Liquid Lies Part 14

"Sounds mysterious." Jacob propped himself against the wall. "I have some free time. Can I help?"

h.e.l.l no. "Okay, I guess."

"You've got to let me in on what's going on here," Jacob said.

Another white lie. The way I was racking them up, I'd be back in confession before the sun set. "There's a guy in the bar that I may know from a couple of years ago. He could have something I need." A key to Francesca's murder.

"So why don't you just go in and say hi to him?" Jacob asked.

Right. Can't do. I said, "Because it may not be him. And at this time of day, the place is an old guy's bar. Plus, I don't want to disturb him. I can wait until he comes out."

"So you're going to hang out here?" Jacob said.

"Pretty much. At least until seven. Then I have to head out to the airport to get Francesca's aunt Vivian," I said.

"Suit yourself. But if you want, I could go in there now. Talk to him. Try to find out what you need to know," Jacob said.

"I guess you could," I replied. But what could I tell Jacob to ask the man in the bar? I continued, "Maybe you can find out if he's a truck driver, or has ever been. Whether he lives around here, or not. Also, did he know Francesca? Is he a big spender? See if he has a big wad of money on him." I was pulling some details that could help me either keep this guy as a suspect or eliminate him and move on.

Jacob faced me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eyes. "You said he might have something you need? What is it?"

Needing a distraction, I kissed him. "That's your payment."

"What do I get if I get your answers?" Jacob smiled.

Good. It threw him off track.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I winked.

"I would," Jacob said.

I shooed him in the bar. "Go."

To pa.s.s the time while I waited on Jacob, I called Mark and told him about my possible lead. He thought the phones were tapped, so he just alluded to a suspect he was working on, and the possibility that he knew what the murder weapon was. He was really taking our amateur detective adventure seriously.

Then I checked on Vivian's flight. It was still on time.

I also got a hold of Estelle and Hazel, to see how they were doing with their pet.i.tion. They were gaining support by the minute. I checked my cell's log several times, to see if Ken might have called. He had not. Maybe he was busy. Or not.

"Okay, payment first then information," Jacob said after he exited the bar.

"Do you take a credit card?" I asked.

Jacob leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Only cold hard cash, or soft wet kisses."

A shiver ran up my spine. Being around Jacob ignited a longing in me that I hadn't felt since Ken and I first met.

I got back on task. "So what did you find out?"

Jacob stuck his hands in his pocket. "He's not your guy."

"What?" I was discouraged.

"He lives in the next town, is as poor as a church mouse, and has never met Francesca," Jacob said.

"What about that wad of money?" I asked.

"It was payday. He had just cashed his check," Jacob said.

"Rats," I said.

"Sorry." Jacob trailed his hand on my shoulder.

"No, I mean thank you. I'm just disappointed that he wasn't the guy I'm looking for," I said.

"Listen, it's been an electrifying hour, but I have to go. Can I interest you in dinner later, say six? My place? I grill a mean burger." Jacob gave me his address.

"Thanks for your help, and I would love a mean burger. The nice ones are overrated," I said.

Spending a few hours alone at home, writing and rewriting the eulogy resulted in nothing more than a dozen b.a.l.l.s of crumpled paper lying next to the trash can in my bedroom. Skipper was snoozing at the foot of the bed where I was plopped with a legal pad. Why can't I compose anything worthwhile?

The service was going to happen at six tomorrow evening, whether I had a proper eulogy ready or not. And I was determined to find her killer. My gut said that that Francesca's death had to do with the trucker murder. I was just as much a part of that as Francesca was. A strong sense of responsibility and guilt compelled me to act. Regrettably, I had chosen to drag Mark along for the ride.

I freshened my makeup and ran a brush through my hair before I headed over to Jacob's place. It turned out to be a cozy looking red brick townhome. He answered the door on the first knock.

"You look great." He led me into the kitchen. "I just fired up the grill. Do you want something to drink?"

Feeling like a school girl with a huge crush, I studied his shiny dark brown hair that swept up in a slight curl against his neck. His green eyes seemed deeper than I remembered. His faded jeans hugged his firm round bottom. Was Jacob just a distraction for me? Was it just a rebound after my fiance dumped me? I couldn't trust myself. "Beer?"

"Bottle or can?" Jacob plucked a cup from his cupboard. "Or I've got this fancy plastic ware."

"No. I'm easy."

"I'm glad to know that." Handing me the bottle, his hand lingered for a moment on mine. "That might come in handy later." Jacob led me outside to his patio, and then he plopped two patties on the sizzling hot grill. The aroma of burning charcoal mixed with hamburger meat filled the air.

I set my keys and beer down on the table.

We spent ten minutes chatting about small stuff, work and little tidbits about life in general, while he cooked the food. However, my mind kept coming back to his connection with Francesca. Maybe his fight with Francesca the same day she died could help give me insight in to what was going on in her life.

"I'm not trying wreck the nice conversation we're having," I said. "But could you elaborate on your fight with Francesca the other day?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "What brought that up?"

"I really don't mean to be a pest, but I have to know. I'm working on something, and it's very important to find out all I can about Francesca's recent activities," I added.

"Are you a detective?" Jacob asked.

"Ha. No." Okay, I had to think fast. What could I say without saying too much? "I have to do her eulogy tomorrow night."

"And you're going to write about a fight? Here I thought eulogies focused on the good about the deceased. So what's going on?" he asked.

"Well, I'm sort of a self-appointed amateur sleuth. I'm trying to find out Francesca's state of mind that day." And who the killer was.

"Well?" Jacob flipped the burgers.

I leaned against the deck railing. "Well, because I'm trying to write her eulogy. That's why."

"No. I meant how do you want your burger, well, medium, rare?" He smiled.

"Oh." Sometimes I'm so clueless. "Medium well."

"In that case, they're ready." He plated the burgers and we pulled chairs over to the patio table.

As we ate, we talked about the latest local news, including the hospital's expansion, the eminent domain issues and the mayor's run for governor. I liked that he was easy to talk to. He was smart and funny, besides being incredibly s.e.xy. After we finished our burgers, I knew I had to ask him about his relationship with Francesca, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to ask without sounding nosy.

"So are you going to clue me in on your relationship with Francesca?" I asked. I took a sip of beer.

He raised an eyebrow. "There was no relationship beyond employee and employer. I'd only met her shortly after she took over the office."

"How long have you been in town?" I asked.

"A few months."

So he probably didn't know much about Francesca, but I had to try to see what he did know. "Did you have any idea of who she hung out with, or dated?"

Jacob took a swig of his beer. "You're not going to let me get away with not answering are you?"

"I'm bit of a pest that way." I grinned.

He leaned back. A smile crept on his face as his eyes covered my body. He laughed. "Okay. Here's what little I know. She was dating a much older guy. I think he was married."

"How did you find that out?" I asked, and then put my napkin on my plate.

"Through the grapevine. Construction guys are worse than a bunch of ladies," Jacob said.

"Hey, I resent that."

"I didn't mean that in a derogatory way."

Who was this older married guy? Was it the Ace guy she wrote about in her journal? I knew Francesca tended to date more mature men. But, we had always considered married men and each other's former boyfriends off limits.

"Do you have any idea who it might be?" I asked.

"No. Sorry I don't," Jacob said.

My cell rang. The caller ID said Mark. For a moment I thought it would be Ken begging me to take him back, pleading for forgiveness for breaking up with me. Then I felt slightly guilty that I was at Jacob's place. Why did I feel guilty? Did I want something to happen? Yes, I was attracted to Jacob, but I also was under stress and on the rebound. That was a dodgy combination.

"Don't worry about me," Jacob said as he got up and went into his house.

"Hi Mark, what's up?" I said into the phone.

Mark huffed, sounding out of breath. "I've got a lead on a guy. I'm following him right now."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Near the dock. He stopped to get some bait," Mark whispered.

"I'll be right there," I said and hung up.

Walking into the kitchen, I said, "Jacob, I'm so sorry about taking the call, but I have something very urgent I'm working on that needs my attention. The conversation was great. I enjoyed spending time with you. Thanks for the burger and beer."

"So you're ditching me?" He smiled.

"No, just leaving quickly for an urgent matter. I'm so very sorry. Please forgive my rudeness," I said.

"Actually, I have to go into town now anyway. So I guess you're forgiven if you let me give you dessert."

"But I really don't need any," I said.

He pulled me close and pressed me into a pa.s.sionate kiss.

Jacob said, "That was dessert."

Speechless for a moment, and feeling wobbly in the legs, I didn't know what to do next.

"No calories," I stammered.

Chapter Eighteen.

"Is that him?" I asked as I approached Mark, who was crouched behind a thick shrub. "You know, everyone can see you. Your red hair is sticking out over the top."

"d.a.m.n. I thought I was incognito," Mark said as he rose to his feet.

"What's this on your lip?" I ripped off his fake moustache.

"Ouch." Mark rubbed his lip.

"Brown? You couldn't even get a red one?" Not seeing a close trashcan nearby, I shoved the fake moustache in my pocket. Mark pulled me down to hide behind the shrubs. He put his finger over his mouth signaling me to keep quiet. He pointed over to a group on the pavilion. After a few minutes, I lost my patience, and whispered, "Who are we investigating?"

Mark's eyes widened as he got up. "Suspect on the move."