Mischief 24/7

It was tiring, always fighting Court—fighting herself actually—so Jade gave in. “You forgot Rockne,” she said, smiling as Teddy’s beloved, aging Irish setter snored in front of the cold fireplace. “He’s my chaperon-slash-bodyguard. Rockne! Sic him, boy!”

Rockne’s left ear twitched a single time, but his eyes didn’t open.

“I suppose you could go see if Mrs. Archer is available. She’s probably deadly with a rolling pin at twenty paces,” Court suggested. “What do you say, Jade? Can we put the cases to one side for one night? Just one?”

Jade returned to the couch and sat down, not to agree with Court, but to reach for the file folders that had been piled on the coffee table. “We’re getting so close, Court. I mean, taking the process of elimination into account, I should be able to wrap this all up in a few days.”

“You’re going to wrap this all up in a few days? Just you? Who solved the case of the Vanishing Bride?”

“Jolie and Sam,” Jade said, shifting the manila folders on the tabletop. “With a lot of help from Teddy, who nearly had the whole thing wrapped up before he… before he was murdered.”

“Steady, Jade,” Court said, leaning across the table to squeeze her fingers. “Let’s move on. And the Fish town Strangler case?”

“Jessica and Matt. Except that’s not completely solved, not if Herman Longstreet is telling the truth about Tarin White not being one of his victims, remember?” She put a hand to her head. “Sometimes it’s like we’re going in circles, you know?”

“Look, I don’t want to push this, but every day you look more… well, fragile. Your hands look a lot better since the night of the fire, but the burns still have to be tender. You don’t eat enough, I don’t know when you sleep, and when I think maybe you’re taking it easy for a while, I find you in the workout room running on the treadmill. You’ve got to slow down, Jade. Stop beating yourself up.” Jade pulled her hand free of his. He was wrong. The burns she’d gotten trying to put out the fire were completely healed now. It was the rest of her that remained wounded. “That’s just crazy, Court. I’m not beating myself up. Why would I beat myself up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you didn’t come home earlier that night, find Teddy while he was still alive and draining that bottle of Irish whiskey, talk him out of what he was going to do?”

“Teddy did not kill himself!” Jade clasped her hands together in her lap because her hands were shaking and, otherwise, Court would see. He already saw too much.

“All right. Fine. He didn’t kill himself.” Court rubbed at his own forehead now, and Jade suppressed a guilty wince, knowing that he was as tired as she was. They were all tired.

“I’m sorry, Court. I know what it looked like. I was there, remember? The door to the office closed, Rockne shut outside that door, whining and agitated. The nearly empty bottle of whiskey for liquid courage. Teddy’s body on the other side of that door, slumped back in his chair, the gun on the floor beside him after he’d… after he’d been shot. I know, Court. I know how it looked. I’ll never forget how it looked.” “And the front door locked, the alarm on and no signs of forcible entry anywhere,” Court added, his voice tight, as if he didn’t want to say what he was saying, but likewise, knew that some things had to be said.

“I don’t remember,” Jade told him. “Honestly, Court, I don’t. Is that it? Have you been thinking that I lied to you all about that? About the alarm being on or off, the door locked or unlocked? Do you think I only said I don’t remember about the security code because otherwise the verdict of suicide is impossible to argue? How long have you thought I’ve been lying?”

“Not lying, Jade. Not intentionally. But sometimes we do forget what we don’t want to remember.”

“Then I should have been able to forget finding Teddy like that. Holding Rockne back so he couldn’t contaminate the scene when all I wanted to do was go to Teddy, shake him back to life. Calling Jolie and Jess and telling them our father was dead. Living through the hell of the medical examiner and a bunch of cops poking around the house for hours, all of them talking about Teddy and other cops who couldn’t take civilian life and ate their guns,” Jade said, blinking back tears. “Why can’t I do that, Court? Why can’t I forget any of that? Why can’t I forget that Teddy went to his grave labeled both a murderer and a suicide, disgraced, denied the departmental funeral his long years of service to Philadelphia demanded?”

Court had gotten up from the couch and come to sit beside Jade as she spoke. Now he gathered her close. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a jerk for bringing it up at all. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you’ve been thinking it,” Jade said against his chest even as she put her palm against his shirtfront and pushed herself away from him. She dipped her head forward, allowing a curtain of long, golden-brown hair to fall forward and hide her profile. “Sam, too? And Matt?”

“We’ve discussed it. But two things still can’t be explained. One, Teddy didn’t leave a note, and we think he would have done that. And two? You’re right, Jade, Teddy wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t have let you find him. If he were going to kill himself, he wouldn’t have done it where you could see what he’d done. He loved you too much.”

Jade wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Court had passed to her. “Thank you. Unfortunately those conclusions come from our feelings. The cops worked with what they saw. Just the way they saw Teddy on Melodie Brainard’s front-door security cameras, the last visitor the camera picked up before she was found doing the dead man’s float in the swimming pool.” She made a face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Although dead woman’s float doesn’t sound any better.”

“You were around Teddy all the time,” Court reminded her. “Sometimes you sound a lot like him.”

“And that’s a bad thing,” Jade said, sighing, willing herself to be composed, or to behave as if she were. “Or at least, it wasn’t a good thing when I met your friends. Savannah Harper? She was always after me to tell her stories about how to shadow a cheating husband.”

“She would be, considering she’s done some fairly extensive cheating of her own on poor Buzz.”

Jade allowed herself to be diverted. “She got caught?”

“Caught, forgiven, and she’s back at it. Jade, many of the people I associate with are simply social or business acquaintances. Not my friends. You knew that. But I did pretty much toss you into the deep end with their wives, didn’t I? I’m sorry about that.”

Jade moved to return his handkerchief, but then reconsidered, and blew her nose into it. “It’s all right. It was even fun at first, listening to them, sorting them out. But I wasn’t built to be a society wife, Court. We both know that now. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fit, because I think I could, if I worked on it. I just didn’t want to fit. Country club lunches and charity balls? They’re not my thing.”

“You were bored.”

“No, Court, I was being smothered. Melting away, losing myself. There’s a difference.” She looked at him, felt a small catch in her belly and reached once more for the stack of files. Those files were the only things she could hold on to right now. Solving the remaining cold cases, praying one of them led to Teddy’s killer.

“I was a jackass, only thinking of my own happiness,” Court said, and she sliced a quick look back at him, seeing the hurt in his face.

Such a handsome man. That’s what had caught her attention at first, his dark good looks, but his innate goodness had been what held that attention. She couldn’t stand to see him hurting.

“I should have told you I was unhappy—that was unfair of me. And we were both pretty stubborn, as I remember it. You were always gone on business, and Teddy needed help back here until he could replace me. One thing led to another, didn’t it? But that’s all water under the bridge, right?”

“Is it?”

“Court, I…” She dumped several files in Court’s lap. “Let’s do this now, clear off Sam’s priceless antique table, sort out what we need and don’t need. I can’t count on Jessica having her head anywhere near the game for at least a few days, and I think we’re getting too close to slack off while she walks around with stars in her eyes.”

“We’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later, Jade. You do know that. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Court, please,” Jade all but begged him. “Not now.”

“Not now. That’s becoming a familiar refrain.”

“I’m sorry, Court. But I really can’t do this now. Every day that Teddy is believed to be a murderer is one day too many. If we’re…if I’m to have any future, I’ve got to correct the past.”

“Sometimes that isn’t possible, Jade. Sometimes we simply have to close the door and move on.”

“Like we have? Our divorce was final almost a year ago. Have we moved on, either of us? Would you be here now if Teddy hadn’t died? Is it time we gave up, Court, and closed the door on us?”

Court looked at her for a long moment, his deep brown eyes unreadable. “Point taken. Pass me one of those folders.”

Jade handed him one of the files, blindly, as she couldn’t read the words on the tab through the tears in her eyes, and then pulled another file onto her lap. She opened it, staring at nothing as she felt Court’s assessing gaze on her, burning into her. What was he thinking?

THE BECKET PHILADELPHIA

Two years earlier

IT WAS THREE DAYS after Christmas. Court sat at the hotel bar with Sam Becket, watching as his cousin made a valiant attempt to drown his sorrows with gin and tonic. Clearly not a dedicated drinker, his cousin, or else he’d go for a single malt, neat, and doubled.

“Tell me again why you didn’t just go after her?” Court said, thinking it might be a good idea to keep Sam talking, instead of drinking. “You know, fly to the Coast, grovel, plead, grovel some more?”

“I told you,” Sam said, lifting his glass and looking into it, frowning. He set it back down. “I don’t even like gin and tonic. Teddy warned me away.”

“Teddy. That’s the father, right? Jolie’s over twenty-one, isn’t she? It wasn’t as if you needed his permission.”

“Jolie’s his daughter. He knows her better than anyone. Obviously better than I do, or I wouldn’t have offered her money.”

Court picked up his own glass. Bottled water with a twist of lemon, as he had elected himself designated driver, even though he was staying at the hotel and that meant driving Sam back to his own house in the middle of a snowstorm. But these were the sacrifices one made for family. “I have to hand it to you, Sam, that’s unique. Here’s money—marry me. Yet slightly lacking in romance, I’d say.”

Sam shot his cousin a sharp look. “I offered her money to live on while she waited tables or whatever it is out-of-work actors do to survive while looking for their big break. She threw it back in my face. Literally.” He pushed back on the bar stool. “Damn it, Court, I was trying to help.”