Sealed with a Kill (9 page)

“But the question remains: who shot him?”

“I think we need to find out more about his supposed crisis.”

“I’m in,” Brenna said.

“Thanks,” Tenley said. “I knew I could count on you.”

“We need a plan.”

“I already have an idea of where to start,” Tenley said. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I need a wingman.”

“I’m listening.”

“Have you ever been to the Morse Point Country Club?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, brace yourself,” Tenley said. “Tomorrow night is ladies’ night and we’re going.”

“Can I get in?” Brenna asked.

“I’m a lifetime member, and you’re my guest,” Tenley said. “No sweat.”

Brenna thought about Nate and how they wouldn’t be having their talk anytime soon. A tiny sigh escaped her, but she curved her lips into a smile for Tenley’s sake. She’d been waiting for Nate to notice her for two years; surely she could wait another two days.

 

Brenna was standing in line at Stan’s Diner, waiting to see what creation he made out of her latte today. A few days ago, he had shaped her froth into a star dusted with nutmeg—a work of art, truly.

She was so busy watching Stan that it took her a moment to notice that someone was standing behind her. This would not be a problem if the person were outside of her personal space bubble. But given that she could feel hot breath on the back of her neck, the person was clearly not respecting the two-foot boundary she liked to maintain.

She turned to find Ed Johnson, looking more like a plucked chicken than ever, holding a small recorder, which he promptly shoved in her face.

“Ms. Brenna Miller, I have a few questions for you,” he said.

“Not now, Ed.” Brenna made her voice as chilly as an icicle on an eave—and just as pointy.

“Aw, come on,” he whined. “It’s just a few questions. Preston won’t let me near his inn or any of his leaf peepers, and the Morse family set their dog on me. I need a quote.”

“Why me?” she asked.

“Because you found the body,” he said. “That’s news.”

Stan placed Brenna’s to-go cup on the counter in front of her. She glanced at it and saw that the froth was shaped into a chicken leg. She looked up at him, and the former navy sailor winked at her. So, she wasn’t the only one who thought Ed resembled a naked fowl.

She paid for her coffee and left a hefty tip for the genius that was Stan.

“All right, Ed; one question,” she said.

“Just one?” he asked.

“Yep, and there you go. That answers your question,” she said. She snapped a plastic lid on her cup and headed toward the door.

“That’s not fair,” he protested, following her.

“Life’s not fair, Ed. Harvey Lester could tell you that,” she said.

“Speaking of Harvey, what was it like to find his cold, stiff corpse sealed up in a pile of leaves?”

Brenna stopped walking. The town was moving around them as if in slow motion. She could see Lillian Page emptying the book drop in front of the library. Sarah Buttercomb was drawing today’s special on the whiteboard outside of her bakery. Bart Thompson, who worked at the hardware store, was helping Betty Cartwright-Hanratty load paint cans into the back of her Volvo.

She was aware of them all but not. Images of the body in the leaves came back to her in a rush, and she sucked in a breath at the gruesome impact. Someone had shot Harvey Lester, and whoever it was, was walking around among them. Brenna was sure of it.

“Frightening,” she said. “It was frightening.”

A flash popped, and Brenna blinked. Ed had snapped her picture while she was thinking about the murder.

“Ed!” she cried. “That was uncool.”

“Oh, look at the time,” he said, and glanced at his watch while shoving his digital recorder into his pocket, as if afraid she might snatch it. “Gotta go. I’m on deadline.”

Brenna debated throwing her latte at him, but if she missed, she’d be even angrier that she wasted a fabulous cup of coffee on him.

She pushed open the door to Vintage Papers. Tenley was consulting with a customer who wanted to order wedding invitations. There were three other customers in the shop who were browsing, so Brenna dumped her jacket and purse in the back and came out to see if she could assist anyone.

They stayed busy up until lunch, when Tenley gratefully sank into a chair at the worktable and put her feet up.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she said.

“I can imagine. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Yes, seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.” Tenley rose abruptly to her feet and lurched toward the bathroom in the back. “I’m not feeling so well; do you mind watching the shop without me?”

“Not at all,” Brenna said. “It’s probably the stress; maybe you should go home for a bit and rest.”

“Maybe,” Tenley agreed. “But we’re still going tonight.”

“I’ll be ready,” she agreed. “Hey, what should I wear?”

“Ladies’ night is really a euphemism for divorcée night, so if you want to blend, dress trampy.”

“Oh, fun!” Brenna wondered if Tenley caught the sarcasm in her voice before the door shut behind her.

Brenna was sitting on the floor doing inventory when the bells on the door alerted her that a customer had arrived. She had almost finished counting their Italian specialty papers and didn’t want to have to start all over, so she called out, “I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” a deep voice said.

Brenna whipped her head around to find Dom leaning against the counter, watching her.

“Tunnel, huh?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I was going to call you back,” she said.

“But the tunnel collapsed and you got trapped. Then the battery on your cell phone died, and you had to dig your way out through ten feet of crumbled concrete. By the time you got out, you were suffering from dehydration and had to be rushed to the hospital, and so you couldn’t return any of my calls. Don’t fret, I completely understand. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Brenna couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You have quite an imagination.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said. He pushed off the counter and strode toward her, offering his hand.

Brenna took it, and he pulled her gently to her feet and gave her a solid, reassuring hug.

“I really am sorry that I didn’t call you back. I got caught up talking to Tenley, and it was late before I got home. Still, it was inexcusably rude, and I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” he said. “I really am just glad to see that you’re all right.”

The door jangled again, and Brenna stepped away from Dom to greet her customer. To her surprise, it was Julie with her surly son, Suede, in tow.

“Hi, Julie, Suede,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hi, Brenna,” Julie replied. “Suede and I were just walking about town and saw the shop. I remembered you said that you worked here, and I thought we’d pop in to say hello.”

“I’m so glad you did,” she said. “This is my friend Dom. Dom, this is Julie. She was on the tour the other day. And this is her son, Suede.”

Dom held out his hand. “A pleasure.”

Julie looked a bit starstruck by him, and Brenna realized it was a reaction to the coiled energy that poured off of Dom in waves. She knew he didn’t do it on purpose. Dom came from an old mob family, and Brenna was pretty sure the ability to overwhelm those around him wasn’t a conscious choice but something he couldn’t help because it was written into his genetic code.

Julie shook her head as if trying to break a spell, and Dom glanced at her mane of red hair as it caught the light and shimmered in a tumble of blond and copper.

They shook hands, and it seemed to Brenna that they both lingered a bit. Then Dom turned to Suede, who was giving him the curled lip of teenage surlitude.

“Suede, this is Dom Cappicola,” Brenna said. She put extra emphasis on Dom’s last name, and she saw Suede’s eyes widen. Good, he had heard of the Cappicola family.

“Nice to meet you,” Dom said. He held out his hand, and Suede reluctantly took it, but instead of your average handshake, they exchanged a flurry of backhanded slaps, curled finger handclasps, and fists pounded one atop another.

“So, how many people have you whacked?” Suede asked.

“Tommy . . . Suede!” Julie gasped in parental horror.

To Brenna’s relief, Dom laughed. He had a good laugh. It rumbled up from his chest and enfolded all of them in its warmth. It made him even more charming, if that was possible.

“That’s old-school,” Dom said. “You know how you take care of your enemies nowadays?”

Suede shook his head. It was the first time Brenna had seen him make eye contact with any adult. He was positively entranced by Dom. Brenna couldn’t blame him. That Cappicola magnetism was hard to resist. A glance at Julie and Brenna saw that she, too, was being sucked in by Dom’s raw energy. The man should really come with a warning label.

“You crush them—financially,” Dom said.

“But how?” the teen asked.

“You play to win,” Dom said. “You make sure you are more educated and have better connections, and then you outmaneuver them in every business deal that comes your way. Pretty soon you don’t need to whack them because they are no longer a threat to you or your business. This method comes with the added bonus that it’s legal, and there’s no body to dispose of and no jail time to serve.”

“Wow,” Suede breathed, impressed.

“Where did you go to school, Mr. Cappicola?” Julie asked.

“Call me Dom,” he said. “I went to MIT, and you?”

“Yale.”

“I thought I saw a little Bulldog in you,” he said. Julie flushed a pretty shade of pink, and Dom grinned at her. Brenna watched the exchange and felt a twinge of something unwelcome. Was it? It was—jealousy!

Mercifully, the phone rang at the counter, pulling her away from the group and this horrifying realization.

“Excuse me,” she said, and she raced to the counter to pick up the phone. To her chagrin, they hardly noticed her departure.

“Vintage Papers, may I help you?” she asked.

“You have to change my order!” It was Donna Wilkins, known to Tenley and Brenna as the bridezilla from hell. She had changed her save-the-date order six times already. Both Brenna and Tenley were terrified that if she was this bad with the reminder cards for a wedding that was still a year and a half away, she would be a thousand times worse with invitations to the real deal.

“Breathe, Donna,” Brenna said. “It will be all right. Let me just pull your order from the file.”

She heard Donna draw a shaky breath as she flipped through the order book that they kept at the counter. She glanced over at the threesome still standing in the shop and noticed that Julie and Suede were laughing at a story of Dom’s, and again Brenna felt the unwelcome surge of unhappy. What was the matter with her? Dom was just a friend. She should be happy for him if he met someone he liked. She did not feel happy, however; she felt jealous, and she didn’t like it, not one little bit.

“Hello? Hello, are you listening to me?” Bridezilla was getting hysterical again.

Brenna switched her attention back to the phone. As Donna blathered on about pink versus purple embossed lettering, Brenna watched as Dom and Julie made their way to the door together, with Suede in between them like one happy little family. At the door he turned and waved.

Brenna waved back and forced a smile that felt more like a baring of her teeth.

She had to crane her neck to watch them, but sure enough the three of them headed down the sidewalk together to Stan’s Diner. The phone was cordless, so she hurried across the shop to make sure, but yes, they all trooped into Stan’s, with Dom holding the door for Julie and Suede.

Brenna returned to the counter, uncertain about how she felt about this sudden turn of events. She had never thought about Dom with anyone else. Obviously, he wasn’t going to wait around for her forever. But she had thought. . . what? That he would wait around for her forever.

Brenna didn’t like that she had taken his interest in her for granted. Feeling jealous when she saw him with Julie was no doubt just what she deserved.

With a sigh, she put the phone back in its holder. It took her a moment to realize she had hung up on Bridezilla in midsentence. Nuts!

She blew out a breath. She had better call Donna back before the girl had a nervous breakdown. Ugh.

This was not shaping up to be one of her better days.

First she had to put off Nate, now Dom was showing interest in someone else, and tonight she had to go fact gathering as a divorcée.

Brenna shook her head. They had better come up with some information tonight on who else wanted Harvey Lester dead besides Mr. Morse because if this kept up, her personal life was going to be in shambles before the killer was caught.