Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (28 page)

“Oh, no reason. Ella saw the barn as we were driving out to Jennifer’s and really liked it. We asked Sheriff Fagan if anyone owned the property, and he shared the story. Now she won’t shut up about it.”

I stared at him and realized we’d all stopped moving. What the hell was he talking about? Martha beamed at me, expectantly.

“Umm, yeah—cool place. It would make a great book or short story.”

Martha patted my arm. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” She went over to put on the kettle, and I turned covertly toward Gabriel.

“What are you doing?” I mouthed.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “You can’t tell anyone what we know about the property or the stake out will be pointless.”

“Aren’t you two sweet?” Martha’s voice came from across the room. “How long have you been together?”

“Not long,” I said at the same time Gabriel said, “For a while.”

Martha laughed and motioned us to sit. “I’ve been trying to talk Ella into moving to Jackson. Now I see why she’s so intent on staying in Montgomery.”

Gabriel winked at her. “Ella doesn’t like to be talked into anything.”

“Well, we may have an opening for a new sheriff here if Carter doesn’t start solving cases.” Martha poured our tea, then handed us the cups. “You both could come to Jackson. It really is a lovely town.”

“It is—but I’m sure Carter’s doing everything in his ability to solve this case. Have a little faith in him. Right, Ella?”

I cleared my throat. “Of course. He’s been very helpful to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that, dear. Now tell me all about your investigation.”

“Oh. Well, honestly, it’s frustrating. I seem to disprove leads as soon as we uncover them.” I shrugged.

“But you aren’t giving up, are you?”

“I don’t know. If I run out of ideas, I won’t have much of a choice.”

Martha adjusted the sleeves of her light blue snowflake sweater, with an unhappy expression. Then suddenly she looked up. “I forgot the cookies.”

She disappeared into the pantry, and Gabriel patted my knee. She reappeared with a tin of shortbread, and we spent the rest of the tea listening to Martha sing the praises of Jackson in a sweet but annoying attempt to sway my opinion. When the clock chimed 6:00 p.m., I excused myself so I could get dressed for the gala. Gabriel volunteered to fetch my overnight bag. When I got out of the shower he was lying on the bed, arms resting behind his head, eyes closed. His face was peaceful, and he had a couple days’ growth along his jawline—just how I liked him. I smiled a little to myself.

“Are you staying to see me off on my date?” I teased.

He opened his eyes. “It bothers me less now that I know Fagan.”

“Why’s that?”

He flashed me a charming smile. “He’d never be able to put up with you long enough to get anywhere.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and retrieved my dress from the garment bag. It was a simple black sheath with a matching black lace overlay. I pinned my hair back into a loose bun and applied my makeup quickly. When I came out, I held out my arms. “How do I look?”

Gabriel sat up on the edge of the bed, looked me up and down, then tilted his head to the side. “Like I shouldn’t let you leave with another man, especially since you called it a date.”

I laughed and plunked down next to him. “When are you supposed to be at the stake out?”

He kissed the side of my neck. “I’ll leave when you do.”

I leaned away. “Which is in two minutes.”

Gabriel made a face, but we stood up. “I’ll have my phone. Call if you need anything. The reception isn’t perfect, but—”

“It’ll be fine. I’m going to a stupid gala with Fagan.”

We walked downstairs just as Fagan knocked. Gabriel opened the door and shook Fagan’s hand. Fagan had on a black tux and held a green folder under his arm. He looked as polished as ever, cleanly shaven once more. He nodded to me with a small grin. “So this is awkward.”

I shrugged and Gabriel smiled thinly. “Not at all. I love it when other men take my girlfriend out.” He raised an eyebrow at Fagan, who laughed uncomfortably.

“It’s really just business,” he said. “Oh, and I brought you this.” He handed Gabriel the folder. Gabriel opened it and his eyes widened. He nodded, then quickly closed the folder again.

“What is it?”

They ignored my question and Gabriel helped me with my coat, then walked me to Fagan’s car. “Be careful and be nice.” He kissed me softly and I rested a gloved hand against his chest, my feet freezing.

I got in the car and waved to Gabriel, who watched us drive away. “What was in the folder?”

“Martha’s daughter’s autopsy. He asked about her earlier.”

I nodded; I’d forgotten. “So what am I in for tonight?”

“Same thing as last time.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Hopefully you do better this time around.”

“So it’s a fundraiser?”

“No, an annual event the country club holds—basically just an excuse for people to dress up and show off.”

I sighed. “Fantastic. How’d it go with William? Did he have an alibi?”

Fagan hesitated, then shook his head. “No. He said he waited at my house for her, and she never came. Do you want to know about Lola and Alfie?”

“Did they tell you anything different?”

Fagan gave a bitter laugh. “No. Lola let me know Alfie was fine, and I’d just missed him. He was on a plane to Switzerland for a holiday from all the pressure he’s been under.”

“Oh.” I held back a smile.
Well played, Lola, well played.

“And William will be there tonight?”

“Probably, but you can’t bring anything up. You’re supposed to be charming, pleasing.”

I snorted, but mentally agreed to try. It was only a few hours. What could possibly happen?

Fagan and I walked into the ranch style brick clubhouse among a sea of dresses and tuxedoes and a cloud of perfume. My head pulsed and mouth went dry. Stares and whispers followed us in, and I lifted my chin in response. While Fagan checked our coats, a few people approached to ask about my books and see if the rumor I was writing one about Mary Nelson was true. I answered them truthfully, doing my best to smile, though in the back of my mind I wondered how many people here had actually known the girl’s name before she was killed. The Nelsons didn’t seem like the country club sort.

Fagan returned and joined the group of perfectly coifed fans, with a smile that deserved a campaign poster. As they lamented the tragedy of poor Mary Nelson, I backed away a few steps—and crashed into someone.

With a sigh, I turned to apologize, and saw it was Lola.

“Sorry.” I began to turn away, but she caught my arm.

“Ella, I don’t want things to be awkward.” She leaned in. “You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? I’d do anything to protect my family.”

I nodded slowly.

She flashed her bright teeth. “Friends?”

I gave her a tentative smile. “Just so you know, though, my friends have a short life expectancy.”

She stared, then broke into a laugh that shook her whole body. She covered her mouth with her perfect fuchsia nails. “We need to have drinks together. I love people with a twisted sense of humor.”

“Maybe after this case is over.”

Fagan maneuvered himself beside us. “Lola.” He nodded to her, unusually cold.

Her smiled didn’t falter. “Carter, a pleasure as always. Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband must be looking for me.” She sashayed away, greeting people as she went.

A sudden thought occurred to me. “If Lola and William have an open marriage,”—Fagan gave me a quelling look—“who’s she having an affair with?” I finished a whole lot quieter than I started.

He looked after her. “I couldn’t say.” He cleared his throat. “Now, mingle.” He guided me into the room, my own personal hell.

I tried to get into my book signing mindset where I was used to smiling and chatting with strangers, but Fagan stuck pretty close and pinched or poked me whenever I started to say something he thought was inappropriate. I wanted to grab his finger and bend it backwards until he promised not to touch me—but I didn’t. The constant annoyance kept me on edge, however, and made it impossible to relax. Finally, I excused myself and headed for the restroom. Inside, I rolled my neck and checked my makeup.

A tall woman with a horse-like face approached the mirror next to me and generously applied lipstick. “You’re here with Carter Fagan?”

I nodded, tucking in a strand of hair that had escaped.

“Figures, the only decent, attractive bachelor in all of Jackson would bring someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“I think she means someone smart, successful, and beautiful,” Lola said from behind us. “Isn’t that right, Trudy?”

Trudy snapped the lid back on her lipstick and left without responding.

“Don’t forget to blot, dear,” Lola called to her.

I laughed. “What was that about?”

She shrugged. “Carter is the most edible bachelor in the town.”

“You mean
eligible
?”

She raised an eyebrow.
Obviously she didn’t.
Okay then
. “Have you seen him? Deliciously handsome and authoritative and a shameless flirter—but he doesn’t date local. This is the first time he’s ever brought a date and the hens are clucking.”

“I’m not—”

“I know.” She held up a hand. “But no one’s going to believe that. He’s sticking to you like static cling and hasn’t made the usual rounds.”

“That’s because he doesn’t trust me to be nice.”

Lola washed her hands and hooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go before they send in a search party.”

“So Alfie’s in Switzerland?”

A honey-coated smile spread over her lips. “The poor boy’s been under so much stress, I thought it would be best if he took off the rest of the semester.”

We walked out together, but Lola was sidetracked by a group of people, so I went to find Fagan on my own. I spotted him speaking with William, his hands casually folded in front of him as he listened to whatever William was saying. I slipped through the crowd toward them.

“You promised you’d take care of this, yet she’s everywhere I turn, Fagan. What am I paying you for?” William said.

I sidestepped behind a post to listen. Were they talking about me? But I’d left William alone just like Fagan asked. And why was William paying Fagan for anything?

“There have been unexpected distractions,” Fagan said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t want excuses. I want you to take care of it like we discussed. You said you could handle it.”

“I’ve handled it before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Obviously not well enough. I want results or I’ll make a call.”

“It doesn’t need to come to that.”

“I’m not discussing this again.” William walked past me, and I shuddered with revulsion as I watched his livid face become kind and open in a flash.

Whoa, whoa, whoa… Who had Fagan taken care of before and what did he intend to do with me now? I’d dismissed him as a suspect because he wasn’t having an affair with Mary, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take care of her for William. Fagan had expensive tastes. How much did William have to give him to kill a 19-year-old girl? Well, I wasn’t going to wait to find out. I headed for the door. When I got to the entry room, I moved to the other side of the coat check and called Gabriel. It went to voicemail.

Of course.

There was no way I could walk home in this, but who else did I know? I thought for a moment, and though she wouldn’t be much protection, I really only had one choice, so I dialed.

“Martha, this is Ella.”

“Hello, dear. Oh no, are you not coming back tonight?”

“No, no, I am. In fact, I was thinking about returning a little earlier than planned. Could you come and pick me up?”

“Sure. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“Thank you so much.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. I couldn’t pick up my coat because Fagan had my ticket, and I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. He came through the main door. I held my breath and backed farther into the corner. He glanced around, then frowned and went back into the hall.

Hurry, Martha.

My eyes stayed glued to the sea of bodies Fagan disappeared into, until a cold breeze from outside sent goose bumps up and down my arms. I glanced over to see Martha coming inside. I practically ran to her. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, right away? Okay.”

“Ella?” Fagan’s voice came from behind us.

I turned to look, but he was held up by a person with a walker blocking the entrance. I charged into the cold and climbed into the passenger side of Martha’s van, which was still warm from the drive over. She drove us away as he burst into the parking lot. I exhaled gustily. Maybe I misunderstood the whole Fagan-William thing, but I wasn’t going to find out until I had Gabriel with me. “Thank you for coming.”

“It was my pleasure. I was hoping to spend some time with you.”

I glanced around, finally taking in my surroundings—and a hot, oily fear slid into my belly. Martha wasn’t driving a regular van; it was a panel van—a panel van that I’d willingly gotten into. Martha knew Mary—had loved Mary. And Mary was going to tell clingy Martha she was leaving. And Martha knew Nikki—had
hated
Nikki. I swallowed, my throat dry. “I didn’t know you had a van.”