Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two) Page 3

  The reporter smiled and nodded encouragingly.

  "Anyway," Belinda said, "I realized that everyone in the audience was looking to my...to my right, so I looked to see what was going on. And then I saw Caleb. Is it all right if I say Caleb? Well, in any case, I saw him and he looked terrified and shocked and...and desperate."

  Jonas raised his eyebrows at Bennett.

  "Then he said he found April," Belinda continued, feeling her throat tighten. "And then I found out what happened." Belinda shrugged. She didn't want to go on from there. Let them use their imaginations.

  "Did you know the victim?" The reporter held the mic out to her.

  "Oh, I just met her today." Belinda went from clasping her hands to entwining her fingers, thinking that made her look less tense. "She seemed very nice. Very talented."

  "Well, thank you for taking time to talk with us, Ms. Kittridge." The reporter tucked the mic under her arm and extended a hand. Belinda shook it with much more enthusiasm now that her part was done.

  "No problem." Belinda swayed back and forth. "You should come by the wharf Saturday for a free cupcake." She wasn't sure why she was saying that now, of all times, but it came out before she could censor herself.

  The reporter tilted her head. She might be a skinny thing with Female Reporter Hair, but she was still a woman.

  "I'm opening a new cupcake shop," Belinda said by way of explanation, "of the mobile truck variety this Saturday."

  The reporter's eyes widened. "Really? Is it being covered?"

  "Covered?"

  "On the news? Have you already spoken to someone?"

  "No, no. I haven't." Belinda tried to act nonchalant like she simply hadn't found the time. Maybe true, but she simply hadn't thought of it either. The newspaper was covering it, and a regional magazine in the next month or so. But she'd never considered the news.

  The reporter smiled. "Perfect." She fished in a pocket and slipped Belinda a card. "Call me tomorrow. I want to know all about this."

  Belinda read the card while the reporter flashed a bright smile at Jonas, who looked back at her as if to say, "You wish." Undeterred, she and the cameraman bounced off to interview more people who had nothing particularly interesting to say on the matter.

  "Well, you may be a rambling interviewee," Bennett said, taking her arm, "but you're a rambling interviewee with cupcakes."

  Belinda stuck out her tongue—at both of them. "Thanks for the help, you two."

  "We helped." Jonas walked in front of them in the direction of the security tent. "We let you know when you started rambling."

  Belinda stuck her tongue out at the back of his head.

  She leaned heavily on Bennett, really feeling the desperation in her feet. "Do you smell donuts?" she said into Bennett's ear. "I smell donuts."

  "Would you like one?"

  Belinda rested her chin on his shoulder. "Yes, please."

  Bennett smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

  Belinda squeezed him tighter.

  They crowded into the security tent where Finnegan scanned through camera footage, only offering a brief glance in the way of acknowledgement when they ducked under the flap. Bennett said he had a quick errand and he'd join them again.

  Belinda waved to Finnegan and in return he gave her a diagonal smile. He was sort of goofy looking, but his eyes twinkled when he smiled, and Belinda decided this time around that she would probably like him.

  "What...what happened?" Belinda asked Jonas tentatively. She didn't want to sound eager, but she did want information. This show was partly her responsibility after all. "Bennett indicated this wasn't just some accident or a health problem or something."

  Jonas' mouth turned down, his eyes simultaneously rolling up to the ceiling. "It's a homicide." Belinda nodded slowly, but before she could ask how it happened like a nosy reporter, Jonas went on. "I have to say, I was relieved that you're involved with the show. Please tell me you know something."

  Reprimanding herself for feeling disappointed he wouldn't offer the gritty details, Belinda leaned on one leg. She was alternating to relieve one foot at a time. "Well, there was some pre-show chaos."

  Jonas propped one side of his body on the desk and motioned for her to divulge. Belinda gratefully accepted the fold up chair he waved her toward. She was getting ready to just kick off the heels she had on and go barefoot.

  "Things were great up until five minutes before the show started," she said. "Mr. Sykes showed up and suddenly my well-oiled machine got all gunked up. We circumvented that potential catastrophe and then all the clothes got mixed up. We got that straightened out and then discovered that April had disappeared, which threw off the line up." Belinda blushed. That sounded pretty self-centered. "It seemed like a big deal at the time." Of course, if she'd known why April was MIA, it would have been an even bigger deal.

  "So when was the last time you saw April?" Jonas took notes on his phone.

  Oh, dear. He would ask her a timing question now. Belinda asked for a minute to align her memories; they swirled in a completely disorderly fashion at first. Working backward from Mr. Sykes, she managed to pinpoint when she saw April. "I'm certain I saw her right before Victoria and I had our landmark moment."

  Jonas and Finnegan exchanged bewildered glances.

  "We planned where to meet," she said, "and it worked! We found each other. But that's another story. I had a second to go meet her and on my way out, I saw April and Sawyer talking and...and that was the last time." A small lump grew in the bottom of her throat. She didn't know April. Well, know know her. But it was horrible to realize that moment she barely took note of—of April and Sawyer talking off by themselves—was her last memory of April.

  Bennett reappeared and angled his seat so he was looking straight at her. Belinda straightened up, a little self-conscious with three intense sets of eyes glued to her. And his steel eyes were enough to make her nervous without Jonas and Finnegan mimicking him. He handed her a plate of pink frosted donuts with a glint in his eyes.

  Cheeky. But she accepted the plate anyway.

  Belinda offered one to everybody else before sinking her teeth into one herself. "Later on, there was a mix-up when the collections were delivered," she said with her mouth full. Completely rude, but necessary considering the circumstances. "I had to referee so clothes weren't ripped apart in the exchange."

  Finnegan leaned back in his chair, relaxing against the desk, pink frosting on the tip of his nose.

  Jonas tapped his knee like he was working something out in his mind. Maybe to do with the timing of events.

  Caleb's words came back to her, but she wasn't sure that it meant anything yet. She hesitated, but said it anyway. "Caleb may have been in shock, but he told me that there was no pink jacket. Now I saw it go down the runway, but maybe it's significant."

  Jonas arched his eyebrows, brushing some of his light brown hair off his forehead. "Yes, ma'am. Now that I've got my homework assignment, here's yours." He aimed his stylus at Belinda's nose. "Get every piece of dirt you can on these people."

  "I will see what I can do." Belinda smiled, glancing at Bennett who half-smiled back but his head was definitely concentrating on something else. "What will Bennett and Finnegan do?"

  "Search every aspect of their video footage and other info for anything we can use. Have fun, kids." Belinda grabbed the crook of Jonas' arm as he saluted, turning him toward her and straightened his tie, then patted down his windblown hair, which she figured had been brushed forward before he stepped outdoors.

  "Better," she said and stepped away. Jonas needed a little help now and then.

  Jonas bowed with a twinkle in his cat green eyes and waltzed out of the tent.

  "Can I help?" Belinda said to Bennett.

  Surprise flickered through his eyes. "Do you want to help? It's not very much fun." And Bennett had started to understand how important it was for Belinda to have fun.

  "Why not?"

  Bennett's mouth crooked up in that ado
rable way, or it was becoming adorable.

  Finnegan wheeled aside so Belinda could sit in front of the desk. While she would be sitting for a while, Belinda wriggled the sling backs off her feet, sighing in relief at freeing her toes for the moment.

  Finnegan leaned his chin on his palm, completely entranced at watching the two of them. Bennett transformed, almost—Finnegan couldn't quite find the right word—twinkling? No. That's what Belinda was doing. Her eyes twinkled and it radiated out from there. Sparkling was wrong too. Finnegan scratched the top of his head, at a loss for the right word. Whatever Bennett was doing at that moment was because of Belinda, that much he could tell.

  Bennett picked up his folding chair and brought it over to the desk. After a long, hard glower at Finnegan who just glanced up at him and smiled, Finnegan finally took the hateful look on Bennett's face as a hint, and slid his chair over so Bennett could sit next to Belinda.

  Bennett shook his head, replaying footage from that morning. "Some good we did," he said and pursed his lips.

  Belinda tapped his arm, waiting for him to make eye contact. "You can't have eyes everywhere. Even the gray-eyed eagle has his limits."

  Finnegan tried to suppress his laughter but a snicker leaked out and ruptured into a snort. Belinda smiled while Bennett's pleased expression became more of a scowl. She laughed along with Finnegan, nudging Bennett's arm playfully with her elbow. "You have to admit," she said, "it does sound kind of funny."

  Bennett acknowledged that it did for the sake of not displeasing her, but because Belinda had coined the nickname, he didn't find it amusing at all. After slipping another snarl in Finnegan's direction when Belinda looked away, Finnegan cupped his hand over his mouth to stifle his chuckling.

  "Can we see if April ever entered her station when we couldn't find her?" Belinda said. Bennett leaned back as her arm swung out in front of him so she could point at one of the monitors with her fingernail.

  Finnegan looked to Bennett, who sat back in what he thought was a safe distance from Belinda's arm in case she felt the urge to leap across the desk again. He nodded to Finnegan to do what she asked. Apparently what the boss' girlfriend wanted, the boss' girlfriend got. He fast-forwarded to around the time they started looking for April. They watched until Caleb and the models all hurried out toward the stage. Belinda thought she heard Bennett snicker when she slid into view in the last part. She looked even more discombobulated than she'd felt.

  But two interesting things happened on screen. One, they saw April in her station shortly before the garment bag mess and that was her last time there. Two, Caleb and Brooke had a much longer and more intense discussion before Belinda interrupted them. It almost looked like they knew each other.

  "Well, she never came back," Belinda said nonplussed. Bennett's safe distance theory proved wise as she jerked her hand toward the screen again. "Where was she all that time?" Okay. So the obvious answer was dead. But when did she really disappear? Caleb realized April was MIA when it became critical, but when did she actually slip off radar?

  Finnegan shook his head. Bennett had crossed his arms over his chest to keep out of flailing range, and his eyes were already turning over that information. "Something funny's going on at this show."

  "Yeah, but what? Your stuff seems to be working, but someone was killed without anyone catching it."

  Bennett held back a smile at her technical use of the word 'stuff.' "There's always blind spots, which may mean the killer knew our surveillance setup."

  Finnegan and Belinda exchanged looks. Did that mean someone plotted to kill April and watched Bennett and his crew set up that morning so they would know where the blind spots were?

  "What can I do to help?" she said.

  "Do what you do best." Bennett's mouth crooked up. "Talk."

  Belinda scrunched her nose. "Very nice, Mr. Security."

  "I'm serious. Get your friend, Kori," Bennett emphasized her name, "alone and find out what you can about the other designers."

  Belinda smiled, wishing he had a hat on that she could tug or something. As it stood, she had to just settle for conveying that sentiment through her eyes. From the look he gave her back, Belinda imagined he might have actually understood.

  Chapter 3

  Belinda had had a much longer day than anticipated by the time she finished helping Bennett, and the police officially questioned her. The first order of business was getting out of those heels, then food. Preferably something unhealthy.

  But every time she came home, she forgot about the house renovations. Her parents, still on their extended tour of Europe, had picked now to gut the house and start over from the top. Belinda partially came back home to Portside to oversee the renovation. She and her twin brother Kyle now shared the carriage house, which was basically a loft-style apartment, and Belinda was the only one concerned with the moving or renovations. Kyle happily just left that all to her. Belinda loved her brother dearly and they got along most of the time and made pretty decent roommates. But it was at times like those that Belinda wished she had a sister.

  She pulled her Mini Cooper through the open white gate, parked down by the main house, and headed to the side near the garden shed and dead tomato plants to peek in a window and see how much damage the workers had done.

  She rounded the corner and froze in horror. The ocean breeze blowing across their cliff was chilly now that the sun was low in the sky. But it wasn't that chilly. She fled over to the carriage house.

  "Hole!" Belinda pointed toward the main house.

  Kyle peeked around the fridge door sheepishly, his cocoa brown eyes a reflection of her own. "Yes, dearest sister?"

  "Hole!" Belinda pointed more urgently. "House. Big. Hole!"

  Kyle's mouth drooped and he came out from behind his protective wall, covered head to toe in white paint particles. The least desirable thing in Belinda's opinion about his job at the marina. But she was so distracted she hadn't noticed the trail yet. "Bels, what are you talking about?"

  "The house!"

  "Yeah, but I still don't know what you're talking about."

  She dragged him outside—with his ice cream—and they stood staring into the kitchen from the yard. And not through a window. Belinda stretched her arm toward the ragged wood and drywall. "Hole!" Not that the rest of the kitchen looked much better, but still. What were they supposed to do with this?

  Kyle barely flinched.

  "Do you know why there's a hole in the side of our house?" Belinda said.

  Kyle shrugged.

  "Was the hole there earlier?"

  He shrugged again.

  Exasperated, Belinda smacked her forehead. "What are we supposed to do?!"

  Kyle pointed at the hole with his spoon, opened his mouth, and shrugged.

  Belinda growled and marched back to the guest house.

  The inside of the carriage house reminded her of a barn. A luxurious barn, but still a barn. The gambrel roofline mimicked the house and opened into a loft, which was the bedroom. The downstairs consisted of an adjacent living room and kitchen and then a bathroom off the kitchen in the back. Her parents had left the flooring and siding au naturel. Belinda had never once slept there, or spent any time inside of it. It was mostly just a guest area where relatives or friends stayed when they came to visit.

  Late afternoon light streamed in through the windows in back, illuminating the cluttered interior—and the trail of white specks, starting at the door. "Kyle!"

  "I'm right here. You don't have to scream."

  Belinda pulled off her heels and waited on the doormat. "Look." She faced him squarely. "I just spent the better part of my afternoon at the scene of a murder, and now I find out there's a ginormous hole in the side of my house. Please, please, just clean up this dust so it doesn't get all over!" If that didn't get some pity cleaning out of him, nothing would.

  "Are you serious?"

  "Do you think I would make that up?" She could only take shallow breaths and leaned against the door. C
aleb and the hole in the house all swirled together.

  Kyle raised a hand in surrender and grabbed the quickest tool out of the bathroom to wipe up the mess. Belinda wasn't sure it would matter since he had plenty of the stuff all over him, but whatever. At least he was cleaning. He finally made his way from the kitchen to the entry, swiping around Belinda as she focused on slowing down her breathing.

  "Sorry I yelled," she said, feeling the air reach the depths of her lungs again.

  Kyle shrugged, bending over, his normally golden brown hair speckled white. He finished wiping and after putting away his tool, helped Belinda over to the couch. She tossed Kyle's boating magazines to the floor because the coffee table was filled with his plates and glasses.

  "What happened?" he said.

  "We had chaos before the show." Belinda cleared enough space for her body and crashed into it.

  "Then during my speech, we learned that one of the designers was dead."

  "As in murdered?"

  "Yes."

  Kyle picked up his cell phone off the counter and crouched next to her after she thwarted his attempt at sitting down. Her vision was clearing and it was covered in white dust.

  Belinda peeked over his shoulder to watch the video on the Portside news site about the mysterious runway show murder. "Did you meet her?" he said as a candid of April at a fancy event flashed on screen while the reporter described how she was found suffocated to death. A man's arm wrapped around her shoulder, but they'd cut him out.

  Belinda's heart stopped as she imagined such an end. "Briefly. It was basically a hi/bye situation."

  The video cut to Belinda. She was startled to see herself in the video, forgetting all about the interview. It felt like a hundred years ago.

  They showed Belinda saying that April seemed "very talented," and immediately cut to Mrs. Sykes saying how tragic it was, but she looked pleased to be in front of the camera nonetheless.