I was heading back to the café when I spotted Cody Ryan and a young lady friend as they passed me in a flashy yellow Corvette convertible that went zooming by like a bee late to a hive meeting. That reminded me – I still had a question or two for Cody. Like why had he ordered a bunch of my perfectly good beignets and dumped them in the trash just minutes later?
I pressed the gas pedal and fell into line a couple of cars behind them so they wouldn’t get suspicious. His passenger was a real looker with long auburn hair. Definitely not Sabrina Higgins, who was a blonde, like her mother, I remembered from the photo she’d shown me.
Fifteen minutes later Cody pulled into a public parking lot a block from Table Rock Town Square. I sluiced into a slot located at a diagonal from his and watched. He opened the passenger-side door. Wow, this girl could have been a model. She wore a short fitted black leather skirt and simple scoop-neck white blouse. Her heels were dangerous red.
He said something and she laughed. It looked like trouble in nuptials land, if you asked me. They started walking. I locked up and hurried after them, not sure what I was going to do if I caught them.
Once at the town square, they headed across Smile to Main. The sidewalks were crowded so I wasn’t worried about being noticed. The pair headed up a set of small, steep stairs and I followed. They climbed to the third floor, which was the top of the building. There was only one thing up there. High Steaks.
For more than forty years, High Steaks has been Table Rock’s go-to steakhouse with a view of the square. I’d never eaten there – too pricy for my pockets – but it was a fave with residents and tourists alike. If you were foolhardy enough to wear a necktie to High Steaks, the reigning Mad Mary – as the locals had dubbed She Who Wields The Shears – would come running out of the kitchen with a big pair of scissors and clip you before you even knew you’d been clipped and nail your tie to the wall which, by this time, I guesstimated, held a couple thousand or so of all brands and colors.
I waited from my vantage point on the second-floor landing until the hostess had led Cody and his young lady friend away then climbed the last flight of stairs. The smell of rib-eye and mesquite wood coming from the ovens set my stomach to protesting.
‘May I help you?’ A pretty young Apache woman proffered me a folded menu.
I snatched it. ‘I’d like to take a look at the menu first, if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not.’ She smiled and motioned for me to move to the side, toward the busy bar, as she greeted her next customers.
Under the guise of perusing the menu, I watched the happy couple. They were seated out on the belvedere. Their waiter brought a pitcher of water and bottle of wine. Cody’s hand fell across hers and she smiled. A couple passed in front of me and I took a step back, jostling a waitress who’d been scurrying behind me. She dropped the glass she’d been carrying to the bar and shrieked. The glass shattered against the floor and wet drops hit the backs of my legs.
Cody and the woman turned toward the commotion.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said the young waitress who’d done nothing wrong. ‘Let me help you.’ She bent to wipe my dripping calves with a towel she’d snatched from her belt.
‘No, really, it’s OK.’ I tried to shoo her away, afraid to draw attention to myself. But it didn’t matter because it was too late. Cody and the woman had definitely seen me. It looked like he’d recognized me, too, because his eyes met mine and his face darkened.
I took a deep breath and decided to take the offense. I couldn’t defend myself but I could attack. I marched to their table overlooking the busy square. ‘Hi, Cody Ryan, right?’
He scooted back his chair and eyed me. His index finger toyed with the mole at the left corner of his lip. ‘Ms Miller from the beignet place?’
‘That’s right. I hear you and Sabrina Higgins are getting married this weekend.’ Or not.
He blushed and glanced at his companion. ‘That’s right.’
I turned to the young woman. Up close she was even more stunning. Her complexion was fair and unblemished. Her eyebrows looked like they’d been computer-designed, they were that perfect. I held out my hand. ‘And who have we here?’
The young woman tossed her head and smiled as she shook my hand. ‘Paula Aldiss.’ Paula coolly pulled out a business card – thick oyster-colored vellum with platinum-embossed lettering. ‘Wedding planner.’
My heart came to a stop, so I wasn’t sure what was now pumping all that red blood to my cheeks.
Paula Aldiss held her smile, her eyes bouncing from Cody to me. ‘Cody and I are planning a surprise for his fiancé.’
‘A surprise?’ My voice cracked. ‘H-how nice.’
‘A brand new convertible, a Corvette,’ Cody boasted. ‘Velocity yellow, like mine.’
Paula’s brow rose. ‘Are you all right, Ms Miller? Would you like some water?’ Her fingers went to the water pitcher.
‘No, thanks.’ I ran my parched tongue over my dry lips. That tiny pitcher didn’t hold enough water for me to go drown myself in. And drown myself was just what I felt like doing at that moment.
‘Was there something you wanted?’ Cody asked, his demeanor stiff.
‘I just wanted to say hi,’ I stammered, ‘and congratulations.’ I turned to leave, took two steps and stopped. No, I couldn’t let the kid rattle me. I marched back to the table.
‘Yes?’ Cody said.
‘When you came into the beignet café.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘You ordered a dozen beignets.’
‘So?’
‘So, a minute later I saw you walk out and watched you dump them all in the trash.’
He chuckled. ‘Is that all?’ He shook his head. ‘My mom asked me to bring some to her weekly bridge game.’ He glanced at Paula. ‘The minute I walk out of the bakery, Mom calls and tells me her friend, Shelley, is sick and the game is canceled. What was I going to do with a dozen beignets?’
Cody took a sip from his wine glass. ‘I ate one and tossed the rest. Seemed like a waste, but, hey, it’s Mom’s money. Gotta stay in shape for the honeymoon.’ His brow went up and down lasciviously as he patted his flat belly.
Paula laughed.
I headed for the stairwell. The stairs were narrow and boxed in on both sides. I thought I heard Cody calling my name and quickened my steps.
I felt his hand grab my elbow and spun around, halfway between the third and second landing. The stairs were deserted.
‘Wait a sec,’ Cody demanded.
‘What do you want?’ I felt vulnerable and alone on the otherwise empty stairwell. Was this what had happened to Lisa Willoughby? My eyes went to his fingers on my elbow.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He released his grip, looking abashed. ‘You won’t tell, will you? Please, promise me you won’t, Ms Miller.’
‘Tell what?’ Was there something illicit going on between he and Paula, after all? Was he a killer?
‘Sabrina.’ He scratched his head. ‘About the car.’
I breathed a sigh of relief. So that was what he’d chased me for. I patted his arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ I promised. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
A noisy throng came bounding up the steps. By the sounds of it they’d had a few pre-meal drinks. Several were singing cowboy tunes. I pushed against the wall. A foot shot out and I tumbled into the crowd coming my way. I fell, hitting my tailbone and elbow, in that order. A strong hand plucked me upright. I looked over my throbbing shoulder.
‘Are you OK, Ms Miller?’
I gulped and collected my wits, which seemed to have spilled across the steps along with my dignity. ‘I think so.’ I dusted myself off.
Cody pulled me closer as the crowd passed. ‘You really should be more careful, Ms Miller.’ His eyes dug into mine. Then he smiled. ‘Well, gotta get back to Paula.’
I hobbled down the steps. I wasn’t built for this detective stuff. I stuck the key in the ignition and headed back to the café, glad that I had a motor vehicle rather than a Schwinn. Between having a drink splashed all over me and falling down half a flight of stairs, it had been one lousy afternoon.
One thought raced through my mind as I pulled into the slow-moving traffic as the light ahead turned yellow. Had Cody tripped me? Had he done so on purpose? Why would he want to hurt me? Certainly not because he was afraid I might spoil the surprise about his getting Sabrina a car as a wedding gift. If he had tripped me and it had been intentional, could it be about Lisa Willoughby? Was he a murderer?
Was that why he’d warned me to be careful? Or was my imagination getting the better of me? Note to self: check Cody Ryan’s whereabouts at the time of the murder. Did he have an alibi or did I now have a new suspect?
The sun was in my eyes as I neared the intersection. I reached for the visor and felt a crash. The visor smacked me in the face as I slammed on the brakes and killed the engine. The traffic signal was red and so was the color of the car I had just knocked into. Oops.
The driver’s-side door opened. The car bounced as a familiar shape stepped out into the road. Of all the cars I could collide with, I had to collide with Detective Highsmith’s testosterone-fueled tribute to his youth, his Trans Am.
Oops again.
He folded his arms and motioned with his right hand for me to roll down my window. I obliged. ‘What’d you do,’ he scowled, ‘steal another car?’
I groaned and waved him away from the car door so I could open it. I stood. My nose pulsed. I felt a drip of blood and squelched it with a crumpled tissue.
‘You’re a menace, Miller.’
‘I know.’ I felt woozy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten or had a drink – besides the one that had splattered all over my legs. And while the thought of going on the offense had flashed through my brain, I wasn’t fool enough to try it on a cop with a loaded gun. ‘I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was—’ The hot afternoon sun seemed to slam into my face. I felt the world go sideways.
Highsmith’s jaw slackened. Or maybe it had simply melted against the power of the sun. ‘Are you OK?’
My knees crumpled. Highsmith caught me. I heard him holler for the traffic to go around. ‘You’d better sit,’ he said.
I nodded speechlessly. My hands were locked around his neck. I smelled leather and soap. His strong arms were under my knees. He eased me back behind the wheel of the BMW and his finger went to my cheek. My heart skipped a beat. Those big brown M&M eyes of his dug right into me. I squeezed my eyes shut before they sucked me in completely. I felt the warmth of his lips on my forehead.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’d better check out the damage.’
I nodded, still unable to speak. Tears spilled from my eyes.
A moment later, he reappeared. ‘Not too bad.’ He smiled. ‘Matching dents. Nothing major.’
‘That’s good,’ I managed to say. Nothing major. Sure, try telling that to Johnny Wolfe. And what about that little kiss on the forehead? Was that nothing major, too?
‘You’ve got some scrapes, though.’
I followed his eyes. ‘Oh, I got them before.’
His brow shot up.
‘I sort of fell down the stairs.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘It was nothing. I’m fine. Really.’
He waved another car around us. ‘I suggest we get these cars out of the middle of the road and swap insurance information. I’ll come by your place later. I’ve got someplace to be now.’
‘OK.’ I spotted Brad Smith watching us from the sidewalk. I knew the Table Rock Reader offices were nearby. His arms were locked across his chest. Had he seen the accident? Had he seen the way Highsmith kissed me?
Highsmith’s hand fell on my left shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’
I nodded curtly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll manage.’
He tapped his hand against the door. ‘Good. Keep your eyes on the road. And if you’re going to take them off the road,’ he said with a gleam in his eye, ‘don’t do it when you’re driving behind me.’
I watched the Trans Am speed off then slowly turned the key in the ignition and pulled over to the side of the street. Brad was still there, waiting. Watching.
I knew I had to speak to him. I’d been avoiding him and his phone calls. A girl couldn’t hide forever.
Could she?
I thought about it for a moment.
No, she couldn’t. At least not in a town the size of Table Rock.
I waited for the traffic to clear then stepped onto the sidewalk.
‘Are you OK?’ Brad asked.
I nodded. ‘More embarrassed than injured.’
He nodded once. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Listen, Brad,’ my hand went to his arm, ‘I’ve been really busy and I – we – haven’t had a chance to talk—’
He cut me off with a wave of his hand. ‘What’s to talk about?’
What’s to talk about? Was he kidding? Why are all men so difficult? ‘For starters, we could talk about what happened the other night on my front porch.’
He forced a smile. ‘Sorry, can’t talk now. I’ve got a date.’
My stomach soured. ‘A date?’
He shrugged. ‘The editor wants me to interview Veronica Vargas about the Lisa Willoughby murder investigation.’
I flushed. ‘VV?’ Veronica ‘VV’ Vargas was Table Rock’s very own femme fatale and pain in the buttocks. She was the doted on daughter of the mayor. And the girlfriend of one Detective Mark Highsmith.
Brad nodded. ‘Shall I give her your regards?’