Chapter 15
SABLE
"You do?" I asked, my voice somehow sounding steady. The closer to me Leif moved, the higher my pulse ratcheted.
"Why wouldn't I?" He placed his hand on my cheek, his fingers stroking slowly down my skin.
"You're beautiful, smart, and sexy as hell. And you didn't run out the door the moment you saw the inside of this place."
I snorted a laugh. "Did you think I would?"
He considered that for a moment. "No, I didn't think so. Other people, on the other hand…"
"Right. I have met people who wouldn't be impressed with any of this." I gestured around us.
"Nothing less than five stars for some people," he said, seeming unimpressed. "But you're not like that, are you?"
"No," I said slowly. "I can tolerate four-and-a-half stars."
He laughed. "I'm not sure this place even rates one star."
"Of course it does," I said. "It's bright and airy, and it has potential."
"Some might say I fit that description." His hand lingered beside my ear.
"They might be right," I said. "It's better than being described as derelict, only fit to be torn down."
"I wouldn't even describe Forrest that way," he said lightly. "Certainly not you."
"I like to think I'm not derelict." I looked down at myself, then back up again.
"You are a long way from derelict, cupcake," he told me.
Cupcake? I've been called worse.
He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine, light, like a feather. Little more than a taste.
"Come with me," he said, dropping his hand to mine and pulling me to my feet.
"Where are we going?" I said with a laugh.
"You'll see."
He scooped up the remains of our lunch wrappers and tossed them in a trash can before we headed out the door.
Still holding my hand, we walked down the sidewalk, past more brownstones that looked the same as his. I couldn’t help wondering what they were like inside. Had they been redone too? Or were they waiting for someone to come along and give them a refresh?
"I took a walk around the neighborhood before I bought the place," Leif said. "I stumbled upon a little place. I think you might like it."
"You have my curiosity," I said.
"Curiosity is good, but don't ask me to tell you because I'm not going to," he said. "You'll have to wait and see."
Should I be worried? This might be just the right, harmless-looking place for a lair. The kind of place Woody might hang out while waiting for Leif to bring him victims.
I was letting my imagination run away with me, wasn't I? Just because Woody was out of his mind didn't mean his friends were.
A tiny voice in the back of my head said it didn't mean they weren't either.
Halfway through the next block, he led me into a small cafe. Not just a cafe, I realized. Behind the glass on the counter were a dozen different kinds of donuts. The smell was incredible.
Sweet pastry and bitter coffee. I couldn't think of a better combination.
"Coffee and donuts in one place," I said. "My favorite."
"I know, it's heaven, right?" Leif said. "Wait, you like donuts, right?"
"Do I like…" I stared back at him. "Of course I like donuts. Doesn't everyone? Hold on. You don't cool your donuts by running them under water, do you?"
He laughed. "That would be… I don’t know, whatever the sacrilegious version of donuts is. Donutligious? Sacri-nut? Either way, it's a no-no."
"Hey Leif," the guy behind the counter, greeted him. "Didn't think I'd see you today."
"You got lucky," Leif said. "This is Arthur. He owns the place. Arthur, this is Sable."
"Hey." Arthur looked to be in his mid-twenties with a scraggly goatee and a man bun. "What can I get you?"
"I recommend the mocha donuts," Leif said.
"That sounds good. I'd like one of those." My mouth was starting to water. "And a coffee, please."
"I'll have the same thing," Leif said.
Arthur nodded and, without another word, turned to make our coffees.
"It's good to see you smiling," Leif said as we stood to the side to let someone else place their order. "I get the feeling you don't do it very often."
If he intended to aim right for my heart, he got in a direct shot.
"I used to." I said. "When I was singing and playing music. Before…you know who." He who would not be forgotten if people kept bringing him up the way they were.
Leif looked at me searchingly, his expression serious for once.
"That must have been rough," he said. "It's not every day someone…" He stopped to accept our coffees and a bag for our donuts from Arthur and paid him.
He jerked his head toward the door.
I followed him out.
"You saw everything they did." He handed me my drink and opened the bag for me to take out a donut.
"No," I said quickly. "I was in the shower when it happened." I hoped that would be enough for him to let it go.
"Mmm," he murmured, as if he didn't quite buy it.
"This donut is good," I said, trying to change the subject.
"Of course it is." We stepped over to a bench and sat down to eat. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he said, "but I get the impression there's more to what happened than you're saying."
Of course I didn't want to talk about it. I got the impression he wasn't going to let it go that easy.
"Why would there be?" I asked evasively.
"I can think of a handful of reasons off the top of my head," he said. "They might have been people you know. Ratting out a friend is difficult. Not that I've done it, but I'm guessing."
"They weren't people I knew," I said quickly. "They weren't people I paid either." Before he asked; that was a favorite question of most people when they asked about that night. Was Leif accusing me of something?
He regarded me for a few moments.
"No, you definitely don't strike me as the sort of person who'd pay to have someone killed."
"Good, because I wouldn't," I said.
Could we talk about something else now?
"Were you one of them?" he asked.
Evidently not.
I squinted at him. "One of them what? You think I helped kill him while I was in the shower? He was on the floor over near the window, a long way from the bathroom."
I tried to get the image of him out of my head, but it haunted my nightmares. Him staring at me with glazed eyes, blood seeping into the carpet. How had I not been sick at the sight of it?
Probably because I was ready to get out a bottle of champagne and celebrate.
I know. What sort of person thinks like that in spite of what he did to me? Maybe I wasn't a good person either.
"I certainly didn't kill him in the shower, dry him off and then drag him over to the other side of the room." If Leif was suggesting that, he was out of his mind.
Also? If he continued along this line of questioning, I was going to get up and walk away. I'd been through all of this enough times. I didn't want to talk about it anymore.
I might slip up and say something I shouldn’t.
He actually grinned. "That would be some mad skills."
I thought he might leave it at that, but then he added, "You might have helped and then washed off the blood.
" He could have been talking about slicing bacon, he was so blasé.
Maybe he was one of those people who were obsessed with true crime, fascinated like he was watching a documentary, not real life.
"I didn't," I said firmly. "I had no part in killing Wolfgang."
"Except wishing he was dead," Leif said.
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Except for that," I admitted. "Wishing for something to happen and actually doing it aren't mutually exclusive."
"Of course they're not." He sipped his coffee and raised his cup toward me. "You saw them? You told the police there were two people, didn't you?"
"I saw them as they were leaving." I said. If my voice was any tighter, it would snap. "I stepped out of the bathroom as they were slipping out the door. That's all I saw."
I saw a lot more than that. I saw them with their masks over their faces. I heard their voices. They told me to go into the bathroom and stay there until they were finished. I'd done exactly that, only coming out after they were gone. After the door clicked shut behind them.
"Then you found him dead and immediately called the police," Leif said.
"Yes, that's what happened." My voice was almost robotic. I might have been an AI reciting facts and figures. "What are you trying to get at?"
"I'm not trying to get at anything," he said. "Just curious about what went down. It's not every day someone witnesses a murder."
"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "Woody seems determined to kill someone. Are you certain he hasn't done it already?"
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," Leif said.
I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Look," he said, putting down his half-eaten donut on the paper bag in his lap, "I get you hated Wolfgang. He deserved to die slowly and horribly, if you ask me. But I don't believe you didn't see anything."
"I didn’t—" I started.
"It's okay to cover for the people who did it," he said, his voice low. "I'd do the exact same if I was you."
"But?" I prompted. There was very clearly a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Or a butt, as in this conversation was becoming a pain in the ass.
"But… Woody thinks you're involved. If he knows what happened, he might back off, that's all." He raised one shoulder, dropping it when he picked his donut back up.
"You think Woody would regret trying to kill me if I give him names?" I asked.
"It couldn't hurt."
I shook my head. "I don't know any names. I don't know anything. I don't know why you're asking me all of this. If Woody is a good person, like you say he is, he should back off anyway. I had nothing to do with killing his father."
I said that a bit too loud. A couple of people glanced at me as they walked past.
I looked away.
"I never said Woody was a good person," Leif said with a short laugh. "Woody is an asshole, but he's my friend, and I don't want to see him get himself into something he shouldn't. Besides, I like you. I want to understand."
I scratched my earlobe. Should I tell him what I knew? Would it really help to appease Woody or would he hate me just as much?
Hell for all I knew, Leif would run straight to the police, and I'd get in trouble for not being forthcoming. They might conclude I lied because I was involved more deeply than they'd uncovered.
I couldn't risk them pointing fingers at me. Not when my life finally seemed to be getting back on track.
"There isn't any more to say." I said finally. "I saw what I saw. I'm sorry if Woody doesn't believe that. I'm sorry you don't believe that."
I stood then and started to walk away. Stopped and realized I'd left my coffee on the bench. I walked back, picked it up, and headed off down the block.
For a while I thought he might come after me, or at least call out after me, but he didn't.
I didn’t look back. I didn't want him to see how much he'd rattled me.
I stepped around the corner and ran straight into Woody.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said with a growl.