Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs) (15 page)
Read Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs) Online
Authors: Zoe Dawson
“Oh,
phew
, thanks for clarifying that.”
“Brooke.”
“Truth of the matter is you don’t know for sure.”
“You made a cynic into an optimist. You can do anything.”
She laughed, the throaty sound it of settled over him like soft falling snow.
An hour later the limo pulled to a stop. The chauffeur handed Brooke the keys to Harper’s gorgeous Hampton estate.
“Ms. Sinclair apologizes there is no wait staff, but the house is fully stocked with food and other items you’ll need. You’re welcome to enjoy your stay. I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and returned to the car.
“We’re stranded in the Hamptons. What’s to stop the press from checking out this house? They know who your friends are.”
“This house is listed under her mother’s maiden name. It’ll be difficult for them to find it.”
Entering the house, the main foyer opened into a living room with a fireplace and a large dining room with steps down to the family room, also with a fireplace and providing a spectacular view of the indoor pool and grounds. To the left was a modern and spacious chef's kitchen. When Brooke opened the gleaming stainless steel door, they found a stocked fridge. “Oooh, lobster and mussels. I’m in heaven. I know exactly what I’ll make.” Brooke started pulling out ingredients—cream, parmesan cheese, garlic, and butter.
“My mouth is watering. I’m going exploring. Unless you need help.”
“Shoo, I’ve got this.”
He should tell Brooke what happened today, but he didn’t want to spoil her mood. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
He checked out the upstairs and found the master suite with vaulted ceilings, wood-burning fireplace, and a palatial bathroom with a huge shower. The closet was full of men’s and women’s clothing, and he had no trouble finding his size. He changed out of his suit, eager to get the expensive threads off his body.
Back downstairs, he could smell delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he found Brooke stirring a pot on the stove.
“Why don’t you set the table? This will be ready very soon.”
He gathered up the necessary items and took them into a small alcove that had a view of the pool and back yard. He bet during the day the view stretched all the way to the ocean.
He found candles and lit them and went back in the kitchen to find her straining the pasta. She was a dream in the kitchen, and the memory of his mother came back to him like it was yesterday. Her laughing face and dark eyes. His father was often curled around his wife. His parents had been in love, deeply so.
He came up behind her, watching as she expertly mixed the Alfredo. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she finished the meal. For a moment, he was in heaven, thinking that with a woman like Brooke, every day would be filled with bliss.
She leaned back into him briefly, then said, “Let’s eat it while it’s hot.
#
Even though it was so easy and comfortable to be with Drew, what kind of future, if any would they have? He’d disappeared for a week without any communication, then he showed up out of the blue with that amazing kiss at her front door. If she hadn’t been caught up in The Great Hot Diggity Dogs Caper, she might have demanded an answer then.
She debated getting him to talk now, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. Her trial was about to start, and she wanted this night with him. Besides, she promised him she would wait until he was ready.
With the first bite of his meal, his head came up. “Damn, Brooke.”
“Thanks.”
“How did you and your friends meet? My guess is you don’t hang around clubs, so how did you run into someone like Harper?”
“No, I don’t frequent clubs. You’re right, there.
“I met Callie first. She frequents the dog park where I take Roscoe. We usually meet on Saturday mornings, but have had to nix that because of the press. It was her Great Dane Jack who caught my attention. He’s this huge, black and white gentle giant. He was meticulously behaved. I commented on it. Callie is a dog trainer and, of course, I run the grooming business so we had a lot to talk about. Poe showed up one day with The Terrible Two.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is. Jack Russell terriers. They, on the other hand, weren’t well-behaved. Far from it. They were running rings around Jack and causing mayhem. Callie offered to train them. She made some good progress with them, but even great training can’t school the mischief out of them. I guess we really wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Finishing up their meal. Drew said, “And Harper?” They picked up their wine glasses and Brooke settled onto the comfortable couch while Drew started a fire.
“She was last, but certainly not least. Our jaws dropped when she walked into the park. Blue, her standard poodle was decked out in her show cut and I recognized her from TV. She’d just competed the previous weekend and took best in show at Westminster. The dog has won over 101
Best in Shows
and was the top winning Standard three years in a row at Westminster. Blue’s been featured in
Poodle Variety
and other national reviews. Harper belongs to a number of clubs and judges when she can. Oh, my God, that dog is magnificent. I had to go over that day and tell her. I thought she’d give me this snooty look and prance off with her poodle. But she wasn’t snooty and she didn’t prance off. When she let Blue off her leash, I knew then she was just like the rest of us.”
The fire was warm, and snuggling into Drew’s arms felt so good.
After a moment, she said, “I should get this mess cleaned up.”
“Nope. You cooked. I’ll clean.”
“Well, I would love a shower.”
“Have at it.”
She climbed the stairs and marveled at the opulent bedroom and all the amenities in the bathroom. Once in the shower she sighed at the hot water and all those lovely jets massaging at her tired body every which way. Fifteen minutes later, her hair was dry and her body pampered from the hot water and fragrant cream.
When she walked out of the bathroom, Drew was just closing the door to a roaring fire.
He came to her and shifted her towards the bed and quietly loosened the towel from around her body. “Refreshed or tired?”
“Refreshed,” she said breathlessly. She stepped out of the pool of the towel. It seemed like three lifetimes ago that he’d been at the door when she’d opened it.
Her thoughts drifted there and clung to those moments like a lifeline, helping her block out reality and spend some time in another place. A place where people weren’t violating her privacy with questions and cameras, where she wasn’t facing a trial that could put her behind bars for a long, long time. Or a woman who, had been vibrantly alive, was now stone cold dead.
She tugged his shirt loose and lifted it over his head. He raised his arms, accommodating her, and soon she had his bare chest at her disposal. To do with what she wanted.
And, beyond the bone-deep fatigue, beyond the sheer terror and almost debilitating fear…there was a wealth of desire.
In some recess of her mind, she wondered if this was what they meant by life-threatening situations acting like some kind of sudden aphrodisiac. Her rapid, voracious hunger for him was limited only by her lack of available energy. So she took it slow. Sweetly, deliciously slow.
He’d tasted her, taunted her, teased her, on several occasions. Now it was her turn.
Her entire world narrowed down to the smooth expanse of honeyed skin wrapped oh-so-tautly across his chest. She dipped her head and drew her tongue slowly from his collarbone down the valley between his pecs, and then teased her way over to his nipple.
He drew in a sharp breath when she flicked her tongue across the sensitive tip. His hands came up to her hair, which he slowly sent his fingers through.
“Brooke,” he said, his voice barely more than a rough whisper.
“Drew,” she said, running her thumb over his mouth.
He cupped her head and slowly drew her mouth up to his, his eyes on hers as their lips met.
She accepted his kiss, letting her eyes drift shut as sensation after sensation poured through her. He slowly lowered them both to the bed, where he rolled her beneath him, and continued his sweet seduction. Pure and honest.
They took turns slowly exploring each other, delighting in discovering what made them gasp, what made them moan. It was a slow but complete capitulation, where nothing was held back, nothing was hidden.
When she finally rolled to her back, taking his weight fully on top of her, it was as if she’d reached a golden point, a place she’d been trying to get to for a long, long time but could never quite find. That place where life suddenly became more complete and took on even greater meaning.
Without a word, they locked gazes and he slowly pushed into her, not stopping until she’d taken him fully inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him there, taking a moment to wallow, to revel a bit, in the supreme pleasure and contentment of being joined to that person who was meant to be hers.
And, in that moment, despite all the fears, all the work yet to be done, and the very precarious future that lay ahead, one thing she was certain. Drew was going to mean a lot to her for the rest of her life.
She moved first, pressing her hips up into his, then wrapping her legs around him. He began to move inside of her, so deep, filling her perfectly. It wasn’t wild, it wasn’t frenzied, it was simply powerful and necessary. He slid one arm beneath the small of her back and lifted her hips even higher so he could sink into her even more deeply. Their gazes caught, held, and their thrusts came faster, deeper. She watched him climb, watched as his need for her strengthened, felt his muscles gather and bunch as he drew ever closer. She tightened around him, needing to know she could take him to that place, give him that sweet bliss that he so effortlessly gave her, and found herself shuddering, too, in intense satisfaction as he growled through a pulsing release.
He kissed her, pressed another kiss to her temple, then dropped another one just below her ear, before rolling to his back, pulling her with him, and settling her alongside him.
Her body fell into place as effortlessly as she’d fallen for him. She didn’t question it. Her eyes were already drifting shut as she shifted enough to press a soft kiss over his heart before tucking her arm across his body. Then she draped her leg across his, wanting him to feel as taken care of as he made her feel.
One thing she learned from all this was that it was okay to take. It made giving all that much sweeter.
The last day of her trial dawned with bright sunshine and she took that as a good sign. She dressed in a conservative navy blue dress with big polka dots, a stylish pair of navy spectator heels. She needed the boost. She ripped the plastic off of a deep blue vintage coat that she only wore on special occasions. It was embroidered with gorgeous fleur-de-lis in white.
She wasn’t sure after this week whether or not she’d get to wear the coat in the near future. Running her hand over the fabric, a heavy satin, she vowed to wear the coat in the future with everything and anything, even jeans.
Her phone chimed and Harper let her know they were outside. All her friends would be there today to lend her moral support. She was grateful for that. She took that moment to call Pawlish. Julia answered.
“This is it, then?”
“Yes. I wanted you to know how much you all mean to me. I’m so thankful that we had the chance to work together.”
“You’re going to beat this.”
“Doesn’t matter if I don’t. I wanted you to know. Tell the others, would you, if…”
“You can tell them yourself. When you beat this.”
Brooke chuckled. “Take care, Julia.”
It was clear from the numbers she’d received from her accountant that her business was in trouble. The publicity with Kristen and her psychic, the murder indictment, and the trial had almost destroyed what she had built. The expansion was at a standstill, and her business as well as her future were uncertain.
Kristen had achieved what she’d set out to do. She had ruined her. It would take years to rebuild the trust and clientele she had lost. But her heart was heavy. Kristen was dead and Brooke couldn’t be happy about that.
The past and present wove together in her mind like vines, twisting, clinging vines. She had started Pawlish mostly to spite her parents. They hadn’t been supportive. They had expected her to fail. When she hadn’t, they said it was beginner’s luck. Now she was failing, but in the end she couldn’t regret any of her actions. She’d do everything possible to find a way to salvage Pawlish, and if she couldn’t, she would help her loyal employees find new positions.
For a moment the pressure, the fear, the looming dread, all pressed in on her. She fought the urge to sink down the wall and sob. The tears choked her.
“Oh, God,” she breathed softly as despair cracked through her armor and the tears squeezed past the tightly closed barriers of her eyelids.
Her hands balled into fists as she straightened her spine, a soft sob escaping for only a moment, releasing a small measure of the inner tension. She swallowed back the tears that lingered. She pushed away from the wall and put on her coat, buttoning the buttons. Wrapping a soft white scarf around her neck, she turned towards the door, swiping away the telltale tears with a flick of her wrist.
In the wake of the tiny breakdown flowed calm. Her tight muscles relaxed as it shimmered through her. Her heartbeat slowed to a steady, even beat.
Squatting down, she ran her hands over Roscoe’s face. His velvet muzzle. He leaned into her hands and offered her a comforting sound deep in his chest. She buried her face in his fur. “I love you, boy. I’ll be back later and I’ll give you one of my new experiments: doggie treat pizza.”
He licked her face and she rubbed his ears. Finally, she grabbed up her navy leather gloves and exited her apartment.
Wading through the reporters was as unpleasant as usual. She gave them her now trademark “no comment.”
When Harper’s chauffeur exited the car, the reporters scattered like brightly colored leaves.
Brooke laughed, the sound bubbling out of her.
At the courthouse, she had to run the gauntlet of reporters on the steps. But as she neared the top, her friends buffering her against the many questions and noise, she saw Drew.
Dressed as impeccably as ever, he was like a beacon. She flowed towards him through a sea of people. All the noise ceased, the fear that had been fluttering in her stomach like butterflies subsided, and the cold air couldn’t penetrate the warmth of her skin.
He smiled at her, and when she reached him, he tucked her arm through his.
There was considerable activity in the hall. Court was in session, but in addition to the usual group of attorneys and clerks and stenographers, there were more reporters searching like rats for any tasty morsel on the latest Hampton murder. Her stomach tightened, and the hair on the back of her neck rose as eyes turned her way—eyes that brightened with savage anticipation at the sight of her walking arm in arm with one of the attorneys previously employed by the husband of the murder victim. Just as before, they honed in, scrambling to switch on tape recorders, jostling each other for the best vantage point. They came forward in a rush, sound bursting out of them like a too-loud radio caught between stations.
“Ms. Palmer!”
“Mr. Hudson!”
“—is there any connection—?”
“—think the trial will go now—?”
Drew protected her from the force of the media storm, and she leaned into him.
Adam strode down the hall and grabbed her free arm. “The DA wants to talk to you.”
“What, now? We’re on the last day.”
“That’s all I know right now.” He turned to her friends who were bringing up the rear and said, “Why don’t you all head to the gallery? We’ll be there shortly.”
Drew growled. “I’m staying.” He tightened his arm in hers, and Brooke nodded at Adam when he gave her a questioning look.
Adam escorted her further down the hall, calm as the sunny day outside. “No comment. We have no comment to make at this time. Ms. Palmer has no comment.”
He guided her and her entourage to the DA’s outer office, and while he dealt the press a final, definitive “no comment” at the door, she made a beeline past the inquisitive gaze of the DA’s secretary and went into the quiet of his inner sanctum.
The details of the office penetrated only peripherally—magenta walls, with touches of purple, red accents, heavy brass lamps, dark red leather chairs, the smell of furniture polish and woodsy tobacco, a place for everything and everything in its place. The shades were drawn, giving the room the feeling of twilight. The mood of the room may have soothed her, but she was too caught up in the churning memories and emotions of the moment.
They entered a small conference room and settled around the table. Soon John Hargrove, the DA for Suffolk County, came in with the ADA prosecuting the case. He wore a dark grey suit and red tie, his salt and pepper hair cut close to his head and combed neatly away from his face. The ADA, Ellen Sanborn was an attractive blond woman wearing a navy pinstripe suit.
“Ms. Palmer,” he said, nodding. “We’d like to offer you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“We are willing to drop the first degree murder charge down to manslaughter with fifteen years and a chance at parole in five.”
“Fifteen years?” Brooke’s stomach knotted up like a pretzel. “For a crime I didn’t commit?”
“That is what we are offering at this time. We’ll give you time to consult—”
“I don’t need time to consult with my attorney!”
“Brooke,” Adam said.
Brooke stood. “I am innocent. I didn’t kill Kristen. I don’t care if you don’t believe me or whether anyone else believes me. I know it’s true. I won’t admit guilt to a crime I didn’t commit. I’m on the verge of losing my freedom, my business, and being torn from the people I love.”
“Very well,” he said, glancing at Ellen. “Proceed.”
They faced the frenzied reporter chaos once again, Brooke shaking inside. She might have just sealed her fate. With that offer she would have maybe gotten out in five years. But her reputation would be tarnished, and she’d forever be a murderer who confessed.
In the gallery there was standing room only. Drew settled in right behind the defendant’s table next to her three friends, and Callie’s father and mother, Rachel, her receptionist, the guys from Hot Diggity Dogs, and the manager of the homeless shelter. He had been a character witness for her. She was so touched so many of her friends were there to support her.
She dropped into the chair, not sure that her legs could hold her up anymore.
Drew was a strong, bolstering presence behind her. She could face anything knowing he was there.
The jurors filed in and seated themselves in a flurry. The Honorable Michael Strand came out, banged his gavel, stating in a firm voice. “This court is now in session.”
She let out a shuddering breath and tried to let go of the tension in her shoulders.
Adam stood. It was time to complete the defense. “I call Brooke Palmer to the stand.”
She stood as a deep, sure calm settled over her. This was her moment to state to the world her innocence. She would answer all questions to the best of her ability, and that would be it. The trial would end.
Once she had taken the oath and was seated on the stand, Adam approached. They had talked about how to handle this question and her subsequent answer. He told her to stay calm and answer directly, but when he said, “Brooke Palmer, did you kill Kristen Wright-Davis?” she froze for a moment.
Then she pressed on, shooting blind, fighting on instinct and engaging her heart. She’d never been good at keeping her heart out of a fight, anyway. It tumbled into the fray now, tender and brimming with new emotion.
She pressed her lips together hard to keep them from trembling. Then spoke. “No. I did not kill her. I went to her house that day to reason with her. Many of you believe that it was about cold-hearted cash flow, about business. It wasn’t.” Emotion welled when she saw Rachel’s sympathetic look. She swallowed down a knot of tears and struggled to snatch a breath that didn’t rattle and catch in her throat. “It was about someone. Someone in my employ who has been nothing but loyal, kind, giving, and skillful. The only person who was willing to take on Kristen’s toy poodle, Mimi, a dog who was manners-challenged.”
Several of the jurors chuckled.
She met Drew’s eyes and his steady look grounded her. She tugged her composure tight around her. Damned if she’d cry. “But I have never turned a customer away. I reasoned with Kristen when I visited her the day she died. We came to an agreement, and I left. What happened to her, I have no clue, but I did not push her down those stairs.”
With all the dignity she could muster, she rose and left the stand.
#
Harper had offered her home in the Hamptons for Brooke and her friends to wait for the final verdict.
They now took refreshment in the living room. Brooke felt almost frozen inside. Rachel approached her and hugged her hard.
“I’m so sorry this has happened. You should have just fired me.”
“We both know that wasn’t going to happen.”
Rachel nodded. Adam came over and slipped his arm around Rachael. When he looked at her, she returned the glance with affection.
Brooke smiled. “Well, something good came out of this. Congratulations.” Adam smiled and they walked off hand in hand.
A warm hand settled over hers and she looked up into Drew’s kind green eyes. She thawed, her heart beating against the wall of her chest with little fluttering thumps. It was true what she had said to Poe. She loved him, but the words were stuck in her throat. She couldn’t say them; her future wasn’t her own.
“Come with me,” he said softly. She slipped her hand in his and followed him into the study. Harper was there, and when he closed the door, she saw that Callie and Poe were seated on the tufted leather sofa.
“What is this?”
Harper looked every inch the very rich woman she was sitting behind that desk. She reclined back into the high-backed leather chair. “I spoke to Drew. He doesn’t think you’ll do it, but I’m going to offer anyway.”
“Offer what?” She glanced at Drew, then back at Harper. “You’ve already done so much.”
“I have a vast fortune, and I’ve never been so happy to have that as I do right this moment,” her voice clogged with tears.
Brooke had never seen Harper cry. Floored, she asked, “What are you saying?”
“I can get you out of the country. Right now.” The sound of a helicopter touching down outside made her jerk her eyes to the window. This was certainly surreal.
For a moment, Brooke couldn’t speak as she looked at Harper. She stared into her deep blue eyes and her throat tightened, her eyes filled. Harper came around the desk.
She ran across the room and wrapped her arms around Harper. The tears she had so ruthlessly squashed in the courtroom flooded her eyes, hot and salty. “I don’t even know what to say. What about my business? What about my Roscoe? Drew?”
“You would have to leave Roscoe. There isn’t enough time, and he’s just too old to travel. I’ll take over your business. At least you’ll have a means of support. Drew would have to make up his own mind.”
“She’s not going anywhere without me.” The confidence in his eyes made her feel like the most cherished woman in the world
Poe and Callie, tears streaming down their faces, joined them. Their arms encompassing her, too.
“Say yes. I can’t bear to think of you locked up. It would kill me…us by degrees every day. You’re such a gentle, beautiful person whom I love like a sister. I have never been so grateful to Blue for just being a dog, so that I ended up in the dog park that day,” Harper said.