Authors: Unknown
Chapter Twenty-Three
BY THE TIME WE LEFT the spa, I’d been plucked, rubbed, salted, waxed, and lymphatically drained. I had a very good idea how a car must feel going through one of those drive-thru car washes. As for Simone, by the time she’d finished with all her treatments, she was like Jell-O and could barely even say goodbye when the limo dropped us off at her house. Not that I knew what to say to her after our strange conversation in the private lounge. But truth be told, if someone murdered Nick on Simone’s behalf, it was feeling less and less as if she’d actually asked them to do it. Which meant I wasn’t any closer to finding out who had murdered Nick. But I sure looked like a million bucks!
Back at Nick’s, I played a set and then served a round of drinks. Becky was cooking in the back again. Candace’s drink was the last one I poured. I slid it over to her and smiled.
“This one’s on the house.” I looked down, feeling uncomfortable and a little guilty. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Candace reached over and patted my hand. “Oh honey, I’m the one who should be sorry. Thing is, I’m nothing more than a crazy drunk. You don’t owe me an apology.” She took a sip from her drink.
Mumbles sat two seats over, per usual, and glanced up at me. “Sorry, Evie,” he mumbled.
I waved a hand at him. “Neither of you have anything to be sorry about.”
“Listen, sugar, do you want to know the story?” Candace asked. “The story about me and Nick and what happened?”
I stared at her for a few seconds. This was certainly an about-face.
“Sure. Of course.”
She sighed, downed her drink, and shoved the glass back towards me, a sure sign she wanted me to make her another. Truth be told, I didn’t like feeding her addiction, but I also knew I couldn’t stop her from chasing her demons.
“I met Nick on a set. This was back in the early eighties. He was getting ready to start shooting for a show about a group of young people attending a dance school. It was kind of a spin-off of
Flashdance
. Ever see it?”
I nodded. “It’s one of the few I did see as a kid. My mom snuck me in.” I smiled at the memory.
“Right. Anyway, I was auditioning for a part and we met. We fell madly in lust with each other.” She giggled and her face took on a glow that for once wasn’t fueled by alcohol. “Truth is, I loved him. It was . . . immediate, like being hit by a car or something. I thought he loved me, too. I think there was a part of him that did. Anyway, I pushed him to get married. He finally proposed. But all along, I had a feeling there was someone else in his life.” Tears sprung to her eyes.
I wondered if she meant Becky. Poor Candace. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too. There was a party one night at Warren Verne’s place. You’ve met his son, Bradley. Bradley and Nick have known each other since they were kids. Anyway, we were all at this party and Roger, who was a friend of ours, was there. The party was actually for him. He had just been chosen as the new James Bond.” She took another sip of her drink. “Well, the bitch was there, too.”
I lowered my voice. “Becky?”
Candace nodded. “Yes. She was supposedly Roger’s date, but she was all over Nick and I became upset with him. Roger did too, because Nick seemed to be enjoying the attention.”
The same Roger who had been found dead in Verne’s pool.
“I went to bed drunk and stoned. We were all drunk and stoned. When I woke up, Nick was next to me, and Roger was in the pool, dead.”
“But the article I read said you told police Nick had been with you all night. How do you know he was if you were passed out?”
Candace stared mournfully down at her drink, shoulders slumped forward. “I didn’t know. I loved Nick, so I covered for him. But you want to know what I really think happened that night?”
I nodded in encouragement.
“I think Becky pushed Roger into that pool and the poor guy hit his head. I think Nick covered for her because she was the one Nick was screwing around with. I broke off the engagement, but I never stopped loving him.”
“Is that why you come here?” And is that what I saw when I touched Nick’s shoulder before he died? I could see him looking at a drowned man in a pool. There was no Becky around though. At least not in the brief flash I had seen. But by me simply receiving that small bit, I knew whatever had occurred that night had changed Nick forever.
“Yes. It’s funny how things change. I didn’t see Nick for almost twenty years, and then my life took a turn for the worse.” She held up her drink. “Obviously. Four husbands. A daughter who won’t speak to me. You know the story. When I came in here the first time, I really didn’t know it was my Nick who owned it. Then I saw him, and strangely enough, we picked up as friends. We left the past behind, and we’ve never talked about it since.”
“Never?”
“Nope.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.”
“So that’s why you hate Becky?”
Candace regarded me wearily. “I don’t hate her. I just don’t like her.” She shrugged. “And I don’t trust her.” She shook a finger at me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
I glanced up to see Bradley Verne walk in with his wife Raquela. I was eager to talk with him. If he had known Nick all of his life, or most of it, I was sure he might have some additional information to share. Maybe Raquela would as well. I didn’t know how long they had been married, but it seemed as if it had been a while and that Raquela had also known Nick from the comments Bradley had made at Nick’s wake.
They came over to the bar. Bradley looked a bit concerned. Raquela was dressed to the nines and had the most amazing diamond earrings on I had ever seen.
“Hi, how are things tonight?” Bradley asked.
“Not bad. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m okay. I had to tell my dad today about Nick. It was pretty upsetting. My father loved him like a son, you know. Every Monday, Nick would go visit him out at the home he’s in.”
“He did?” So that’s what he did on Mondays. Interesting.
“Yes. My dad always looked forward to his visits.”
“I’m sure.” Poor man must have been devastated.
Raquela rubbed Bradley’s back. “We will get through this. All of us.” She sat down on one of the stools and ordered a glass of Cabernet. “How is business?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s picked up some, actually. I think all of the press and such has caused people with morbid curiosities to come in. But I’ve also noticed an increase in the college crowd. Word has gotten out about the cheap and delicious tacos.”
Bradley rubbed his face tiredly and then dropped into a seat next to Candace. “Hey, can I get a gin and tonic?”
“Sure thing.” I poured Raquela’s wine and made a drink for Bradley.
Becky came out of the kitchen about that time and set a plate of tacos in front of Candace and Mumbles.
“I didn’t order this,” Candace said, her voice surly.
“I know you didn’t, but the two of you need to eat.” She glanced at me, and then Bradley and Raquela. “Hello. How are you?”
He shrugged. “Told my dad today about Nick. Wasn’t easy.”
“I suppose not,” she said.
Becky was definitely not comfortable around Bradley or Raquela. Maybe it was because they seemed so far out of her league.
“I also received a call from Nick’s attorney about this place,” Bradley said.
“Oh?” Becky replied.
Bradley now had all of our attention.
“Yes. And there was a will. This place is designated to fall into the hands of a very specific person.”
“Who?” I asked.
Everyone seemed to be listening intently.
“Nick’s son.”
“What?” I said. Everyone looked surprised. Everyone, that is, but Becky. “I didn’t know he had a son.”
“Yes. His name is Joshua. Joshua Styles.” He looked at Becky.
Of course! Becky’s last name was Styles.
“I guess I have a phone call to make,” she said.
Raquela set her wine glass down and looked pointedly at Becky. “Yes. I suppose you do.”
I reached out to touch Becky’s arm and then pulled back realizing there was no buffer between us. She was wearing short sleeves.
“Wait a minute. You and Nick?” I looked at her carefully. “You have a son together?”
“Yes, we do,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
BECKY’S BOMBSHELL LEFT all of us speechless for several minutes after she headed back into the kitchen. I got pretty busy after that, pouring drinks. Bradley said he’d be back the following night to go over the specifics of Nick’s will. I told him I had a few questions for him and wondered if he’d have time to meet with me privately.
“Between us, I’ve been delving a bit into what may have happened to Nick, or, you know, who may have killed him.”
“You should be careful,” Bradley said. “Nick knew some unsavory types. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Bradley is right,” Raquela piped in. “I would let the police do the detecting. I am sure they will get to the bottom of it.”
“Of course I can answer whatever you need, but I do think you should allow the police to deal with this,” Bradley said, agreeing with his wife. “I can come over a little earlier if you’d like. Before it gets too busy. Raquela will be out of town so I have some free time.” He frowned.
She smiled at him fondly. “Oh come on, darling, you know you love your free time. It’s only one night.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Raquela waved a hand at me. “Oh you know, a little spa get-away. Some of my gal pals and I do a day or two either in Santa Barbara or Napa. Tomorrow we’re taking a jaunt down to Laguna Niguel and staying at The Ritz.”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
“It is lovely,” she replied. “I’ll be back in a few days with Bradley and see how everything is going.”
“Have fun,” I said. You know in spite of all her plastic surgery, big jewelry, and flashy clothes, Raquela seemed pretty decent.
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
After they left, I didn’t see much of Becky. She buzzed around taking food orders, prepping in the kitchen, and serving patrons. I took care of the drinks. I still had questions for her . . . more than ever now. Thinking about Pietro made me anxious. I had not forgotten the possibility that he had recognized me and could show up any time. I had no clue what he and George were capable of, and I certainly hadn’t ruled out murder.
The college crowd eventually showed up again and the place got packed. I only had time to play two sets. Candace and Mumbles drank themselves silly and didn’t even say goodbye when they staggered out into the night.
I was busy clearing the last rounds when Becky walked through the kitchen door and waved. “I need to go home. I’m beat, and tonight was more than I bargained for. Do you mind locking up?”
“Sure, no problem . . . hey, um, I was pretty surprised to find out you had a son with Nick.”
She smiled. “Yes. So was Nick when I told him. He didn’t know either until a year ago.”
“Really?” Wow.
She nodded. “The thing is, I wasn’t in Nick’s life for many years, and a lot happened to us both back in the day. I knew Nick was pretty mixed up for a while there, and he once told me being a parent was not for him. So, I decided not to tell him when I found out I was pregnant. But there was no question about me keeping the baby.” She smiled fondly, clearly recalling her son. “When I told Nick, he was pretty upset with me, but he understood why I’d done it. Truthfully, I had no idea he would give this place to Joshua.”
I recalled Jackson mentioning how many stories were buried in this place. Boy, he hadn’t been kidding. I wondered if he knew about Nick’s son.
“Can I ask where he is? Joshua?”
A proud look came over her face. “He’s in Africa. He works for the Red Cross.”
“Did Nick ever meet him?”
“No.” She glanced down at her hands, an uncomfortable look spreading across her face.
I was starting to feel like I might be prying but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Um, does he even know about Nick? I mean, as a dad?”
“No!” she snapped, glaring at me. I took a step back and her expression instantly shifted to contrition. “Look, I’m sorry. I am not sure how I am going to handle all of this with my son. It really was unexpected.”
“How do you think he’ll take the news?”
“I don’t know. How would you respond? I am sure it won’t be an easy conversation.” Her shoulders suddenly sagged, and she looked incredibly tired. “I have to go lie down and think things through. It’s late. I’m sorry to leave you like this. You’ll be okay, right?”
“I’ll be fine, Becky. Don’t worry about me. But I was also wondering real quick about something.”
“Yes?”
I could tell she was becoming aggravated with me, but I figured I had her as a captive audience for the moment.
“When Pietro came here to see Nick and you went back into the kitchen with them, what happened?”
Her eyes narrowed like those of a bird of prey ready to dive in for the animal it’s about to eat. “Why the inquisition?”
I shrugged. “I’m curious and concerned. The police don’t exactly seem to be doing much investigating around who murdered
our
friend, and that Pietro character is a slimeball. I thought maybe he said or did something that night that could implicate him.”
She shook her head. “I do care about who killed Nick, but you know what . . . I am a bit uncomfortable putting my nose into business it doesn’t belong in. The police have this handled. I think you should let them do their job and keep your questions to yourself.” She stopped for a moment, rubbing her arms absent-mindedly. “Jerks like Pietro SanGiacomo are not the kind of people you want to question. Do I think he could have murdered Nick? Yes. I think he’s capable of doing something like that. But I’m no detective and neither are you. As for that night in the kitchen, Nick owed Pietro some money. It wasn’t a ton. I had the money. I paid the debt. End of story. I have to go home now.”
Becky left in a huff, and I was alone in the bar. I think I believed her story, but her hostility seemed surprising.
I had everything cleaned up and was ready to go ten minutes later. But my brain was buzzing like I’d drank two espressos, and I knew I wouldn’t get any peace that night until I wrote everything down to see if I could answer a few of my own questions about Nick’s murder.
I turned up all the lights and made myself a Shirley Temple. I even added a cherry. When my dad was in a good mood, he’d take us to Benny’s, which was the best restaurant in Brady (and a Denny’s knock-off). At Benny’s, we could order anything we wanted. Hannah and I always got the same thing: Shirley Temples and cheesy grits with shrimp. After Hannah disappeared, we never went to Benny’s again. But I always ordered Shirley Temples whenever I could.
I didn’t have a notebook or any lined paper, so I tore a paper towel off of the towel dispenser in the ladies restroom. I sat down in Mumbles’ seat. Of all the regulars at Nick’s, he was the one who I felt most comfortable around. I figured maybe sitting in his chair would help me focus. I took out a pen and wrote down the reasons why people kill:
Revenge
Lust
Love (see lust above)
Greed
Money
Power
Sex (see lust above)
Then I thought about the various cast of characters
Candace
Becky
Jackson
Pietro
George
Mumbles (doubtful)
Bradley (?)
Simone (ugh, hated to think that)
Dwight via Simone
Why would Candace want to see Nick dead? Well, let’s see . . . he was the guy she was madly in love with almost thirty years ago. He cheated on her and she became an alcoholic. Revenge anyone?
Becky. She’d obviously loved Nick or thought she had. She’d been his lover when he was engaged to another woman. She had possibly been involved in covering up Roger’s death. Becky had a son with Nick that she failed to tell him about for twenty-eight years. And now, here she was in the bar, serving patrons and acting like the grieving widow. What if Becky and her son had planned it? Came back into Nick’s life, told him about his long lost son—off saving lives in Africa, how could he
not
leave that kid everything he owned—and rekindled the romance between them. And what if mom pulled the trigger out of . . . yes . . . revenge, rage, love, jealousy . . . there were a plethora of reasons for Becky to want Nick six-feet under. Not least of which was the opportunity to further provide for her only child, who may or may not actually be gallivanting around Africa giving vaccinations to children and teaching about safe sex.
Long sip from the Shirley Temple.
Sigh.
I needed some music to think by. I took out my new phone. Okay, I do have to give props to Simone for the gift. Pretty cool. I logged onto Pandora, and typed in “Ellie Goulding.” “Lights”
came on. Much better.
So, on to the next person on the list.
Jackson.
Now Jackson was just plain strange. He was a sexy, brooding weirdo who was totally obsessed with Nick. He wanted to script Nick’s story and was pissed off Nick refused to provide him any personal information. He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, and I frequently felt uncomfortable around him. Also, Mumbles didn’t care for him much . . . and Mumbles rarely took a dislike to anyone. And then there was that night when he rescued me from George Hernandez. Yeah, I was grateful to Jackson for stepping in when he did. But knowing he was some kind of black-belt Ninja definitely made me wonder about him. Could he be a charming psycho . . . like Ted Bundy? It didn’t take much to attract the attention of a sociopath. I mean, I now watched Dexter, and it seems to me those folks kill others mostly because they can.
I tapped the pen against my mouth, staring down at the next name on the list. Pietro SanGiacomo. Well that was pretty simple: money and anger. Nick owed him money. I wasn’t sure how much, but I assumed it was substantial, although Becky claimed she paid him off. She did sound rather convincing, and the conversation I overheard between Pietro and George had shown Pietro wanted George to let it all go now that Nick was gone. Granted, he sounded pretty upset when George told him about his sister. So maybe Pietro had more motive than I thought. But he had sounded truly shocked when George made the big reveal to him. I wondered, did Becky know about Nick and his bed buddy? Was Becky’s return the reason Nick had broken off whatever was going on between him and Sofia? Could Sofia, the mystery woman, have murdered Nick? I wouldn’t even know how to track her down. It wasn’t like I could ask Pietro for his sister’s phone number.
As for George Hernandez—he of the bad temper—Nick supposedly stole his fish taco recipe and owed George money. And then George and Pietro had some illegal side gig going on. Could Nick have found out about that and threatened to call the cops if George didn’t back off? Maybe George got tired of waiting for Nick to cough up his fair share of the earnings from their fizzled out partnership. In any case, he also seemed like a good candidate.
Then there was Bradley Verne. He’d known Nick since they were kids. Who knows what might have gone down back in the day? But I still felt he was my weakest suspect. Weak or not, he was definitely worth looking at. I had read enough books to know the least likely suspect often turns out to be the one who did it.
I sucked down the rest of my Shirley Temple and used the straw to fish out the cherry. “Fade Into You”
by Mazzy Starr came on. God, I love that song.
I thought suddenly of Lucas. Time to go home.
I walked around to the bar sink and dumped out the ice from my glass. “I wish I knew what happened here. I wish I knew what happened to you, Nick.”