“This is Lee Frank,” Mina said by way of introduction. The man was a couple of decades older and had the deep frown lines to prove it.
Lee gave us a slight nod, but the sour expression he wore didn’t change as he tugged at Mina’s sleeve. “There’s something you should see.”
“Right now?” She glanced from Jemma to me as if she’d much rather stay there with us.
He nodded, that same solemn look on his face.
“All right, but if I need to answer any questions from the medics, the police, the”—she stumbled on the final word—“the coroner, I’ll be nearby.” She motioned to the corner of the ballroom as Lee yanked her away, knuckles white. I didn’t like that at all.
“He seems delightful,” Jemma said drily. She turned in the direction of Brett’s body, now covered by a sheet. “God, what arethe odds? Two men dead at The Rose, only a handful of months apart.”
“And we were here for both,” I mumbled, my stomach flipping.
This past summer I’d helped solve the murder of the owner of the Rose Palace, Mr. Frederick Finch. The man who I’d also discovered was my biological father. At least this tragedy seemed less complicated, unless… A creeping uncertainty nagged at me. Something about the way Brett’s body had looked up close wouldn’t let me call this a straightforward death.
People were assembled into cliques just like we’d been in high school, except now it was the exhausted moms who’d left infants and toddlers at home, the guys who’d already had more than enough to drink, the singles who’d been magnetically drawn to one another, and the couples who were offering each other comforting embraces.
I spotted Lacy, her head burrowed into Anton’s shoulder as she cried. I wanted to go to her, but my legs were heavy and my mind cloudy. Thankfully, at that moment Charlie stepped into the ballroom, and I got to my feet and started toward him as if propelled by a motor.
He met me in the middle, and as the familiar scent of his aftershave hit me—cedar and citrus—my throat clenched with unshed tears.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered.
“Me too.” His eyes traveled over me, checking for damage. He wasn’t planning to move or speak until he was sure I was okay.
His hazel eyes said all that and more, reminding me of when he’d first asked me out after the pageant had ended this past summer.
He’d dropped by the stables, where I’d been picking out Bella’s hooves in her stall. Kitty, his gray and black speckledGreat Dane, was by his side. I distinctly remember wanting to cuddle that dog—and maybe the owner too.
“Look what we found backstage in the Primrose Ballroom,” Charlie had said, waving an enormous check in front of me. “They must’ve been planning to present it at the end of the pageant”—Charlie’s voice had lowered to a whisper as if the animals were too sensitive to hear the final few words—“before you revealed Mr. Finch’s murderer.”
I’d kept a hand on Bella’s mane, trying to appear easygoing, playful. “You know I can’t cash that, right?”
“You mean you don’t need to take this six-foot-long check to the bank?” Charlie’s face had crumpled in feigned disappointment. “I thought they had a huge vault for useless, massive checks.”
I’d tried to maintain a straight face, but despite myself, I’d chuckled. I liked the sarcastic sheriff, and based on the way Bella was eyeing him, I thought she might like him too. Horses know the good ones.
“Actually,” Charlie had said, setting the cardboard against the stall. “Kitty and I came by to ask you something.”
Thatsomethinghad been about a date, and I’d been surprised. Based on Charlie’s personality shifts during the pageant investigation, I’d had no idea he was actually interested. At the Rose Palace, he’d gone from playful to purposeful, charming to chiding, blithe to brooding in zero to sixty. I was still learning to anticipate the shifts, though mostly these days I got the sexy, funny man rather than the intense, suspicious sheriff.
All that to say, our romance had been brief and mostly long-distance thus far, but regardless of his persona in any given moment, I always felt safe with Charlie.
“Savilla called me on my cell while Lacy was on the phone with 911,” Charlie explained, answering the question I hadn’t yet asked.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, at the mention of Lacy’s name I had the sudden urge to shield her from him, even though he’d said nothing to warrant my defensiveness. That was ridiculous though. Charlie hadn’t seen Lacy and Brett dancing, the way they’d moved in sync, the way Brett had leered at her. He had no idea that Lacy had been close to him right before he died.
“Before I examine the body, is there anything I should know?”
“Such as?”
“Savilla said you did CPR, right?”
“Right,” I answered. “And one of the people on Brett’s camera crew helped me. When my arms got tired, she stepped in.” I gestured toward Mina, who was in the corner of the ballroom as promised, looking down at a camera screen with Lee. “Nothing worked. Brett couldn’t breathe… he…” How to describe what he’d looked like as he’d died? How he’d gasped for air that wouldn’t come. The stillness of his features as he stopped struggling.
“Did you see anything suspicious?” Charlie asked, one eyebrow lifted.
I thought of Anton’s warning about Brett, heavy with meaning; of Lacy shrinking away from Brett as he began to struggle for breath. But I wasn’t going to throw either of them into the spotlight of an investigation without first talking to my oldest and closest friend about what had happened.
