One
“It could be worse.” I peeled the lid off of the old-fashioned tin containing the mysterious, magical fruitcake that had been sent in my name to my mother’s address. Of all places. I’d lived in Beaufort, North Carolina all my life, but hadn’t lived with my mother in almost a decade. I’d thought the treat might have come from one of her many friends, until I read the enclosed card. It claimed magic and love.What a crock.
I bet if I went to Delilah’s Cove, I could solve their mystery of the sender. All I’d need is a lie detector and a few minutes of the suspect’s time.
The four little bottles of bourbon already told me a bit about the sender. They had to be old enough to buy it. However, no matter who the sender, these little bottles would come in handy. Especially on New Year’s Eve. Taking the tin, I grabbed one of the small bottles of booze and headed out onto my patio. “At least I won’t starve.”
I sat in the well-worn patio chair, propped my bare feet on the cold metal railing, and paused to inhale the salty ocean breeze. My condo with the view of the beach was my happy place, and the only way I could unwind after a day dealing with criminals and miscreants. Pinching off a piece of cake, I tossed it into my mouth and moaned. Turning my gaze to the decadent dessert, I eyed it with a new appreciation. It was not just free food. It was delicious free food.
The partygoers in Times Square were cheering as “Auld Lang Syne” played on the television I’d left on inside the condo. Another year gone and another year I was ringing it in to the sound of breaking waves on the beach below. That was my favorite sound. The one that calmed my soul.
The moon sat high in the cloudless evening sky. Fireworks continued to burst in the distance, giving the partygoers reason to cheer. New Year’s Eve was a fabulous night for people-watching, and this year was one of my favorites. Technically, the clock had struck the new year five minutes ago, but the drunk people on the beach didn’t care, and they entertained me.
The partygoers were scantily dressed for a night out on the town, in search of creating their own fireworks with whomever they’d shared that perfect stroke-of-midnight New Year’s Eve kiss. Bottles of champagne waved in the air as they stumbled down the beach celebrating the birth of new promises.
I pinched off another bite of fruitcake before uncapping the whiskey and taking a long, hard sip, letting the burn slide down my throat. “Happy New Year to me.”
My doorbell chimed, startling me. I slipped my feet off the railing, slapping them hard on the concrete patio. No one ever visited this time of night. Probably a couple lost in their drunken haze wondering why their keys wouldn’t work in the condo lock. I carried the fruitcake and whiskey inside and placed them on the counter before peering out the peephole.
Deputy Jack Stine stared back at me. “Detective Cross.”
Hanging my head, I flicked the locks and pulled the door open. I peered up at him, trying hard to mask my annoyance. It was only five minutes after twelve, and I wasn’t scheduled to work for another two days. “I’m off the clock, Jack.”
“Yeah, well, I have one in custody on a charge of public intoxication, and I was doing you a courtesy by bringing him here instead of letting him spend the night in jail.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, hoping beyond all that he wasn’t about to tell me that he had my brother in cuffs the night before his wedding. That might be hard to explain to his bride-to-be or, worse, our mother.
“He says he belongs to you.” Jack yanked a man in handcuffs into my view. “Do you know this guy?”
Defense Attorney Ben Michaels stood in the doorway and lifted his cuffed hands in a begging kind of way. My brother’s best friend, my high school crush, killer of dreams, and star of all my what-if’s. It might not have been my brother, but seeing Ben was almost as bad. He was my brother’s best man. His brown hair was mussed as if he’d spent the entire night with someone running her hands through his tresses. Probably had. His wrinkled suit looked as though it had lain for hours on the bedroom floor.
As frazzled as he appeared, his absence at the wedding would come with all kinds of harsh arguments if my mother knew I could have prevented him from going to jail.
“Never seen him before,” I said and slowly started to shut the door.
“Elizabeth Nevada Cross, I’m going to tell your brother about that time in the pool house.”
“Blackmail is against the law, Counselor,” I said, reopening the door and leaning against the wood. Making him sweat out my decision might just be the highlight of my entire year. “Besides you wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would.” His head bobbed, making his dark strands fall into his eyes. “Or, worse, I’ll tell your mother.”
“Sounds like he knows you outside of the courtroom, Detective,” Jack said.
“Family friend,” I grumbled, holding Ben’s gaze. A piece of pink glitter sparkled in his five o’clock shadow as my gaze caressed his pitiful state. Whatever strip club he’d taken my brother to, it seemed Ben had partaken in the fun.
“I have a ton of reports to write up from this crazy night. Do you want this guy or not?”
“What exactly did he do?”
Ben groaned and looked as though he were ready to pass out standing upright.
“He was stumbling down the street claiming he’s decided to get married.”
The liar. Ben Michaels wasn’t the marrying type. He was the prime example of a player. Living in a small town had its perks. My favorite restaurant knew me by name, we were friendly with our neighbors, and apparently, criminals and coworkers alike knew where I lived.
“Fine. I know him,” I said, shifting the door farther open.
Jack sighed in relief and removed the handcuffs, giving Ben a shove inside my apartment. He tripped over the doorsill, and I caught his arm, righting his stance before he took us both to the ground.
