part0039

Russell tried a weak smile, Al frowned, and Wilson rather unceremoniously yanked me through the door. And proof positive he’s brave, or at least a brave idiot, Carter O’Connell followed us out.

“We can explain,” he said.

“Try again, Carter.” Wilson continuing steering me toward the far edge of the parking lot and eventually brought us to a halt. “Explain!” he demanded.

I bit my lip. “Well, umm.”

“Why are you here, Jessie? How do you even know this was Stasson’s favorite bar?”

I folded my arms and glared. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Oh, for the love of—I’m a cop!”

Well, yes. But for some reason I still had to explain what seemed perfectly obvious—that Wayne Stasson had mentioned the Stopwatch Sports Bar to me.

“But you failed to mention it to me.”

“No. Yes.” I shook myself. “I forgot, Wilson. That is, until this afternoon and my little rendezvous with Caesar Newland.” I paused to fully appreciate Captain Rye’s groan. “Caesar reminded me,” I said, “but then I forgot about it, what with Karen’s phone call.”

“I remembered again when I was reporting all the latest to Candy,” I continued. “One thing led to another, and here we are.”

“Simple!” Carter added brightly.

My husband took a break from glowering at me to raise an ominous eyebrow O’Connell-ward. Carter slunk back into the shadows, and Wilson again addressed me. “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “Once you remembered this place, you took it upon yourself to come out here on your own.”

“I was with her,” Carter said, once again proving himself a brave idiot.

“Carter’s right,” I said .

“Since when have you ever thought Carter O’Connell was right about anything, Jessie?” Wilson skipped a beat and again turned to Carter. “No offense, buddy.”

“None taken.” he mumbled from the shadows.

I continued, “Carter was acting as my bodyguard,” I lied. “So you see? I did take precautions. Safety first.”

Wilson rolled his eyes. “That is your motto.”

I ignored the sarcasm and calmly pointed out I hadn’t needed a bodyguard of any sort. “No one in this bar was in cahoots with Wayne Stasson.”

“And you know that how?”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Go home and stay out of trouble. Please?”

As everyone can attest, I am nothing if not agreeable. I reached up to give the man a kiss and then grabbed Mr. O’Connell’s hand.

“Doesn’t he want to hear what we learned?” Carter the brave idiot asked as I dragged him away.

“He can probably find out what he wants on his own,” I answered.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Darlin,’” Wilson called over.

“You are welcome, Dearheart,” I called back and fluttered a few fingertips without turning around.

I started the engine. “So?” I asked. “What did you learn?”

I stopped backing up and put on the brakes. “You did take offense.”

Carter stared straight ahead. “Maybe.”

I shifted into park and also stared straight ahead. Then I tapped his knee. And then I apologized to Carter O’Connell. No, really.

“I might have,” I said, “in the past,” I added, “on occasion, occasionally,” I continued, “in some circumstances, questioned your judgement. ”

“With apologies like that,” he mumbled.

I tapped again, and he looked up. “You’re growing on me, Carter.”

He smiled. “I like you, too, Jessie.”

“So?” I asked impatiently. “What did you learn?”

Dare I say the man really was growing on me?

It seems Carter O’Connell had learned quite a lot, and as I drove him back to Sullivan Street, he reported several interesting and intriguing tidbits. For instance, Wayne hadn’t been to the Stopwatch for several nights before the murder. “Friday’s the last time anyone saw him.”

“Friday, not Wednesday,” I said. “Are you sure?”

Evidently, the bartender was. “He said Wayne was acting strange on Friday,” Carter said.

“The Braves had a big game that night, but Wayne didn’t even watch. According to the bartender, he just sat and stared into space.”

I stopped at a red light and wracked my brains. “What exactly happened on Friday? Do you remember?”

“Wasn’t that when Piers first called you?” Carter asked. “After we all got home from the Stone Fountain.”

Yes, it was. “That was the day Piers first realized Karen was missing.” The light turned green, and I hit the gas. “Friday’s the day he first asked his staff if anyone had seen her.”

Carter turned to face me. “That would have made Wayne nervous, right? When Piers realized Karen was gone?”

“But Karen had been G-O-N-gon since that Wednesday,” I argued. “And Wayne was at the Stopwatch both Wednesday and Thursday nights, correct?”

“That’s what the bartender says.”

“So then, who was taking care of Karen?” I whined. “Did he leave her all alone at night, tied up and gagged somewhere horrible, just so he could watch the Braves?”

Carter shrugged and admitted he did not know. “Maybe Mallory was watching her when Wayne wasn’t,” he suggested. “You know, Jessie, if they really were partners in crime.”

I whined again. “Did the bartender remember Mallory at all?”

“No!” I made it a four-syllable word, and Carter asked me to please calm down.

“And slow down while you’re at it.”

Good point. I eased up on the gas pedal and stopped at the next light. “I’m usually an excellent driver,” I said.

“And I’m an excellent flirt.” Carter waited until I noticed his smile. “Better than Candy,” he claimed, and I laughed out loud at that altogether ludicrous notion. “Don’t laugh,” he said indignantly. “The two women I was flirting with both remembered Mallory.”

“Carter! Why didn’t you say so?” I took off at the green light. “What did they tell you? Was she, or wasn’t she, Wayne’s girlfriend?”

“Would you please calm down.”

Good point again. I calmed down and slowed down again, and Carter informed me Mallory had wanted to be Wayne’s girlfriend. “But according to the women at the bar, Wayne thought she was too young. He treated her like a kid sister.”

I nodded. “That’s what the gardener told me also.”

“The gardener?” Carter asked. “You’ve you been flirting with Pierpont’s gardener, Jessie? Just like Princess Destiny?”

I rolled my eyes and mentioned that Caesar Newland is almost eighty.

“Oh. I guess that makes him a little old for you.”

I shot him a sideways glare, which he pretended not to notice.

“So, do you think Karen was trying to tell you about Mallory?” he asked. “You know, because she was Wayne’s would-be girlfriend? ”

I confessed I had no idea, and as I turned onto Sullivan Street, Carter asked what I myself had learned at the Stopwatch. “Anything interesting at the pool table?”

“So I did pretty well on my first sleuthing gig, huh?”

I stopped at the last red light. “Okay, Mr. Super-Sleuth. Tell me how you broached Wayne’s murder? What was your premise?”

“I lied, like you said to.”

“I told you to be creative, Carter.”

“I lied and said I met Wayne a while ago, and we got to talking about horses.”

“You know nothing about horses.”

“That’s what lying’s for, right? I used words like thoroughbred, and saddle, and tack, and people actually bought it. Then I lied again and said Wayne also told me about the Stopwatch, and it worked.” He grinned. “I did okay, huh?”

I sighed dramatically. “Okay, yes,” I said, and believe it or not, I even saw fit to thank the guy for a job well done.

“You’re welcome,” Carter said as I pulled into our parking lot. Candy’s car was already there, so he told me to go ahead back to the lake. “I’ll report all the latest to Candy.” He reached for the door handle.

He turned. “Yes?”

I pointed to Peter Harrison’s window, where a light was still on. “Talk to him also, please? I feel terrible I haven’t kept him posted. The poor guy doesn’t even know about Karen’s phone call.”

“As Karen would say, D-U-N-dun.”

It seems Carter had already spoken to Peter. “On my way out to meet you tonight, Jessie. He was kind of confused about why we were going to the Stopwatch together.” He grinned. “For some reason, Peter thinks you’re not very fond of me. His word—fond.”

I skipped a beat. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I’m growing on you,” Carter said and hopped out of the Porsche.