The Deep End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. Tomorrow? If she hadn’t invited him out tonight, would he have called before he left?

“That’s too bad,” she said.

“The police had requested that I stick around, but I need to get back to my job before they fire me.”

“And you’re free to leave?” Kit asked. She knew that he had no alibi at the time of Jasmine’s murder.

“They said they’d call me if they had more questions,” he replied. “I’ve told them everything I know so I’m not sure how much more help I can offer.”

The server came around and dropped off the song list, along with another pitcher. As Rebecca attempted to wave away the list, Jake intercepted it.

“I think we should take a look, just for fun,” he said. “God knows we can all use a bit of that.”

“My kind of guy,” Kit surmised.

“You would never sing karaoke,” Rebecca said.

He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I didn’t mean me.”

Kit paged through the list. “You should sing, Jake. You just lost your sister. This will be a great outlet for your pain.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “I tend not to emote through the medium of song.”

“You only live once, Jake,” Kit said, handing him back the list. “Don’t waste it being afraid to get out of your comfort zone.”

Jake drained his pint of beer. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you choose the song.”

Kit clapped her hands. “A man who lives dangerously. I like it. Do you think they have anything by Air Supply?”

Rebecca widened her eyes. “Please don’t. I have to live in this area long after he leaves it.”

Two minutes later, Jake stepped onto the stage and the deejay handed him the microphone.

“What did you choose?” Charlotte asked Kit.

“You’ll see.”

The music began and Rebecca winced. “Elvis Presley?”

“He doesn’t have the hip action required for the King,” Francie complained.

As if to prove her point, Jake began moving awkwardly to the opening beats of
Jailhouse Rock
. The crowd fell silent, as though sensing a disaster in the making. He warbled the words, trying to read along as the music continued.

“It’s not a speech!” someone yelled from the back of the room.

Jake gave an apologetic smile and picked up the tempo. The drunken students rooted him on, pumping their fists in the air and cheering.

Rebecca couldn’t believe her eyes. Jake seemed to transform as the song continued. He swiveled and jerked like Elvis reincarnated. The crowd clapped wildly and he even bowed before jumping off the stage. By the time he rejoined his table, his cheeks were flushed and his hair was damp with sweat.

“You really worked it, Jake,” Kit said admiringly.

“Thank you.” He patted his forehead with a cloth napkin from the table. “That was more of a performance than I bargained for.”

Rebecca’s cheeks hurt from smiling. She still couldn’t believe that was the same Jake she’d gotten to know these past couple of weeks. He seemed a different person entirely, like Clark Kent morphing into Superman. This Jake
swaggered
.

Two of the women Charlotte recognized from Jasmine’s funeral took the stage, swaying into each other and knocking heads while their companions hurled insults. Charlotte was relieved that they didn’t come back to Oak Lodge after the service.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Kit announced. “But first I need the ladies room.”

“Us too,” Francie said and jumped to her feet.

“We’ll meet you outside,” Rebecca told them. She could feel the stirrings of a headache. Even a small amount of alcohol seemed to have that effect on her.

While the trio disappeared into the restroom, Rebecca and Jake made their way to the exit. They strolled down the sidewalk arm-in-arm. They were both a little tipsy, still laughing over Jake's uncharacteristic behavior.

“Next time, I want to see you up there singing,” he insisted. “It’s as much out of your comfort zone as it is mine.”

“In honor of your sister, I will,” Rebecca said and quickly realized how crass that sounded. “I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean it to be rude.”

His expression remained pleasant. “No, of course not. You’re nothing but kind.”

“We should do this again next time you’re here. Another Elvis song and you might just find yourself with a new income stream.”

Jake's smile faded. “I don’t know when that will be. I’ll be pretty busy once I get back to work.”

“Oh.” Of course he did. Rebecca had forgotten that Jake's real life was elsewhere. She squeezed his hand. “You’ll call me?”

“Of course.” Abruptly, he released her hand. “Would you mind if I catch a cab here?”

Rebecca started. “Here? Don’t be silly. We’ll drive you.”

Jake ignored her, hailing a nearby cab. It pulled over immediately and he yanked open the door. “It’s been wonderful spending time with you. I’ll be in touch soon. I promise.”

Before she even knew what was happening, he disappeared into the cab. Bewildered, she watched it drive away and fade into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Charlotte stood in line for the restroom, trying not to hop from foot to foot. She’d foolishly allowed Kit and Francie to go first and now she was getting desperate. The door to one of the stalls opened and a redhead nearly fell to her knees in front of the toilet. The leopard dress cheerleader.

“Omigod, this bathroom floor isn’t level,” the woman said, stumbling to her feet. “I hate old buildings.”

Charlotte wondered how many cocktails she’d enjoyed this evening. She attempted to brush past the inebriated woman and enter the stall.

“Oh.” The woman ogled her with a curious expression. “Aren’t you one of Jazzy’s stepdaughters?”

Charlotte bristled. “I am Charlotte Tilton,” she said.

“That was a nice funeral,” she slurred. “Everything was so fancy.”

“Jasmine wouldn’t have expected anything less,” Charlotte said. Bitchy wasn’t her usual style, but she wasn’t feeling generous in nature at the moment.

“I was surprised that Brendan didn’t show. Did you invite him?” the woman asked and then smacked her forehead. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you do that? So inappropriate.”

Charlotte’s head snapped to attention. “Brendan Williams?” Had people taken notice of them already? They hadn’t even been seen together in Westdale, as far as she knew.

The woman laughed, an awful, cackling sound that grated on Charlotte’s ears. “Oh, you know about Brendan, do you? Doesn’t surprise me, really. Jazzy didn’t hide her flaws very well.”

Her flaws? Charlotte shook her head in confusion. “Did Jasmine know Brendan?”

The woman belched and laughed again. “Oh my. Am I causing trouble again?”

Charlotte stood and faced the woman. Unsurprisingly, she reeked of alcohol. “How did she know Brendan?”

The woman placed her sculptured red nails on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Little girl, Brendan Williams was her lover. Her boy toy.”

Charlotte nearly toppled over and the drunken redhead actually kept her standing. The look on Charlotte’s face must have sobered her slightly because her expression softened.

“I guess it isn’t funny, is it?” she asked. “You loved your dad. Everyone says he was a nice man. A fool, but a nice one. I wouldn’t mind…”

She didn’t finish her sentence because Charlotte shoved the woman aside and fled the bathroom. She didn’t stop even when she heard Kit and Francie calling her name. She ran out of the pub and onto the sidewalk where Rebecca still stood, gazing forlornly at nothing at all.

The car ride back to Kit’s was eerily quiet. They’d dropped Francie off at Musgrove Manor and continued in silence to Thornhill Road. Kit was afraid to ask what had happened back at the pub. They’d been having such a good time until the end.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she noticed tears streaming down Charlotte’s face.

“Charlotte, I can’t tell in this light,” Kit said. “Are those tears of happiness or tears of misery?”

Charlotte stared out the window, her nose pressed against the glass. “Sadness,” she murmured. “Complete and utter sadness.”

Rebecca took her hand. “Me, too.”

When they arrived back at Kit’s, Charlotte didn’t follow them to the door. Instead, she ran to her own car parked out front.

“Charlotte,” Rebecca called. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back soon,” she said and slipped into her car. She heard them calling her name, but she ignored them. There was only person she wanted to speak to right now and he was not there.

Charlotte drove to the address he’d mentioned during their date at the museum. For someone like Charlotte, GPS was invaluable. She never could have navigated here without help and reading a map in the dark while driving was next to impossible.

The robotic voice of the GPS told her that she’d arrived at her destination. Charlotte pulled alongside the curb and cut the engine. The windows were all dark except one upstairs. She got out of the car and hurried to the steps of the brick townhouse.

Gathering her courage, she banged on the front door. She didn’t care that the hour was late. She wanted answers. She
deserved
answers.

Charlotte heard movement inside but no one came to the door. “Brendan,” she yelled. “Open this door. I need to talk to you.”

She waited a moment and then knocked harder and louder. “Please open this door and tell me it isn’t true.” Her voice cracked and, despite her best efforts, she began to cry. “Brendan!”

He didn’t come. Somehow she knew that he was inside, listening. How could he do this to her? Why would he do this to her?

She stared at the darkened windows, an awful thought forming in her mind. What if he had killed Jasmine? She took a step backward, reconsidering her actions. Perhaps standing on his doorstep demanding the truth was a bad idea. With a trembling sigh, she returned to her car and drove back to Thornhill Road with a heavy heart.

Charlotte waited until morning to drop the Brendan bombshell. She’d been too exhausted the night before and Kit and Rebecca had already gone to bed by the time she returned.

They were in the kitchen where Kit was attempting to make poached eggs. She’d insisted she’d made them before, but watching her swishing the water in the pot into a whirlpool made Charlotte question the veracity of her statement.

“I know who Jasmine’s boyfriend was,” she announced from her place at the table.

Rebecca’s head jerked to attention. “You do?”

She told them about the redhead at the Irish Pub and they gaped at her in disbelief.

“Brendan?” Kit repeated. “The Porsche-driving, museum-loving hunk of burning love that graced our doorstep?”

Charlotte nodded mutely.

“Do you think the woman was lying?” Rebecca asked. “Maybe she was like Jasmine. Someone who likes to stir the pot.”

“Oh, I think she was like Jasmine,” Charlotte agreed. “But I don’t see why she would lie. How would she even know about Brendan and me?”

“Is that where you went last night?” Kit asked.

“He didn’t answer the door, but I know he was there.” Charlotte sipped her tea. “So he gave me the truth, in his own way.”

Kit pressed her lips together. “You’re not going to like this…”

Charlotte met her gaze. “I know, I know. We need to tell Romeo.” She buried her face in her hands. “Can you do it, Kit? I don’t think I can manage the words.”

Kit shot Rebecca a look of concern. “Of course. Anything you want.”

“What I want is for this nightmare to be over,” Charlotte said and bolted upstairs to her room.

Rebecca gripped the edge of the table. “I can’t believe it. Poor Charlotte.”

“If he was Jasmine’s boyfriend, then why would he pursue Charlotte?” Kit wondered.

“Hedging his bets,” Rebecca speculated. “If Jasmine didn’t tell him that Father had left his fortune to her, then he may have been waiting to see which way the wind blew.”

“What a creep,” Kit breathed, picking up her phone from the table. “I can’t wait until Romeo gets his hands on this guy.”

While Kit called the detective, Rebecca took the opportunity to check on her sister. She opened the bedroom door to see Charlotte crying, face down on the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Lottie,” Rebecca said, rubbing her back the way she used to do when Charlotte was a little girl. She’d spent many years of her life consoling her younger sister. She looked forward to a time when she could celebrate with her instead.

Charlotte rolled over to face her sister. Her cheeks were red and splotchy. “Part of me wished he’d come to the door, but the other part of me was frightened that he would.”

“We don’t know that he killed Jasmine.”

“But who else?” She sat up. “And even if he didn’t, what does it matter? He was having an affair with Daddy’s wife. He was probably still seeing her when he went out with me. I’ll bet he knew who I was when he stopped to help me.” She moaned and covered her face with a pillow.

Rebecca understood how awful Charlotte felt. The whole idea was revolting.

“Kit is calling Romeo now.”

Charlotte began to bawl, her cries muffled by the pillow. Rebecca hugged her sister warmly.

“I love you, Charlotte. As bad as things seem right now, this, too, shall pass.” She kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Breakfast will be ready soon. I know it doesn’t look like Kit knows what she’s doing, but we can humor her.”

Charlotte removed the pillow from her face. “Maybe later,” she croaked. “I just want to close my eyes and shut out my thoughts for a bit.”

Rebecca obligingly moved away from the bed. “I’m here if you need me.” She gently closed the door behind her and Charlotte flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Romeo wasted no time in getting to Kit’s to speak with Charlotte. From a professional standpoint, he wanted to see whether Charlotte knew more than they did. From a personal standpoint, he liked the idea of seeing Kit again. He didn’t really mind what the circumstances were.

He felt the tension in the room as soon as he stepped into it. Charlotte was so worked up that she looked ready to vomit. She ran to him, tugging on his sleeve like a frightened child.

“Is it true then?” she asked. “Was he having an affair with Jasmine?”