks me up, talking about financial reports and missing money—”

“
Missing money? What missing money?”

“
—and how I have to get on the next train, leaving at
seven in the morning,
so I can come down here and help you sort out your little disaster.” She took a sip of the cappuccino and motioned toward her luggage. “I didn’t even get a chance to unpack. That second suitcase still has the robes from Tucson.”

“
You stole robes from your spa retreat?”

Freya sighed.
“It’s not stealing if they charge me, which they will when they do inventory. But the robes? Totally worth it. Anyway.” She clapped a hand down on Flynn’s knee. “So, what the hell is going on here, punkin?”

Flynn rubbed her eyes.
“A lot, but nothing with the financials. I mean, I got him the reports yesterday even though my bookkeeper was out.” Flynn tried to keep the mild bitterness out of her voice. “Wasn’t he glad I got him the reports?”

“
Glad? Are you kidding? He was totally pissed off. Apparently, there’s some money missing or something and his preferred buyer is bugging him for third quarter financials despite the fact that there are enough records on this place to go back to roughly the beginning of time and—” Freya stopped, glanced at her watch, then looked back at Flynn. “Why aren’t you dressed? It’s one o’clock.”

Flynn sighed.
“I think I’m depressed.”

Freya did not look amused.
“You’re kidding me with this, right?”

“
No. Esther’s been haunting me and I have no idea how to run this place and I killed myself to get those reports to Dad yesterday and he doesn’t even appreciate it.”

“
Oh, honey. He appreciates it. He’ll just never say so, because he’s Dad. Do we need to go over this again?”

“
No.”

“
Good. Now, how are things with your bartender?”

Flynn thought on that for a moment, and decided Freya wasn
’t ready for that whole story. “You know, maybe we should talk about that later.”

“
Fine. Get in the shower, get dressed, and we’ll go to your office, sort this whole thing out.” She bent her head to sip Flynn’s cappuccino, but froze in mid-sip, her eyes caught on something on the wall. Flynn looked in the direction of her sister’s gaze, then sighed.

“
Oh, my God,” Freya said, pointing at the cows. “What the hell are those?”

***

Jake put his feet up on Gerard Levy’s desk, crossing them at the ankles as he sipped the standard-issue crap-ass police station coffee from a foam cup.

“
So, that’s pretty much everything,” Jake said. “The whole mess is yours now. I wash my hands of it.”

Gerard sat back in his cheap, avocado-leather, 1970s office chair. It squeaked like a hedgehog being sadistically violated.

See?
Jake thought.
Nothing to miss about this place.

“
Okay. Try not to get killed in case I need you to testify at trial.”

“
I’ll do my best.” Jake pulled his feet down, set the crap coffee on the desk, and leaned forward. “Just one more thing before we officially go back on record.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow.
“More breaking and entering? I’m a cop, Jake, not a fucking priest.”

Jake held up one hand.
“Just entering. No breaking. She gave me a key, remember?”

Gerard stared Jake down for a long moment, then finally cracked a smile.
“What is it?”

“
The pan that killed Elaine?”

“
Eileen.”

“
Whatever. Mercy’s convinced it came from her kitchen, and I’m not one to argue with her.”

Gerard laughed.
“I’ve argued with the women in your family. I don’t blame you.”

Jake tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Well, I think you might want to look in the direction of the Arms.”

Gerard eyed Jake for a long moment.
“Aren’t you in that direction?”

“
Generally, yeah. That’s why I’m coming to you, Gerard. When you’re called to testify at my trial, I want it on the record that I was completely forthcoming, just like any innocent man would be.”

Gerard rose one eyebrow.
“And this is all off the record, am I right?”

“
Well, except for the part about being shot at. I think that should stay on the record.”

Gerard eyed Jake for a while, then came to a decision and leaned forward.

“Preliminary forensic reports show that the blow was probably struck by someone who was right-handed. You’re a lefty, right?”

Jake nodded, surprised by the rush of relief that ran through him. He didn
’t seriously think they would take him in for the killing of Eileen-Elaine-whatever, but apparently some part of him had been anxious about it.

Gerard looked at h
im
. “You’re also over six feet, and based on the angle of the blow, we’re thinking it was someone about six to eight inches shorter than you. You were never a suspect, but it was fun to watch you squirm there for a while.”

Jake reached out and tapped Gerard
’s desk. “You’re a good man, Levy. Don’t let all that time you’ll be spending in hell make you think any different.”

Jake downed the last of the coffee and tossed the foam cup in the wastebasket next to Gerard
’s desk. Gerard stood up and walked around, holding out his hand.

“
Thanks for the new information. I’ll start working on that search warrant, and I’ll let you know what happens.” Jake took his hand and shook. Gerard clamped his other hand over their joined ones and stared Jake in the eye. “Officially, though,” he said, “don’t leave town.”

Jake chuckled.
“You love saying that, don’t you?”

Gerard laughed and released Jake
’s hand. “It’s the reason I took the job.”

***

“The missing money is probably a glitch in the reservations system,” Flynn said, leaning over Freya’s shoulder as they both stared at the front desk computer screen. “Tucker told me he made a reservation once and they lost twelve thousand dollars. That’s why Annabelle was the only one on the system, from what I understood. The second anyone else touched it, the bookkeeping got screwed up.”

Freya leaned back in her seat.
“Okay. Well, maybe we can start with the reservations system, then. Where is
this
Annabelle, anyway?”

Flynn took in a deep breath and stood up straight.
“I don’t know. She never showed up yesterday and hasn’t answered her phone since.”

Freya turned slowly in the chair and shot a hard look up at Flynn.
“That’s relevant information, don’t you think?”

“
I think it’s just a glitch in the system, Fray. Annabelle’s…” Flynn paused, trying to figure out how exactly to describe Annabelle. “She’s really… perky.”

“
Perky people are the most dangerous kind. Never turn your back on a perky person. You know that.” She let out a heavy sigh. “We’ll look for a glitch first, but if we don’t find a reasonable explanation by tomorrow, we’re gonna have to call in the police to investigate perky little Anna-face.”

Flynn smiled.
“Thanks.”

“
Don’t thank me. We’re still up to our elbows in crap. Even if everything’s on the up and up, it’s no wonder the place isn’t making a profit. Most of the rooms are empty, we’ve only got staff at the front desk from eight to five, Monday through Friday, which is laughable, and we’re paying everyone way too much.”

“
You can’t change that. These people do good work because they’re valued, and if you take that away—”

“
Flynn, what choice do we have?”

“
I don’t know.” Flynn sat on the desk facing her sister. “Build a website. Get the reservations system online. Fill the rooms. Get some publicity. George Washington slept here, for Christ’s sake. Eleanor Roosevelt planted the ash tree out in the courtyard. People love that stuff.” She snapped her fingers. “And—oh! When I worked at the bakery, we did catering on the side. Our chef here is amazing, that could totally take off. And we could build in other side businesses. We could…” Flynn trailed off at her sister’s expression. “What?”

Freya pushed herself up from the desk.
“You know, it’s going to take months to clear all this up, get things where they should be so we can get the full value out of the sale. And we’re heading into winter, which is a slow season for
tourism, so at best we won’t see things really pick up until next summer. I’m going to need someone in here immediately to take care of things, get this place back on track.” Flynn felt disappointment rush through her. She was being replaced. Already.