Bouquet of Lies Part 19

Uncle D handed Lacey a warrant. "We're going to search your room and your car, Ms. Bouquet. We've checked with your bank and know you didn't redeposit anything or visit your safety deposit box after the first time this morning. So either you left the money with Stark or you went back and killed him."

Lacey's stomach did the back flip and landed on its belly.

"Taking your money back and the file. Our search should determine the truth. We want that file. We intend to find it."

"If it's here," Dan interjected.

Was he defending her?

Uncle D maintained his stern expression. "You want to save us the trouble?"

Lacey shook her head. "What you're looking for isn't here."

Lacey, Edward, Reality, and Dan stayed in the sitting room while the search took place.

"This is a big house." Reality was suddenly aware of her surroundings. "You work in television or something?"

Everyone ignored her.

"What did Stark really tell you?" Edward hissed at his granddaughter.

"What is there to tell?" Lacey's glare made Edward look away. She glanced at Dan, still in the corner, eyes on her. Protect your heart, she thought and folded her arms. "Thought it was unethical for you to see me. But I guess not, if you're here in an official capacity. Did you make detective?"

Dan came closer and his expression showed concern. "They don't have enough to really suspect you of murder."

Lacey stopped breathing for a second. To hear the cops' suspicions put that way for the second time was frightening.

"But if you're lying to them about anything, that's not good."

Protect your heart. Don't be taken in by the I'm-your-friend move. "Why are you here?"

"My uncle asked me to come."

"So I'd see a friendly face and cave? Only your face hasn't looked friendly all evening."

"You two should get a reality show," Reality said.

"Shut up," Lacey snapped.

The search didn't take long. The warrant was limited and the cops came up empty.

Edward went to bed. The search team, Uncle D and Reality left. Dan remained behind and came close to Lacey.

"You want me to stay?"

"For what? You've served your ethical purpose." Inside she winced at her words. She did want him to stay-like the last time when he'd kissed her.

She walked to the kitchen and he followed.

"You don't need brandy to get through this," he said.

"Through what? Being suspected of murder? Do they think I killed my father, too?"

"No."

"Thank heaven for small favors." She put the kettle on to boil as tears threatened to shed. She kept her back to Dan. Maybe he should leave before the two of them were swimming in salt water. "Go," she said.

"Lacey . . ."

His voice was soothing and for a second she closed her eyes. "Dan. Dan-the-Man. Ticket Master. Mr. I'm-So-Ethical-I-Never-Do- Anything-Wrong." She took the cherry brandy from the cupboard and immediately felt his hands on her arms, his cheek against the back of her head.

He whispered. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have stayed away."

Now she was really going to cry. "Don't tell me that if you're going to run away again."

"I didn't run away."

"Yes, you did."

"We have to take this slow."

"We-" She stopped herself. He was right. He had his reason: Ethics. And now she had hers: Tiffany. She couldn't let Dan know about that. Not yet, anyway. "Better go," she said. "I've got a lot of brandy to drink."

He hesitated.

"I mean it. You should go."

It took several silent seconds, but then he did as she asked.

She stared at the bottle of brandy. She didn't need it. Didn't even want it. She put it back in the cupboard.

What she needed was answers. What she wanted was Dan. But she'd pushed him away.

Nineteen.

LACEY AND JAKE sat at the kitchen table eating cereal in the apartment above the long garage. Henry was away, driving Edward to the men's club.

Lacey stared at the few remaining circles of toasted oats she had left to eat and then eyed Jake. "How long will Henry stay on the job do you think?"

Jake glanced at her, but didn't answer.

"I mean. Since Harper left him a bit of money. There are probably things-"

"He won't quit." Jake swallowed some pulpy orange juice. "What else is he going to do?"

"Travel. Go hunting, fis.h.i.+ng, ride the rails. Whatever retired men do."

"He likes cars. He likes taking care of them and driving them."

"He can buy his own."

"He might buy a Corvette and a beater to restore. But he won't quit. He likes you and Darla."

Lacey smiled and took her last bite of Cheerios. "Your dad's worked here a long time."

"Yeah. A long time." Jake finished eating and put down his spoon.

"What do you think he knows about the family? My family."

"He's tightlipped. I wouldn't have a clue. All done?"

She pushed her bowl away and he took it along with his to the sink.

"The two of you came here after Darla was born so he never met my mother."

Jake looked at her. "You suddenly have a deep-seated interest in hearing about your mother?"

"Not suddenly, not really. Anyway, you find that strange?"

He shrugged. "I guess not."

"It isn't just her I want to know about. Your father might have information because Harper talked out of school when Henry drove him somewhere or because Edward drinks too much and drunks get sloppy."

"What is it you think there is to learn?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be wondering."

Jake chuckled and shoved the dishes in the dishwasher. "Yeah. That's the thing about wondering. Let's go." He tossed a helmet her way and she caught it.

They headed for the door.

"How was Darla's date last night with Mr. I-Think-I'm-Fabulous? Or have you talked to her? Is she still asleep?"

"Still asleep." Lacey put the helmet on so he wouldn't see her purse her lips. She didn't want to tell him that Darla didn't come home last night, for the second night in a row.

They rode to the hotel and when Lacey hopped off the bike, Jack did as well. He frowned at the Hotel Pamela; clearly, he didn't like the looks of it either. "This is where we're going?"

"This is where I'm going," Lacey corrected. "You stay with the bike."

He took a breath and c.o.c.ked his head. "Okay. This is your pony show. But if you're in there too long, I'm coming after you."

Lacey grinned.

"What?" His brow dipped.

"You're being protective and I thought you reserved that side of you for Darla."

"You could always stand up for yourself, Miss Priss. You've got twenty minutes."

Lacey stared at the hotel. People lived in this place. If they survived the stench-the air had to be as putrid as the place looked-she could endure a third of an hour. "Twenty minutes. If she's here I'll . . ." Her voice trailed.

"She who?" Jake c.o.c.ked his head.

Lacey hadn't explained and didn't really want to yet. "I'll let you know." She jogged across the street before he could ask more questions.

The lobby had all the makings of a B movie, forties film noir-a filthy office behind security bars and bullet-proof gla.s.s, manned by an even more offensive-looking concierge. Fat, sporting a stained tank top that didn't fully cover his big belly, the man watched a small TV with his feet propped up on a messy desk. One hand rested atop a bottle of Budweiser, pus.h.i.+ng it into his midsection.

Lacey detected the odor of alcohol and sweat as she stepped to the counter where a small cutout allowed for the pa.s.sing of keys and money. She rubbed her throat to get her voice working. "Excuse me," she squeaked, and then she said it again, louder this time to make certain he heard. He glanced at her and went back to the TV. Ire overcame nerves and she spoke louder. "I said excuse me."

"I ain't got TiVo. Keep your pants on."

Lacey took another gander at her surroundings. "You don't have to worry about that." She waited half a second. "I'm looking for someone."

"They ain't here."

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't keep track'a n.o.body. Not even my wife."

He was married? Lacey wondered what the Mrs. was like. She took out the photo of Tiffany and plastered it against the gla.s.s. "Could you please take a look and tell me if she's here?"

He glanced from his chair. "Nope."

"Come on. Get your exercise for the day."

That got his attention and he lowered a brow. "Was that a crack?"

"If it'll get you out of that chair."

He waved her off. There was only one solution. She took two twenties from her wallet and slid them through the cutout. Yesterday and today were getting expensive.

He sneered. "You must think I'm a cheap date."

She took out another twenty. "That's all I got."

He looked her up and down. "I doubt that." But he pushed out of the chair and waddled over. After slipping the money into a pocket, he checked the photo with no expression.

"Fourth floor. Apartment 423."

"Tiffany Cla.s.s." Lacey wanted to be certain.

"One of them."