The Deep End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 2) (14 page)

Kit paced in front of Butter Beans, waiting for Romeo’s arrival. She’d texted him between classes, demanding to know why he neglected to tell her about Jake's interrogation. Why drag Jake back into the picture when Brendan was still on the loose?

She checked her iPhone again. He was ten minutes late. She slipped inside the coffee shop to place her order. She didn’t have too much time before her next class and wouldn’t make it through without caffeine. Some of her professors really needed to take a performance class to liven up their delivery of the material. Nobody liked talking heads.

“Ellie Gold is in the house,” Sam called from behind the counter. The chubby-faced barista was a huge
Fool’s Gold
fan and never let Kit forget it.

She saw him reach for his backpack and groaned. As an aspiring screenwriter, he seemed to present her with a new concept each time she visited the shop.

“What do you have for me, Sam?” she asked, tapping her nails on the countertop.

He turned around and grinned. “Aside from my undying devotion?” he asked. “Just this first draft of my new screenplay. Get this. It’s about a woman who’s murdered and her ghost tries to help her husband solve the case.”

Kit stared at him. “So it’s
Ghost
,” she said.

“Oh wow,” Sam breathed. “How did you know that’s what the title would be?” He gestured between their heads. “Great minds, man. I was thinking you could play the ghost.”

Kit gave him a patient smile. “Do me a favor and Google Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and a clay pot. Tell me what you find.”

He saluted her. “Your usual today?”

“I’m feeling autumnal,” she said. “I’ll have the cinnamon and pumpkin latte.”

He rubbed his apron. “My favorite. I’m on it.”

“And a double espresso,” a deep voice interjected. Kit felt Romeo’s warm breath on the curve of her neck and smiled.

“I was beginning to think you were standing me up,” she said, gazing up at him.

“You? Never.” He lifted his hand as if to touch her face and then dropped it quickly to his side. “So what’s the emergency?”

She lowered her voice, not wanting Sam to overhear their conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing in Jake for questioning?”

He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “Because you’re not a detective. You’re not a cop. You’re a student at Westdale by day and an Instagram junkie by night.”

She placed her palms on his chest and pushed him backward. “That’s not an answer.”

Romeo grinned. “It’s the only one you’re entitled to, I’m afraid.”

Kit’s hands flew to her hips. “This isn’t fair, you know. You involve me when it’s convenient for you, but then push me out of the inner circle when I’m not needed.”

“I could say the same about you,” he said gruffly.

Kit scoffed. “That’s absurd.”

His dark eyes bore into hers. “Prove it.”

Her back was pressed against the counter. “I’ll make you a deal, Detective Moretti.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Here you go.” Sam’s cheerful voice interrupted their showdown.

“I’ll get this,” Romeo said, stepping forward to pay. Kit allowed him his moment of chivalry. She wondered if he’d be as eager to pay for her drinks if her trust fund was ever returned to her. In fact, she questioned whether he’d be comfortable with her at all. Romeo seemed at ease with cash-strapped college student Kit. What happened if she was restored to Katherine Winthrop Wilder status? Or, even worse, what if she reignited her film and television career? What kind of future would they have then?

They moved to an available table by the front window. “So what’s your deal?” he asked again.

Kit summoned her courage. “I’ve been thinking. If you solve this case, I’ll invite you to dinner at Greyabbey.” She swallowed hard. “As my date.”

His grin widened. “Is that so?” He stretched his long legs in front of him. “And what will your mother say?”

Kit drew in a deep breath. “Don’t make me change my mind. The woman already makes my life hell. I hate to voluntarily add to the level of fiery hellishness.”

“And what if I don’t solve the murder?” Romeo asked.

She cocked her head. “And what are the odds of that, Detective?”

“Zero now that I have proper motivation.” He tossed back the double espresso. “Throw me a bone and wear that red dress again when I come to dinner. I hadn’t finished admiring it the other night.”

“You can always borrow it,” she offered. “But I don’t think it’s your size.”

“Ha ha.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “So you want to know whether Jake is still a suspect.”

She told him about Jake's visit to her house. “I’m guessing he is, especially since he lawyered up.”

Romeo shrugged. “I can’t really get into detail, Kit. You know that.”

“What made you call him back for questioning?” Kit asked. “Is this about Kristy Farewell?”

Romeo’s brown eyes bulged. “You know about Kristy Farewell?”

Kit stuck a finger in his chest. “You do know!”

“We got a lead on Kristy,” he admitted. “Seems like a good motive to kill his sister. How did you know about her and, more importantly, why didn’t you tell me?”

Kit swallowed again. Keeping pertinent information from Romeo probably wasn’t the smartest idea. “Rebecca asked me not to tell you.”

Romeo’s mouth dropped open. “Rebecca Tilton asked you not to share crucial information with the police about the murder victim’s brother?”

Kit desperately tried to change the subject. “So Jake got a lawyer, but Brendan’s still missing, right?”

“He was spotted in Princeton at a friend’s house,” Romeo admitted. “We know he’s still in the area.”

“But why?” Kit asked. “If he’s guilty, why not flee the country? He clearly has the connections to get himself out of here.”

“If he’s not guilty, why flee at all? Why not come in and talk to the police?”

Kit put herself in Brendan’s shoes. “It looks bad for him. He’s probably scared. With a father already in prison, can you blame him?”

Romeo dropped his voice. “Right now, I don’t have enough evidence to blame anybody for anything.”

Chapter Eight

Charlotte sat in a quiet corner of the library, catching up on her psychology reading. She’d invited Francie along, but since Mrs. Musgrove and the eldest Musgrove child were attending the monthly Pilgrim Society meeting along with Kit and Rebecca, Francie decided to go to the movies with the remaining Musgrove children. Charlotte was the one who needed to catch up with her studies anyway. She hated the feeling of falling behind. It reminded her of childhood, always trying to catch up to the developmental milestones of other kids her age. It had wreaked havoc on her self-esteem.

“Miss Tilton?” A pleasant voice interrupted her reading.

“Hello again,” Charlotte said, smiling. She recognized the nurse who’d been attending to her father in the weeks before his death. “Adele, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you since Daddy’s party. That was so kind of you to come.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” the nurse said. “Your father was a lovely man.” She lowered her voice. “I was so sorry to read about the drama that followed.”

“It has been a strain,” Charlotte confessed.

“I couldn’t believe that he’d left everything to that…” The nurse straightened her shoulders and pressed her lips together. “Forget it.”

“It’s okay,” Charlotte said, closing her book.

The nurse exhaled deeply. “And here you are in the public library when you’ve got that beautiful library at Oak Lodge. All those wonderful books. What a shame.”

Charlotte allowed herself a smile of satisfaction. “It should please you to know that I may have absconded with the contents of our library.”

Adele covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “Dear me. You little thief. Well, you should have a look through your father’s blue box when you’re feeling up to it. What ever is in there, it sure seemed to make your father happy.”

“Blue box?” Charlotte echoed. “What’s that?”

Adele looked surprised. “Have you not seen it? It was on top of the shelf with Shakespeare and Milton.”

Charlotte lit up in recognition. “I must have it. I took everything from that shelf. That was prime real estate in the library.”

“He asked for it most days when I was there. He liked to look through it. I minded my own business, you see, so I can’t say for sure what was in it.”

“I’ll definitely have a look for it then,” Charlotte said. “Thank you.”

“Might bring you memories of happier times,” Adele continued.

“God, I hope so,” Charlotte said. She began to pack up her things. Under the present circumstances, the draw of happy memories was too tempting to ignore.

The minute she stepped into Kit’s house, Charlotte threw her backpack onto the sofa and began the search for the blue box. The contents of the library were in neat piles around the perimeter of the living room. Kit didn’t seem to mind the addition to the room, knowing their presence was temporary. Charlotte did appreciate Kit’s laid-back attitude. As much as she loved Francie, her best friend would never have allowed that type of disruption to the natural order. Although Francie was the youngest, she was still a Musgrove.

Charlotte scanned the spines, looking for a flash of blue. Finally, she caught sight of it in the middle of a tower of books. It was larger in height and width than the books but no thicker than a dictionary.

Charlotte brought the box onto her lap and made herself comfortable on the sofa. She debated getting a box of tissues just in case. Even the promise of happy memories could make Charlotte cry at this point. She retrieved a box of tissues from the bathroom and set is beside her on the end table, ready and waiting.

She opened the box and set the lid aside. The outside was nondescript — no name or information of any kind. A manila envelope rested on the top and, as Charlotte lifted it out, something beneath caught her eye. She set the envelope on the end table, squealing with glee. She pulled out a handmade birthday card that she’d made for her father when she was eight. She recognized it immediately. She’d drawn four owls on a branch on the front of varying shapes and sizes. Each owl was given a pattern. The smallest owl, her owl, was bright pink with purple polka dots.

She sifted through the entire box, delighting in each gem she discovered. The sisters’ report cards, special photographs, and anniversary cards from their mother to their father. No wonder her father kept this close at hand. The box was full of treasures. She couldn’t wait to share it with Rebecca. Her sister would be so thrilled to have it. By the time she reached the bottom of the box, her cheeks were stained with tears. She missed her father terribly.

As she reached for a tissue on the end table, she noticed the manila envelope. The front of the envelope read
John Tilton’s Last Will and Testament
. He must have kept a copy for his own records. She nearly threw it away, nauseated by its contents, but something nagged at her. She opened the envelope and slid out the document. Her eyes grew round as she read the first page. She flipped to the end page and checked the date. Charlotte rubbed her temples. It didn’t make any sense.

She retrieved her phone from her backpack and texted her sister. She didn’t go into detail; she simply said that she found something important of their father’s and wanted to show it to Rebecca when she got home. She saw no reason to excite her sister in the middle of a Pilgrim Society meeting in case she was mistaken.

Charlotte left the blue box on the sofa but carried the will upstairs with her to read in greater detail before her sister arrived home.

“God, I thought Mrs. Musgrove would never stop talking,” Kit complained, throwing open the front door.

“I know,” Rebecca agreed. “Even after I mentioned Lottie’s text, she carried on about the balmy weather we’ve been having. The woman handles enough events — you would think she’d be able to recognize a priority when she hears one.”

“Jackson looked like he was willing to feign a coronary just to get away from her.” Kit laughed.

“I think he did,” Rebecca said. “He was the only one who managed to slip away without incurring her wrath.”

“Charlotte,” Kit called. “We’ve escaped from the Mayflower.”

“I’d really like to see the important thing you found,” Rebecca said.

She went straight to the living room, expecting to find Charlotte there. The room was in a state of disarray. Books were scattered everywhere and a side table was lying on the floor. It was messier than usual, even for Charlotte.

“Maybe she’s in her room,” Kit said. “I’ll check upstairs.”

Kit called Charlotte’s name as she bounded up the steps. The bedroom door was open but there was no sign of Charlotte. When she reached the upstairs bathroom, she noticed the closed door. The sound of running water drew her attention.

“Charlotte?” Kit knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She tried the knob and the door clicked open. “Charlotte, I’m sorry to barge in like this, but…” Her foot splashed in a puddle and Kit froze, her pulse accelerating. A fully clothed Charlotte was unconscious in the bathtub. Water spilled down the side of the tub and onto the floor.

“Oh no,” Kit cried.

Quickly, she pulled Charlotte from the tub and placed her down on the floor. Her face was alarmingly blue.

“Rebecca, call an ambulance,” she yelled. “She needs CPR.”

Kit didn’t waste another breath. Charlotte’s life depended on it.

Francie rushed down the corridor, bordering on hysteria. Kit sat in the hallway with her head in her hands. Upon hearing the fast-moving footsteps, Kit stood solemnly to greet her.

“How is she?” Francie blurted, fighting back tears.

Kit shook her head. “They don’t know yet. The doctor and Rebecca are with her now.”

“Thank God you were there.” She hugged Kit fiercely. It was more emotion than Francie generally expressed.

“I only wish we’d gotten home sooner,” Kit lamented.

“How did this happen?” Francie asked.

“We’re not sure. She seems to have fallen in and hit her head.” Kit chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I was remembering the day we met and she nearly fell into the fountain at school.” On the first day of orientation, Kit had watched as Charlotte’s foot slipped and she nearly took an unwanted swim in the Westdale College fountain. She’d managed to grab Charlotte in time. It was the first time Kit had ever heard of dyspraxia.