Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (5 page)

FIVE

B
lain sat at his desk in the back corner of the Millbrook Police Department, scrolling through some old news articles about the Alvanetti family. He'd read up on their philanthropic endeavors, their weddings, births, deaths and celebrations plus a few articles questioning certain tactics they used in their so-called import-export business located in a huge warehouse just outside of town.

But nothing much on their only daughter's brief marriage to Drake Allen. Nothing much about his fatal car crash but the accident report told the tale. High rate of speed and alcohol.

End of report. Could it be possible that Rikki just needed someone to blame so her grief wouldn't cut so deep?

“Kent, what've you got on the Tessa Jones case?”

Blain glanced up to find his chubby, mustached police chief, Raymond Ferrier, staring down at him like a curious bulldog. The chief trusted Blain but he was antsy about this high-profile murder, especially now that he knew it had happened at a place owned by an Alvanetti.

“Not much, sir.” That was true. He hadn't found a whole lot on the Jones woman. “She lived in Tallahassee so I've got a couple of detectives there casing out friends and family. I had one of my contacts there who's tracking down the boyfriend. He's supposed to get back to me after he talks to the boyfriend and finds out where he was yesterday.”

“Not good, right here at the holidays,” the chief said. “I feel for Miss Alvanetti but I can't have a bunch of nervous-Nellie citizens suggesting we call off the Christmas parade or cancel the cantata at Millbrook Lake Church because they think a killer is on the loose.”

“Not gonna let that happen, Chief,” Blain replied, wishing the chief would quit breathing down his neck so he could get back to work. “I'm researching articles right now, trying to put things together.” He shuffled through the report. “Besides, I don't think anything can get in the way of the Christmas parade.”

Chief Ferrier shook his head, the red lines along his neck turning crimson. “Just keep at it. I sure don't need Old Man Alvanetti demanding justice. We all know how that'll turn out.”

“I'll handle that,” Blain replied. The chief had never caved underneath the Alvanetti juggernaut but he wasn't too thrilled to have to stand in the way of that juggernaut either. Up until now, things had been pretty quiet on that front. “I'm going back out to the house to question Regina Alvanetti later today.”

The chief scrubbed a hand down his always-a-day-behind-beard stubble. “Be careful about that. You know how things tend to go out at that place.”

“I'm always careful,” Blain said. And he wasn't afraid of the Alvanetti clan. Rikki owed him and he intended to cash in on that debt. Plus, he had one furry, demanding cat to deliver.

Chief Ferrier grunted at that confident retort. “Careful is one thing, son. But being smart is important, too.”

After the chief went back to his office, Blain jotted a list of all the variables on this case. The victim resembled Regina—Rikki—Alvanetti. They'd been best friends. Rikki had a hostile ex-boyfriend named Chad Presley but he hadn't been located yet. The Tallahassee authorities called to let Blain know they had talked to Tessa Jones's boyfriend and his alibi was solid. That left Chad Presley.

Nothing of importance had been taken from the town house and there was no sign of forced entry. Blain decided this was looking more like a professional hit than a crime of passion.

Had Tessa known her murderer? What did the “K” written in blood mean? Was it an initial or had the poor woman just been grasping at the floor, trying to get up? He'd have to wait for the ballistics report and lab work to come back on the autopsy from the state lab in Tallahassee. But while he waited, Blain intended to keep plugging away, trying to find the truth.

He thought about Rikki Alvanetti. Lush and exotic, much in the same way as that imposing home and the dubious lifestyle she had tried so hard to deny. She had grown up privileged and entitled in a world that most plain folks only dreamed about.

That was about to change. Blain wouldn't let her big brown eyes or her tragic demeanor fool him. He'd ignore the tickle of awareness her spice-scented perfume caused in his system and he'd certainly ignore those black boots she wore with such an easy, classy sway.

Blain could be tenacious when he was on a case and this one was a doozy. He'd already had calls from several television stations and most of the local and regional papers, all wanting to interview him regarding the Tessa Jones murder—and how it might be connected to the mighty Alvanetti family.

“No comment.”

He couldn't talk about an active case. He'd let the people in the mayor's PR department give out the talking points. He'd rather get out and beat the bushes to find out the truth.

He had to wonder if Rikki knew more than she was telling him. His trust meter on her had gone down, way down, when she'd taken him to the Alvanetti estate. Even more when he'd realized she was one of them.

He was about to head out there to confront her one more time when his cell rang.

Preacher.

“Hey,” he said into the phone as he grabbed his leather jacket and walked toward the front door of the small police building right across from the county courthouse. “What's happening, Preacher?”

Rory Sanderson's laugh rolled out on a low wave. “You tell me. I'm thinking you're up to your eyeballs on this murder that happened last night.”

“You got that right,” Blain said. He stopped in the parking lot, near his car. “I guess I'll be the hot topic at pizza night, right?”

Blain and his three buddies always met once a week for pizza and watching sports on the popular Back Bay Pizza House.

“We're all waiting for Thursday at seven o'clock to come,” Rory replied. “I just called to tell you if things get crazy—”

“You will pray for me, right?”

“Oh, I do that, anyway,” the always cheerful minister replied. “I mean, if this case gets as in-depth as I think it will, you'll need someone to listen to your rants.”

“I know you got my back,” Blain said, thanking God for his friends.

Rory Sanderson was the popular and much-loved minister at Millbrook Lake Church now, but he'd been a chaplain in the army just a few years ago. Another member of their group was Alec Caldwell, a former marine who'd been injured and had the scars to prove it, and was now a successful businessman living in one of the old Victorian houses along the lake. Even though he'd inherited a ton of money from his late mother, he was as laid-back and unassuming as any man could be since he'd met local bakery owner Marla Hamilton. They were getting married in two weeks and Blain was the best man.

Rory would officiate and who knew what their fourth man, Hunter Lawson, would do or if he'd even show up for the wedding. The Okie came and went like a shadow but he was slowly growing on all of them and he was a solid friend if need be. Blain might have to call Hunter since Hunter had gotten his PI license recently and was now available to work cases in the state of Florida.

“So I know you can't talk about the case but...be careful out there,” Rory said. “This is a bit off the reservation for Millbrook.”

“Yeah, and don't I know it,” Blain replied. “I'll be careful. And smart.”

“I'll see you soon,” Rory said.

Blain hit End and turned to unlock his car. Then he noticed he had a flat tire. “What?”

He bent to examine the tire. He'd just had the vehicle serviced, courtesy of the Millbrook Police Department since it was a departmental vehicle. The mechanics had suggested new tires so he'd had those put on, too.

Now this. Blain studied the tire and noticed something odd. A slash mark cutting deep into the still-new tread.

Suddenly, he wasn't as worried about how the department's money had gone to waste on these tires as he was about how someone had obviously slashed this tire in broad daylight.

Blain heaved an aggravated sigh and stood up to check his surroundings, thinking he'd just gotten his first hint on how things would go with an investigation involving an Alvanetti.

Or maybe, his first warning from a killer.

* * *

Rikki sat holding her mother's frail hand.

Sonia was sleeping, which was a surprise in itself. Her mother used to rise with the dawn because she had to see the sun cresting out over the water to the east. She'd make herself a strong cup of coffee and stroll down to the dock so she could be as close to the water as possible to watch the sunrise.

“Isn't that amazing?” she'd say to anyone who might want to venture down with her at the crack of dawn. “God's world is so full of joy and beauty. That same sun that shines on us each day covers the entire earth with warmth. That sun shines on all of us, Rikki. You always remember that, no matter where you are in life. Always look toward the sun, honey.”

Rikki brushed at the tears in her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was midmorning but the heavy curtains in her parents' bedroom were still drawn shut.

“Hey, Mama, want me to open the curtains so you can see the sunshine?”

Sonia let out a little grunt but didn't wake up.

Franco had left for the day with the excuse that he needed to visit with Santo at the warehouse and go over some paperwork.

Rikki probably should let her mother sleep but Peggy had suggested trying to wake her in hopes that seeing Rikki would help Sonia. “She needs to get her strength back but she has a hard time staying up. Mr. A tries to get her to take a walk with him out to the water, but she just can't make it.”

Rikki wanted her mother to make it. Determined and needing something positive to cling to after the last couple of days, Rikki went to the row of glass windows and opened the curtains to the big sliding doors that were usually flung open to the back garden. While the water looked inviting, the chilly temperature forced the doors to stay shut tight.

At least a cozy fire burned in the bedroom fireplace and Peggy had put up a glittering gold-and-red ornamented Christmas tree between the two high-backed brocade chairs in the corner by the doors. If she could get her mother to make it to a chair...

A knock at the bedroom door pulled Rikki out of her hopes.

The day nurse, Daphne, leaned her head in, her short brown curls falling in her eyes. “You have a visitor, Miss Alvanetti. Blain Kent.”

Rikki's heart jumped so fast she had to catch her breath. Whirling, she left the drapery gaping open. “I'll be right there. Thank you, Daphne.”

The pretty young nurse nodded and went back to the kitchen where she was making soup that no one would probably eat.

“I'll be back soon, Mama,” Rikki whispered. She kissed her mother's soft cheek and brushed back the spiky white-blond hair Sonia had always been so proud of.

Sonia mumbled incoherently but kept sleeping.

Rikki stopped in the wide hallway and gathered herself. Her mother used to say, “Pull yourself together and put on some color.”

Rikki checked her light pink lipstick and ran a hand through her tousled hair out of habit, thinking of her mother's endearing command. Just one of many Sonia quoted often. Then she took her time making her way to the far side of the long house.

Blain was waiting in the den. He stood in front of the fire, staring at the family portrait centered over the mantel.

Daphne was still in the kitchen. She sent Rikki an inquisitive glance and then gazed back across the way at Blain.

Rikki's heart jumped again. He was an attractive man. All hard angles and dark shaggy hair, his physique muscular and solid. He wore a worn black leather jacket and jeans with battered cowboy boots.

“Detective,” she said by way of a greeting. “You're out early today.”

At the sound of her flats hitting the hardwood floors, he turned and swept her with a questioning gaze. And he was holding her squirming cat.

Something melted inside Rikki's bitter heart. But she poured all that softness into grabbing Pebble up in her arms and cooing to him. “You found him. Thank you.”

Blain gave her an indulgent stare and wiped cat hair off his jacket. “He found me outside your town house. And now I have cat hair all over my apartment.” He pointed to the bag of dry cat food on the counter. “Got this at the discount store.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at his obvious disapproval. “Pebble is an early riser. I'm sure he woke you to let you know he needed feeding.”

“I've been up for a while,” he retorted. “How'd you sleep last night?”

The question rang out more as an accusation. “Better than the night before,” she replied, determined not to give him any openings.

She dropped Pebble and watched as the big cat ran to the kitchen and meowed. She moved across the room to find a bowl, and motioned toward the big leather sectional. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

He sniffed toward the kitchen. “I thought I smelled actual real coffee. That stuff we have at the station is more like tar mixed with motor oil.”

“I'll bring you a cup right away. Cream and sugar?”

He gave her a look that spoke of something besides coffee. “No. Black. Thank you.”

Rikki headed toward the kitchen where Daphne was bent down petting Pebble and smiled at the curious nurse. “Daphne, would you mind sitting with my mother while I talk to the detective?”

Daphne nodded, pursed her lips, turned off the stove and then left the room. Too nosy, that one. Or maybe too interested in the brooding man sitting in the den.

“Here you go.” After feeding the cat, Rikki came back to the den and handed Blain the big Christmas mug, one of many her mother had collected over the years. This one had a grinning reindeer on it.

Blain stared at the silly mug, one dark eyebrow lifting. With a smile so quick it could have been a wink, he took the coffee and drank deeply. “Good. Very good.”