Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Why did you sneak into the party at the Garden of Memories, after attempting to enter with a ticket?” Jane asked.
“Someone—Tony, I’m sure—mailed me the tickets a week apart. Crispy bacon and al dente. As if either one is an insult. And that’s how he meant it, I’m sure,” Belfry grumbled. “The guy at the door wouldn’t let me in, since I didn’t have an ID to match. I had to sneak it.”
Wait. “How do you know Tony mailed you those tickets?”
“He texted me. After I blocked his number, he just went and got himself another.”
That explained the second phone. Kind of. If the first number hadn’t worked, why carry it around, along with a second phone and also his normal cell? Three cellular devices seemed excessive. “What did his messages say?”
“In the original, he invited me to the party and bragged about his plans to bang Emma. Said he wanted me to have a front-row seat. In the second, he pretended to be Emma and begged me for creepy cemetery sex.” Belfry hiked up his shoulder while lowering his head, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. “I admit, at the time, I’d hoped that one legit came from Em.”
Jane’s instincts pinged. As a lawyer, Tony knew to cover his tracks, hence the anonymity of pretending to be Emma. But why use a burner phone to make threats as yourself first?
What am I missing? “Do you still have those texts?”
With a harried expression, Belfry wiped his hands on a towel, swiped a cell from his chef’s coat and keyed up a photo of the message supposedly from Tony, then turned the screen Jane’s way. She snatched the device. With a swipe, she found a photo of the second message as well. Well. Exactly as advertised.
“Mind if I send myself a copy of these?” she asked, already punching in her number.
“Yes, I mind,” he hissed, reaching for the phone.
Too late. Her phone dinged with the new messages. “Oops.” Moving on. “I know you followed Emma at the party. Did you have her in your sights before the scream sounded? Or even when it occurred. What about afterward?”
He picked at a thread on his cuff. “Never heard the scream. By then, I’d already left.”
Hmm. “Can you prove that?”
“Can you prove I hadn’t?” More beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “We’re done here. If you’ve got other questions, call my lawyer.”
“You mean Devin Hagger?”
“Not anymore.” Belfry combined the contents of two bowls. Whatever he was making did not smell appetizing. “Hagger is the literal worst. Firing him was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
Wait, wait, wait. “You fired him? Why?” Or was the firing as likely as Emma’s dumping? Had Hagger dropped Belfry?
“The guy kept advising me to confess to the crime,” the “chef” told her with a scowl. “Who does that?”
Someone who hoped to hide their own guilt, that was who. Welcome back to the top of my list, Hagger. “Why did you hire him in the first place, considering he covered up your fight with Tony?”
“He agreed to work for free. Why else?” Belfry passed a bowl of whatever that was to the sous chef and rooted through a pile of containers below the counter. “As you can see, I’m busy. So like I said, you can contact my lawyer if you—”
“Just one more question, then I’ll go,” she rushed out before he could finish the sentence. “Why did you fight Tony, where did this fight occur, and did Emma visit you in the hospital?” Technically, the three were stuck together, which meant, yes, Jane had expertly turned a triple into a single.
“The guy jumped me outside Em’s house, so I taught him a lesson. And yeah, she visited me at the hospital. Long enough to call me a jerk and storm out, as if protecting myself was some sort of crime. But if that’s the way Tony reacts just because a guy plays a little tonsil hockey with his ex, it’s no wonder someone killed him. It was only a matter of time, if you ask me.” Belfry turned his back on her then, letting her know he was done talking.
No problem. Jane had enough intel to keep her busy for days. Practically floating, she returned to the table—where she found Trick sitting with Fiona. He offered Jane an unapologetic smile.
“Why?” she demanded. How?
Trick shrugged his broad shoulders. “Conrad and Raymond know their women. They asked Peach State Security to play secret bodyguard.”
And she hadn’t sensed a thing. How irritating!
“I caught sight of him when he attempted to track you to the kitchen,” Fiona told her.
Sigh. “Well, Trickster, I’ll save you the trouble of guessing our next stop. We’re headed to Beau’s. If you warn him that we’re coming, you can say goodbye to the cheesy chicken and rice casserole I just decided to bake for you.”