Читать книгу Lethal Literature - Kym Roberts - Страница 12

Chapter Five

I spent a fitful night tossing and turning while images of Ava, bloodied and battered, walking out of my daddy’s house, haunted my dreams. I woke up with Princess curled on the pillow next to me. Her eyes opened slowly as if she sensed me watching her. We stared at each other for a bit and then she yawned.

“You have terrible morning breath.”

She snorted as if to say it was my fault for making her eat grubs last night for dinner, then closed her eyes and went back to sleep. I was definitely going to need a new pillow. I probably went through more pillows than the bed-and-breakfast in town.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love my pet armadillo; I loved her dearly, but I really didn’t want to share a pillow with her. There were some things not made for armadillos. My bed was one of them.

I pulled off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. As good as it felt, it didn’t erase my unease. I finished my shower, got dressed, and texted my dad.

Ru okay?

It didn’t take long for him to respond. I’m fine. I’ll be at the store a little late this morning, but I’ll be there in plenty of time for you to leave on your trip.

My trip. I’d completely forgotten about my trip. I’d gotten a mani-pedi on Wednesday for my first romantic weekend in ages. It’d been so long, I wasn’t sure I remembered the last one. Not that I had a ton of them, but this one was supposed to be special. For my birthday, Mateo had given me a pair of tickets to see the Tony Bennett concert in Dallas. He’d told me I could ask anyone I wanted to go with me to the concert since the drive meant at least one night in the Big D, and I’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to go with me. Since then, he’d confessed if I’d asked anyone else other than Scarlet, he might have arrested the guy for jaywalking every day just to make sure he’d have a warrant or he’d have to figure out another charge when it came time for us to leave for the concert.

I was pretty sure he’d been joking.

But now it felt like a weekend getaway was impossible. Not only did I have people to talk to, Mateo didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to go anywhere with me last night. I sighed and gazed at the suitcase sitting in my living room. I’d packed in the beginning of the week, anxious to really identify this thing between us as a relationship.

As if reading my mind, my phone rang with his special ringtone about bad boys.

“Hello?”

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“Probably better than you.”

He chuckled. That was a good sign. “Listen, about tonight . . .”

That was a bad sign.

“Can we postpone our weekend?” He didn’t wait for me to balk. “This case has us pretty busy and—”

I didn’t give him time to explain further. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” I didn’t, but my defensive walls were building. “I should have given you the opportunity to back out last night. I’ll let you get to it.” I started to hang up, but his voice stopped me.

“Wait, Charli! I’m not backing out.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m asking if we can leave tomorrow morning instead.”

“Oh.”

“Did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily?”

“If I’d asked last night, if we were still on for the weekend, would you have said yes?” I asked.

“Querida, it will take more than a little of your meddling to chase me away.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I was pretty sure I should be insulted about the meddling comment, but Mateo calling me “darling” was throwing me off my game. We hadn’t graduated to terms of endearment yet, and I wasn’t quite sure if querida was a word you could use for a grandmother, a niece, or someone you were about to spend the weekend with. Then again, it could be the same as a cowboy using the term “darlin’” for every woman he came across that wasn’t his real sweetheart.

I decided to ignore it and test different waters. “Do you have any leads in Ava’s case?”

His sigh was enough to tell me he wished I’d taken the conversation in the other direction. “Charli, this is a police investigation. Please stay out of it.”

I pushed. It’s what I did best. “So, my daddy’s just a witness, nothing more?”

“Is there a reason I should look for him to be something more?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“That’s because your question was absurd.” Seriously, did he think I would narc on my own dad?

“I thought we’d gotten to a point of trusting each other.”

I thought about that for a moment too long.

“I guess I was wrong,” he said. His disappointment hung in the air like a typical Texas storm. Building. Darkening. Turning into something larger than it should have been. Any second as the silence grew between us it could explode into a massive storm or dissipate into nothing. I prayed for nothing. Mateo was the one to finally break the dead air.

“I’ll call you later this evening.”

“Okay.”

My heart wanted to skip down Main Street while my brain tried to decide if I was happy or scared witless about the weekend, or if it was the case that had me tied in knots. My body chose to work through it and ignore both organs. It was for the best.

I made my way through the secret door in the second bedroom of my apartment above the Barn. It used to be my parents’ room when I was a kid; now it was a guest room that my cousin used when he came in town for business or a visit. He’d developed a book app that featured our bookstore and had increased our online sales tremendously.

I made my way downstairs and unlocked the doors for a couple that stood waiting at the front door for the store to open. When I asked if they were looking for anything specific, they advised they wanted to look at our used book section and I directed them toward the loft. Then I started brewing sweet tea for the tearoom we had in the store. It wasn’t anything fancy, just rustic charm with country lace draping small tables in the largest stall on the lower level of the Book Barn Princess. I normally bought treats from Franz at the bakery across the street, but today I went with peanut brittle and chocolate turtles; comfort foods I thought everyone would need. I grabbed a turtle and took a bite, savoring the flavors of caramel-covered pecans smothered in rich milk chocolate.

I’d chosen well.

The door buzzed and I stuck my head out of the stall to greet my customer. Scarlet strolled in looking like a fresh spring day in Texas. Her auburn hair was curled and bouncy and accentuated her bare shoulders. She wore a blue peasant dress with a very short hemline. Her stilettos almost brought her up to my eye level and displayed an expanse of shapely legs.

“I love that T-shirt!” she exclaimed with her ever-present grin.

Leave it to Scarlet to compliment a stone-washed pink T-shirt screen-printed with Lit happens at the #BookBarn across my chest, while she looked like a million bucks.

I smiled and told her the truth. “You look gorgeous.”

Scarlet’s laughter carried through the Barn like a song. “Some of us have to work at it, while others can get away with murder.”

“It seems murder is on everyone’s mind,” I mumbled over another bite.

Scarlet’s mood turned somber. “As it should be. We lost a very good woman last night. That’s what I came to talk to you about.” Scarlet moved closer and looked around the Barn.

I nodded toward the loft. “There’s a couple customers upstairs, but so far that’s it.”

She pulled me back into the tearoom. I wasn’t sure it was necessary. For the past ten minutes, the elderly couple upstairs had been arguing over which book was a more important depiction of American history, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind or F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. Each had valid points, but the one argument they were missing was the authors’ lack of perspective from the African American characters in both stories. That was a true reflection on our history that would have given both of them points in their column if they’d recognized the flaw, but they hadn’t. Which one would receive more points was a matter of perspective.

“Reba Sue came in to get her nails done today.”

I really didn’t care to hear what Reba Sue was doing. She was probably getting dolled up for a weekend with Cade Calloway. The mayor, my ex, and the man whom I decided not to wait around for despite the chemistry between us. I still wasn’t quite over him, but I’d moved forward with my life and had taken Mateo up on his offer—an offer he was probably second-guessing.

“Reba Sue is in there all the time,” I said.

Scarlet looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Yeah, but today she started talking about Ava’s murder and how Isla came into court yesterday morning.”

“Isla was in court? For what?” I thought about the conversation at the Oak Grove care facility the previous day.

“Isla accused the Judge of cheating on her.”

“I heard the rumors,” I acknowledged. Everyone had heard the rumors.

“Yeah, but Isla threatened to cut Ava’s throat if she ever caught her sneaking into her home.”

The pressure on my chest threatened to push my heart out the backside of my rib cage. I had to force the air through my lungs in order to get my question out. “Is that how Ava was killed?”

Scarlet shrugged. “No one is saying a word. It’s the best-kept secret in town.”

Not for long. I was determined to find out the truth. “Was Ava in court?”

“Nope. Reba Sue said she was a no-show for work yesterday.”

“How would Reba Sue know if Ava was a no-show, or if she was sick, or on vacation, or just took the day off?”

Scarlett shrugged, then saw the tremor in my hands as I placed napkins out next to the tray of treats. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I grabbed another turtle. This was a two-turtle day if I ever had one. “Want one?” I held out the tray, but Scarlet declined. “What was Reba Sue doing in court?”

“You don’t know?” Scarlet’s eyes grew wide when I shook my head. She grabbed a turtle and shoved the whole thing in her mouth. I suppose her disbelief was an appropriate response since gossip spreads through Hazel Rock faster than any wildfire ever could. Her hesitation to spill everything she knew combined with her eating a sweet she never went near had me more discombobulated than ever.

I stopped mid-bite. My curiosity was exploding through the barn roof. I knew my next question put me in the category of too stupid to live, but I asked it anyway. “What’d she do, Scarlet?”

Scarlet continued to chew, her mouth so full of delicious goodness she could barely keep her lips sealed. She couldn’t possibly be enjoying the rare treat in her attempt to avoid my question. I handed her a napkin and she closed her eyes like she was going to choke as she tried to get it down. After a moment, it was clear she was trying to think of a way not to answer, and my hand went on my hip. It wasn’t like Scarlet to keep things from me.

She glanced up at my jutted-out hip and impatient stare. “Cade will have to tell you,” she responded through her napkin.

“I’m not going to ask Cade! We’re barely talking.”

She swallowed hard. “It’s not my story to tell. Can I get some tea?”

I retrieved a glass and filled it with ice before pouring the freshly brewed sweet tea. “It’s somebody’s story to tell, and if I can’t ask my best friend, who can I ask?”

“You need to talk to Cade. Not me.”

I huffed. I couldn’t believe Scarlet was protecting Reba Sue. “Fine. I’ll ask Mateo.” If Reba Sue had been arrested, it was public record. Mateo might not give me the details, but he’d tell me what Reba Sue had been charged with and how Cade was involved.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Scarlet warned.

“Why not?”

I watched as my best friend took a drink of tea like it was liquid courage before she answered. “I don’t think Mateo would appreciate your interest in what happens between Reba Sue and Cade.”

My mind immediately went to the two of them being caught in a compromising position in a public place. Maybe I didn’t want to know. The images popping in my head were turning my stomach.

“Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

Scarlet nodded and finished her tea. “I think I’ll be skipping lunch today.”

I rolled my eyes. “It was one turtle, it won’t put an ounce of fat on you.”

“It had more than enough calories to get me through to late afternoon.” She glanced at the time on her phone. “I’ve got an appointment in five minutes. I just thought you should know about Isla. What time are you leaving tonight?” she asked as she headed toward the front door.

“We’re not.”

She stopped and turned around. “What? Mateo couldn’t have been that upset about last night.”

I shook my head. “No, he needs to stay to work the case. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Forget about everyone else and enjoy your weekend. You deserve it.”

There was one problem with her advice. My daddy and Isla were still in the hot seat, and I wasn’t about to go off gallivanting with Mateo while either one of them got branded a murderer.