Chapter Thirty-Three
CJ accepted the glass of wine. “Thank you.” It felt good to sit down and just relax. Edward’s home truly was like a refuge. One far away from the madness that had plagued most of her life. As soon as she had arrived, he’d served a decadent dinner and then ushered her here to the parlor for wine.
After what she’d been through today, it felt particularly good to be here with him.
She’d tried to track down Juanita Lusk after going over the autopsy findings with Braddock and his partner.
No luck. She would be at the North Huntsville clinic tomorrow morning, CJ had learned. She would catch her there.
A false positive on a pregnancy test was possible, but not nearly as likely as a false negative. The confusion only added to the complicated layers surrounding Shelley’s death.
Uncovering the real story was paramount if she was going to find Shelley’s killer.
Tonight CJ needed this time to relax in a safe place.
Tomorrow she would need all the strength and courage she could summon to carry out her plan.
Though a bit sketchy, it was the best she could come up with.
Ricky was dead. The idea of using his murder to her advantage wasn’t something she was totally comfortable with, but the bastard owed her sister.
If his murder could help CJ solve Shelley’s, then at least he would have been good for something.
The thought had guilt bearing down on her, but she refused to be swayed. She would tell Tyrone that Ricky had given her evidence against him, evidence she would exchange for the truth about Shelley’s murder.
If that didn’t get a reaction, she wasn’t sure what would.
Braddock wouldn’t like it, and Edward surely wouldn’t.
That was exactly why neither one could know.
“I’ve been thinking about the memorial service,” Edward said, drawing her attention back to the here and now. “Would you like to host it here? I’m certain you’ll wish to invite only close friends. My staff is at your disposal.”
He’d already offered to take care of all the arrangements. And CJ appreciated that more than he could know, but Shelley had lived in the village. Those who knew her were there.
Tyrone Nash was there.
As much as it grieved CJ to admit the fact, having the people in the village attend the memorial service would allow her to ask more questions. Perhaps learn something new. That had to be her priority.
“Whenever I come to Huntsville . . . for anything . . .” She swallowed back the emotion crowding into her throat.
“You take care of me. Of everything. This is something I need to do myself.” That hadn’t come out right.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer, but you’ve done far too much for me already. ”
He cradled his elegant, stemmed glass, the red wine an exquisite merlot, as he digested her words.
She had been so lucky to find a good friend like him.
He’d taught her so much. Set her life on a course far different from that of what she’d come from.
Turning down his generous offer felt like a betrayal.
“The decision is yours to make, CJ.” Patience warmed his eyes. “The offer is merely that, an offer. It’s not necessary to explain your reasoning.”
But it was. She owed him too much to pretend otherwise. “I think it would be best to have a very informal gathering at the house in the village. Shelley had friends there.” And the truth was, CJ had no friends here or in the village other than Edward.
And maybe Braddock, though she wasn’t convinced he counted. “I still have questions. The people there may have the answers I’m seeking.”
“Why don’t we discuss the questions you have?”
He would attempt to talk her out of pursuing the issue. She knew him too well. Though she was a grown woman, he still treated her like a little girl sometimes. She should appreciate that he cared so much, and she did, most of the time.
“You said the police believe Banks may have been responsible for Shelley’s death.”
“That’s one scenario. But there are questions,” CJ reminded him.
“Neither Shelley’s nor Ricky’s murder was Tyrone’s usual MO.
” They’d been over all this. Edward simply didn’t want her to keep digging.
“I don’t want to risk that whoever did this to her will get away with it.
” She needed him to understand that. “I need to know for sure.”
He didn’t respond right away. His words and logic would be carefully chosen.
“I do understand. But what you’re doing is very dangerous, CJ.
” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And distracting. You’ve been here almost a week now.
You must know that your attending is going to be anxious as to when you plan to return to Baltimore.
No matter that he’s agreed to this arrangement; it simply won’t do to push his patience. ”
All true. “I am keeping those points firmly in mind. I don’t want this to drag out any longer than necessary.
I am fully aware that could prove detrimental to my future in Baltimore.
” She took a deep, bolstering breath before sharing what she could with him.
“So, I have a plan. First, I have to talk to Juanita and find out about the lab test.” She shook her head.
“I know it really doesn’t make sense. Shelley’s dead. What difference does it make, right?”
Edward didn’t respond, he no doubt understood that the question was rhetorical.
CJ stood, stretched her back, and walked over to the grand fireplace.
She sat down on the hearth, her favorite place whenever she visited in the winter.
“I need to understand what Shelley was feeling.” She shrugged.
“What was going on in her life those last few days? Maybe it’s irrelevant, but I need to know.
I want the police to determine who killed her and arrest that person.
I don’t think any of that is unreasonable. ”
“Practical questions. Rational reasoning.” His voice sounded somewhat distracted. “Do what you must. But please be careful.”
“Of course.”
He stared into his glass of wine a moment. Maybe she’d said something that had upset him.
“I will be careful, Edward. I hope you won’t worry too much.”
He lifted his gaze to hers, offered a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you won’t forget that you may call upon me for help in any way . . . as long as it’s legal.”
She laughed. Couldn’t help herself. The idea of Edward doing something illegal was preposterous. “I’ll be sure not to call you for the illegal parts.” Her cell vibrated. “Excuse me.” CJ straightened, slid the phone from her pocket to check the screen.
Carter Cost.
She didn’t want to talk to him right now. He could leave a voicemail. She tucked the phone away and smiled for her host. “I know it’s still early, but I’m exhausted.”
“Of course you are.” Edward stood. “Have some more wine and retire to your room. I have reading to catch up on. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” He hesitated. “I took the liberty of picking up a few things you might need. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You do too much for me, Edward, but thank you.” CJ pushed to her feet. She felt achy and wholly spent. “Good night.”
He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and said his good night. She watched him leave before going to the sideboard he used as a liquor cabinet. The bottle of wine waited on the counter. Another glass was a very good idea. Maybe she would manage a few hours’ sleep without waking.
When she’d filled her glass, she wandered into the entry hall.
Each time she visited his home she was astonished all over again.
The magnificent house had been built in the early eighteen hundreds, one of the first true mansions in the Huntsville area.
No expense had been spared in designing and decorating the twelve-thousand-square-foot home.
Marble and limestone floors were interspersed with gleaming hardwoods.
The opulent Persian rugs alone were masterpieces.
Soaring ceilings and massive fireplaces were in most every room. And the staircase.
She paused at the newel post, surveying the sweeping stairs as if for the first time. Imported, piece by piece, from Italy. Every brick, every stone, every timber and finish piece of the prestigious residence was a work of art.
But her favorite room was the library. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books. Decorated and furnished like a den or study, complete with fireplace. It was amazing. She and Edward shared a love of books.
She climbed the stairs and found the guest room she always used when visiting him.
She set her glass on the bedside table and ventured to the chair by the window where three—no, four—bags waited.
Slacks, blouses, sandals, even underthings.
All in her size and in her preferred colors.
The price tags had been removed, but the designer labels told her he had spared no expense.
She fingered the delicate lacy panties. Exactly the styles she loved.
She would have to thank him again in the morning.
For now, the wine was calling. She climbed amid the mountain of pillows on the massive four-poster bed. It felt so good. Safe and quiet. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed the silence until just now.
Her phone vibrated, reminding her that she had a voicemail. She should see what Cost wanted. Not that he likely had anything important to say. There was always the possibility that he’d remembered or heard something about Shelley. Only one way to find out.
He didn’t mention what he wanted, only that she should call him. Very clever. Now she had no choice. She couldn’t totally ignore contact from anyone who had known her sister.
Her fingers entered the necessary keys, then reached for her wine. He answered on the first ring.
“Carter, it’s CJ.” He asked about the autopsy. She filled him in on what she had learned from the autopsy report. He, too, was puzzled by the lab results versus what the ME had found. He agreed with CJ that labs made mistakes at times.
Then the real motive behind his call became apparent. He wanted CJ to have dinner with him tomorrow night. This was the third time he’d asked. Maybe he was hoping it would be the charm. He claimed this would be a business dinner to discuss her continued work at the clinic. She knew better.
Same old Carter.
“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I already have plans.” With Tyrone Nash, if she was lucky.
“Of course I’m committed to helping at the clinic for a while longer.
” Why was he suddenly worried about her rushing back to Baltimore?
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I won’t leave you or Juanita high and dry.
” He made one last attempt to entice her into saying yes to dinner.
She declined once more and ended the call.
She stared at the phone and shook her head.
Funny, she never would have imagined that she would be working with those two ever, in any capacity.
Then again, she wouldn’t have imagined her sister being murdered either.
Pain tightened her chest.
Dammit. She missed that wild, unpredictable girl.
As long as she was involved in the investigation, she didn’t dwell on her sister’s death.
Maybe that was the reason she couldn’t let it go.
To put it behind her meant that Shelley would no longer be a part of her life. She sipped her wine, considered that thought.
She would go back to Baltimore and there would be no reason to come back here. To be a part of her past.
Not once in her life had she ever missed this life or her past. Now it felt as if leaving it behind would close the book on her sister.
And Braddock.
She downed the last of her wine, savored the exquisite flavor. Shivering as she thought of how sex with him had felt, her eyes closed and she let the sensations flow over her.
Okay. She had to stop. She set the empty glass on the table and burrowed into those fabulous pillows. What she needed was sleep.
Her brain refused to cooperate. She couldn’t stop thinking about Braddock. What he’d gone through losing his niece.
He and CJ were both pretty much in the same boat.
She had learned a lot these past few days.
As a kid, things had been different. Life in the village had been about staying out of her parents’ way and playing games in the street.
She was only just beginning to understand the intensity of that life as an adult.
Of being a part of the village the way Shelley had been.
Of investigating heinous crimes day in and day out the way Braddock did.
Getting caught up in a moment—in the struggle for survival—wasn’t so hard to understand.
She needed to put the past behind her. Whatever happened between her and Braddock from this point forward didn’t need to be about the past.
CJ had to remember that when this was over, she still had a future. So did Braddock.
Whether the two would ever intersect again was yet to be seen.
Her eyes drifted shut with the wine’s coaxing.
Tomorrow maybe she would figure this all out.
She really didn’t want to die trying.