What the hell had Cope gotten himself into? At the very least, Jude and Ronan would head over to the strip club tomorrow afternoon and see what was what. He’d try to reach Cyrus one last time, and that would be that.
Cope had a funny feeling that wouldn’t be that at all.
11
Jude
Jude woke up the next morning feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He’d fallen asleep with his usual ease but was up again at least once, sometimes twice an hour. Each time he woke up, there was nothing going on that would have disturbed him. Cope was sleeping quietly. So were the kids. There was no loud noise coming from the beach, and he couldn’t hear any sound coming from Ten and Ronan’s room.
While Jude was staring up at the ceiling, hoping to fall asleep again, his mind had returned to the bizarre phone call with Alexandria Longfellow. The longer he analyzed the conversation, the more bothered Jude was. With only months to live, the widow had only reached out for help because it had arrived on Jake Powell’s reservation log. What the hell would have happened if Jude and Cope had gone to the White Mountains in New Hampshire or down to the Cape for the long weekend? Would Alexandria have just played out her remaining days without knowing who killed her son?
Jude knew all families had their own challenges. Some dealt with drug, alcohol, or violence issues, while others didn’t have enough money to make ends meet. People could go years or even decades without speaking to each other but always seemed to show up when the chips were down, wanting to do anything they could to help. That scenario obviously hadn’t happened with Alexandria Longfellow and her son. Cyrus died while mother and son were still estranged.
“What’s on your mind?” Cope asked after he’d come out of the bathroom wearing his bathing suit and a T-shirt.
Jude dropped the thoughts revolving through his head to focus on his husband. “I keep thinking about that call last night. One question kept revolving around in my head.”
“Just one?” Cope asked before kissing Jude’s cheek.
Jude’s look turned serious. “Yeah. Do we tell you-know-who what we learned?”
Cope sighed and took a seat by Jude on the bed. “I’ve been thinking about the same thing myself. I think you and Ronan need to run your errand today. Once we have the results of that, then we’ll address what to do. Ronan always talks about how the passage of time can weigh on a guilty person’s mind. Vixen had been tight-lipped when Cyrus was killed; maybe she’ll be more open to speaking with you today.”
“If she’s still here.” Jude sighed. “It’s been fifteen years since the murder. I can’t imagine strippers with that kind of longevity in the business. Not to mention that people move around all the time. It’s fucking cold in Maine. This is one of the last places I’d want to spend my winters.”
“Massachusetts isn’t much warmer, you know.” Cope nudged Jude with his shoulder.
“I know, but we’ve got our warm and cozy home with our family and friends, which makes the cold days not feel as frigid.” Jude missed the desert southwest in the middle of January when temperatures in Massachusetts were below zero and there was a foot of snow on the ground.
“Ten, Jace and I are going to take the kids to the beach this morning. After lunch, we’re gonna do mini golf. Do you think you, Ronan, and Fitz will be back by then?” Cope asked.
“I hope so. We’ve got to reach out to the strip club to see if there’s any reason worth stopping by.”
Cope snorted. “You mean aside from the hunky, half-dressed men?”
“You’re the only hunky, half-dressed man for me, babe. No one else could ever compare to you.” Jude wrapped an arm around Cope and gave him a squeeze. He was about to add a kiss into the mix when his phone dinged. It was a text message from Ronan saying he had some information.
Getting up from the bed, Jude opened the adjoining door and found Ronan and Fitzgibbon waiting for him. “What’s up, guys?”
“I spoke with the owner of the Jungle. A woman by the name of Samantha Dixon,” Fitzgibbon said. “I mentioned I was with a cold case unit that was having one last go at the Cyrus Longfellow case. I told her we were looking for Vixen and Baked Alaska because they had been with Cyrus in the Champagne Room before his death. I made sure she understood we didn’t consider either person a suspect but were hoping they could give us a lead or two that we didn’t have because the police hadn’t interviewed them at the time of the murder.”
“Do I want to know her answer?” Jude shut his eyes and crossed his fingers.
Ronan snorted. “You’re not going to believe this, but SamanthaisVixen. She hung up her dancing shoes five years ago when the old owner decided to sell the place and move to Florida. She bought the place and has been running it ever since.”
“Holy shit!” Jude couldn’t believe his ears. “That’s one hell of a stroke of luck.”
“You’re telling me.” Fitzgibbon’s grin brightened. “The downside is that Samantha didn’t sound scared of meeting with us. She sounded more resigned than anything.”
Jude could understand her stance. He turned to Cope. “Are you going to be okay with the kids while we’re gone?”
Cope nodded. “Yeah, we’re gonna play on the beach. Hopefully, you guys will be back in time for lunch, and after that, we’ll play mini golf.”
“You’re going down, Ronan,” Jude chuckled. “I’m pretty handy with a club.”
“Yeah, but the one in your pants doesn’t count,” Ronan smirked, looking as if he had more to say on the matter, but kept his peace.
“We’ll call you when we’re on our way back.” Jude pressed a kiss to Cope’s cheek and walked out of the motel room with Ronan behind them. Fitzgibbon was waiting for them in the corridor.
