Don't Forget to Breathe Read online

  “Too tall or too short?” His fingers rounded the nape of my neck and skillfully dodged to the side to avoid me from rear-ending a lady pushing a wire cart. “Last time we checked, I was six-three.”

  “Think you’re done growing?”

  “Beats me.” After a brief minute, he said, “I was told not to ask questions, so I won’t. After we get inside would you like to me to wait in the foyer?”

  Nona must’ve cautioned him not to say anything, I grinned. As he swung open the heavy glass doors to the building and neared the elevators, a feeling of insecurity washed over me. What was I trying to prove? Why did I feel this chronic urge? “You can come with me,” I sounded unsure. “If you don’t mind.”

  Becket’s height drew people to branch apart into the packed elevator. When we hit the ninth, the doors shimmied open. Directly centered, a mahogany receptionist desk, and there sat Regina, my father’s old secretary.

  She recognized me. “Why hello, Leo. What brings you here?”

  Regina appeared regal, brunette hair flowed in ringlets over her shoulders. Reading glasses perched on the tip of her slim nose; she peered over the rims approvingly at Becket. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since Mom’s death, and I wanted to hear it from her own mouth.

  “Mind if I ask you a question, Regina?”

  “Not at all, dear. Is something wrong with your father?” She detached her gaze from Becket’s face to look at me.

  Ignoring her question, I blurted, “Is it true that my father was in his office the day my mom was murdered? All day?”

  Her chin knocked backward, astonished. “Er…ummm…” She shifted on the chair. “That’s what I told the police, honey. You came all this way just to ask me that when you know the answer? What is going on in that teeny brain of yours?”

  “At that time you answered my father’s calls, correct?” I didn’t pause because I knew the answer. “You weren’t the one who took the call from the police, were you?”

  A spiny blush crawled between the folds of her white button-down shirt toward her neck. She fixed her eyes toward the desktop where her fingers fidgeted with her pencil and pen collection, stabbing them into a round holder. “We were in a private business meeting in your father’s office when the call came in. The police know this.”

  “In his office—just the two of you?” I went on, “Or were you somewhere else when the call was forwarded to your phone? I’ve been in his office, I’m aware of the outlet leading to the stairwell in case of fire.” Her head wrenched up.

  “You have a lot of nerve coming in here accusing me of perjury.”

  “I didn’t accuse you of perjury, yet. I want the whole truth. Was my father here when the call came in?”

  She sniffed, twitching her nose and mouth. Regina’s gaze skidded over the reception area, either looking for help or hoping no one heard. “I am not on trial, missy,” she spat. “I told the police everything they needed to know. If you can’t get that through your thick skull, that’s too bad.” She wiped a finger beneath her nose. “Now go, I’m working.”

  “Are you having an affair with my dad?”

  Chapter 37

  I wanted to reel the words back in. But not really. Regina’s reaction, priceless. Her eyebrows strut high on her forehead and her slathered pink lips formed a perfect O.

  “How dare you.” Shocked to irate, she tore off the glasses and tossed them on the desk. Regina’s eyeballs sliced side to side; still making sure people weren’t listening. “You have plenty of nerve. Get out.”

  Hands secured my shoulders, trying to budge me from my unyielding posture. My fingers clawed under the desk like talons, holding on. “You’re lying.” I slanted at a ninety-degree angle into her face. “Tell me the truth.” Not caring if the entire building heard me.

  “I’m calling security to kick your ass out.”

  “Leo, chill. Come on.” Becket pried my talons from the desk and stepped in front of me, blocking my sight from Regina. Then he clapped me to his chest and didn’t let go until we passed through the glass doors and hit the congested sidewalk.

  I didn’t cry, my tear ducts were dry like the desert. Becket hedged my back against the cool frontage of the building. “Not what I anticipated,” he said. “What’s going on?” Bracketing his arms on either side on my head, his shoulders stooped to peer into my eyes.

  So near, the rim of his cap shadowed our faces, and periwinkle eyes darkened and I delighted in his fine scent. “Did you get what you were looking for?” he asked since I didn’t reply.

  “I think so. But that wasn’t what I planned on saying. Those words—” My puzzled head shook. “I don’t know where they came from. It’s like Mom—” When a queer expression twisted his face, the words coagulated on my tongue. I plucked my gaze from him, and uttered, “Never mind.”

  “If it’s true, it doesn’t help. It only breaks your heart.” He separated his right hand from the building, and his fingertips stroked my jawline. “Are you alright to meet those guys at Sharf’s, or should I get them and take you home?”

  “I’m fine.” He reached for my hand, tying out fingers together. Even though his hands were huge, it was a perfect fit. We walked across the street and into the diner. Reggie and Nona were nowhere in sight. The hostess led us to table for four, and I tried not to think about Dad going postal when he came home from work.

  Becket assisted me with my jacket, awesome. He shoved off his leather, arranging both on the ridge of his chair, then prior to taking a seat he removed his baseball cap and roughed a hand into lengthy hair, teasing it into placid beauty. He seemed oblivious to the admiring stares, even mine as he cracked the menu. His long sleeved, vermillion dyed T-shirt cried at the seams as he bent his elbow and nicked a strand of hair from his eye.

  “What are you having?” he inquired.

  “I couldn’t eat a thing. Just coffee.” Then, thinking about his comment about my hair being on fire, I ventured onto a sticky subject. “Becket?” His eyes left the menu to look at me. “My mother kept some of her student’s journals over the years, and I’d been going through them and guess what I found?”

  If it were possible, his unblemished face amplified with an eyebrow hitch. “Mine. You found my journal. I remember when your mom asked me if she could keep it at the end of the year. I was going to trash it, so I didn’t care.” One eye scrinched as he smiled through a frown. “How embarrassing. Did you read it?”

  “Some.” Was I coming across like a stalker?

  “You should burn that sucker.” His finger flicked the corner of the menu like he was thinking. “Why did you feel it necessary to confront your father’s secretary today, and why are you going through those journals? You’re up to something aren’t you?”

  It needed to be said, and sticking to my resolve, I asked, “Who is the mature woman with the moon-spun hair? My teacher in body and soul?”

  “Moon-spun hair?” he repeated. A muddled furrow lined his forehead. “My teacher in body and—” He brightened in recognition and pressed the heel of his palms to his brow. “You’re making me feel like a moron. That was Joyce Winters. She was a senior at the time.”

  I had to prove Nona wrong, and felt rather stupid. The nagging assumption that Becket and Mom engaged in hanky-panky had been eating me. “Actually, I’m looking for Mom’s personal journal,” I said with an uneasy chuckle. “And thought it might have been packed away with all the others.”

  His head moved to the side. “You’re searching for answers to your mom’s murder, aren’t you?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “It adds up. After the recent murder of Dave and Skipper, and with the police hanging around again, and—” He paused, hanging on a thought. “Did you think that shitty poem was about your mom?”

  Uncomfortable, I tapped the table with my fingertips. “Nona thought…oh, never mind.”

  “Great, Nona read my journal, too.”

  “Sorry.”

  “If you thought that poem
was about your mom, then I know exactly what you and Nona were thinking.” Becket’s look of revulsion was potent. “Am I one of your suspects?”

  “No.” I stifled a giggle. “Not anymore.”

  “Good thing I cleaned up my torrid reputation, or else you’d have me behind bars.”

  When I lowered my head, hair fell like curtains, hiding my embarrassment. “I can’t take much more. And…and the nightmares.”

  His large hand swept under my dangling hair, smoothing his palm over my neck like a cool compress. “I feel the need to defend myself and reassure you.” His voice softened. “Your mom was a great teacher, I liked her. But, we never, never had any kind of…thing. Got that?”

  I snuffled with a faint nod.

  “Leo, I’ll help you, if I can.”

  Unrolling my shoulders, his hand detracted from my neck as I straightened. “Like I tried explaining before, and, I know this mirrors lunacy,” I said, looking into his eyes, “but I feel like Mom is reaching from the grave needling me to find her killer.”

  “Tell me what I can do for you.”

  Against my better judgment, I expounded on my latest dream and the menacing Lucien attic. Succeeding my hectic babble, we lingered in subdued silence. Wordless and absorbed, Becket surely registered me as the least likely person to acquaint with.

  He laid his arms on the table in front of him. “I can never seem to catch a break,” he said as his hypnotizing eyes held me prisoner. “Or find the right time, so I’m just going for it.”

  He looked serious and my breath hitched in my throat.

  “Will you go out with me after this damn dance?”

  Gloomy clouds parted, the heavens rejoiced, and my heart danced. And Reggie and Nona fractured the euphoric moment to barge noisily to the table.

  Reggie, arms loaded with designer bags, was admonishing Nona, “I can’t believe how much you can buy in a matter of minutes.”

  “I don’t get into the city that often,” Nona said, dumping boxes and bags on the floor around the table. She winked at me. “I need to store up with these goodies while I’m here. I put a severe dent in my mom’s credit card, though.”

  “She’s going to ring your neck,” I said through a smile.

  “You got that right.” They settled into chairs and she jiggled in place. “I have an excuse all ready. I’m telling her I did some early Christmas shopping, and give her a couple of the sweaters I bought.”

  “You’re doomed, Baby.” Reggie covered her hand with his. “Your momma’s going to have a freak attack.”

  She whisked her hand out from under his, looking bitter. “Were you successful?” She turned her attention to me. “Did you get done what needed to get done?”

  Reggie remarked, “That sounds pretty encrypted.” His head swiveled to Becket for decoding purposes.

  Becket remained hushed, conserving my asinine privacy.

  The hour flew by amid jokes and silly antidotes. Evening had invaded the avenues and stars glittered in a velvety dome when Becket dropped off Reggie and Nona. When it came to my turn, my eyes pinned on the light echoing through the drawn curtains, knowing full well Dad was home. I shuddered, thinking what confrontation lie ahead.

  Becket cut the motor and looked at me. “I’m coming in with you.”

  “What good would that do?”

  “He might not explode when another person is in the house.”

  “Not a good night for introductions and you’d eventually have to leave. It’ll only prolong his wrath.” I observed a slight movement of curtain, Dad had peeked.

  Becket’s balled fist thumped the steering wheel like he was thinking. “Have you given any thought to what I asked you before Reggie and Nona interrupted us?”

  “Yes.”

  “You thought about it? And?” I couldn’t make out his narrowing eyes beneath the rim of his cap.

  “And—yes.”

  Like he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled. Before he had a chance to say another word, I opened and shut the car door and walked to the house. I turned my head to see him standing outside of the car, his arm shelving the driver’s side door.

  “Call if you need me.” His masculine voice came to me on a breeze.

  The aroma of roasted chicken hung in the air and the table was set. True to his word, Dad had prepared a dinner. The Headline News infiltrated the house as I discarded my jacket and padded to the bathroom and then my bedroom.

  “Leo, it’s time to eat,” Dad called.

  It was rare that we ate together at the kitchen table. Though, for some reason, Dad laid out a spread of mashed potatoes, peas, and sliced chicken with buttery hard rolls. He was all fake smiles which had me on edge, waiting for the dam to break.

  “Wow, this looks great,” I said.

  “I can’t take the credit. The grocery store had it ready for me, and I brought it home and warmed it up.” Wordlessly chewing, we began to devour the tasty meal.

  “I heard you came downtown today.” Dad severed the congenial silence.

  In mid-swallow, I choked on a pea. He wasn’t asking a question, just stating a fact. Clearing my throat, I thought about lying, though, deigned there’d be little purpose. Regina had squealed.

  “Was it to your advantage?” His eyes locked on mine, he lifted the paper napkin to his mouth, blotting his lips.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said, not reading his ulterior motive. Dad had a brilliant mind. He’d climbed the ranks of Mortimer, Gimley, and Ross as a top-notch investment securities officer. He was a good-looking man, physically fit. Only in the past year grooves lined his eyes and mouth, aging under pressure.

  “Of course you figured I’d hear of the altercation?” His fork speared a pea. “And you haven’t engineered a levelheaded excuse?”

  “I…I needed to hear for myself.” I set my fork on the plate, the food now tasteless.

  “So what have you deduced?” Pushing his plate aside, he replaced the area with his elbows and his chin poised on his hands. “Tell me.”

  My vertebrae wedged into the chair, striving for distance from his incisive glare. “Dad, I don’t want to do this.”

  “Really? You’ve been poking your nose in my business, stirring the kettle. It’s evident you want to hear the sordid details that should’ve been buried with your mother.”

  Chapter 38

  “Mom knew?” My scalp quilled.

  Rising from the table, his breath gusted hard. “Our marriage was a sham. We tried working it out. But—” He bit his knuckle, like he didn’t trust himself to say more.

  “Is that why she wanted to move to California with Grandpa?” I monitored his facial expressions, he was festering.

  “You’ve put your mother on a pedestal. She’s no saint.”

  “I never said she was a saint.” My stomach plunged to my knees as I leapt up and held onto the chair for support. “What does any of this have to do with her being murdered? That’s what I want to know. Who killed Mom? Who killed her?”

  His palms flattened on the surface of the table. “Do you think I’m capable—that I killed Lily?”

  “No—I don’t know.” My ribcage jutted in and out, taking short breaths. “That’s the problem, I don’t know.” I recoiled to some extent when he circled his arms around me, pressing me to him.

  “Why dredge it up? She’s gone and nothing can bring her back. I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Too late. I’ve been hurting for a year.

  On a radical journey to la-la-land, Dad poured a third jigger of bourbon and I sought refuge in my bedroom. Scrolling my cell, I’d missed four calls from Henry. He didn’t leave a voice mail or a text which indicated what he had to say was for ears alone. I keyed in his number, and when he picked up, I inquired, “Did you talk to Detective Dyl?”

  “Before I answer that question,” he volleyed. “I’d like to know where the heck you’ve been all afternoon? I thought you’d be waiting to hear from me.”

&nbs
p; “I went for something to eat with Nona.” Not a total fib. “And muted my cell.” I wasn’t ready to unload the aspect of Dad’s affair and the fact that Becket drove me into the city. He’d find out soon enough, but not now.

  “Why’d you mute your cell?”

  My brain had dulled, I couldn’t think fast enough.

  “You know how Nona gets. She hates when a call interrupts her dialogue.” My reason seemed adequate and he didn’t brooch the subject further. “Now can you tell me if you talked to the detective?”

  “Yes, he didn’t seem shocked. In fact, I think he believed you all along. Now I wish I’d never said anything.”

  “Thanks for backing me up. But what makes you think he believed me? All the proof was missing. It made me look loco.”

  “Just a hunch.” He breathed into his cell. “And the way he was looking at me. Like I was a lying bag of scum.”

  “We did lie.”

  “I’m coming over. Open your window,” he said.

  “No, you better not. My Dad’s splurging on Jack Daniels, and if he catches you, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “Then you come out.”

  I looked at the time. “It’s after nine.”

  “So?” His tongue clucked. “You turn into a pumpkin at midnight or something?”

  “I need to hit the books.” I sighed. “I promised my father I’d show a marked improvement this quarter.”

  “C’mon,” he pleaded, “just for an hour.”

  Why not? The house was smothering me. “Alright, just for an hour. We’ll meet in front of your house.” I changed into my thick cable knit sweater and threw on my jacket.

  Before abandoning my bedroom, I called Nona like I promised to tell her what happened downtown. She hemmed into the receiver, and then split my eardrum when I told her Becket asked me out.

  “I told you. He’s not interested in Marcy,” she said all cheery. “We can double date, won’t that be fun?”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  “No, hun. I’m thinking positive. You’ve got to get that negativity bug out of that skull of yours.”