Mint Juleps and Justice (22 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

G
oto had ducked low in the seat of the blue Pontiac as Mike’s truck passed by.

He had to be a lot more careful now that his cover had been blown. When he’d stopped in to see Wheelie and he told him that there’d been a write-up in the paper about him being paroled, Goto’s heart had fallen. They’d been so careful. If the victims’ families realized that alert hadn’t gone out, they could trace it back to Wheelie’s second cousin. She’d been in that job long enough that no one even took a second look at her work. But now…if they started getting nosy…that could cause a string of problems. His wasn’t the only file that had pointed victim contacts to members of Wheelie’s friends and family.

After all they’d done to be sure the alert didn’t go out, he hadn’t moved fast enough. It could ruin everything. But he and Wheelie made a plan, and now he had to be careful, but that would all change soon. Very soon.

Goto peered over the edge of the window. Mike didn’t pull into her driveway; instead he drove to the end of the street and then turned around. When Hartman’s truck rumbled by, he figured the coast was clear.

He hadn’t considered the lady of the house might be staring right at him when he slid back up in the driver’s seat.

He had to be careful. This was no time to get lazy. There was already so much invested in this plan. He had the location and everything figured out. He couldn’t blow it now.

Goto gathered his composure, and rolled toward the next house on the block. He leaned low across the passenger seat and put a pizza flyer on the mailbox. He stayed low in the seat for a two-count, and then lifted just as slowly as before. It would look like this was exactly what he had been doing when he popped up before her eyes earlier. He idled to the next mailbox and did the same. The perfect cover.

Who woulda thought the flyers would come in so handy? The huge stack would allow him to continue the charade as long as necessary. He’d never had any intention of really distributing them. He’d been collecting an extra thirty bucks a week for it, even though he’d been dumping them in the trash. Being employed was a condition of his parole, so he was willing to be flexible and volunteer for just about anything to keep the shitty job. The last thing he wanted was to end up with one of those tracking devices around his ankle or in a group residence under watchful eyes. Either would blow the plans he’d so carefully made.

The lame job had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Goto continued tucking flyers in mailboxes all the way down the street in case she was still watching him from a window. When he got to the back of the neighborhood he pulled into the playground. He didn’t want to risk passing her house again until she was asleep. It would do no good to have her on the lookout for him.

He stretched across the front seat and flipped open the spiral tablet to the list of lottery numbers, pulled a calculator out of his shirt pocket, and did some calculations, trying to come up with the winning numbers. Algorithms covered the side of the page, representing the trend of the last dozen winning series. He sucked on the end of the pencil and then jotted down his predictions for later. He shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money and slapped it on the dash. Nine bucks and some change, and he still needed gas.

There could be money still in her fancy-schmancy-ass car. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. Hell, he was already in the neighborhood.

The streetlights had come on a long while ago. He flicked his lighter to see the digital numbers on the stick-on clock. Almost 10:50 p.m. She’d be fast asleep.

Goto drove slowly toward Brooke’s house and parked a few doors down. He stepped out of the car and clicked the door shut. No dogs barked. The coast was clear. He made his way closer to her car, pausing near the bushes along the sidewalk to reevaluate the situation. Still quiet. He walked toward the car and pulled on the handle. It opened easily. He pressed the button on the
inside jamb to dim the inside lights.

He spotted the coins and a crumpled bill in the console. “Jackpot!” He quickly scooped most of the change and the bill into his pocket. You’d think she’d have learned after he’d stolen the money last time.

He shut the door and ran back to his car, then got the hell out of there.

Adrenaline was a familiar friend. He hooted and spanked the steering wheel. He hadn’t lost his knack at all.

He drove up the street to the nearest convenience store. Sitting in his car under the bright lights, he pulled out the contents of his pocket to see how much more than nine dollars he had now.

He smoothed out the bill he’d heisted from the console. “Hot damn. A five.” He slapped the steering wheel. “I knew my luck was changing.” Then he counted out the change. There was a lot of change. Mostly quarters. “Three dollars and ten, twenty, thirty, thirty-five, sixty, and eighty-five cents.” He smiled wide. “Eight eighty-five. Not bad for a minute’s work.”

He walked into the store and bought his lottery ticket, and prepaid for ten dollars in gas. Goto licked his lips.

He looked up, surveying his surroundings. Mike Hartman passed by in his truck. Goto turned the key, but the car didn’t start. It just cranked. “Don’t conk out on me now, you piece-of-crap car.” He tried again, and on the third crank it finally caught and fired up.

Goto pulled onto the road and sped up to catch Mike. He followed him for a good mile and a half. He wondered where he was headed. They stopped at a light just out of town.

He messed with the radio station, waiting for the light to turn, when a loud rap scared the living daylights out of him.

Mike Hartman stood there, a Maglite
in his hand resting on the window jamb. He could just as easily slam him in the head. He moved toward the passenger seat. Shit. He’d gotten sloppy.

Mike leaned into the car, and took Goto by the collar. “I’m telling you this once. Don’t give me a reason to kill you. All that it’ll take is for me to see you in this town again.” He shoved Goto back against the console. “And if you’re going to tail someone, do a better job of it.”

Goto sat there wondering why the guy hadn’t killed him right then and there.

Mike slammed the truck door and peeled rubber through the red light.

The light turned, but Goto still felt a little green in the gills after the confrontation. Wheelie would kick his ass for making such a stupid mistake. He headed back to Wheelie’s garage. He’d have to get him to expedite things. It was his only chance to save the plan.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

R
ick had proven to be the best assistant party coordinator Brooke could have asked for. Still feeling like she’d been destroyed by the bomb Mike had dropped on her last night, Brooke sat at her desk checking off tasks on the
Hillcrest Joyful Kixx party plan. Jenny had called last night to let her know that she’d bought the perfect hat as a gift for her. If that hat Jenny had picked out for herself was any indication, Brooke feared it couldn’t be good. But then again, right now nothing felt like it would turn out well.

Satisfied that they’d be on time, with less than a week to go, she printed out a fresh copy of the remaining tasks and e-mailed Rick an updated copy. Brooke topped off her cup of coffee and pulled up the online newspaper before getting down to the day’s appointments.

“GOTO HELL Murderer Found Dead” was the headline that met her eyes. Her hand shook as she scrolled down the computer screen to the story below.

Adams Grove, Va. – A 39-year-old man died Wednesday night in a fire at Sergio’s Pizza in Adams Grove, according to the Holland County coroner.

It took firefighters more than four hours to control the blaze at the popular restaurant. Sergio’s Pizza went up in smoke just after closing Wednesday evening. A passerby called 911 when they saw flames in the back of the shop.

The Holland County fire chief said the fire started in one of the restaurant’s wood-fired brick pizza ovens, and it appeared the victim was trying to put out the fire when he collapsed.

Firefighters had a tough time containing the fire in the old structure, but nearby buildings escaped damage.

The victim was pronounced dead at the scene, and later identified as Franklin Daniel Gotorow.

Gotorow was convicted of first-degree murder eight years ago for the death of Jackie Hartman, a 23-year-old student, in the GOTO HELL murder, and sentenced to twenty years in jail.

According to parole board records, Gotorow first appeared before the board five years ago, but was denied parole. He went back before the board in January of this year, and was released two months later. The owner said that Gotorow had been a dependable worker and pitched in often before and after hours
.

Officials said the fire does not appear to be suspicious.

Brooke took a big sip of coffee to wash down the bad taste in her mouth. She’d always been one to believe once someone served their time, you had to clean the slate. Funny how that seemed so unjust when you knew the parties affected by the hideous deed.

He might not have killed Mike, but he sure had killed what could have been a good relationship between her and Mike. In a way she felt kind of glad that Goto was dead, but that somehow made her feel bad at the same time.

The phone rang, taking her mind off the sad chain of events. It was Rick. He’d just read the article too.

“I understand,” she said. He wanted to reschedule their plans for the next day. “Have you contacted Mike?”

“I just texted him. Can you believe the guy was working practically right in our backyards? No one even recognized him.”

“Anything I can do?”

“No. Kind of ironic that he died in a fire with the whole hell thing he had going. We all know that’s where he’ll be rotting too.”

“It is. How are you feeling about all of it?”

Rick let out a sigh. “At first I was thrilled. Then I started second-guessing that it could be true. Mike had the same reaction. Hell, he even went down to the coroner’s office to see the body.”

“I’m sure it’s not unusual to feel that way, Rick. What y’all have been through because of that man is just unthinkable.”

“Well, he’s gone now. There was no mistaking it. Right down to the perfect teeth and tattoo on his arm…it was him. He won’t ever bother anyone again.”

“When you talk to Mike, let him know I asked about him. I know this is a lot to deal with.”

“I will,” he promised.

Brooke hung up the phone feeling sad for Rick and worried about Mike. She dialed his number. “Please answer,” she said, but it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t bother to leave a message.

The party was this weekend and Mike had already gotten word back to Rick via text that he’d be there. Funny how guys could just text “I’ll be there” and call it a day. She and Jenny were talking hours each day.

When Brooke walked out of her office there was a box in the waiting area.

“That’s for you,” Victoria said.

“Last time you said that we had flowers on parade.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that. I still think it’s about the most romantic thing a guy has ever done.”

“Even if he did have to screw up to initiate the plan.” Brooke looked at the return address on the box. “This must be the hat from Jenny.”

“For Saturday?”

“I know. Cutting it close, aren’t we?”

“You got that right. I’ve already got my hat. My sister and I made them. They’re so cute. I haven’t had that much fun with flowers and tulle since I got married.”

“Well, brace yourself. With Jenny you never know what to expect.” Brooke tugged on the tape. “It better be cute.”

“Well, open it,” Victoria said, handing her a pair of scissors.

Brooke lunged for the scissors and opened the box. “She’d better not have me wearing orange. I’ll kill her.”

“You’d look pretty no matter what she sent.”

“You have to say that. I’m your boss.”

“True,” Victoria laughed.

Brooke peeled back layers of lavender tissue paper to find the hat. “It’s beautiful.” She ran her fingers across delicate beading across the edge of the magenta brim, then lifted it atop her head. “What do you think?”

“I think Jenny may get upstaged. That’s gorgeous. I wonder if it’s vintage,” she said, fingering the soft fabric.

“Probably.” Brooke struck a pose. “They might be able to spot me from the NASA space station in this thing, but I have to admit, I like it.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

T
wo days later, Derby Day to be exact, Brooke answered the door to Jenny standing there in jeans and a T-shirt. “Not quite the theme party attire I had in mind,” Brooke said, then threw her arms around her best friend. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

“Me too! I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“How are you feeling? You look wonderful. Positively glowing.”

Jenny laughed. “Puking your guts out each morning will do that. Mornings are rough, but I’m getting used to it. Small price to pay for something so amazing.”

“I hear ya.” Brooke gave Jenny’s outfit the once-over. “Please tell me you don’t think you’re wearing that.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I have the perfect outfit in the right colors in my car. I’m going to change as soon as we get to Rick’s house. Want to ride with me?”

“No. I’ll follow you. I have a feeling you’re going to want to stick around long after the party tonight.”

Jenny raised her brow. “You’re probably right. I missed Rick so much. We talked every single day, but I couldn’t wait to get back to him. I feel like a teenager. Do you think I’m totally nuts?”

“No. I don’t.” Brooke was dying to tell Jenny what she knew—that today wasn’t just Derby Day and the announcement that the two of them had partnered on an investment in one of the Hillcrest horses. Rick was planning that second little surprise announcement—asking Jenny to marry him. It made Brooke a little nervous that things were moving so fast with them, but really there’d not been even one red flag, so all she could do was pray that it was right and the sooner the better in Jenny’s situation anyway.

T
hey both drove over to Rick’s. Everything was already in place. The old barn had been transformed into a miniature Kentucky Derby. Tall banners with the pattern from the silks that Hillcrest Joyful Kixx’s jockey would wear in today’s race brightened everything right down to the purple shimmery sand she’d had tinted and sprinkled throughout to match the silks. With a little money and innovation, any place could look wonderful. This party-planner gig had turned out to be a lot of fun. Spending other people’s money had a certain appeal too.

They’d borrowed long tables from the local Ruritan Club and covered them in black tablecloths. The centerpieces were made of roses, the flower of the Derby. She hadn’t been able to resist having Teddy Hardy create miniature garlands of roses like the winner gets as a good-luck charm at each table setting.

The big screen that Rick had gotten wasn’t just a big screen, it was a trailer that held a movie-size screen. Those horses would be large and in charge as they raced across the finish line.

They’d been lucky it had turned out to be such a nice day. Early May was always unpredictable in southern Virginia. It could have been sweater weather, but instead they’d been graced with a perfect sunny day.

The caterer had already set up and Teddy from Floral and Hardy was fussing with the lavish arrangements on the tables.

“I can’t believe there isn’t anything left for us to do,” Jenny said.

“Rick was a great helper, and his open wallet made it nice. We were able to get everything prepared ahead of time and the professionals are putting the last-minute touches in place. All we have to do is grip and grin and hopefully win.”

“You’re the best friend. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

“It was my pleasure. All of it, and I really loved getting to know Rick. I can see why you are so taken by him.” And Brooke meant it. She couldn’t wait to see Jenny’s face when Rick surprised her with the engagement ring later. If that horse ran a winning race it would be one heckuva trifecta for those two.

Brooke and Jenny parked on either side of Rick’s truck, and as soon as he spotted them, Rick whisked Jenny right off her feet.

Brooke took a step back, feeling a little in the way.

Rick finally put her down. “Brooke and I have become like brother and sister over the past couple of weeks working on all of this together.”

“So I heard,” Jenny said.

Rick snuck a knowing look over toward Brooke. “Yep. It’s going to be a great party. I can’t wait to share all of our news.”

“Me too,” Jenny said as she reached up and kissed Rick.

“I have to get outside and help finish all the hookups for the race.” Rick left by way of the back door and Jenny and Brooke went upstairs so Jenny could get dressed.

Jenny started unpacking her outfit and dressing. “What’s the latest with you and Mike?”

“Still off.”

“What did you do?” Jenny glared at her. “Tell me you didn’t chase him off.”

“It wasn’t me. I tried to save it this time. He freaked out over Goto being out of jail and said he wouldn’t put me in danger.” Brooke looked away. “Now the guy is dead, but I haven’t heard a word from Mike. I don’t know. It’s just not meant to be.”

A flash of bright red caught her eye as a bird perched on the limb of the blooming crepe myrtle. “Cardinal, good luck. Where were you when I needed you? Maybe cardinals aren’t good luck anymore.”

“Or maybe they are,” Jenny said. “I want this to be a perfect day. For both of us. Oh, dear.” Jenny’s voice was serious. “Look who’s coming up the walk.”

“Who?” Brooke ran to the window.

Jenny smiled to Brooke with a look of satisfaction. “I bet Mike’s coming up to apologize. That Goto creep is dead. No reason to mess up a good thing now. And you’d better accept that apology, or he’ll have to keep you out of danger from me.”

“It’s too late. It’s not going to work. He’s batted my emotions around so much over the past few weeks. I just can’t deal with it.”

“But you love him.”

Brooke leveled a stare at Jenny. “I do. I love him. In a more powerful way than I’ve ever felt love before, but it’s not right.”

“Sometimes you are so bullheaded,” Jenny said. “Wait here. I left my hat in the car. I’m going to go get it.”

Brooke waited until Jenny closed the door, then walked over to the window to look for Mike. She didn’t see his truck or him. He was probably headed down to the barn.
Thank goodness; maybe he won’t stay.

M
ike climbed the stairs to the master bedroom at Rick’s. First the whole Goto thing. Now this. What more could happen? Jenny had said Brooke was up there getting ready.

He hesitated for a moment before twisting the knob and going in. She was standing near the window. The wide brim of her bright-pink hat hung low on her shoulders, but her hair fell longer. He knew the texture of her hair, the curve of that hip.

“You look pretty,” he said from right behind her.

Brooke spun around. Her eyes met Mike’s and her heart dropped an inch. “Hi. I—I didn’t hear you come in.” She stepped back, putting some space between them. “I’ve never seen you dressed up. You look—” She shook her head, searching for the right word. “You look so handsome.”

He stepped forward. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. It wasn’t fair.”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way. I know that I’ve really messed up with all the back and forth with you, but if anything had happened—” He closed his eyes, and shook his head. When he opened his eyes he looked straight into Brooke’s. “How could I have lived knowing that it was my fault?”

She reached for his hand. “Goto’s dead. He can’t hurt me or you again.” A single tear slid down her cheek.

“It’s hard to believe it.” He took her into his arms and held her. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” The warmth he felt with her in his arms was right. He pulled back and took a small flat box from his jacket pocket. “I have something for you.” He handed her the slim box.

“For me?” The silver-wrapped box had a single slip of purple ribbon wrapped around it. “Should I open it now?” she asked, just barely over a whisper.

“Please do.” He nodded, urging her to open it. “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I wanted you to have this.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Her voice shook. What a stupid thing to say. She didn’t have him.

“Yeah, you do.” Mike shifted his weight to the other leg and took in a deep breath. “Open it.”

Brooke removed the delicate silver paper and opened the box. Her hand flew to her chest, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Mike…” the words trailed as she took in the beauty of the gift. She lifted the delicate antique white- and yellow-gold jeweled hair comb from the box. “Mike, you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted you to have it. A special gift, for a very special lady.” He gave her a wink.

“This is the comb that we saw in Carolina that day, isn’t it?” It was a question, but she knew the answer. “How did you get it? We were together the whole time.”

“I went back without you the next day.”

“You’ve had it all this time?” Her hands trembled. Tears welled from the sweetness of the gestur
e.

“Yep. I pictured you wearing it on our wedding day.” Brooke looked stunned.

“My gosh!” Jenny had walked into the room. “He’s asking you to marry him.” Jenny’s mouth dropped wide and she ran to Mike’s side. “Are you asking her to marry you? You are!”

“No. Not exactly. Well, not yet. I was thinking just to be together. Give it a try. You know, one step at a time and all that.”

Brooke nodded. “Of course. Baby steps. Don’t go crazy, Jenny. This is a good restart.” Tears spilled over the rim of her eyes. “I love you, Mike. I want to love you but you hurt me. You can’t turn me away when things go wrong.”

“I’m sorry. I was scared. I couldn’t lose you, and then…
It was stupid. You have to forgive me.” He held her gently, his hand on the small of her back. Mike dabbed her eyes. “Don’t cry.”

She fanned herself to dry the tears as she walked over to the full-length pedestal mirror. She removed the fancy hat and placed it on the side table, then pulled her hair into a twist and slipped the comb in to secure it. She twisted in the mirror.
The delicate pearls, diamonds, and the rubies glistened. It could not have been more perfect. “How’s that?” she asked, modeling for him in a twirl.

“Exquisite.” Their eyes held for a moment too long.

Jenny cleared her throat. “You can’t cover that with your hat. It’s too pretty.”

“We said hats are mandatory.”

“What’s a rule if it’s not broken a time or two?”

T
he caterer opened up the buffet. A whole hog—rooter to tooter—was being chopped and sliced by chefs at two different stations. Apple in the mouth and all, because that was just a given in Adams Grove, topped off with mint juleps and other things Derby. Everyone relaxed into the pace, eating, drinking, dancing, and socializing. Kids ran around and played, while the adults talked. Mike had taken her out on the dance floor and she’d been surprised that for a big guy he was really a good dancer. Was there anything that guy couldn’t do?

“I need to run and check on some things,” she said to Mike.

He feigned major disappointment, then smiled. “Don’t leave me long.”

“Ten minutes max. I promise,” she said as she was swept away into the crowd of Rick and Jenny’s friends and business acquaintances.