Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“I think I need a vacation.”
I look around the place. Nothing is touched. There’s no blood, no evidence that anyone was here. Gentle, calming music plays, and I wonder what the fucking point is. Old Arnie here can’t possibly hear it. “Are you okay?” Beau asks.
“What’s that, dear?” he yells.
My God, his lack of hearing may have saved his life. “I said, are you okay?” Beau shouts.
“No need to shout, dear.” He thumbs to the door behind him. “I have to close sometime this evening.”
“Yes, of course.” She steps forward. Then stops abruptly and reverses, her back meeting my chest. “I’m good,” she says, forcing her body into me so I walk back too.
“You don’t want to?”
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I’ve seen enough dead bodies for today. Thank you, Mr. Gluttenhiem,” she calls, but of course the old man just puts a hand up, not hearing. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” I stop her, taking the tops of her arms and hunkering down. “Are you sure?”
She nods, swallows, and that’s all I need. I put an arm around her and lead her back to the car. “You were following us,” I say to Goldie, who completely ignores me. “Did you know they’d be tailing me?”
“No, but I wasn’t taking any chances after Brad’s place was blown up.”
I put a quiet Beau in the car and close the door, facing Goldie. “Thank you.”
“Shut the fuck up and finish this shit.” She stomps off.
“Goldie?” I call.
“What?”
“Ever leave the house alone again, I’ll kill you.”
“I’m beginning to think death is the more appealing option to life right now.” She gets in her car, slams the door, and screeches off, and the stench of burning rubber fills my nose.
“Never,” I say quietly, climbing into my Range. I look across to Beau, the words I need to say ready to fall out of my mouth. Tell her! Tell her Cartwright’s dead!
Except I can’t. I know she’ll already be wondering why the fuck The Shark came after me at the funeral home where her father is being kept. Wondering if he had anything to do with Tom’s death. Adding the dead journalist to the mix will guarantee me a headache of epic proportions. I feel like we’re inching closer to some fucking answers, so the last thing I need is Beau performing one of her disappearing acts.
24
BEAU
Voicing my suspicions won’t do me any favors. It’ll just make James lock down his already secure hold of me. The Polish turning up at the funeral home where Dad is was easy to explain. They followed us. Simple. But followed us from where? The mansion? I doubt it. That place is overrun with cameras. A pussy cat on the street would be considered suspicious and would be brought to Danny’s or James’s attention if it hung around long enough. So a BMW full of overweight Polish men? Not likely. That alone makes me question what the fuck is going on. Add in the small matter of Danny so obviously catching his tongue in his office before he said something in my presence, my ever-present cop senses are going into overdrive.
When we got back to the house, I left James to go fill in Danny and the rest of them on what went down, taking myself off to our room. I tried Ollie again, my worry increasing. I can’t call the police—they won’t talk to me. I no longer have contact details for his parents either. At desperation point, I searched social media for them, knowing I was searching in vain. Ollie’s parents are in their seventies and could never fathom anyone’s interest in living their lives online.
I gave up and dropped off to sleep, wishing the next day here sooner so I can get it out of the way.
And deal with the other avalanche of shit sliding our way.
I step out onto the driveway, smoothing down the black pencil dress that Rose pulled out of her closet for me. My hair is in a loose bun, my face free from makeup, my toes pinching in shoes that are too high. I can hear the hushed whispers coming from the lobby behind me. People arguing but not wanting to burden me with the politics of my father’s funeral. I expect the talks seeped into the night, the men trying to figure out how they will handle today after the incident at the funeral home and Brad’s apartment blowing up.
I hear steps approaching behind me. “Don’t tell me I can’t go,” I warn, slipping my cell into my purse.
“I’m not comfortable with this, Beau.”
“And I’m not comfortable not going, so we have a problem, don’t we?” I look at James, all suited and booted, ready to pay respects he doesn’t want to pay. Ready for a funeral he doesn’t even want us to go to. Which tells me he knows he’s losing this one. “I’ll be late.” I take the steps down and slide into the passenger seat of his Range Rover. Rose is at the door before I close it, her face solemn. “It’s fine,” I assure her. “I knew it was coming. Besides, no one liked him. Not even me.”