Dead Girl in a Green Dress (8 page)

She stopped on the top step and took a deep breath. "Guess I did. But all that fake concern of his just rubbed me the wrong way."

"I thought women went for those dark, suave types." Her answering snort made Tate momentarily forget about the twinge in his knee as they descended the marble stairs.

"Hope I didn’t mess up the interview," she huffed on a frustrated sigh. "But I could just tell we weren’t going to get any honest answers out of Mr. Prince."

They reached the bottom step and Tate leaned out and waved his arm to signal their cabbie. "Don’t worry, Sunshine, he might have lied through his teeth, but he told me plenty."

Wrinkling her pert little nose,
Byrony
gave him a quizzical look.
"Other than the fact that he guzzles booze at three in the afternoon, what?"

"For starters, he actually believed Jessica was killed by a mugger until I told him otherwise. He wasn’t lying when he said it was news to him."

Byrony
continued to look askance as their carriage pulled up next to them.
"If you’re sure."

"I’m sure all right." Tate confirmed, offering his hand to assist her into the buggy. "And our charming Mr. Prince also knows who killed your sister, or at least he thinks he knows."

"He what?"
Byrony
gasped and grabbed his arm. "We need to go back in there!"

As she twisted and made a lunge for the stairs, Tate braced himself and stopped her in mid-stride. "Just hold on. He’s not going to tell us anything today. We
gotta
let him stew for awhile."

While she sputtered in frustration, the cab driver leaned down and interrupted, "You ready to go back to town or not?"

Tate waved at the guy without looking up. "Trust me,
Byrony
, and get in."

Still looking rebellious, she climbed into the carriage and he followed. Their driver Ben clucked to the horse and headed the vehicle back down the circular drive and toward town.

"I can’t believe we’re just going to sit around and do nothing,"
Byrony
muttered through gritted teeth.

"Hey, I didn’t say we were doing nothing. What’s the name of that pizza place we ate at?"

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
"Island Pizzeria."

"Hey, Ben!"
Tate raised his voice, while
Byrony
shot him a sullen look. "Drop us at Island Pizzeria, will you?"

For the entire way back into town, she gave him the silent treatment. In fact, the Grand Hotel’s black horses and carriage passed them just before they reached Main Street, and
Byrony
was in such a huff that she didn’t even notice. But Tate trusted his instincts, and right now they were telling him not to discuss the case in an open vehicle in front of an unknown driver. Besides,
Byrony
actually looked pretty darn cute when she pouted.

Since it was barely 4 PM, the pizza place was pretty much deserted. But Tate was positive
Byrony
hadn’t eaten lunch, so he ordered two salads in addition to their carnivore pizza. They sat in a booth in a far corner of the room.

Byrony
ate a few bites before she nailed him with the same frost-bitten tone she’d used on Prince. "So, Chef Madison, how long do you propose we let that sleaze-ball stew?"

He tried to hide his grin at her irritation. "Patience is a virtue, Sunshine. Plus, I don’t think it’ll take that long." When she started to interrupt, he held up his hand. "The guy seemed pretty high strung to me. I figure if we continue investigating, Prince
will
either succumb to the pressure and tell us, or we’ll figure it out on our own."

Shoulders drooping, she heaved out a sigh of defeat. "Sorry, you’re right. We can’t exactly force Michael Prince to tell us what he knows."

Tate bit back the urge to say she could probably find a way to make Prince tell her whatever she wanted. But the very idea made Tate squirm with discomfort.

As if she guessed his thoughts, she banged her fork on the table. "Do
not
say it!" He raised his hands in
mock
 
surrender
while she rolled her eyes. "So what’s our next move?"

"Same as it was before we met with Mr. Prince -- the Mac City police department.
You up for that?"

She had that stubborn gleam in her pretty eyes. "I will be.
Same time tomorrow morning at the pier?"

"Nine fifteen, the first ferry to Mac City leaves after the one to St.
Ignace
." He took a couple of bites of rabbit food to hold him over for the pizza. Then, he decided to make a peace offering. "While we’re there, think I’ll put a little bug in Detective Shaffer’s ear about Mr. Prince."

Fork poised halfway to her mouth,
Byrony’s
gaze jumped to his. "Will they bring him in for questioning?"

Tate shrugged and swallowed more salad. "
Dunno
about bringing him in, but yeah, they’ll talk to him, which should heat up that stew quite nicely."

Byrony
rewarded him with a big grin, almost clapping her hands with glee. "That’s practically diabolical. I’m sorry I ever doubted you."

"Oh, ye of little faith."
Tate muttered with a wink just as the same busty woman who’d waited on them the other night arrived with their pizza.

Pushing his salad aside, he dug in. It might not be Chicago deep-dish, but it was darn tasty all the same. As for the waitress, Tate had no interest. Once upon a time, he might have been, but today she struck him as coarse and common.

More people drifted in and soon the place was abuzz with talk and laughter. As their meal progressed,
Byrony
seemed more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
 
And even more appealing.

Mentally lecturing himself didn’t help, so Tate finally decided to just sit back and enjoy an excellent meal with a pretty girl. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave, so Tate bought both of them a beer. When the place got too crowded and noisy to talk, they decided to call it a night. Outside on the sidewalk, twilight shadows lengthened and street lights flickered on.

The fudge shop next door was still open, and
Byrony
insisted they go in for a treat. Even though he was stuffed to the gills, Tate didn’t argue. After several samples, they decided on milk chocolate with walnuts. He carried out the little paper bag, but she kept sneaking her hand into it to snag another piece of candy. After the third time, he pulled the bag out of her reach.

"Careful, all that sugar will have you bouncing off the walls for the rest of the night," he teased.

"You just want to hog it all for yourself," she accused with mock severity.

Putting his hand on his chest, Tate gave her an insulted look. "You don’t think I have your best interests at heart?"

"As long as my best interests also benefit your stomach."
She tried to jump for the bag, but he held it far over her head.

"Ask me nice and you can have the rest of it."

"Oh please, Mr. Madison, sir, may I have your candy?" She burst into a fit of giggles and he found
himself
 
chuckling
too as he surrendered the bag to her.

Disappointment jabbed Tate when the gaudy B&B came into view. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed being with anyone this much. His sister Paige was always nagging him to get a social life, maybe he should listen to her. The closer they got to the house, the more his steps dragged.

He stopped at the corner of the fence and made an exaggerated face.
"Speaking of sugar overload."

"I know, I know,"
Byrony
acknowledged with a sigh. "Where are you staying anyway?"

"Over by the marina at the Harbor Inn.
It’s…
utilitarian ,
not a bit of gingerbread in sight." He suddenly lost track of what he was saying, staring into her golden eyes.

Byrony
seemed distracted too. "Oh, uh… I guess that’s a… relief." Her voice trailed off and she raked her bottom lip with her teeth.

Tate stifled a groan. Of its own accord, his hand lifted and his fingers brushed across her hair and cupped around her jaw. In the fading light, he felt rather than saw her searing gaze delve into him. The unrelenting pull of attraction drew him closer. Her candy-sweet breath feathered across his face.

"
Byrony
," he whispered, his hand moving to the back of her head as his mouth settled over hers.

She melted against him, her lips parting in invitation. Angling his mouth, Tate slowly moved his tongue over hers. She tasted of rich, sweet chocolate and something darker – sensual. Primitive urges stirred within him, and drove him to take possession. His arms tightened around her as he explored the warm recesses of her mouth with bold strokes of his tongue.

For a moment, she responded, eagerly meeting his tongue with her own.
Desire flared, hot and demanding between them.
But even as Tate felt boiling blood hardening in his groin,
Byrony
stiffened in his arms.
Turning her head, she broke the kiss with a gasp.

"This – is a – bad idea
– "
She pushed against his chest, breaking his hold. Then, with one last look raking over him, she turned and fled inside the gate.

"
Byrony
, wait!" Tate called after her, but she was already bounding up the porch steps.

As he stood there awash in guilt and frustration, he heard the screen door slam. She was gone.

Chapter 6

Through the sitting room, down the hall,
Byrony
didn’t stop running until she was inside her room far from the prying gazes of Mrs. Giroux, the other guests, and heaven only knew who else. She closed the door and leaned heavily against it, wondering what in the world had possessed her to kiss Tate Madison? And right out in the middle of the sidewalk, in front of God and everybody! She clenched her fists, and the scrapes on her palms throbbed, a fitting reminder of why she was here.

Crossing over to the window seat, she shook off her heels and sat on the cushions with her knees drawn up under her chin. She stared out into the dark garden, full of fading flowers and yellowing perennials, and went over in her mind what she had learned yesterday and today.
The idea that her sister had been murdered, but, presumably not in the spot where her body had been found was disturbing enough.
But something else nagged in the back of
Byrony’s
mind, something about her clothes, and her missing shoes. She kept coming back to those missing shoes….

On a whim, she pulled out her phone and dialed her step-mother’s number.

"
Byrony
?"
The woman had an annoying voice, squeaky like a little girl. "Is everything… did you find out…"

"Hello, Barbara."
Byrony
refused to call her Barbie even though the woman insisted on the ridiculous nickname. "I’m fine, but I’d like to ask you about Jessica’s things. The stuff she had with her on Mackinac Island, have you gone through it?"

"Y-yes."
Her step-mother’s tone sounded thick, as if she were on the verge of tears at the mere mention of Jessica’s name.
Byrony
supposed losing a child did that to a person, even one as otherwise shallow as her step-mother. The woman had wept non-stop at Jessica’s funeral, dramatic sobs and hysterical wailing. Not at all like
Byrony
or her mother would have ever behaved in public.

Shoving aside her dislike of the woman,
Byrony
asked, "Did you notice anything odd or missing?"

 
"Funny you should mention missing, because her brand new running shoes – The bright yellow ones I gave her for her birthday in June? – They weren’t with her other shoes. I called her dorm-mate, Roxanne, thinking maybe they got mixed up, but she said Jessica was wearing them the day she left." Her step-mother gave a theatrical gasp.
"Oh my God,
Byrony
!
Could the person who stole her purse have stolen her shoes too? That is sick and perverted!"

"I don’t know what it means, Barbara."
Byrony
kept her tone carefully neutral, as she always had with her step-mother these past dozen years. "Was anything else gone, that you could tell?"

"I don’t think so… I just don’t know." The woman’s voice broke and she sounded like a blubbering ten year old. "Your father and I are just destroyed over this,
Byrony
, and I can’t tell you how much it means to us… What you’re doing." She gave
an
hysterical little burst of laughter. "Your father says you can find a gnat’s eyelash on an accounting spreadsheet, so if anyone can figure this out, you can."

Her step-mother had always tried to win her over with insincere compliments, so
Byrony
brushed this one aside like she usually did. "Unfortunately, this is nothing like accounting. However, the private investigator I’m working with seems… very competent."
And sexy as
hell
,
reminded an evil little voice in the back of her mind.

While her step-mother sniveled out more gratitude,
Byrony’s
fingers inadvertently brushed her lips. Distracted, she ended the call, but a minute later the phone rang again. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Barbara calling back.