Guns and Roses (37 page)

Speaking of glorious, those glorious eyes narrowed at her again. “You got it all over your clothes. What little you’re wearing.”

“Really, I
am
sorry—did you say, detective?” Was he here to break up the party? Had it gotten
that
out of hand? Lord knows she had drunk more than she should have. Didn’t it figure the first time she attended a frat party she’d overdue it? Her Pappy would not be amused. Gran neither.

“Cantrell.”

“Detective
Can
trell. I am truly sorry about my, ah—” She pointed to the upchuck on his awfully large shoes. “Little indiscretion there. I didn’t mean to. I promise you I wasn’t raised in a barn; it’s certainly not a regular occurrence, this being my very first frat party and all. I’m afraid I didn’t know my limit.” She pawed at her hair again and shook her head. “Are you sure I didn’t get any of that in my hair?”

“I don’t see any. Now cover yourself up and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

Rebel smiled, despite still feeling green around the gills. She was wearing a little white peasant blouse and a red, green and white sarong. She glanced down at her bare legs. The sarong had come almost completely undone and the provocative way it was hanging almost showed some of what made her a girl. Pappy would take a switch to her if he saw how she was flirting with this colored man. Because despite Pappy’s saying he always took the measure of a man by how he conducted himself, she knew in her heart, as good a man as Pappy was, he never had been able to get past the racial barrier his ancestors had instilled in him. Rebel liked to think she was color blind.

“Mah
name
is Rebel Yell Culpepper. I go to school here at Gilman and, like half the campus, I showed up here for the Cinco de Mayo party last night. I guess I did too many shots and passed out.”

The detective’s full lips twitched as if he were trying hard not to laugh at her. She didn’t much appreciate being the butt of his humor, but seeing as how she did throw up all over his shoes, she wasn’t going to push the point.

“Well, Miss
Rebel
with a lost cause, you’re definitely a little south of well this morning.”

Rebel didn’t mind his messing with her name. She rather liked the way it rolled off his tongue. She smoothed the sarong down her thighs, also not really minding the way Detective Cantrell’s fiery eyes sparked when she ran her fingertips along her thighs. “What are you doin’ here in this smelly ol’ frat house, Detective? And why are you wearing those plastic gloves and holdin’ Jami’s phone?”

“How do you know Jami?”

“I’m her big sister, well, not by blood, but her big sister in the mentor program here at Gilman.” Rebel tried to stand up, but wavered on her knees. A strong hand grasped her by the elbow and steadied her, guiding her up. Her breath hitched a little in her chest. Rebel wasn’t a petite thing. She wasn’t tall, either, but standing beside the large detective made her feel all the more female. She looked up and sweetly said, “I have always relied upon the kindness of strangers.”

His dark brows rose in surprise before they crowded together in consternation. “Really? Tennessee Williams?”

“Why bless your heart, Detective Cantrell, you are an educated man.”

He jerked her up and pressed her against the closet door, causing it to loudly shut behind her. “How’d you end up in that closet?”

“I can assure you, it had nothing to do with my sexual preferences.” She hiccupped. “’Scuse me. Now don’t peg me wrong. I like men just fine, although there was that one time I kissed my cousin Sara Beth, but that was on a dare, and she
is
my cousin.” Rebel snorted. “I guess you could say we’re kissin’ cousins.”

“Girl, focus for one damn minute! What are you doing here?”

Rebel blinked, unsure of why the detective was so preoccupied with why she was here. “I told you, it was Cinco de Mayo night last night. I came for the frat party. Just like everyone else.” Rebel tried pushing past the handsome detective. As much as she liked him all big and warm around her, she really needed to pee. “Detective Cantrell,” she breathed all southern siren-like, pressing her hands palm open on his wide chest. She quirked a smile when his heart leapt against her hand. “I need to powder my nose. So if you don’t mind, I need to find the ladies room, now.”

Grabbing her hands, he pushed them to her sides and stepped away from her. “I’m coming with you.”

“Indeed you are not!” she said, quickly stepping past him. As she moved to dodge his outstretched arm, she happened to glance through the open door and into the study room. Her knees knocked violently and she screamed.

“
Is that Jami
?” she shrieked. “Is she hurt? Why are you just standing here? Do something!” Rebel shoved past the detective who tried to grab her, but caught air instead and ran into the room. She wasn’t sure when it registered that her friend was dead. She dropped to her knees just as the detective caught her in his arms and pulled her clear off the floor. “Help her, Detective Cantrell.
Help her
!”

He held her full against his chest, turning her face away from the horrible sight.

“I can’t help her. Nobody can, now.”

“Jami!” she screamed, unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her brain. “No!” Rebel’s belly heaved to and fro, the emotion wreaking havoc with her unstable innards.

“Don’t go crazy on me, damn it,” the detective bit off as he strode to the door with her plastered to his chest.

Tears blinded her. Her stomach felt as if it was free-falling and her heart was near to busting out of her chest. She turned her head just in time to miss the detective’s shoes and fortunate for him, the rest of him as well, when she puked again, and again, and then again. Patiently the big detective held her convulsing body as she puked her guts up.

When she was finally done, she collapsed in his arms. He pushed a hank of hair from her face and flatly said, “You got some in your hair.”

“I don’t care. Tell me what happened to Jami.”

Detective Cantrell set her down outside of the room Jami was in and closed the door behind them. He steadied her against the wall, keeping his big arms on either side of her. Her body shook so violently she couldn’t see straight. This wasn’t happening! She had talked to Jami just a few hours ago. She was on her way right here, to meet her. But she was so damn drunk she never made it. God almighty—Jami was dead! And it was her fault!

“I was hoping you could tell me that.” The suspicious tone in the detective’s voice struck terror in her heart. But it scratched up her dander too. Why, she couldn’t hurt a fly, much less her sweet little sister.

“It might be my fault she’s dead, Detective Cantrell, but I didn’t kill her!”

Chapter Three

“What do you mean it’s your fault she’s dead?”

Rebel raised her swollen, dark chocolate-colored eyes up at him and sniffed.

Cash kept his resolve firmly in check as he fought the overwhelming urge to take the cinnamon-haired, firecracker by the name of Rebel Yell Culpepper into his arms and soothe away her sadness. But until he ruled her completely out as a suspect, he could hardly do that. Hell, not even after that. She’d still be a witness. Besides, she was nothing short of a kid. And a white one at that. And he had a thing about that.

“I was supposed to meet her last night. Right there,” she pointed to the closed door. “Third floor study hall. I was on my way when she called to make sure I was coming. But I—” Rebel rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “I called her and told tell her I was on my way, and I
was,
but somebody grabbed me and said I had to take a swing at the piñata before I could have another shot. I think I did… then I came up. I was
here
—” She rubbed her eyes again as if clearing her vision would clear her memory. “But I had to pee, and I went looking for the bathroom… I guess I stumbled into that closet by mistake and passed out.” She looked up at him, the sadness and regret poured out of her expression. “But if I hadn’t drank so much, I wouldn’t have got sidetracked with that piñata and then mistaken the closet for the bathroom and passed out. I would’ve been here and whoever did that to her wouldn’t have.”

“What makes you so sure you could have prevented it? You’d been drinking. A lot. Maybe you both would be laying there dead.”

She stiffened at that. “I might look like a helpless southern belle, but I can assure you, Detective Cantrell, I have moves. My Pappy taught me from the time I could crawl how to take care of myself.” She sniffed and grabbed the edge of her sarong and blew her nose. “I could have scared whoever did that to her away!”

“I seriously doubt you would have scared Jami’s attacker so bad that he felt in fear for his own life.”

Rebel shook her head and looked up at him with all the trust of a baby. “I—” She ran her hands up and down her bare arms. “I never drink. This was my first frat party—” Her eyes widened. “Do you think one of those boys killed her? But why? Why would anyone want to hurt Jami? She was as sweet as cream pie.” Her teeth chattered hard in her head. Her entire body began to shake uncontrollably. “Why?”

Cash grabbed his radio off his belt and shouted, “Sorrell, get me some piping-hot coffee up here, stat.”

“You be wantin’ some cream an’ sugah with that coffee, suh?” Sorrell asked.

“Bring me what you got, Sorrell.” Cash shouted. This was turning into a southern spoof. He had a dead woman on the other side of that door that needed his help, but his gut told him the woman—no, the
girl
—standing in front of him was not the killer, but the key to finding him.

Cash was an instinct man. They’d never steered him wrong. And his instincts told him the rumpled flower in front of him was not involved in the victim’s death. She had no defensive wounds or blood on her. She was also genuinely distraught. Plus she smelled like a tequila factory and had puked all over his shoes. No way could she have caused the damage to Jami in that condition. Good for him he’d slipped on a pair of booties when he arrived on scene, or his black wingtips would be ruined otherwise. He believed her when she said she’d passed out mere feet from where her friend was murdered, probably while it was happening.

Did the killer know?

“Cash,” Sorrel chirped on the radio. “Mags wants to know if you want decaf or regular, said she can do either or.”

“I don’t care, Sorrel!” Cash shoved the radio back onto his belt then took off his suit jacket. As he wrapped it around the girl’s trembling shoulders he muttered, “Holy mother of Jesus, get me though this day.”

Rebel looked up at him with that trusting look again and it nearly got him. He stiffened. “Your jacket’s warm and smells good,” she quietly said. “Thank you.”

Cash muttered several curses to himself.

“I really do need to use the little girl’s room,” Rebel said as if she was sorry about it.

He pointed to the half open door at the end of the hall next to the closet she’d passed out in. She moved past him and when she reappeared a few minutes later, the hair around her face was damp. Her cheeks were pink and dewy and she smelled like soap. Cash moved her over to one of the plastic chairs against the wall and sat her down. Squatting in front of her, he grabbed her chin between his fingers and softly, but firmly, said, “Jami was murdered. You were the last person she spoke to, at least on her cellphone. I want to know what you two talked about. How was she acting? Was she afraid?”

Rebel shook her head as if it would clear the cobwebs. Taking a deep breath, her body shuddered with the aftershock of her crying. But she looked directly at him and he saw the steel in her eyes. Yeah, she was heartbroken her friend was dead, but he knew this girl would go to Hell and back to find out who did it, and Lord help them if she got her hands on them.

“Jami’d been acting a bit off lately. Cancelling our study sessions at the last minute, even blowing off her job at the Dairy Queen. That’s not like Jami. While she doesn’t come from money, her people are hard workers.”

“How old was Jami?”

“Nineteen.”

“Tell me about her and Drew Prebe.”

“You know about him?”

Cash cocked a dark brow. “I’m a detective.”

“And as such, I’m holding you to finding out who killed Jami,” Rebel said, poking him in the chest with her index finger. ”But I’ll tell you right now, it wasn’t Drew. He doted on that girl.”

“Love and hate are but reflections of the other.”

Rebel rolled her eyes at him. “That not only sounds like a load of chicken crap, but it is. I know Drew, and I know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body especially when it came to Jami. Now his sister Colette’s a different story. She despised the fact that her little brother was running with a coalminer’s daughter.” Rebel shook her head as her eyes welled up with tears again. “Does Drew know?”

Cash stood not trusting himself around her tears. One minute she was as a prickly as a briar, and the next, all soft and vulnerable. He bet her boyfriend was bald from pulling his hair out.