Back Against the Wall Read online

  “But murdered! And it had to be murder, didn’t it?”

  Tony decided it was time to intervene. “I’m the detective leading this investigation. I’d be interested in speaking to you when you have time.”

  “Me? Good lord, why?”

  Tony didn’t read too much into the doctor’s alarm. He got that reaction a lot.

  “I’d like to hear about Christine from different perspectives. She may have said something to you or your wife that will be relevant.”

  “Oh. Well.”

  Tony whipped out a pen and small notebook. “If you’ll give me your number, we can set something up later.”

  Schuh gave work and personal numbers, then beat a retreat after telling Beth to give him a call if she needed anything. Anything at all.

  The two of them remained silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “Howard has a big mouth.”

  “You know him?”

  She wrinkled her nose in the way he thought was cute. “Only secondhand. Matt talks about him constantly, worries about what he thinks, brags about his approval.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “No.” She sighed. “Maybe I should say, Matt has a big mouth.”

  Tony laughed and reached for his sandwich again. “You might well say that.”

  “He could at least have asked his boss not to gossip. I hate the idea that everyone is going to be talking about us in no time.” She tipped her head toward the three men, who were talking animatedly but in low voices with an occasional stolen look their way. “What do you want to bet Dr. Schuh is spreading the news this very instant?”

  “I wouldn’t bet against it. Do you know either of the others?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m afraid this was inevitable.” Although he could have wished otherwise for Beth’s sake. “Did you tell your co-workers why you were taking time off?”

  “No. They probably think I’m doing something fun.”

  None of this was fun. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  She met his eyes. “Thank you. But this part isn’t anything you could control.”

  “No.”

  She started eating her ropa vieja with apparent pleasure, which led her to ask her questions about the Cuban food on the menu. Tony told her that his father’s side of the family had come from Cuba.

  “My grandparents,” he explained. “My dad was a little boy then. Tia Paloma is one of his sisters, born here.” He paused. “I’m told Navarro is a Basque name.”

  “And your mother’s side?”

  Hearing genuine interest, he said, “Mexico. Tia Paloma didn’t think a Cuban restaurant would make it here, so she started with only a few Cuban items among the Mexican. Over the years, she’s added more, until the menu is close to fifty-fifty.”

  “I guess I’m just timid, sticking to the familiar,” she said with a sigh.

  “Most of us like the familiar,” he consoled her. “Why else am I here so often?”

  Her laugh, free of strain, rewarded him.

  Replete, they sipped coffee. Tony was glad they were sharing the restaurant with so few customers. In something like another hour, the dinner crowd would start filtering in. Not that he and Beth had discussed anything he didn’t want overheard; in fact, they’d managed to avoid any talk about the investigation or her family, except briefly after the pediatrician had intruded.

  She wanted to pay her share of the bill, but Tia Paloma never brought one. When she came by the table, Beth tried to persuade Tony’s aunt to take her money but failed.

  “No, no!” Tia Paloma waved her hands vehemently. “Tony is family. You’re his friend. No, impossible.”

  “We’re not really friends. We’re...sort of working together.”

  His aunt backed away, lapsing into a spate of Spanish, saying that if Beth came for lunch alone the next day, she could pay, but not when she was with Tony.

  Beth laughed and gave up. “Then, gracias. I have a new favorite dish.”

  Aunt Paloma retreated in satisfaction, winking at him over her shoulder.

  “I think... I might go home,” Beth said, sliding out of the booth. “I’d intended to grocery shop but, now that I’ve had dinner, I can wait until tomorrow.”

  He hesitated but decided to be honest. Again. He was developing a big mouth where Beth was concerned. “I’m going to try to catch your sister.”

  “By surprise?”

  “I’d rather,” he said, “but I’m not totally set on it, or I wouldn’t have told you.” He watched her absorb that.

  “I won’t warn her.”

  They started for the front, which necessitated passing by only a few tables from Dr. Schuh and his friends. Without thinking, Tony laid a hand on Beth’s back, ostensibly to steer her. Good God, was he making some kind of claim? Why? Because he hadn’t liked the man’s insistence that she call him if she needed anything?

  She’s supposed to call you? a small voice taunted.

  Yes, damn it!

  Way too early to say anything like that. Especially since he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she shared his interest. Whether consciously or unconsciously, she might be trying to soften him, make him more reluctant to pursue her father.

  Is it working?

  He answered the question confidently. No. He couldn’t let anything he felt for her divert him from the investigation. Or forget how it could end. How many times had he arrested a suspect and removed him from his home, while dodging blows or trying to shut his ears to pleas from distraught family members?

  Feeling chilled even as they exited the air-conditioned restaurant into the heat of the day, he knew he shouldn’t have let their relationship get so personal. If—when—he arrested her father, all Beth would have to do was look at him, pain and accusation in her eyes, to deliver a hammer blow.

  Of course, he wouldn’t have kissed her anyway, not in the bright sunlight after such a casual meal, and especially not given the potential conflicts. But when he said “I’ll see you in the morning,” he must have sounded remote because her expression closed, too. Her “Thank you for suggesting this” was said in the pleasant tone she saved for strangers.

  Watching her maneuver out of her parking spot without so much as glancing his way, Tony swore aloud.

  * * *

  BETH HAD NO idea what had gone wrong, but Tony—or should she go back to Detective Navarro?—was every bit as cool the next morning when she let them into the garage again. Which was just fine. Good, in fact. Better that she didn’t suffer any romantic delusions.

  She wordlessly accepted a new pair of latex gloves and lifted a box from the workbench.

  “Wait. Let me—”

  “I have it,” she said, setting it on the concrete floor.

  His forehead creased. “You don’t have to do any heavy lifting.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She sat in the same lawn chair as yesterday.

  He scowled at her. “Why would I be kidding?”

  Tart was okay, acid wasn’t, she counseled herself. “Who do you think handled these boxes in the first place? Who do you think cleared this garage?”

  Tony sat, too, but carefully, as if testing again the sturdiness of the chair, with its aluminum frame and webbing. It splayed a little but held firm. “I assumed you had your brother here for the bigger stuff,” he said.

  “I did call him for anything really heavy,” Beth admitted, wishing she hadn’t started this, “but there wasn’t much.”

  Mouth tight, he opened the flaps of the box. They both peered in.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  She couldn’t not talk to him, she supposed. “I didn’t really go through this one either on Sunday. It’s kind of miscellaneous. Maybe stuff Mom packed.”

  After poking around a little, Tony lifted out a gold-trimmed porc
elain tray, which really should have been wrapped, as delicate as it was.

  The glimmer of memory she’d had when she first opened the box solidified. “Wait. That was on the dresser. Mom would drop her earrings and watch and what have you on it. Dad his change. You know.”

  “Did your mother switch it out for something else?”

  Slowly, Beth shook her head. “I don’t think so. I...didn’t notice when it disappeared.” She gazed at the back of a picture frame lying face down. “Dad must have not wanted to look at things that reminded him of her.”

  “Strange reaction for a man who claims to have believed she’d be back.”

  She skewered him with a look. Or tried to, anyway. “I doubt he packed up her stuff the day after she disappeared. It could have been months later.”

  To his credit, Tony said, “You’re right.” But then he added, “Wouldn’t you have noticed?”

  Beth reached for whatever was in a frame and wasn’t surprised to recognize it immediately, too. “Mom did this,” she whispered. It was crewelwork, a riot of pink and white and pale yellow roses against a cream backdrop. “It was a kit. The kind where the fabric was printed with the colors you were supposed to use. It still took forever, with the stitches so tiny.”

  He studied it. “One of my sisters does things like that. She’s given me a couple.”

  Beth blinked. “You have framed crewelwork like this in your house?”

  “In my house, yes.” He grimaced. “Somewhere. On the walls, no.”

  Yesterday, she would have laughed. Today, she only said, “I need to grab some of that newspaper to wrap these things. I’ll bet Emily would like to have them.” Before he could open his mouth, she added, “Later. I know.”

  Another frame held her parents’ wedding photo. She stared at it for the longest time, seeing how happy they both looked, her mother beautiful, her father handsome. This had always been on the dresser, too, never with the other pictures in the family room.

  She felt Tony’s gaze but couldn’t let herself look up to see his expression. If it was gentle, sympathetic, she might break down whether she believed his kindness insincere or not.

  The box held several porcelain figurines, two chipped, a pair of embroidered pink satin pillows, and a pink china lamp base. Emily would probably love to have all of these.

  For the first time, Beth wondered how her father felt about pink. Nothing in this box, except maybe the porcelain tray, seemed to belong in a man’s bedroom. Maybe he hadn’t dumped it all in this box because he was angry and hurt; maybe instead he’d thought, At last I can get rid of this pink crap. Would he tell her if she asked?

  “Anything here that doesn’t look familiar?” Tony asked. “Or that you know wasn’t in your parents’ bedroom?”

  She shook her head and nestled the lamp base in a bed of crumpled newspaper. Once Tony closed the flaps, she labeled the box with the black marker and let him slide it into the same place she’d taken it from.

  He returned with another. This one was filled with albums of family photos as well as loose ones that hadn’t made it into an album.

  “Did your parents take a lot of pictures?” Tony asked.

  “More when we were little, I think. I don’t remember Mom getting the camera out so much once we were teenagers.” Amusement lifted the corners of her mouth. “We probably weren’t as photogenic. Or she was so annoyed at one or all of us, she didn’t feel like memorializing us.”

  He chuckled but then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Would she have taken pictures of their friends?”

  “Like Dr. Schuh and his wife? I don’t remember.” There were an awful lot of photographs in that box, she realized. “Do we have to go through them?”

  He looked about as enthusiastic as she felt. “Maybe. Let’s set it aside for now. I’m hoping you can tell me who your parents’ friends were.” He frowned. “Although, I meant to ask. This Dr. Schuh and his wife. Have they stayed friends with your dad?”

  She drew a complete blank. “I have no idea. I should, shouldn’t I? But...things were so unsettled after Mom vanished. Nothing would have been the same. And really, what social life they had would have been at Mom’s instigation. I mean, if the Schuhs invited him over for dinner, he’d have gone, but would it have occurred to him that he was supposed to reciprocate?” She couldn’t imagine. “I suspect most friends tried to be supportive and finally drifted away.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little hard to picture—” He gave her a chagrined glance. “Sorry.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  There were only a couple more boxes that she’d identified as probably Mom’s stuff. There might be others that Matt or Emily hadn’t mentioned—especially Emily, who might have thought she could spirit something away without either her sister or brother noticing. Heavens—she might very well have done that. They’d all gone back and forth so often, Beth wouldn’t have noticed Emily slipping out to her car.

  Should she say something to Tony? She sneaked a look at him just as he set down the next box. He’d worn cargo pants today—the gloves had come out of a pocket on his right thigh—and a navy blue T-shirt. Seeing muscles flexing in his arms, she forgot why she’d looked at him in the first place. He wasn’t muscle-bound, like guys who spent too much time at the gym. He was...just right. Sexy.

  And suddenly her face felt hot. Please don’t let him notice.

  Of course, he said, “You okay?” His voice was a little raspier than usual.

  She didn’t raise her gaze from the latest box. “I’m fine. You know, I forgot to plug in the fans. Are you getting hot?”

  He cleared his throat. “Let’s hold off.”

  How many million times had he said that?

  Beth groaned when she saw the jewelry box. Tony lifted his eyebrows.

  “I should have taken that home. It’s such a mess, though.” She raised the lid. “Everything is tangled up. Do you know how hard it is to unknot delicate chains?”

  Tony poked at the top tray. “That’s a really big diamond.”

  “If it is a diamond. I noticed it. I didn’t look to see if the other earring is there.”

  “I don’t know. A couple of my sisters have diamond engagement rings. This looks real to me.” His dark eyes met hers. “You don’t sound as if you remember it. Them.”

  “I...don’t.” Beth frowned. “I was only fifteen, though. And not girly.”

  One side of his mouth twitched. “Right. You didn’t like pink, and you didn’t like jewelry?”

  “I hated pink,” she said with more heat than she’d intended. “Jewelry... I like it okay now—” she touched a fingertip to the small gold post in one of her lobes “—but then, I was at an awkward age, and I sort of kept my head down and hoped not to be noticed.” Oh, good—tell him how pathetic you were. She added hastily, “I’m sure Mom never said anything about having diamond earrings, which you’d think she would have. If only to say something like Now remember, girls, these are worth quite a bit.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, “you’d think she would’ve.” He picked up the diamond—or fake diamond—stud and lifted it to the light. “Would she buy something like this on her own?”

  “I don’t know,” Beth had to say, again. “Emily might have a better idea. Mom and I weren’t talking that much then.” Belatedly, it occurred to her that was a stupid thing to tell the police detective investigating her mom’s murder. Had he considered her a suspect? She’d been big enough to overpower her mother...

  “What are you thinking?” Lines in his forehead had deepened. “I don’t like your expression.”

  “Just...” She drew a deep breath. “I must be on your suspect list, too. That hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “You’re not,” he said shortly.

  “Why not? Fifteen-year-olds are capable of doing terrible things.”

  “They are. You?” H
e shook his head. “You take care of people. You’d never knowingly hurt someone.”

  She should have been reassured, but for some reason that stung. “I’m not a saint, you know.”

  He gave an odd, gruff laugh. “You’re the only person I know who’d take offense at being described as caring.”

  “It’s just...” Why had that bothered her? “I’m more than that. I get mad, I dislike some people, and, yes, there are times I resent feeling responsible for everyone else!”

  “I know all that, Beth.” He reached across the space between their lawn chairs and gripped her hand.

  She looked at his hand, so much larger than hers, the fingers thicker, his skin darker. His touch felt good—warm and secure. Beth felt a tiny, worrisome stir of arousal.

  “Do you?” she said bitterly, wrenching her hand free. “That’d be a first.”

  Oh, what was wrong with her? Pity parties were meant to be private. And this was stupid, anyway. She loved her family and chose to take care of them. Sure, it would be nice if, just once, someone tried to take care of her, but, honestly, she’d be so confused she’d be bound to turn it around in no time.

  “Beth, I see more than you think I do,” he said quietly.

  She shook her head. “Forget it, okay? Let’s do what we’re here for.”

  Watching her, he didn’t move for a minute. Finally, he shook his head and began to dig through the belts and scarves at the bottom of the box before lifting an odd lumpy item out. “What...? Oh, it’s one of those things filled with rice or beans that you can warm in the microwave.”

  “Do you suppose they rot eventually?” she said dubiously.

  He turned it. “I don’t see any blood on it. As far as I’m concerned, we can throw it away.”

  When she pointed, he carried it across the garage and dropped it in a cardboard carton labeled Toss.

  When he came back, Tony said, “Let’s look through the jewelry box and not worry about untangling chains or tarnish. Okay?”

  She nodded. He located a large plastic bin and dragged it over to use as a table. Beth set the jewelry box on it, took out the tray and put it aside, but Tony didn’t make a move.