Mug Shot (22 page)

In a daze, I somehow managed to drag myself out of the car and stagger down the street to the court building. Not finding Pete's lawyer outside, I went in and scanned the lobby. I threw myself down on one of the benches in the hallway and put my head in my hands. My head felt like it was going to split in two. I lost track of how long I had sat there when Jim Banks finally stepped out of one of the rooms.

Nearly stumbling in my rush to get to him, I said, “Mr. Banks…Jim. What's going on?”

He frowned and said gravely, “Nothing good, I'm afraid. The judge is not backing down on the bail violation. Even worse, I'm going to have to do a lot of maneuvering to convince him not to move for bond forfeiture.”

Bond forfeiture. My entire body became instantly numb. I knew the answer to my question, but I had to ask it anyway. My voice cracked as I asked, “And if you…if you can't convince the judge?”

“All of the collateral you, Pete, and his grandmother put up for bail will be seized by the court. I won't get in front of the judge until next week, but you need to start preparing for the worst.”

Suddenly, I got extremely dizzy and disoriented and my knees gave out. Jim grabbed me and helped me to a nearby bench. In my haze, I realized that my life as I knew it was over. Pete was in jail indefinitely. Java Jive would be closed. I no longer would have a car or a job. And Gertie would be homeless. I was too shell-shocked to even cry.

Jim was speaking to me, but I couldn't even hear him through my deafening devastation. I got up and walked straight out of the building, got in my car (for probably the last time), and drove home.

Like a zombie, I trudged up the rusted stairs to my apartment, craphole that it was, which I probably wouldn't even be able to afford after today. When I got to my door, I noticed there was folded piece of paper taped to it with my name on it. Assuming it was just another kick in the teeth, I snatched it off the door and threw it next to my purse on the kitchen counter, unread. I should have called Gertie, but I couldn't bring myself to admit to her what had happened. The police would let Pete call her to explain, I was sure.

I searched through my bare cupboards, realizing I didn't even have enough alcohol to get myself drunk. That was truly pathetic. After grabbing the last beer out of my fridge, a white-hot flame of anger started bubbling up inside me. Damn Alejandro Bastidas. If he hadn't been such a little bitch and run to the cops to tattle on Pete, my life wouldn't be such a mess. The madder I got, the more my brain started formulating a little plan of revenge. Redheaded She-Devil was in rare form with this one. Storming into my bedroom, I got out my laptop and started typing furiously. After I fired off the email I had written, I felt marginally better. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, I crawled into bed to nurse my beer and try to sleep my problems away.

Sleep did not come. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, just thinking. Once I got over my initial fit of rage, my anger at Bastidas had actually served to clear my head. Sure, I was still depressed over the whole situation, but now that I'd calmed down, I managed to cling to a scrap of hope. I had always been of the opinion that any bad situation, besides death, could be fixed. Even with the bleak outlook on Pete's future, I knew there had to be a way to turn everything around. The bottom line was that he was innocent. Someone else killed Cecilia, and there had to be some kind of evidence that proved it.

I grabbed my phone to look at the time. It was only four o'clock, so I hadn't been wallowing in my self-pity for terribly long. I had nothing but time this evening to do whatever snooping I wanted to do, and I wanted to start with Kent. Right now he'd probably be at the repast for Cecilia's funeral, which I thought I'd heard was going to be held at Delta Hollingsworth's house. I changed out of my rumpled clothes, grabbed my keys, and headed for my car, prepared to follow Kent around all night if I had to.

Surveillance was not all it was cracked up to be. I had been parked outside Delta Hollingsworth's house for an hour, and my butt was numb from sitting in the cold. It was also dark and rainy outside, so it was practically impossible to see anything going on. Every few minutes I had to turn on my car, either running the wipers to get rid of the raindrops or the defrost to combat my constantly fogged-up windows. I was hungry and had to use the restroom, and I was also bored as hell. I would've loved some company, but Pete was in jail, Stan and Savannah were inside at the repast, and Ryder…well, anything we had was over. Again. Finally, people started leaving Delta's house, and I glimpsed Kent's burly frame silhouetted in the front porch lights. I started my car and followed behind him, not close enough that he'd notice me.

Kent drove for a bit and pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Music City Fitness gym Savannah and I had visited earlier in the week. The parking lot was practically a ghost town, so I parked at the fast-food restaurant next door for better cover. Kent's business seemed to be failing as fast as Java Jive, and for that I felt for him. It didn't change the fact that I still thought he was a jackass, especially since my finger and my head were starting to ache again. Sitting out in the cold for hours was not helping my healing process.

Assuming he'd be in the gym more than a few minutes, I took the opportunity to zip into the restaurant to use the restroom and get myself something to eat. I could see Kent's SUV quite well from my parking space next door, so I sat in my car and ate. There was no way he would recognize me or even notice me all the way over here. He emerged after about thirty minutes and got back into his vehicle.

Kent pulled out into the street, and I made a move to follow. Before I could get on the road, a sedan cut me off and got behind Kent. Damn it. If this guy drove too slow, I could lose Kent. The sedan driver and I followed Kent onto the loop, and then we all took the exit that would head us toward Belle Meade. I was getting a little suspicious of the sedan, so I hung back a little, just in case. The rain had stopped, so I could actually see now. I looked at the sedan's license plate, and it was a municipal. Was this a cop tailing Kent? If it was, it would definitely make me feel better, although it might also get me caught. I hung back even more.

I recognized the area as the same one Grandmother Hollingsworth's house was in. Assuming Kent was going to her house, which now technically belonged to his wife, I pulled to a stop at the curb and watched the two cars drive down the street and turn at the next corner. Knowing from my past visit that all of the streets in this subdivision interconnected, I went down a neighboring street and came up to Grandmother Hollingsworth's house from the opposite direction. I parked several houses away on the other side of the street, behind another vehicle to shield me from the sight of the sedan driver.

After Kent had been inside for about fifteen minutes, the man in the sedan got out and crept up to one of the windows and peeked in. He certainly moved like a cop, but unfortunately all I could see was his silhouette sneaking across the lawn. Suddenly, the front door burst open and Abigail stormed outside with Kent on her heels. She still had a cast on one wrist, but her twisted ankle seemed to be healed well enough. They were yelling and gesturing a lot with their hands, obviously in the middle of a fight. I wished I could better hear what they were saying, but even with my window rolled down, I was too far away to make out more than a few words.

Kent barked something at Abigail, peppered with a few curses, and she fired something back at him. He said something about their kids. She pointed at him and gestured toward the house, then stomped down the sidewalk. Kent went back inside and slammed the door. The cop, or whoever he was, stayed put, cloaked in the shadows of the house. Abigail wrenched the door of her sports car open and flung herself inside. I had a choice to make, and I had to make it fast. I could either stay here and watch Kent, who seemed to be on Daddy duty at the moment, or I could follow Abigail. I chose to follow her, quickly pulling away from the curb to keep up with her zooming down the street. I didn't feel like I had to be as careful tailing Abigail, because from what I knew of her, she'd probably be oblivious anyway.

She drove all the way back into Nashville. This little outing was going to cost me a fortune in gas, but I stuck with it. I had inadvertently let a big truck get between us in traffic, but I managed to spy her little car turning into The Gulch area. Ahead of me, Abigail screeched across traffic, nearly causing a wreck, and careened into the parking lot of one of the trendy restaurants. I wondered if she was still high on painkillers from her accident.

Waiting until she was inside to get out of my car, I managed to blend into a group of people entering the restaurant after her. When I came through the front door, Abigail was nowhere to be seen. Damn. I discreetly edged around the group congregated at the hostess stand and made my way into the restaurant. I stood behind a plant and scanned the place. Nothing. I headed in the direction of the bar, hoping to find her there.

Bingo. Abigail was sitting alone at a booth. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, intending to seem like a customer, not the stalker I was totally being. I got out my phone and pretended to send a text, only I was really pointing the camera at Abigail and hitting the record button.

I nearly fell off my barstool when I saw who approached Abigail, gave her a steamy kiss, and slid into the seat across from her. Alejandro Bastidas. Really? His baby mama was barely in the ground, and here he was, ready to capitalize on her own sister's grief. This was a new low, even for him. Hitting on someone after a funeral was like going to a wedding with the sole intention of nailing a lonely bridesmaid, only about a thousand times worse. However, in the grand scheme of bad behavior, what about Abigail? How could she be involved with a man her sister had been planning to try to make a family with? I actually felt angry on Cecilia's behalf.

Bastidas said something to Abigail, and she teared up, taking a big gulp of her cocktail. He put on a sympathetic face, then proceeded to take her non-casted hand in both of his and make out with it.

Grossed out, I paused my video recording and took a big gulp of my own drink. The two of them leaned toward each other and began having what seemed to be a serious conversation. If only I could hear what they were saying. What if they were patting each other on the back for succeeding in their plan to off Cecilia and split her life savings? Granted, they probably wouldn't be discussing a murder in the middle of a busy restaurant bar, but I was still curious. I couldn't get much closer without them noticing me, so I was kind of stuck. After a few minutes, he went back to work on her hand.

Evidently Abigail had a thing for getting her fingers sucked, because she slid out of her side of the booth and grabbed Bastidas by the tie, dragging him out the door. I quickly paid my tab and followed them outside. They could barely keep their hands off each other long enough to get into his car. Bastidas drove a few blocks toward downtown, parking in a little gated lot next to a high-rise office building. I had to scramble to find a parking space so I could continue my surveillance. By the time I got into the deserted building, they were nowhere to be found. However, one of the elevators was climbing, and it stopped on the eleventh floor. I hopped into another elevator and followed them up.

When I got off the elevator, I found a sign noting the names of the businesses on that floor. Bastidas Enterprises was listed. That must have been where they were headed. Creeping down the hall, I came upon the entrance to Bastidas's office. I put my ear to the door but heard nothing. Surely if they had come up here to do it, they weren't doing it in the reception area of his office. I tried the knob and had to keep myself from cheering when I found it unlocked. I slipped silently inside the darkened office, and I heard some thumping coming from a door to the left. I tiptoed up to the door and put my ear against it.

“My sweet Abigail, you are the only woman for me,” I heard Bastidas say. Yeah, right.

“Oh, Alejandro, I love you, and I want to spend every moment with you,” Abigail replied breathlessly.

There was a slight hesitation, and then Bastidas said, “I would love nothing more,
mi querida
, but that horrible husband of yours does not want to let you go. I cannot say that I blame him. If you were mine, I would never give you up.”

She fell for his bullshit lines. “You are the sweetest man I've ever met. Take me! Take me now!”

“As you wish, my love.”

Oh, snap. It was then that I realized I hadn't completely thought this through. It was all kinds of wrong to listen to other people having sex. However, I had come this far, and I was committed to finding out anything I could. I started to hear some soft moaning out of Abigail, punctuated by the occasional “oh yeah” and “right there, Daddy.” Bastidas let out a couple of guttural groans and cried out
“no pare”
more times than I wanted to hear. With the way my luck had run lately, it was par for the course that the only conversation I was able to successfully eavesdrop on tonight was their sex talk. On a positive note, Bastidas either didn't have the interest in Abigail or the stamina to last more than a few minutes, because their screaming quickly rose to a climax and then immediately subsided.

The things I'd do for Pete. There was no way I would ever be able to unhear what I just heard. I'd bet fifty bucks she faked it, considering it was all over and done with in under three minutes.

I heard some shuffling, then Bastidas said, “I'm sorry, my darling, but I must go. I have a late meeting with an investor.” Investor, my ass. I'd bet another fifty bucks he had a second lady on the hook for tonight. Pig.

“You're such a busy man. I can't wait until we can be married and I can spend every night in your arms.”

Bastidas paused again when she mentioned commitment. “Yes, but for now you must go home. You have much mourning to do over your sister.”

Ouch. Way to kill the mood. Abigail choked out, “Yes…you're right. I was only hoping to take my mind off her for a little while.”

“I know what would be a good distraction. You start dreaming up plans for a spectacular flower garden at your new home. With your newly acquired inheritance, the sky will be our only limit. We should be able to come up with a world-class design.”

My ears perked up at “inheritance.”

“Oh, Alejandro, I would love that. I was considering giving my soon-to-be-ex-husband some of the money to help out his business. But after the way he acted toward me earlier, I think a lovely flower garden would be a much better use of my inheritance.” She paused a moment, and then added, “I did receive a rather large sum of money from my dear sister.”

“My darling, if you are in the market to invest in a business, may I suggest Bastidas Enterprises? I am always looking to take on new investors. Then we could work much more closely.” He certainly never passed up a chance to be a total douche.

“Well, in that case, I'll write you out a check tomorrow.”

Seriously? I wanted to shake her and scream, “How stupid are you?”

I heard footsteps approaching the door, so I sprinted out of the office and around the nearest corner. Holding my breath, I waited until I heard the elevator doors close before I relaxed. I took my time getting to my car and drove straight back to Abigail's house. The last thing I wanted to witness tonight was Bastidas working his mojo on another potential “investor,” so I figured I'd see if there were any fireworks between Kent and Abigail once she got home. In the back of my mind, I was concerned about her safety. If Kent were to figure out Abigail left to go cheat on him, he might decide to take it out on her physically. Not that I could personally do anything about it, but I could at least call the police if I thought things were getting dicey.

When I got back to my parking place, I noticed that the sedan from earlier seemed to be gone. Kent's SUV was still in the driveway where he'd left it. Settling in, I waited for Abigail to get home. I didn't have to wait long. Kent must have been watching for her, too, because the second she turned into the driveway, he was out the door with a couple of suitcases in hand.

He yelled at her for a moment and then threw the suitcases in his SUV and took off. Assuming I'd witnessed him moving out, I was curious as to where he'd go, so I gave up on Abigail and followed Kent. And again, I found myself all the way back downtown. He turned into the valet entrance of the Omni, a swanky hotel a couple blocks off Broadway. Parking for me was going to be difficult because I wasn't about to cough up money for a good spot. I kept driving and lucked into an empty space on the street only two blocks away. Jogging back to the Omni, I managed to get to the lobby as Kent was still checking in. His back was to me, so I nonchalantly passed behind him and entered the library area, sitting where I could get a good view of the lobby. I grabbed a book to put in front of my face so I could watch him unnoticed.