Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel (12 page)

H
earing the words “Mama just fired the caterer” couldn’t have come at a worse time. This morning the DA had dropped charges against Philips and released him. The rest of Avery’s day had been a string of long, unproductive dead ends and frustration, and now the high hopes she’d had that everything was running smoothly for tonight’s party were effectively dashed.

Avery hurried into the large rectangular reception hall that could hold two hundred guests comfortably and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. It didn’t work. With barely an hour until the party started, she’d spent the entire twenty-minute drive wondering how in the world she was going to have time to save the party, run home and change, and be ready for Jackson to pick her up at six.

The rivalry between Doris Lincoln and Claire Hunt was legendary. Or at least it had been. Aunt Doris had left behind petty rivalries to become one of Atlanta’s top caterers. It was Mama who had changed into someone Avery hardly knew anymore. And for all of Avery’s experience in fixing things, she’d discovered that sometimes even her best efforts weren’t enough.

She glanced at her watch. Fifty-eight minutes and counting. She’d never make it.

Inside the hall, she wove her way past round tables covered with white cloths and gold trim. They matched the black-and-gold shimmering centerpieces that were just masculine enough that her father wouldn’t raise his eyebrow when he saw them. The head table held pictures of Thomas Hunt throughout his career, from rookie cop to captain of the precinct. Despite her father’s avoidance of cameras, they’d been able to gather a glowing testimony of forty years of service.

Leave it to her mother. Everything was perfect.

Or so she’d thought until her sister’s frantic phone call.

Emily entered the hall from one of the side doors. “Avery, I’m so glad you came.”

Avery drew in another breath. “I managed to get away, but honestly, Em, I don’t have time to deal with a family emergency right now.”

Avery took in her sister’s very vogue, very vintage party dress she’d probably picked up at some suburban thrift shop. On her, the deep purple fabric with its fitted waist and flared skirt looked fabulous. So classic. So Emily.

She, on the other hand, was still wearing her semi-stylish gray slacks with a matching jacket that covered her Glock, and a pair of very functional shoes. Sensible maybe, but not exactly party attire. And it certainly wasn’t what she intended to wear on her third date with Jackson. Yet, somehow, she was supposed to work on leads in order to track down a killer, solve a family crisis, and still manage to find time to go home and change into the party dress she’d bought last month on a rare shopping trip.

The way things were going, she had no idea how that was going to happen.

She tugged on the open front of her jacket. “As you can see,
I’m still officially on duty with a murder investigation going on and certainly not ready for the party. So please tell me that I misunderstood what you said and that Mama didn’t fire Aunt Doris.”

Emily grabbed Avery’s arm and headed for the kitchen. “Oh, you heard correctly.”

“How did this happen? No one in their right mind fires the caterer an hour before the party starts.”

“I tried to talk sense into her, Avery, but Mama won’t listen to me. Guests are going to start arriving soon, and if we don’t negotiate some sort of truce between the two of them, there will be no party for Daddy. Or at least nothing for our guests to eat, and somehow I don’t think that’s going to go over very well.”

“What do you want me to do, Emily? This isn’t a murder investigation—not yet anyway—it’s more like a hostage situation, with tonight’s menu on the line.”

“The biggest question is, how are we going to explain the situation to the guests if things aren’t worked out in the next hour?”

Avery hesitated in front of the swinging door leading into the kitchen. “If this party is so important to Mama, how did it ever get to this point?”

“They got in a heated argument, and before I could calm either of them down, Aunt Doris started loading the food back into her van. She’s in there right now, sending her workers home and taking back the food they brought.”

Avery should have known it would end in disaster. Only her mother would have the gall to fire the caterer—family or not—minutes before her father’s retirement party. Putting her mother and Aunt Doris in the same room had clearly been a recipe for calamity.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“All I know is that Daddy showed up and started talking to Aunt Doris. Mama accused Aunt Doris of flirting—which, in Mama’s defense, she was.” Emily lowered her voice. “After three divorces, I think Aunt Doris is as jealous over Mama’s ability to keep her man as Mama is over the fact that Aunt Doris is a successful businesswoman. Needless to say, in the end, they both said a few things they shouldn’t have.”

A crash sounded in the kitchen.

There was no use denying the inevitable. Avery took a deep breath and strode into the industrial-sized kitchen, quickly assessing the situation. Both women looked at the door and froze.

Mama stood in the middle of the room, balancing a three-tiered cake in front of her. Aunt Doris stood over a dropped silver tray of tartlets that had smeared chocolate and peppermint across the tiled floor and her white shoes.

Trying to compose her thoughts, Avery eyed a serving cart filled with savory tarts, shrimp, and mini quiches, and felt her stomach grumble. Lunch had been hours ago. She found herself debating whether she should pull out her gun for emphasis or simply grab one of the quiches and squelch her appetite.

She opted for the authoritative voice she used on suspects trying to get away from her. “Mama, please set the cake down on the counter before you drop it.”

Mama hesitated, then surprisingly, complied. “She’s threatening to take my cake.”

“Aunt Doris, will you excuse my mother and me for a moment?” Avery held up her hand. “But stay in the kitchen . . . please.”

Avery led her mama to the other side of the room, out of earshot of Aunt Doris. “The party starts in less than an hour. What is going on?”

“She made a pass at your father.”

“I’m sure she was just being friendly.”

“Trust me, she was being more than just friendly.”

Avery watched out of the corner of her eye while Aunt Doris began wiping the chocolate from her shoes. At least she wasn’t making a run for it. Not yet, anyway. “Mama, you need to apologize.”

“Apologize? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry, but if we’re going to come to some sort of truce in the next few minutes, someone is going to have to swallow her pride. This is Daddy’s retirement party. I know you want it to be special. You’ve put so much work into it, and this is not how you want things to end. Please apologize, and I’ll try to work something out before the entire party is ruined. The two of you used to be friends—”

“‘Used to’ being the key words here. I’m not going to apologize, Avery.” Her mother looked up at her. Fine lines around her eyes had deepened into dark shadows. Her mother had aged a decade in the past year. “You should have seen the way she looked at your father, putting on her southern charm and airs like she owned
him
, not just a catering business.”

“Mother, you’re family. Don’t you think this feud has gone on long enough? I might never know exactly what happened between the two of you, but I do know that you used to be best friends.”

Her mother’s gaze shifted to the floor. Avery had no doubt that if she had her way, the secret would go with her and Aunt Doris to the grave. “I’d like to see you talk some sense into her, Avery.”

“Fine. I will.”

Avery approached the large metal island, avoiding the smeared filling and stopping just long enough to pop a bite-sized quiche into her mouth. She allowed her taste buds to appreciate the cheesy bite, swallowed, then faced her mother’s longtime friend turned adversary.

Medium frame, slightly plump, too-heavy makeup, perfect upswept hair—thanks to L’Oreal’s Café Noir coloring—with an extra dash of southern charm thrown into the mix. Charm that curdled when you got on her bad side. “Aunt Doris. I understand that there’s been a disagreement between you and my mother, but—”

“Darling, your mother’s been difficult for as long as I can remember, but lately . . . the woman has become impossible.”

“I understand that she fired you, but with less than an hour until the dinner, it seems prudent for both of you to come to some sort of truce.”

“She fired me? She didn’t fire me. I quit. And it all boils down to jealousy.”

“Jealousy?”

“I’ve tried to get along with that woman, but it would take Mother Teresa herself to forgive and forget at this point.”

Avery took in a deep breath. Rule One: find out what the hostage taker wants.

“Aunt Doris, I know that my mother can be a bit . . . demanding at times, but we need to come to a compromise.” Avery managed to swallow any remaining pride. “Tell me what you need to resolve this situation.”

“Honey, there is nothing you can do to rectify this situation after what your mama said.”

Rule Two: establish goodwill. Ask for concession.

If it worked in hostage negotiation, surely it would work between two grown women.

“How about this. If I promise that she’ll stay out of the kitchen during tonight’s party and allow you to run the catering side without any interference from her, would you agree to stay?”

“And why should I?”

Rule Three: make the hostage taker realize that noncooperation is impracticable.

“Think of it this way. You don’t want word getting around that you walked off a job . . . or that you were fired, for that matter.”

Aunt Doris set down the tray of pink shrimp sitting in a ring of ice she’d been holding. “I will need some sort of . . . compensation.”

Rule Four: never allow a hostage taker to get the upper hand.

Avery tried to ignore the rhythmic pounding in her temples. She was going to have to scratch that rule for now.

Rule Five: ask questions.

“How much?”

“I will need a 10 percent increase in my bill for . . . for emotional strain.”

Emotional strain? Really. Aunt Doris always had been somewhat of a drama queen.

“Fine.”

“Now listen. I’ve spent the past twenty years building up my business. I won’t have Claire Hunt—family or not—bring it down in one night, especially over a falling-out that has its roots in a college homecoming ceremony.”

Now there was a clue worth following up on. Southern rivalry might be fine on the football field, but not in the kitchen.

“I understand. Do we have a deal?”

“You’re not going to make me regret this, are you?”

Avery stooped to pick up the fallen tartlet tray and set it on the counter. She was already regretting it. “No ma’am.”

Now to face Mama again.

“Mama. Aunt Doris has agreed to stay on one condition.” She’d deal with the other condition later, even if it meant the tacked-on fee came out of her own pocket. “I need you to leave the kitchen . . . for the rest of the evening.”

“Why would I do that? That woman will ruin everything—”

“Mama, please, I don’t want to hear a word about ‘that woman.’ She used to be your best friend. She’ll stay if you stay out of the kitchen.”

“I will not—”

“Mama.” Avery felt her teeth grind. “You need to be out there with the guests anyway, not worrying about whether or not there’s enough shrimp or ice.”

Mama took a step forward, but Aunt Doris had already slipped out the back door, presumably to bring in the rest of the food she’d whisked away earlier. “So on top of trying to steal my husband, she’s skimped on the shrimp as well?”

“No, Mama, of course not. It was just an example.”

Avery’s phone went off, saving her from further explanations. She glanced at the caller ID before taking the call.

Jackson.

The way things were going, their third date was liable to turn into another disaster. Her simple black dress was still hanging in her closet. She’d never make it.

It rang a fourth time and she answered the call, hoping she didn’t sound out of breath.

“Jackson . . . hi.”

“I had to stop by the precinct to drop some things off, and they told me you left in a hurry. Some family emergency. Is everything okay?”

Avery decided to play it down. “A few last-minute issues regarding tonight’s party have come up, but I think we’ve been able to sort them out.”

“You’re not going to have to cancel on me again, are you?”

She didn’t miss the hint of concern in his voice.

“No, of course not, it’s just that . . .”

She could have him meet her at the party.

No. She could still make this work.

“Listen, I am running late, but I’m on my way home now to change.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at six then.”

Avery glanced at her watch.

Forty minutes and counting.

W
ith her father’s retirement party in full swing, Avery took a moment to tune out the conversation with Jackson, Mitch, and his fiancée, Kayleigh, in order to search for her mother in the crowded reception hall. Shania Twain’s “You’re Still the One” played in the background. Servers dressed in starched black-and-white uniforms worked to replace food on the twelve-foot-long buffet table and ensure the punch bowl stayed full, which meant Aunt Doris was holding up her part of the deal. Avery intended to ensure Mama did the same.

Her father stood talking to a group of his former officers. Clearly he was enjoying the attention despite his insistence that he didn’t want—or need—a party in his honor.

She finally caught sight of her mother on the far side of the room, wearing a flattering red sheath dress and chatting to the guests. Claire Hunt was in her element, playing hostess with all the southern charm of Scarlett O’Hara. Mama might have her faults, but she did know how to enchant a crowd.

Avery let out a long sigh of relief. If both women had actually decided to keep their end of the bargain, as far as the party was concerned, they were in the clear. At least until the food was cleaned up and the floor and tablecloths washed. Then,
no doubt, the two of them would go back to not speaking to each other.

Avery felt her shoulders droop and let the stress of the past few days begin to dissipate. A few hours away from her paperwork and interviews would go a long way to help clear her mind.

Mitch’s elbow brushed against her, pulling her back into the conversation. “So, Avery? What do you think?”

Avery caught Kayleigh’s square, one-carat diamond engagement ring flashing beneath the overhead lighting. “The ring is gorgeous.”

Kayleigh was all smiles. “Thank you.”

Avery continued. “I have to say that I never thought my partner would actually tie the knot. Though, in his defense, now that he has decided to, I don’t think he could have made a better choice.”

“Thanks, Avery. That means a lot.” Kayleigh stared at the rock on her finger, her eyes still sparkling. “Since you’ve known Mitch a lot longer than I have, I’m counting on you to give me the inside scoop.”

Avery returned Kayleigh’s grin. “We’ll get together for lunch soon, and—”

“Hey, now. Wait a minute. I’m standing right here.” Mitch glanced from Avery to Kayleigh, then back to Avery again as if he’d just discovered that life as a married man was never going to be the same again.

Kayleigh crossed her arms and frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re already regretting your escape from bachelorhood, Mitch Robertson.”

“Not in a million years.” Mitch grabbed Kayleigh’s hand and pulled her against him, his gaze never leaving hers. “But that doesn’t mean that I want Avery spilling all my secrets.”

Avery turned to Jackson, whose white shirt and tie and tailored black jacket made him look like Cary Grant about to sweep her off her feet. “I think this is our cue to exit.”

Jackson slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I could use something to drink and maybe seconds on those crab cakes.”

“Lunch, Avery.” Kayleigh laughed as Avery and Jackson started to walk away. “Don’t forget.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.”

Avery stopped beside Jackson at the punch bowl and waited for him to pour them glasses of the red party punch. He handed her one. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“At least once.” Maybe twice.

Somehow, she’d managed to finish dressing, put on her makeup, and slide on her heels with three minutes to spare. But it had been worth the hurried rush to be ready on time and see the look of approval in his expression when she’d opened the door to let him in.

Avery took a sip of the punch, wondering if they could get away with ditching the party for an intimate table for two at some cozy restaurant. “You clean up pretty good yourself. Though as nice as this is, I’m not sure this is what either of us had in mind for a third date.”

“We’ll have to remedy that soon, but in the meantime . . .” His hand slid down her arm and took her hand. “I plan to simply enjoy being with you tonight.”

She took another sip of her punch, certain Aunt Doris must have spiked it. She felt as giddy as Tess sounded talking about a boy she liked at school.

“Considering we’ve actually made it to date number three despite family issues and a murder investigation, I completely agree.”

So what if it wasn’t a typical date. What about their relationship so far had been typical? Maybe typical was overrated.

“Do you want another plate of food?”

Avery eyed the buffet line, then shook her head, still full from her first time through the line. “Go ahead. Between my mother’s cooking, too much takeout while investigating a murder, not
to mention that fabulous donut you brought me, I think I’ve indulged enough this week.”

Jackson started filling a plate. “Speaking of murder investigations, what did the DA think about my autopsy findings?”

“The DA is reexamining the evidence while we investigate the Sourns and the problems with Tala’s paperwork. Which means Monday’s arraignment has been canceled and James Philips will walk. For now, anyway.”

“And the Sourns?”

“They’re claiming they had no idea Tala’s paperwork had been laundered and that she, in fact, had conned them.”

“Seriously?” Jackson dropped a tart onto his plate and caught Avery’s gaze.

“Which means that until we get some more answers, we’re back to square one with a murderer on the loose.”

Jackson finished filling his plate and nodded toward an empty table. “Maybe the answer is that we forget about murder and autopsies and serial killers for the next couple of hours.”

“I’d like that.” Avery grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry from his plate and popped it into her mouth.

He nudged her with his elbow. “So is this what I have to look forward to?”

“You’ve haven’t seen anything yet.” Avery’s father came up and hugged her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”

The icing on the cake for tonight was seeing her father’s smile that had yet to leave his face. He might hate the attention and spotlight, but these were his men and women. They had fought beside him for the past several decades to keep the streets of Atlanta safe. Many of them owed him their lives. He’d been counselor, friend, spiritual adviser, and more.

He reached out and shook Jackson’s hand. “How are you tonight, Jackson?”

“I’m fine, sir, thank you. Congratulations on your retirement.”

“I’m still not sure what I think about the idea, but I guess a few extra rounds of golf a week never hurt anyone.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow your date for a few minutes for a promised spin. She’s a hard lady to track down.”

“I’ve discovered that.”

Avery returned Jackson’s smile, then let her father lead her out onto the dance floor.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“Third dates are a big deal.”

“Daddy.”

Her father smiled. “Did you notice they’re playing our song?”

“Unforgettable” played in the background. A rush of emotions surged through Avery.

“Do you remember this song?”

“How could I forget? Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole—father and daughter singing together. Seems like forever ago.”

“Has anyone told you that you look beautiful tonight? Just as beautiful as you did back then. And tonight there’s an extra glow in your eyes.”

Avery smiled at the compliment, enjoying the jazzy tone of the music. Enjoying even more the time with her father. The last time they’d danced together had been at her wedding to Ethan.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I’m sure it’s just the angle of the lights.”

“Or a certain handsome medical examiner. I see the two of you made up, which is good, because I like him. He seems stable. Competent.”

Unforgettable?

The soothing rhythm of the sax played with her emotions.
“I’m still not ready to look too far ahead, but I like him too, and I’ve decided that’s enough for now. Time will tell.”

“What does Tess think?” He led her around the dance floor filled with a dozen other couples.

“She likes him. He’s met her menagerie of pets and brought her presents.”

“Good. You both need a man in your life. Next to me, that is.”

Avery rested her head against her father’s shoulder, content for the moment just to feel the safe protection of his arms.

“I guess I need to thank you for saving the day and the food,” he said.

“Who told you?”

“Emily.”

“I’m just thankful that a truce was made. At least for tonight.”

“Your mama isn’t the only one I’ve been worried about. Maybe that’s why Jackson seems right for you.”

“Why are you worried about me? I’m fine.”

“Maybe, but you work too hard.”

“I learned my work ethic from the best. God and family first, then work hard at whatever I do, because someone once told me that the only difference between try and triumph is a little umph.”

Her father laughed, but his smile quickly faded. “I did teach you to work hard, which is why I’ve been thinking more about what we discussed. I see you spend the majority of your time either working your cases—including Michael’s—or with your family. Which made me start wondering. When do you actually make time for yourself?”

“Let’s see. A manicure every month or two. Midnight shopping trips for groceries and indulging in a box of Milk Duds from the candy aisle.” Avery couldn’t help but chuckle despite the hint of worry in her father’s eyes. “Do any of those things count?”

“It’s a start. A very small start.”

She’d taken her father’s words to heart, but even his advice didn’t change the list of demands on her time. Like with Jackson, as much as she wanted things to work out between them, a relationship meant rearranging her life, and it was going to take time to figure out how to do it.

And there were other things she simply wasn’t ready to give up. Like Michael’s case.

A song she didn’t know started playing in the background, but she barely heard the music as she followed her father’s lead. “I know you’re worried about me, but for the most part I really do enjoy what I do. And with Michael’s case, all my digging might actually pay off. I found something earlier this week that we missed.”

Clearly her statement took her father by surprise. “Where did you find a new lead?”

“It’s a possible witness, buried in the paperwork, who was never followed up on. I’m not sure how he slipped through, but I’ve put out some calls and am working to track him down. It may not come to anything, but at least it’s something fresh.”

“Avery, I know that your heart is into this, and I want his name cleared as much as you do, but . . .” Her father’s words faded.

“Daddy?” Thomas Hunt might have always been her hero, but losing his only son had changed him too. “What’s wrong?”

“Jack’s wife is here tonight.”

Avery couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the wife of her father’s former partner. Probably not since the funeral. “I’ll make sure I say hello to her.”

“She’d like that, but her being here reminded me of something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. With your questions about finding balance in your life, I’m wondering if it isn’t time I said something.” He pulled back slightly and caught her gaze, still moving in step with the music. “I think you should stop
investigating Michael’s death. I’ll hire a private investigator. Someone who isn’t so emotionally involved with the case.”

“I can understand this coming from Mama and Emily, but from you?” Avery stopped in the middle of the floor, the music and guests still swirling around them. “Besides, what does all of this have to do with Jack’s wife?”

“I know what it’s like to investigate the case of someone you’re close to.” Her father took her hand and pulled her off to the side of the room where there were fewer people. “Fifteen years ago, Jack was shot and killed by a gunman fleeing a home-invasion robbery. He was like a brother to me, and I spent the next two years trying to find the man who killed him.”

She’d been young, but she still remembered the man who spent most of his days off hanging around the Hunt home. “You found Jack’s murderer.”

“Yes, but the process consumed me. I neglected my job, my family . . . I was obsessed. Nothing else mattered except finding the man who killed Jack. And for Jack’s wife it was even worse. Then instead of bringing closure, finding the murderer only seemed to spawn feelings of anger and revenge. She’s never gotten over Jack’s death.”

“Are you afraid of what we might find?”

“No. I’ve never doubted your brother’s innocence. But I don’t want you to suffer any more than you already have.”

“I can handle this.”

“Can you? You’re worried about all the responsibilities vying for your attention. Maybe it’s time to let go of this.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.” The aromas from the buffet table that filled the room enveloped her senses and turned her stomach.

“It’s not just you I’m worried about. It’s your mother too.”