Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) (7 page)

I stared into her eyes, so sincere and real. She had a very valid point. Most guys looked at her and all they wanted were superficial things. To be seen with her, to show her off to their friends, to disappear into her room and do all that stuff too. I'd seen it time and again. The other girls we hung out with were doing pretty much the same thing—only no trips into her room that I knew of. They wanted to be friends with what Cris could do for them, not her as a person. I had to admit, when I'd first met her, I'd felt the same way. It took some time peeking behind the curtain, so to speak, before I saw the real woman, the woman who actually ate ice cream with me. Sort of. The woman who now always had my back, no questions asked, and vice versa.

She nudged me with her elbow, a bright smile on her face. "Believe it or not, I'm not using nearly as much product in my hair since we got here. That's huge."

I nodded. "That is. I've seen your beauty stash, so it's not like there isn't plenty in reserve."

She heaved a huge sigh, dropping her head on my shoulder. "What about this Mal drama? Can you believe it?"

"Nope, not even kind of. I'm usually a fairly good judge of character."

"Right." She lifted her head and nodded. "I was sort of feeling a connection with him too."

"Seriously?" I paused for her to laugh or give some other indication that she was joking, but she still had that devoted look on her face. "Even though we just met him?"

Her head bobbed, hands clasped over her heart. "Totes."

While I didn't feel like Mal and I had bonded on any kind of deep, meaningful level or anything, I couldn't help admitting to myself that I was a little jealous. I wouldn't go so far as to say I felt a connection, but I did feel a little warmer when he was around. He was extremely handsome and built like the cover model for a best-selling romance novel. But as usual, he was right up her alley and probably already smitten with her too. They almost always were.

I took a tiny smidgeon of comfort that, this time, the smitten guy in question was wanted for questioning in a murder.

I leaned my elbow on the reception desk and looked across at Cris's doe-eyed gaze, full of expectation. I shuddered one last time at the random thought of that Amazonian spider that'd watched me as I'd brought the clean sheets up out of the basement earlier. Even though I'd taken a shower since then, I still couldn't shake the feeling I'd just walked through the web or something. It was almost as bad as the blank stare that haunted my dreams and most of my daily thoughts. I gladly dragged my attention back to the task at hand. "I'm afraid there isn't much on the internet about Mr. O'Connell."

The look of expectation morphed into a pout. "Why? There was so much on there about that Mafia guy."

"I guess this is a good thing. If Mal was plastered across the pages, it would mean he was in trouble a lot or something."

She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. "What about your brother? Isn't he interning for some big firm in Seattle? Call him and see if he'll dig up the dirt."

"I believe that's an invasion of privacy. I'd imagine he'd get in trouble for plowing into someone's past just because his sister asked." I looked at her skeptically from the corner of my eye.

She leaned both elbows on the desk, resting her chin on her upturned palms. "And his sister's BFF. Look, Mal is working here. He pretty much has access to everything. Don't you want to know what we're dealing with? What if he comes back with a gun, all mad that we told the cops where he was and stuff? We probably need to be prepared if that's the kind of guy he is."

I scoffed. "Do you really think that's how he is? You know, since you have that connection with him."

She scowled at me and leaned back. "You mock that which you don't understand." She dropped her hand over her heart and heaved a woeful sigh.

"Fine, I'll call him and ask." I picked up the desk phone but quickly slammed it back down. "You don't think they bugged this, do you?"

Cris let out a lilting laugh. "In this out-of-the-way area? Please."

I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket. "Just to be on the safe side." I clicked on Bradley's pic, and it only rang twice before he answered. Evidently he didn't get the tech-no family gene either, thank God.

"Hey, sis. What's up? Are you going to be in Danger Cove for Christmas?"

"Uh," I muttered. "I'm already here. I guess Mom and Dad didn't call you?"

We both broke out into gut-wrenching laughter.

As it subsided, I eked out between giggles, "They kind of took off to San Diego for a Bon Jovi concert shortly after I got here, and left me in charge. I mean, I walked in, and the next morning they were pulling out of the drive. No lie."

"Ah, they went to visit your dad. They probably should have taken you," he stated within residual laughter.

"Ha. Ha." That comment sobered me right up. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Of all the people in the world,
you
should understand how so very
not
funny that is."

"You know I'm playing. Nice to know some things never change," he soothed. "You really shouldn't be so surprised. By my comment
or
by them bailing on you."

"Oh, I'm not," I grumbled. "At least, not about those things. The dead guy that fell out of the apartment wall over the garage and landed on top of me? Yeah, that kind of surprised me a little."

"Wait," he shouted. "What? You're yanking my chain, right?"

I released a hefty sigh into the phone. "I really, really wish I was." I went on to explain, in painful detail, what had happened, bringing him up to speed. "Which leads me to why I called. Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure. You want me to come down there?" His deep voice was throaty and full of worry.

Cristal was sprawled across the desk and had her head practically shoved against the other side of my phone, listening in. She bobbed her head erratically, pulled back to mouth the words "yes, please," and then went back to listening.

I nudged her away with my elbow. "You don't need to miss any classes." Cris's bottom lip popped out as she slid back onto her chair. "But there's plenty of room since everyone has pretty much jumped ship and blacklisted this place. Apparently no one likes knowing there could be more dead bodies lurking within the walls. And here I thought my marketing plan was genius," I teased. "Anyway, you could come down for the weekend, unless that creeps
you
out too."

Cris popped up both thumbs and muttered, "Great compromise."

"Wait," Bradley blurted. "Is that Cristal? I'll be there this weekend for sure, then."

I came so very close to telling him he'd have to get in line behind a sexy Scotsman, but I caught myself. "Okay, so the favor…"

"Right, that. Shoot."

"Are you still at your intern job?"

He snorted. "I live here. Why?"

"The handyman Mom hired has kind of been taken in for questioning. We'd like to know a little more about him. You know, whether we should bar the doors and never let him come back and that kind of stuff."

The line seemed to go dead until I heard a door shut. "Okay, but you owe me. Maybe you could put a good word in for me with Cristal?"

"Done." Like I even had to say anything. I could just nod in his direction when he arrived this weekend, and Cristal would turn on her charm. I rattled off Mal's name and the information we'd come across from our search for Mr. James.

I heard his keyboard clicking away. "Wow, Malcolm O'Connell was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, but raised in the Seattle area. He lives in the little town of Centralia, just south of Olympia. His middle name is totally old school." He spelled out Dughlas. "But I'm sure it's pronounced like Douglas."

I couldn't help but smile at bit. "He's got a dreamy touch of an accent."

"Great, you're into him, aren't you? You've always had a soft spot for accents."

I felt my cheeks blush. "So, what kind of background are we looking at here? First-degree murder? Petty theft? Robbery?"

He sniffed. "Other than a few parking tickets and a drunk and disorderly, he's clean. Well, hang on," he started.

"Ha, I knew it! What? Tell me."

"Then stop interrupting me," he barked. "Looks like
he
filed a restraining order against someone. They had the same address at the time. Has he ever mentioned a woman by the name of Kelsey Strong?"

"I barely know
his
name."

"Right. Well, looks to me like this girl kind of went all psycho on him." He made the knife slashing sound from the movie
Psycho
to make me giggle again. "She's been arrested five times to date for breaking the order."

"Sounds like a keeper," I teased. "Perhaps I could fix her up with my ex, Alec. They kind of sound perfect for one another. I contemplated filing one on him."

"Well, maybe she's beautiful or something, and he just put up with her for a while," he added between laughs.

"Because that's a good reason to stick around?" I snarked again.

"Anyway, my point is that I think you're safe. The drunk and disorderly happens to the best of us."

"Thanks for doing that, big bro. I know you could get in trouble."

"This is a large firm, and this kind of stuff happens. I'm sure it'll be fine as long as no one points it out. Keep your mouth shut, and we're golden."

"I'm zipping my lip." I even made the motion and flicked away the key. "See you this weekend."

"Be safe," he insisted before hanging up.

Cris bounced in her seat. "I haven't seen him in so long. Is he still as gorgeous as ever?"

I blinked at her a few times. "This is my brother we are talking about. He'll always be the gross older sibling who used to pee in the kiddy pool. I could probably tell you some other horror stories, but I fear retribution and some things are best left in the past. Oh, and if you help me make the beds up, I'll set you up on a date this weekend. Okay?" I might as well get something out of the deal.

She bounced some more, adding in a few claps. "Okay? It's more than okay."

"So, this connection with Mal?"

His voice carried through the screen door. "Who's connected with me?"

We both jumped to a standing position, Cris twirling to face the door too. Her hair fanned out, then swung to cascade over her shoulders perfectly.
Can you train hair to do that?

His gaze narrowed on us. "Is this another connection to the dead bloke?"

I strolled toward the door, hands on my hips. "Why did you lie to us about the job not being yours,
Mr. O'Connell?
"

"Are we back on a last-name basis again? Well, Ms. Milford, it wasn't a lie."

"Uh, yeah it was. You said this house wasn't your job before my parents bought it!" I shouted, poking a finger at him through the screen.

He pushed his forehead against the mesh, his jaw set, eyes narrowed on me. "I said it wasn't my job, and it wasn't! I was subcontracting for that company."

"Same thing," I huffed.

"No, it's a gray area that I used so they wouldn't haul me in this morning and not even bother looking for the real killer."

"Ha," I sneered, tossing my hair over my shoulder in a haughty gesture. "How's that working out for you?"

"Ha," Cris parroted from right behind me.

"Yeah, well, you lied about not knowing where your parents are," he spat in retort.

"Uh, no I didn't, because I don't know where they are." My gaze dropped to my tennis shoes as I made a figure eight with my toe on the floor.

"They left all of this in your care"—he flung his hands out wide to his sides and looked around the lobby—"and didn't mention a thing about where they were headed?"

"Well," I muttered, completely changing the dynamic of our discussion from heated argument to casual chitchat, at least on my part. "They told me
that
.
The cops asked if I knew where they were, as in right that minute. I didn't know which route they were taking to San Diego, and I found it very doubtful they'd made it down the coast in the short time they'd been gone. See? Totally different."

He inhaled several sharp breaths, letting each out slowly. There was the whole calm-before-the-storm feeling about it.

Finally, with a clenched jaw, he seethed, "San Diego? As in a short little stroll across the border and out of the country? Gee, naw, that's not suspicious at all."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Which is why I couldn't tell the police. My parents aren't killers." Once one tear broke the barrier, more followed suit and streamed down my face.

Mal opened the door slowly, then stepped quietly inside. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. His expression had softened, no longer contorted in anger. Evidently, tears were his kryptonite too. "I believe you. And for what it's worth, neither am I. Not that the cops necessarily believe me."

He pulled me to him and wrapped me in an awkward yet comforting hug. My hands rested against his strong chest as I relaxed a bit and nuzzled against him just because I could. He smelled nice, of freshly cut grass and lingering sandalwood cologne. I felt completely safe for the first time since the body had fallen on me.

"I believe you too," I blubbered into his shirt.

Cris wrapped an arm around my shoulders but rested her head on his. "I believe you both."

"I don't suppose you'd have a spare room I can use for a few nights? The cops let me go, but I don't want to leave Danger Cove until the investigation is over. No sense looking suspicious, like I'm hightailing it out of town."

I heaved a big sigh, stepped from the warmth and comfort of his inviting embrace, and rolled my eyes as I swiped at my tears. "Gee, I'll see if we have anything available."

We shared a smile.