Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 (20 page)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Becca tossed the Mt. Ouisco Observer on the table in front of Jon. His eyes bulged out as he saw the picture, then the headline. He grabbed the paper up and read the article.

Former Milwaukee detective Jon Bricksen enlisted the help of a local private detective to aid in their recent homicide investigation before the case goes cold. Randi Lassiter of Lassiter Investigations was recently seen with Detective Bricksen at the Walnut Ridge Art Gala in what can only be assumed by their intimate behavior to be an undercover operation.

Whether this reconnaissance mission was successful or not can only be speculated upon as there have still been no arrests. However, based on witness reports it can be said that the pair appeared to be doing everything in their power to maintain their undercover status as a couple in love.

One individual willing to go on record said. “I had no idea they weren’t a couple. They had me fooled, the way they were hanging all over each other. I thought at one point they should just get a room. They were so cute.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jon said. This wasn’t even trying to sound like journalism, more like small town Entertainment Tonight. Then again, he had told the reporter where he could stick his tape recorder.

It’s not known as to the exact role Lassister Investigations played in the investigation. Though it appears that the police have a person of interest. Artist Truman Perry was brought in for questioning and subsequently released. The connection between Truman Perry and the victim, Larissa Leuenberger, is unclear at this time.

It is also not clear if these actions are based on a supposition and poor judgment. As one concerned citizen said, “What a waste of taxpayer dollars. Without proper oversight how can we be sure our citizens didn’t just pay for these two to go on a date? What kind of law enforcement agency are we funding?”

When Detective Jon Bricksen was asked for a quote, he tersely declined. At the time of this reporting, we have been unable to reach Chief Thomlin for comment and Mayor Tim Broge insists that he was unaware of any such operation and promises to look into it.

As we hold out hope that Ms. Leuenberger’s killer will be apprehended, the Observer will continue to report on all aspects of the investigation and the concerns of Mt. Ouisco’s citizens.

Jon sat back hard in his chair, his face a frozen blank.

“You okay?” Becca asked as she bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.

His head slowly moved from side to side. “I’m in hell, aren’t I?”

Becca did laugh then. “Nope, just stuck in Podunkville, USA. Let me be the first to confirm that small towns are like different worlds. They play with their own set of rules.”

Jon sat upright and moved to the edge of his seat. “Right, just like they don’t know how real reporting works. Did this guy even take a journalism course?” Do you see what I’m working with here?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, I’ve seen it firsthand all over the state.” She sighed. “But the upside is that you’ll survive this and then you can…” She hesitated but couldn’t finish. She wanted to say settle down with Randi and become one of them, but no matter how generous she wanted to be, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She gave him a waning smile.

Just then Terri came in the room. She looked from one to the other but soon gave up trying to figure out what was going on. “Chief wants to see you in his office,” she said to Jon.

“Wonderful. Just what I need. Another pep talk.”

“Hey, when you’re done, how about you show me where I can get a decent meal in this town?” Becca asked.

Jon balked. “Um…”

“I think the worst is behind us. We can be grownups for one night, can’t we? I’m sick of greasy spoons. If you can find me some authentic Italian, I promise not to start a food fight.”

Jon relented. “Sure, I guess we can get through a meal without killing each other.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Jon cringed at the thought of having supper with his ex. But the case had taken a new direction and they needed to get along if they were going to get ahead. Besides, he knew it was mostly his issue. There still was a hard edge left where she’d torn a chunk out of his heart, and despite the fact that they’d found a way to get along he still harbored some resentment toward her for how she’d abandoned their relationship.

Jon returned to his desk and found a moment alone to call Randi before he left the station. It went straight to voicemail. He left her a brief message, said dinner wouldn’t work and that he’d call her in the morning. He’d tried twice earlier but didn’t leave any messages then. He felt guilty about the way he’d behaved this afternoon and how she’d stormed off. He hadn’t thought of how his actions would have looked to her.

When he’d come into the room and seen her and Becca together—he’d freaked. All he could think of was that he didn’t want Becca insinuating herself in between him and Randi. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what they had…or what they could be. The last thing he needed was for his ex-fiance to butt in and give her two cents.

Randi had assured him she had a busy day. He had to trust that she was okay with the situation and not read too much into the fact that she wasn’t picking up. He couldn’t expect her to drop everything at his beck and call.

He squeezed more files into his scruffy leather briefcase and imagined how the night would have gone had work not gotten in the way. He’d be taking Randi to Martinelli’s instead of Becca. They’d be nestled into a cozy corner near the fireplace, or maybe sipping merlot over a leisurely dinner at his place. Then end the day the same way they had last night. Jesus, he could still remember the taste of her on his lips. His head swam as the images of last night flowed through his mind.

Becca interrupted him just as he was getting hard, sticking her head in the door.

“You ready?”

“Uh…yeah, give me a sec.” He fumbled with gathering the rest of his crap into his briefcase and then held it strategically in front of him as he stood.

They drove her state-issued vehicle to the restaurant and arrived before any kind of a dinner rush. Martinelli’s captured the Old World Tuscan ambiance perfectly, with rustic terracotta tiled floor and buttery Venetian plastered walls. There were massive beamed ceilings, wrought iron accents and chestnut plank tables. He and Becca sat in a leather booth just beyond the hostess station and watched the supper crowd trickle in as they ordered cocktails and a bottle of Chianti to go with their meal.

“So, how do you like Mad City?” Jon asked.

“Oh, Madison is great, there’s lots to do…if I actually had time for any of it.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No!” Jon noted the blush that stained her cheeks, but didn’t press for more information. “Again, no time, really.” There was a hint of panic in her voice. “You know how it is. Working long hours, especially with this case. I’ve thrown myself into this job and can’t afford to screw it up.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Hell, I’ve been dreaming of case files.”

“Don’t I know it. This case is the last thing I expected to deal with here.”

“Kind of makes you second-guess every major decision in your life, huh?” Becca said with a note of regret.

The smell of fresh garlic bread drifted over them as their waiter set down a basket of it between them, along with dipping oil and cheese. Jon’s mouth watered as he tore a chunk and swirled it in the oil. He heard Becca inhale deeply, followed by a thunderous gurgle from her stomach. They both laughed as she grabbed the basket and helped herself.

“I like this place. Impressive for a small town. Excellent choice.”

“You’ll love the food.”

“Reminds me of Antonia’s in Milwaukee.”

Jon nodded, hoping she didn’t misinterpret their night out. Antonia’s had been their favorite restaurant, reserved for special occasions.

“So, how long have you been dating Blondie?”

Jon was stymied on how to answer that. Could he count the time they’d spent in bed as dating? Or was it just sex and—what? In the end, he simply shrugged.

“Well, you know her well enough to let her wear the shirt I got you.”

“Not my fault you didn’t take it with you, Becca. Besides, it was a gift.”

A look of frustration crossed her face and she drained the rest of her glass. “Look, I don’t want to go there. I was simply asking about your relationship…that’s all.”

Jon sighed. “Not really dating—yet—I guess.”

“Hmm, that sounds cryptic.”

“It kind of is at this point.”

“So…you’ve moved on.”

“No choice, right?”

There was a pregnant pause and a look of melancholy in her eyes as she stared into space. “Wish I could say the same.”

Jon tilted his head as he looked at her.

Becca scooted a little closer and leaned into him as their conversation took on a more personal nature. She didn’t make eye contact, speaking instead into her lap. “Lately I’ve been having doubts about my decision.”

The words lay in silence between them for what seemed an eternity.

“So…say something,” she urged.

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “How exactly do you expect me to respond to that?” He could not believe she was doing this to him. “What exactly are you saying?”

Becca’s eyes began to water. She raised her head to look at him, and a tear slipped from her eye and trailed down her cheek. “I miss you, okay?” She sniffed. “I think I made a mistake. I’ve been thinking that a lot lately.” She backhanded the tear off her face, fighting to regain her composure.

Jon sat mute, shell-shocked. He’d just started to get his life back in a forward moving direction and now this? How dare she?

“So let me get this straight.” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “You dump me. You piss away two and a half years together as if it meant nothing. You stick
me
with a full mortgage on a house
you
wanted. You keep it all a big secret from me—your fiancé. Now you’re telling me you think you made the wrong choice? You broke my heart and never once did you look back.” He spat the words out as Becca lost what little control she had. Tears streamed down her face.

Jon saw the pain she was feeling, however—a pain he knew all too well and his heart couldn’t help but soften a little.

She was someone he had loved once. Still loved, after a fashion. But that was another life. He reached a hand out and thumbed strands of hair off of her damp cheek, eliciting a small smile from her.

She sniffed again and her smile widened. “I’m sorry…for everything. You’re right. I know I can’t take it all back, but I can’t stop wishing that I could.”

Jon felt compelled to comfort the woman and reached out to hug her. He held her as she sobbed and got it all out, kissing the top of her head. “It’s all right, Bex. You’re going be fine.”

The trauma passed and soon Becca managed to pull herself together. She drew back from the embrace enough to look into his eyes. “Thank you.” She smiled and in one quick movement she leaned up and placed a kiss on his lips. Jon pulled away, taken aback.

The blink of an eye was all the time it took for a perception to form. A single action, taken out of context, was enough to change an innocent kiss into a betrayal.

Unbelievable! He’d just become the fall guy of every romantic comedy, the innocent sap that gets stuck between two women, both of whom end up planning castration scenarios before he can convince them of the truth.

Jon looked up and saw Randi Lassiter standing less than five feet away. He felt sick as he saw a flash of anguish on her sweet face and in the next instant she was gone.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Randi’s doorbell chimed several times under Jon’s thumb. He didn’t wait for a response before pounding on the door. The sound of approaching footsteps stopped him. He raised his fist to knock again as the door flew open.

CJ stood with her legs rooted like a redwood, effectively blocking the entrance. Her strange hair was rolled into tiny green balls all over her head today, with a silk sapphire kimono and gilded zori sandals. She said nothing to him, but cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Despite their size difference, she was somehow more intimidating than most bouncers he’d come across. More silence.

Jon tried to catch a glimpse of Randi, but didn’t see her. “I need to speak with her, CJ.”

“T’em to go t’ heee’eell!” Randi yelled from somewhere inside the house. Her words were slurred, the last word drawled out in two syllables, possibly by a hiccup.

CJ’s stance didn’t waver. “You heard her. I don’t think she wants to see you.”

“Come on. I need to make this right.” Jon went to step across the threshold. “You think I’d do anything to hurt her?”

“You think I know you, city boy?” CJ threw herself against the doorjamb and planting her foot up against the opposite side of the doorframe. “All I remember is some jerk from the café ogling my friend’s tits.”

Jon frowned. So much for winning hearts and minds. “I don’t need to explain shit to you. I want to talk to Randi.”

CJ bolted forward, forcing Jon to take an involuntary step back as she stepped out onto the stoop.

“Do you really think she’s interested in any excuses you have, city boy?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Let me put this into small-town perspective for you.” She moved right into his personal space and tapped on his chest with her forefinger.

“You are the first man she’s taken a liking to in years.”

Tap.

“She trusted you.”

Tap.

“She hasn’t done that since her husband cheated on her—”

Tap.

“—With her best friend.”

Tap.
The taps were getting painful.

“She’s in there crying her eyes out because of you.”

Tap. Tap.

Jon raised a hand to his chest to block her finger.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Now…what can you possibly do to make that right?” She stepped back and crossed her arms again.

“Whatever it takes.” Jon grabbed CJ’s shoulder and spun her out of the way. She had to grab the handrail to keep from toppling off the porch.

Jon found Randi curled up on the couch. She was burrowed into the corner cushion, nestled among a mountain of throw pillows. She hugged a large purple one to herself and was sobbing into the chenille material. Jon sat next to her. She looked up, probably expecting CJ, because her face soured once she recognized his.

“Bathterd.” She slurred out, shooting him a dirty look.

He looked down at the coffee table and saw an empty martini glass and a vodka bottle.

“Let me explain.”

Randi’s head snapped up off the pillow. “Exxxplain, explaaaain! Hah! Honey, you don’t owe me any esplanachion.” Her head flopped back into the pillow.

Randi slowly unfurled from her curled position and tried to stand. Jon caught her by the arm as she swayed on her feet. The second she realized he had a hold of her; she pulled a hand free and took a drunken swing at him. He grabbed her wrist just as she started to topple over and pulled her into him, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured into her hair. “I’m not going to try to explain anything tonight. Even if you believed what I had to say, you probably wouldn’t remember it.” She struggled against his chest, spewing angry, unintelligible epitaphs as CJ returned from the porch. She didn’t interfere, though, so maybe something had gotten through to her.

“Gawd, how could I be stho sthupid?” Randi smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “A one-night-sthand. That’s all it was…a fuccching one-night-shtand!” She went limp against him. She’d worn herself out.

“No baby, you are definitely not a one-nighter.” Jon picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. CJ gave him the evil eye, but didn’t try to stop him.

“I’ll take care of her.” Jon said.

CJ pinned him with a threatening look. “You damn well better, because if you’re just setting her up for another fall—I’m going to go Dick Cheney on you!”

He didn’t doubt it for a second. “Understood.”