The Deep End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 2) (12 page)

“Brendan,” Charlotte whispered.

Rebecca squinted. “Brendan? Charlotte, are you thinking about him again?”

“He’s here,” she said. The words seemed to take great effort.

Rebecca placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “We’re hosting this event,” she advised. “Don’t make a scene.”

Charlotte remained fixed on the spot where he’d stood a moment before. “I saw him. Just now. Why is here? Why didn’t come to say hello?”

“Maybe he hasn’t seen you,” Rebecca said, not knowing whether Charlotte was hallucinating. She didn’t understand why Brendan would come. The police were looking for him, after all.

“I think he saw her,” Francie said unhelpfully.

“You saw him, too?” Rebecca asked sharply and Francie nodded. “We should find Romeo.”

Before Rebecca could say another word, Charlotte bolted from the room in search of Brendan.

From her seat at the blackjack table, Kit realized something was amiss when she saw Charlotte streak through the room followed by Francie and Rebecca. Kit dropped her cards and took off after them.

She pushed through the crowd, her experience fending off paparazzi coming in handy, and easily caught up to Francie and Rebecca. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“It seems that Brendan is here,” Rebecca told her.

“What do you think he’s doing here?” Francie asked. “Didn’t he leave town to avoid being questioned by the police?”

They arrived in the adjoining room in time to watch Charlotte rushing toward Brendan, who was battling his way through the crowd toward the exit. She grabbed his sleeve and he winced, as though the interaction was painful to him.

“Charlotte,” Brendan began.

“What’s going on?” Charlotte demanded, dispensing with the pleasantries. “Why are you here? Why are you hiding from the police?”

“I…I can’t,” he blurted and jerked open the exit door.

“You lied to me, Brendan,” she said, her voice so low that it was barely audible. “Why would you do that? Did you kill Jasmine?”

At that moment, Romeo stepped into the room and Kit pointed to Brendan. He stiffened as Romeo began weaving his way through the crowd toward him.

“I have to go, Charlotte,” he said, with a final look at her. “I am so sorry.”

He slipped out the door and Charlotte’s pale face crumpled in anguish. “Come back, Brendan. Just tell me…”

Romeo pushed past them in pursuit of Brendan and disappeared out the same door.

Francie came and took her friend by the hand. “Now isn’t the time, Charlotte. Let Romeo find him and get the answers. Let’s mingle with the other guests. Your father wouldn’t want you to wallow in misery tonight. This event is for him.”

Charlotte nodded faintly and let herself be guided by the elbow through the group of onlookers.

Kit flashed Charlotte a look of sympathy as she attempted to go after Romeo. She stepped outside and shivered. The air had turned cold and there was only a single streetlight in the dark alley. She watched as Romeo’s silhouette reappeared at the end of the alley.

“Romeo,” she called and ran toward him.

“I lost him,” Romeo said, breathing heavily. His bow tie hung loose around his collar and the buttons on his shirt were partially undone.

“He had a good head start,” Kit said in an effort to make him feel better.

“Why would he come here tonight?” Romeo asked. “He had to know it was a huge risk.”

Kit shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“He must be staying somewhere nearby,” Romeo speculated. “We thought he’d left the country, maybe slipped into Canada or Mexico. The guy has connections everywhere.”

Kit hugged herself. “I guess you’re back in work mode then.”

“Katherine Clementine Winthrop Wilder, what on earth are you doing in a back alley?”

Kit didn’t need to look to know that her mother had stumbled upon them.

“And I see you’re with a date.” Heloise stepped forward, drinking in Romeo’s disheveled appearance. “Usually you make a spectacle of yourself inside where the people are.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Kit said. “What are you doing out here?”

Heloise snapped her purse closed. “Nothing.”

“Mother,” Kit warned. “Please go back inside. There are dangerous criminals out here.”

“Well, someone needs to do a better job then. I’ll have a word with Chief Riley about it tomorrow.”

Romeo groaned. The last thing he needed was Westdale police involvement. They were best kept at arm’s length.

Heloise wandered back inside and Kit flashed Romeo an apologetic look.

“Good job winning her over,” Kit said with a rueful smile.

“What was she doing out here?” Romeo asked.

“If I had to guess, I suspect she was about to pull a joint out of her vintage Chanel bag.”

Romeo’s dark eyes bulged. “A joint?”

Kit shrugged. “My mother has many sides to her wonderful personality. Many of those sides are natural. Some are drug and alcohol induced.”

“Incredible,” Romeo breathed. “Kit, I admire you more every day.”

She laughed helplessly. “You’re finally catching on.”

With the long evening finally over, Charlotte stretched across the bed, staring forlornly at the ceiling. A hesitant knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said wearily.

Rebecca entered, holding a glass of water. “I brought you something to drink.” She set it down on the coaster on the nightstand while Charlotte continued to stare into nothingness.

“We raised a lot of money tonight,” Rebecca said, plastering on a smile.

Charlotte remained quiet.

“Romeo is sure they’ll locate him soon, now that they know he’s still in the area. They’re checking all his known associates.”

“If only I’d done that before I went out with him,” Charlotte replied grimly.

“We had no reason to suspect the truth,” Rebecca countered. “He fooled all of us.”

“I just don’t understand,” Charlotte said softly. “He seemed to really care about me.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and Charlotte didn’t bother to wipe it away.

Rebecca pressed her lips together and sat beside her on the bed. “No one can say with certainty that he didn’t.”

“If he truly cared about me, he wouldn’t have run.”

“More likely if he were innocent he wouldn’t have run,” Rebecca remarked. “The longer he remains in hiding, the guiltier he looks.”

“At least one of us has decent taste in men,” Charlotte said, rolling onto her side to face Rebecca. “Have you heard from Jake? I was hoping he might make a surprise appearance tonight. He must still be in shock about everything.”

Rebecca said nothing. Instead, she gave her sister an unexpected hug. “Sometimes things are more complicated than they seem, Charlotte.”

“I didn’t much like his friend, Kristy,” Charlotte commented. “She looked like a constipated fox.”

Although she agreed with her sister’s assessment, Rebecca couldn’t even muster a laugh. Everything hurt.

“It’s so funny that she’s Dorothy and Clyde’s goddaughter and she knows Jake. What a small, ridiculous world we live in.”

“Very,” Rebecca replied, unable to tell Charlotte the truth about Kristy. If, indeed, it was the truth. Rebecca was reserving judgment until she saw Jake again. She wouldn’t be able to read his expression in a text or an email. It needed to be in person.

“I’m glad it’s the weekend,” Charlotte said. “I won’t recover from this until Tuesday at the earliest.”

Rebecca felt a rush of affection for her. “Sweet dreams, Charlotte.” She kissed the younger woman’s forehead and retreated from the room so quickly that Charlotte failed to notice the silent tears that streaked her sister’s face.

Charlotte awoke the next morning to loud voices outside. She peeled herself from the bed and looked out the bedroom window. In the front yard across the street, a few of the neighbors were embroiled in a tense game of…outdoor bowling? Kit and Rebecca were there as well and Charlotte stifled a laugh when she noticed Kit’s attire — candy striped pajama bottoms, a T-shirt and white bunny slippers.

She opened the window and called to them. “Is this a pajama party?”

Kit waved her down. “Join the fun.”

Charlotte glanced down at her own plaid pajamas. They’d never seen the light of day, except to sit on the back patio at Oak Lodge on Sunday mornings with a glass of orange juice and her iPhone. It seemed downright scandalous to be out in the middle of Westdale in the clothes she slept in. Hurriedly, she washed her face and ran a brush through her blond hair before joining the congregation outside.

“Where are the pins?” Charlotte asked, skipping across the street.

“Pins?” Thora repeated, tossing a ball from one end of the lawn to the other. She watched the ball as it rolled closer to a smaller ball and stopped. “Yes!” She pumped a bony fist in the air.

“This is bocce,” Phyllis explained.

“One of my husbands was Italian,” Thora added.

Kit took her place at the top of the lawn. “That explains your fondness for Romeo.” She threw the ball underarm and it knocked Thora’s ball further afield. “How many husbands have you had anyway?”

“Let’s just say she gives Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money,” Phyllis said.

“What happened to them all?” Rebecca asked, sipping a mug of tea. Charlotte spotted a tray on the front porch with a teapot and a plate of croissants.

Thora counted on her fingers. “Divorce, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.” She cackled. “Silly me. That’s Henry VIII’s romance resume. Mine is much less bloody.”

“I do believe you required the Pope’s involvement on one of them, though,” Phyllis mentioned.

Thora put a finger to her lips. “We promised never to speak of it.”

As Phyllis took her turn to bowl, Adelaide Pye click-clacked down the street using her metal crutches. Adelaide lived further up Thornhill Road and had been generally accepted as a miserable cow until an accident transformed her into the object of sympathy. She’d used this change in status to her advantage, inserting herself in as many social situations as possible. Although Thora and Phyllis still disliked her, they tolerated her, not wanting to risk appearing insensitive.

“Your aim is off,” Adelaide announced as Rebecca took her turn. She’d only swung her arm back before being thrown off kilter by Adelaide’s interruption. The ball skittered to the side and bounced off the front porch step.

“You’re lucky that didn’t knock over my china tea pot, Adelaide Pye,” said Phyllis.

“I’m sure Target has a hundred more where that came from,” Adelaide retorted.

Phyllis grumbled to herself as she retrieved the ball for Rebecca. “You know perfectly well that I have never set foot in a Target.” Adelaide had a habit of trying to make Phyllis seem cheap and Phyllis hated it. While she certainly wasn’t a Tilton or a Winthrop, she lived quite comfortably.

“I love Target,” Kit said, pulling apart a croissant.

“No surprise there,” Adelaide muttered.

“In fact, you’ve given me an idea about where to shop for my mother’s next birthday present.” Heloise would burst a capillary if Kit gave her a present with a Target gift receipt. Tormenting her mother with the habits of the common folk was one of Kit’s favorite pastimes.

“May I have a turn?” Charlotte asked, gesturing to one of the balls.

Kit and Rebecca exchanged uneasy looks. Thanks to her dyspraxia, Charlotte was not the best person to partake in games that involved throwing balls.

“Let the girl have a turn,” Thora insisted, handing a ball to Charlotte. “You need to knock one of those other balls further from the jack, that small ball, or knock the jack further from Kit’s ball. Hers is the closest.”

“Charlotte,” Rebecca said in a warning tone.

“Maybe I should move the tray,” Kit suggested, scooping up the tray and carrying it to the other end of the porch out of harm’s way.

“We should all stand behind Charlotte,” Rebecca said. She quickly added, “But not too close.”

“Can we not make a big deal out of it?” Charlotte asked softly.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “I’m just remembering the time we tried bowling with Father.”

Charlotte hesitated. “I’d forgotten about that. The woman was okay, though. Just a bruised calf.”

Thora’s white eyebrows shot up. “On second thought, let’s not interrupt the game.” She snatched the ball from Charlotte’s hand.

“I heard there was some action at your event last night,” Phyllis commented. “Anything juicy?”

Kit scowled at Phyllis. “Nothing to report. Why didn’t you come? I expected to see you there, running over people’s toes in your electric scooter.”

“Phyllis and I are banned from the Weston Inn,” Thora said.

Rebecca’s hand flew to her mouth. “You two are banned?”

Phyllis nodded but not before casting an annoyed glance in Thora’s direction.

“What on earth for?” Charlotte asked.

“Drunk and disorderly,” Adelaide piped up. She seemed only too pleased to share this revelation.

“That Chief Riley is too quick to kiss up to certain families,” Thora said bitterly. “Not that I have any desire to frequent the Weston Inn. I prefer the bars over in Eastdale. More down-to-earth.”

A familiar black car turned onto Thornhill Road and Kit broke into a smile. Romeo pulled up alongside the women and rolled down the window.

“Bocce! I can’t believe it. I haven’t played since my Aunt Rosemary died.”

Thora winked at Kit as Romeo parked the car.

“Do you think they’ve found Brendan?” Charlotte asked, her voice hopeful yet pained.

Romeo joined them on the front lawn. Kit couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in tight black jeans and a red shirt. Sometimes she wondered whether she liked Romeo more because she knew her mother would disapprove. Admiring him now, she realized how ludicrous the idea was. Romeo Moretti was eminently likable. Her mother’s disapproval was merely a bonus.

“Good morning, ladies. How’s everyone doing on this fine morning?” He looked at Rebecca and Charlotte. “You two really know how to throw a fundraiser. Aside from a fleeing suspect, it seemed like a huge success.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said politely. She was more interested in an update on the investigation than an accolade.