Hot and Irresistible (13 page)

She sat beside him and kissed him for the third time as thunder shook the earth and a patch of golden moon and silver stars slipped through. She cuddled up under his arm and gazed at the sky. “Oh, Beau, it is turning out to be a fine night indeed. It’s the best.” She wrapped her arms around his chest, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better. Now that I know why you wouldn’t make love to me, it’s better than doing the deed itself.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. I have you and that’s what I want…you. I want to spend time with you, have fun with you, get to know you. We don’t have to jump into the sex part. We can date, be real romantic, you can bring me flowers and I can bake you cakes and we can shop for dishes.”

“Dishes?”

“I love dishes, pretty ones with flowers. And we can take them on picnics to Tybee.”

“But just a minute ago you were in the mood.”

“And now I’m in even a better mood.” She looked up at him. “There are more powerful things than sex. There’s us, Beau, and a future together. I love you, and now I know you love me, too.” She rested her head on his chest. “There’s no need to hurry when you know you have the rest of your life together.”

Beau held her close, savoring the moment. Brie was right, there were more important things than sex…there was love. And he loved her so very much. And he loved Ray. And that’s why tonight was the very last night he’d ever spend with BrieAnn Montgomery.

S
unday night at the station was less hectic than the rest of the week and the thunderstorm rattling the windows meant the place was even more subdued with Savannah evildoers preferring fair weather. Bebe was thankful for that. She needed to think, try and make sense out of her notes on the computer about the morgue murders, the necklace, and now Jimmy Waters thrown into the mix and why she missed being with Donovan even though she felt betrayed by him. Damn the man, he chose his precious task force over her, or, more to the point, chose Sly over her. Of course she sided with Ray Cleveland, and that pretty much made things even…except she still missed Donovan.

“How come,” came Donovan’s voice from behind her. “When you’re hunting for someone, you always find them in the last place you look?” Splattered with dust, plaster, and raindrops the man was still mind-numbing handsome. Nothing could tarnish basic good looks of brown eyes, black hair, and killer smile and body. He sat across from her.

“Jimmy’s untimely demise had to reach the far corners of Savannah in less than ten minutes and it took you six hours to find your way here? Where have you been, and why are you such a mess?”

“I knew you’d be busy with paperwork on the murder so I spent some quality time over at the morgue with Anthony and Vincent.”

“The morgue?” That got her attention and she quirked her brow in question. Donovan slid off his jacket and plopped a rain-splattered brown bag on her desk then sat back.

“Oreos? Coffee? What do you want?”

“I’ll tell you what I found at the morgue, you tell me what you have on Jimmy. You first, I brought the food.”

Taking a scissors, she sliced open the package of Oreos. “Cleveland didn’t off Jimmy.”

“He had motive, cupcake. Jimmy was getting too close to the necklace Cleveland thought was his or that he already has. And he had opportunity; getting Jimmy on his boat would be a cinch. I’m sure if we look in the water by the docks we’ll find the murder weapon.”

“Already done. A stainless-steel fishing rod holder. Found it in the cabin. The only prints were Cleveland’s, but then it is his boat, so what would you expect?”

Bebe pulled the cover from the coffee and dunked her cookie. “It’s a frame. Everyone knows Cleveland’s always taking customers out on his Donzi. Strangers boarding wouldn’t raise suspicion and by strangers I mean the killer who waited and Jimmy.”

“Can’t believe you’re a dunker.”

“It’s a Southern thing, just not in public.”

“I’m not public?”

“You’re a pain-in-the-ass Yankee who just happened to bring me Oreos. I think the killer lured Jimmy to the boat with information about the necklace. He gets whacked, Cleveland looks guilty, and the killer gets three rivals out of the way at once, Cleveland, Jimmy, and the Raeburns. Jimmy’s demise shook Ed and Ship up pretty bad, not the dead Jimmy part so much as it could have been them. They’re such sympathetic souls.”

She looked at her monitor. “There’s no proof that the person who did the morgue murders also did Jimmy.”

“There’s no proof that they were two separate people and Cleveland fits the MO on both.”

She ignored him, even though late at night when she wanted to be in bed with him, the ignoring part was darn tough to do. “The Raeburns could be responsible for the morgue murders. Their daughter was selling the necklace they thought belonged to them. They hire someone to steal it and the plan goes sour. Now they’re trying to find the necklace.”

“Why was the original sale of the necklace at the morgue? And why was the necklace getting sold in the first place?” He held up his hand as soon as he asked the question. “Don’t tell me. I want to hear this straight from Cleveland. The way a suspect gives his story, his body language says a lot. I’ll drive out tomorrow and talk to him.”

“
We
can talk to him at Magnolia House. He’s there. Now tell me what you found at the morgue.”

“Nothing.” Donovan sat back in his chair. “Vincent and Anthony are going with the idea the necklace was hidden there and they’ve torn the place to hell and back, sawdust and plaster everywhere, looking for it. If you want my opinion, that necklace is long gone. I think Cleveland already has the damn thing and shows up at the morgue from time to time so no one suspects and they think he’s still looking like everyone else. Like the other night when we saw his car coming out of that alley. We were there and then conveniently his distinctive SUV drives off for all the world to see.”

“How do you know he was driving and, like you said, it’s unique and that brings us back to someone framing Cleveland, making him look guilty.”

“You’re reaching.”

“You’re only going with the obvious, but either way everything keeps circling back to the morgue.” Another rumble of thunder shook the station. “I can’t believe that we’re no closer to the answers than they were thirty years ago.”

“Actually, things are worse. You got yourself another dead body and a totaled apartment.”

“Gee, I feel so much better now.” She ate a cookie whole. “Prissy’s tarot card reading tomorrow night better turn up something. Her methods may not always work the way they should, but usually they get results of some kind.”

He leaned across her desk. “Like that spell she cast on you to keep us apart. I really liked the way that one worked out.” He stood and stretched and slid on his jacket. “The rain’s slacking off. I’m going back to the hotel. See you tomorrow.”

He left and she looked back to her notes and ate another cookie and another. Nothing connected and Donovan didn’t have any information that helped. He didn’t tell her anything new. Why did Donovan come here in the first place? It didn’t make any sense. And then it suddenly made perfect sense.

She gave him information and he gave her none and now he was headed back to the hotel and the last thing on his mind was going to bed. Ray Cleveland was there and Donovan was going to talk to Ray and she wasn’t included. So much for having each other’s back and being partners. “That dirty double-crossing rat.”

An occasional car rumbled by on Broughton, but other than that Donovan’s own footsteps were the only sound. One of the things he liked best about Savannah—besides a certain female detective who lit up his life—was he didn’t need his car that much and could walk anywhere in fifteen minutes. Missing a puddle, he crossed Houston. The night mist cast halos around the lights on the street and the ones in Greene Square named after General Nathanael Greene, Revolutionary War hero, whose remains and statue were over in Johnson Square. God only knew where Johnson’s statue and remains were, probably Oglethorpe Square, because Oglethorpe’s statue was over on Chippewa Square. In Savannah it was tough to tell where anyone would turn up, including Edwina and Shipley, because here they were with Joe Earl. The three of them slipped into the shadows as Donovan slipped behind a live oak to watch.

What did the Raeburns have to do with a cop?
This
cop? Help them look for the necklace? Or could it have been Joe Earl hired by the Raeburns all those years ago to get their necklace? Is that why Joe Earl was good friends with Cleveland, to keep suspicion on Cleveland and off himself and the Raeburns?

Another piece of the puzzle. Lots of pieces, and somehow they had to fit together. Quietly, Donovan retraced his steps. Suspects who didn’t know they were suspects usually led somewhere and right now he’d take all the help he could get. Should he tell Bebe? She didn’t think Cleveland was guilty of anything and she’d probably never believe Joe Earl was, either. The good-old-boy mentality ran deep in Savannah and Bebe was loyal as a hound dog.

The red neon of the SCAD Theater sign reflected off the wet sidewalk and a tabby cat sat in the storefront window of Pattie’s Hallmark shop. Greeted by the outside doorman at Magnolia House, Donovan entered the double glass doors.

“’Evening, Mr. McCabe,” smiled Mr. Rutledge from the reception desk. “Looks like you got yourself caught in the rain. I’ll have extra towels sent straight up to your room; the chambermaid is heading that way now. You have a good sleep now, you hear.”

That Rutledge didn’t mention Donovan being coated in dust made him wonder what other secrets the perfect hotel manager kept to himself. As Donovan got in the elevator, he caught sight of the Raeburns getting out of a cab. Whatever happened between them and Joe Earl happened fast.

“Sure enough is a rainy night out there,” the maid said, interrupting his thoughts. She balanced her towels and hit the “3” button in the elevator.

“I think you’re heading my way. I can take the towels.”

“Some are for Mr. Cleveland.”

“Well, now, I happen to be going to his room for a little nightcap, and I’d be glad to save you a trip.” Donovan did his best good cop I’m-on-your-side smile.

“Why bless you,” she said in a rush. “We’re running shorthanded tonight and it seems that everyone’s wanting something at the same time.”

She handed off the towels, frowned, and pulled a pager from her apron pocket. “Fact is, they want me back in the lobby for something again. Guess they figure I can be two places at once. Mercy, what a night! Tell Mr. Cleveland I’ll be up to check on him in a bit. He’s such a fine man, I think I’d do just about anything for him, anyone in this town would.”

The door opened and Donovan stepped out. “316 is that way, right?” He pointed up the hall.

She looked at her pager again and absently said, “Mr. Cleveland’s in 324 and it’s down the other direction.” The elevator closed and, whistling “Dixie,” Donovan headed for 324. Lucky break with the maid. He didn’t know how to find Cleveland other than banging on doors and pretending he was drunk and lost. He’d used that technique more than once.

“Moonlighting these days, McCabe?” Cleveland said as he answered the door. “Mighty thoughtful of you to be bringing me towels, though from the looks of you I’d say you’re in need of them more than me.”

“Can we talk for a few minutes? Nothing about Jimmy Waters. I’m more interested in what happened thirty years ago at the morgue.”

“You can read all about that in the newspapers at the library.”

Donovan stepped inside and put the towels on the bed. “Then you won’t mind telling me again.”

Cleveland’s eyes were tired, but they held a sharp steel glint that said this good old boy could be a first-rate badass even at sixty. He closed the door. “I might as well tell you, because I got a feeling you won’t leave otherwise. And since you are here, you should know I happen to have a protective steak for Bebe Fitzgerald. The girl’s had a hard time of it. Rotten childhood, worse mama. Bebe used to run away every chance she got with the police dragging her home ’cause they had to. They were nice enough to her; I think that’s why she became one of them.”

“And the cops were that way because you told them to be.”

Ray’s lips thinned. “You hurt that girl and you and I are gonna tangle, Boston cop or otherwise.”

“Why do you care about her so much?”

“I lost a daughter and have no idea where she is. Guess I figure if I take care of this here child, someone somewhere will take a look-see after mine. What goes around comes around in this world.” They stared at each other man-to-man for a moment and just when Donovan knew he was going to be kicked right out the door, Cleveland nodded at a chair by the fireplace, a bottle of Southern Comfort on the table. “So, what exactly do you want to know?”

“Why the hell did Dara adopt Bebe to treat her bad?” That stopped Cleveland in his tracks and it pretty much stopped Donovan, too. He hadn’t planned on asking that; he wanted to know about the necklace, but somehow the Bebe question jumped right out of his mouth.

“Since you’re spending time with Bebe and Lord knows I think she could do herself one hell of a lot better than the likes of some no-count Yankee, I suppose you have a right to ask.”

Cleveland sat and poured out two tumblers. “Best I can figure is one of our lily-pure Southern debs got herself with child. Keep in mind this was thirty years ago and a babe out of wedlock had scandal written all over it. No good match came with a daughter having a bastard child in her arms. So, the girl goes off to boarding school for a year and daddy pays for a new home for the babe and his daughter’s reputation. Dara got money as long as she kept her mouth shut. It’s how things were done here, we take care of our own. Bebe wasn’t the first and I’m guessing she won’t be the last.”

Donovan took the second chair, rain sliding across the two windowpanes facing Broughton, a faint glow reflecting off the street below. “Dara knows who Bebe’s parents are?”

“More than likely, no. Too easy to let things slip up that way and Savannah isn’t all that big. A few facts are easily connected. These matters are arranged through a family friend or trusted lawyer, if there is such a thing. Everything hush-hush.” Cleveland took a long sip the Southern gentleman’s way because Southern Comfort was sipping whiskey, social whiskey, not the get-drunk-fast stuff.

“What’s the story with the necklace?”

Cleveland studied his glass. “Like I said, Bebe could do herself a lot better.” He took another sip. “My first wife was what you all call a trophy wife. I made some money here in Savannah doing this and that and wanted to flaunt it because I was stupid. Nothing flaunts better than a good-looking woman on your arm, and nothing can use you up and throw you away faster. Savannah thirty years ago was boarded-up houses, gangs, and criminals. Otis Parish got people to take a chance on Savannah and buy back the mansions.”