Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (14 page)

And, yes. Gun-to-face is totally a thing. No matter what Drake says or how he begs me not to say it. It happened. No point sugarcoating that shit. Because it is pretty shit.

I pull my steaming cup of coffee from beneath the machine and retrieve my phone from my purse to call Carlton. Now that I know what I’m doing about Gianna’s request, I need to make a move on getting information. An autopsy report would be helpful…

“Hey, Carlton,” I say when the call rolls over to voicemail. “I need in-depth information on Wally. See if you can find out personal relationships and other things. It’d also be great if there’s a way to find out when the daughter is getting into town. Oh, and anything official would be even better.” Hint hint. “Call me when you’ve got something.”

I hang up just as three knocks sound at my door. I take a hasty sip of my coffee and almost choke on it before opening the door to Gianna.

“Come in,” I rasp, banging on my chest.

“Goodness,
cara.
Are you okay?” She looks at me with concern as she enters my house and shuts the door behind her.

“Yep. Just my coffee attempting to assassinate me.” I pull a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrew the cap, and swig. “Do you want a drink? I just replaced the beans in the coffee machine.”

“Coffee sounds perfect.” She casts her dark gaze onto the piles of tubs taking up my table. “Nonna’s been busy.”

“Mmm.” I set the coffee machine and glance over my shoulder. “I found her here yesterday, cooking, and told her she could stay if she left me some food. I just came home to this and I’m kind of tempted to eat meatballs for breakfast.”

“I agree. That sauce smells gorgeous.”

I nod in agreement as I hand her the mug. “Let’s go into the front room before temptation wins out.” I lead her into the living room and to the sofa.

It really isn’t a joke—the longer I’m in the kitchen, the more I want to heat that food and eat it right now. The problem with that is I know I’d eat so much that I’d have a food baby and enter a food coma, so I’m going to need adult supervision to cook it.

I sit in the corner of my sofa, and after pulling my shoes off and putting my mug down, I tuck my feet beneath me and face Gianna. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse, so I’m doing.” She smiles a little but lifts her mug to hide her mouth. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Wally.”

“Very well.”

I take a deep breath and pick my mug up. I don’t want to drink the coffee. I just want something to do with my hands. There’s something oddly comforting about having an item to hold when you’re about to have a relatively awkward conversation.

It also helps when I say something stupid and want to punch myself in the face.

“I’ll help you.”

She pauses. “You will?”

“Yes.” I push my hair from my face. “I will. But there are conditions. I need a whole lot more information than I have before I can start. Carlton is pulling things on Wally right now, but I really need to know about your relationship with him and why you were fighting. I know you don’t want to share it, but it might help me put things together.”

She blows a breath out, fluttering her bangs. “I thought you’d say that, but I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Well, trying to prove your innocence without all the information is like trying to figure out a murder without forensics. You do it either accidentally or not at all. I should know. I’m great at accidentally solving murder cases.”

“It would be nice for you to accidentally solve this one.”

“Yeah… Don’t say that around your son. He won’t agree.” I snort. “Seriously, though, it will make my job a lot easier. I really need you to help me so I can help you. If I could just go ahead and make all of this go away and find out what happened on Saturday night, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Half a heartbeat. Anything. I’d just do it so Holly Woods can return to its version of normal. Which doesn’t involve people getting killed the way they have been this year. I think this year has something against my hometown, and I’m ready for it to get the fuck over it.

“My conversation with Wally wasn’t regarding any element of our relationship. He disagreed with a decision I’ve made and tried to talk me out of it. I didn’t appreciate it.” Gianna sets her mug on my coffee table and clasps her hands in her lap. “It has nothing to do with his death or him. It doesn’t impact the police’s or your investigation.”

Boy, she isn’t budging on this.

“How do you know if you haven’t told anyone?” I ask.

“Because I know. Women’s intuition.”

Fuck me. “Okay. I’m going to take your word on it.” I roll my shoulders and carefully consider my next question.

Since my discovery of Rosie’s relationship with Wally, I’ve thought more than once that it’s a perfect motive for Gianna. I hate thinking that she did it, because I’m sure she wouldn’t even swat a fly, but I have to consider every avenue of investigation, and she is the primary one. The quicker I can rule her out, the quicker I can go ahead and prove that she didn’t do it.

“You’re thinking very hard,
cara.
What’s on your mind?”

I click my tongue and look at her. “Yesterday, I stopped by Rosie’s.”

Gianna’s lips quirk. “Ah.”

Well, this got awkward real quick.

“She wasn’t there—Corinne was nearby for work and came when her mom called. She told me that Rosie was seeing Wally.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

When she doesn’t say anything further, I frown. “I’m gonna need a little more to go on here.”

She laughs lightly. “I knew they were in a relationship, Noelle. I didn’t care. Wally and I weren’t in a relationship in the way Drake, and apparently you, assumed. We remained friends after we divorced. I just stopped by to see Katherine—his daughter—on my way back to Holly Woods last month. The day Drake saw Wally leaving was the day we spoke about his relationship with Rosie. He wanted some advice on her birthday present.”

“But you said when we had dinner you were seeing two men and one was Wally. Why would you lie about that?”

“Ah—I said I was seeing two men.” Her lips quirk. “I never said one was Wally.”

I can’t help but drop the frown and smile. She’s right. She never confirmed one was Wally. Well played, Gi. Well played. “So, why did you never correct Drake?”

“Because he has a terrible habit of assuming before asking and it was far more enjoyable to see him get worked up about it because he didn’t care to ask.”

Makes perfect sense, I suppose. “What else can you tell me? Is there anyone you can think of who would want to do this?”

“That’s the thing. I’ve tried. I’ve done nothing but think since you and Drake came and told me he was dead, but I’ve got nothing. I can’t think of a single person who’d want him dead. He hasn’t worked in his business for a long time—in fact, Kat has primary ownership since he took an early retirement two years ago, although I believe she hired someone to run it. He wouldn’t have any business rivalries.”

“What about her? How’s their relationship?”

Gianna picks her mug up and takes a sip. “Not as good as it once was, but not bad by any means. She lives in Washington D.C. but spends a lot of time traveling. He was usually busy doing whatever retired people do whenever she came to Texas.”

“Does she work for his business? What business is it?”

“When he went to college in Houston, he got a job working with a classic car dealer. He discovered his love for it and, through knowledge he gained from his business degree, helped the owner make his dealership thrive. He went from barely paying the rent on the space to buying it off the original owner and traveling around the country to car shows. So, instead of getting some high-flying job like he’d planned, Wally stayed with him. When the owner died, he had no next of kin, and his will stated that Wally should be able to purchase for less than half its value.”

“He did.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?” She smiles. “He loved that business, but when all the traveling got too much and he got sick, he enlisted Kat to help him. She grew to love it, but her passion was journalism. She would always write news articles on the goings-on of Holly Woods whenever she came to stay.”

“Is that why she doesn’t run it herself now?”

“Partly. She also doesn’t have the skill to restore the older cars to the level needed, so it’s easier for her to hire people to do it. I believe she does try to schedule some trips so that her journalism and attending car shows can coincide.”

“Wow. When was the last time she saw Wally?”

Gianna glances out of the window, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I believe it was around six months ago. There was an auction in Austin, and Wally asked her to go. She happened to be in Houston for work, so she got the red-eye flight here. They went to the show, had dinner, and then she flew back there before bedtime.”

“Literally a flying visit, then.” I tap my fingers against my lips. “Thanks, Gi. I need to go to the office and deal with some stuff, but this helps. I think.”

“Of course. Call me whenever, and don’t forget to get me a contract.” She pats my cheek and stands. “Oh,
cara.
I have Kat’s phone number in my address book. I’ll get it to you this morning.”

Well, then. That helps. A lot.

Cotton’s Classic Cars.

It didn’t take long to find out the name of Wally’s business on Google. I could have asked Carlton, but since I think he’s busy invading some ancient town or whatever it is he does when no one needs anything, I decided to do it. Plus, I’m getting lazy on investigating.

Now, if I hadn’t found it on the first page of hits, I would have asked him. I’m not that into searching for information myself.

I know that Gianna said that Wally wouldn’t have any business enemies, but there was always the chance that someone from before is responsible for his death. All I know is that he was hit over the head and stabbed multiple times—a stranger wouldn’t do that. A stranger wouldn’t be so thorough. Wally knew his killer. I know that for a fact.

Of course, the next viable line of inquiry is his daughter. I don’t remember Kat much… She only really came to Holly Woods during school breaks to see Wally as she was growing up. I certainly couldn’t pick her out of a crowd, even if my life depended on it. She’s older than I am, and I’ve probably only said ten words to her—ever. If she owns Wally’s business now, then I struggle to see what her motive would be to kill him.

I feel like all I’m doing right now is assuming just about everything. Assuming it wasn’t Gianna. Assuming the killer was someone close to him. Assuming Kat wouldn’t have a motive. Assuming, assuming, assuming.

I need an aspirin. Or ten. And a cupcake.

Luckily for me, there’s a Gigi’s left in the box in front of me on my desk, so I pull it out and dip my pinkie finger into the frosting. I have no idea where to start with this investigation. I have so many bits of information, but they’re all dribs and drabs, and none of them make any sense. There’s nothing I have that could give me a lead or an idea of where to go from here.

Turns out Kat has two numbers, and the one Carlton found and the one Gianna gave me are different. I’m assuming the one Carlton found is her business number, but either way, I couldn’t get through on either number. I’m hoping that that means she’s on her way to Austin right now to deal with her father’s affairs.

Also because then I can talk to her. And I really, really want to talk to her.

The sound of my fingernails tapping against the surface of my desk fills my office. I slowly eat the cupcake with my other hand as I stare at my door and contemplate this influx of information. Honestly, I don’t think one cupcake will be enough. I think I’m going to need another box of twelve to get through this and try to make sense of it all.

I guess I do need to go and see Rosie, but… I sigh. I kind of don’t want to speak with her. I’m afraid of what I’ll hear, and honestly, I’m already shocked that Rosie was seeing Wally while he was married to Gianna.

This is the problem with murder. It forces you to learn things you don’t want to know about people. Technically, I learned that information before he died, but whatever. It’s easier to blame my shifting view of the sweet lady who makes the most badass cherry pies and cheesecakes on the bastard who killed the man she apparently loved.

I stop tapping my nails and slump forward, pushing the cupcake out of the way. I need a vacation—like, seriously. Somewhere hot with great beaches and yummy cocktails and even hotter men who will deliver those cocktails while I lounge around doing nothing but reading books and getting a tan.

Ahh, I’m a dreamer.

I need to pencil that into my schedule sometime next year. Maybe take Drake. Or Bek. Probably best to take Bek if there are hot cocktail-delivery guys.

I also need to call my brother. Desperately. Maybe even brothers if Trent won’t give me what I want. Unfortunately, he’s my best and worst shot at information. Best because I’ll trade babysitting for information, and worst because, as the lead detective, he won’t want to give up the ghost. Devin won’t be working the case, and Brody is probably mad at me for making him finally go on a date with Mel, which I hear didn’t go too well.