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Thomas Bennett. Missing. The knowledge whirled through Jane’s mind as she and Tiffany drove to the print shop, picked up the new flyers, then headed to their meeting with Mrs. Thacker, AKA Jessie…who Jane decided to refer to as Ms. Jessica. Beau didn’t follow them. Or rather, she didn’t see him.
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel. Had the Gentleman sensed her closing in and killed Tom? Or had he, maybe, received a threatening letter, like Ashley, and it sent him running? Or had the bartender slash alleged ladies’ man fled out of guilt or a fear of being caught?
“Well? Did Denise Allen do the dirty deed or not?” Tiffany demanded from the passenger seat of the hearse. “That is why you risked getting the worst haircut of your life to question her, yes?”
What! “The worst haircut—”
“I said risked, not that you got a hack job. You look amazing. But I only trust my signature locks with Madame LeGrange from Atlanta,” the widow said, fluffing said signature locks.
A part of Jane wondered if Tiffany wished the haircut had gone bad. Actually, no. She didn’t have to wonder. The widow wasn’t that terrible. Perhaps even kind of nice upon occasion. At least Rolex thought so, and he’d always been an excellent judge of character.
Jane sighed. She really needed to bounce ideas off someone. And Tiffany was here. Plus, they’d found the body together. “As you probably guessed, Deputy Gunn was hunting a crime boss here in Aurelian Hills,” she began. “He believed Tom was part of the organization. And, according to Denise, maybe even at the top of the organization.”
“I can’t imagine Tom obeying anyone’s orders.” Gasping, Tiffany twisted in her seat. Her eyes widened as the rest of her thrummed with excitement. “Jane! What if he’s the leader?”
“Well, we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves,” Jane cautioned. But yeah. What if the bartender was, in fact, the Gentleman? Claim you were nothing but an employee while feeding the wrong information to the cops. How better to avoid jail time when the father of one of your many lovers dogged your every step? You not only controlled the evidence, but steered which direction the investigation headed. A brilliant Bond villain level plan. Then, when the deputy learned the truth, you killed him to keep your secret.
Jane immediately booted every other suspect to the second spot on her list, leaving Tom at number one. Thanks to his extracurricular activities with married women, he’d probably taught himself to lie while smiling. He definitely understood how to lead a double life. But most importantly, he comprehended how to sneak in and out of homes undetected.
“He’s the leader. I sense it,” Tiffany insisted. “Tom Cat could’ve used his stable of blackmail victims to do his dirty work. Married women are his favorite mark, you see. They never request more, and they keep his secrets so he’ll keep theirs. Ask me why I’m sure.” Disgust layered her tone.
‘How are you su—”
“I didn’t mean to literally ask me,” the widow interjected. “Good gracious.”
Bitterness laced her every timbre. Had Tiff fallen for Tom’s charm and gotten burned?
“Before you think I had an affair with Tom Cat,” the brunette continued, “I didn’t. Kind of. We only kissed. But in my defense, not that I have a defense, Tom paid me a lot of attention when my husband either ignored me or treated me the way my parents did. As if I’m a toy on a shelf, always pristine, perfect and admirable—” She mashed her lips tight, going quiet. Sadness radiated from her. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I was terrified of Marcus finding out about the kiss, so I never stood up for myself when Tom began publicly insulting me.”
Jane reached over and squeezed the other woman’s hand before she had time to consider her actions. To her surprise, Tiffany didn’t rebuff her. Rather, she relaxed into her seat and gave Jane what looked to be a genuine half-smile before gazing out the window and saying, “Tom can spot a vulnerability from miles away. As soon as he does, he pounces.”
Jane believed her and yeah, okay, she ached for her too. Everyone carried baggage, didn’t they? “My parents considered me a nuisance and left me with Grandma Lily.”
“So we’re not only cursed in romantic love but in familial love too? Well, that’s just great!”
“We aren’t cursed?” Jane pursed her lips. She’d meant the words as a comforting statement, but they had emerged as a hopeful question instead. Trying again. “We aren’t cursed.” Better. “I used to think we were, so I acted accordingly, thereby cursing myself. A self-fulfilling prophesy, or so I’ve been told. Recently, I decided to trust Conrad rather than a nothing-but-lies curse. He’s rock solid.”
Once more, Jane gripped the steering wheel. Her stomach dipped and pitched. She’d just said it. Had opened her mouth and let the insult tumble out. The curse was nothing. It meant nothing. Could do nothing without her help. The realization tumbled through her mind. The curse was no-thing.
