By the time Juliet was loaded into the back of the Suburban, none of us were in a good mood and I was desperately wishing for another cup of coffee.
“My bones hurt they’re so cold,” I said, peeling off my gloves and tossing them in a trash bag. I pulled my fur-lined gloves out of my bag and put them back on, but it didn’t do much good at this point.
“I’ll take the body back to the lab,” Lily said. “I know you like to stay on scene during the initial investigation.”
“How will you get her unloaded?” I asked.
“I’ll call Sheldon,” she said. “It’s not like he’s been out all night partying. I’ll bet you fifty bucks he’s been listening to the police scanner his mom got him for Christmas and he’s sitting by the phone waiting for your call. Bless his heart. I hate to disappoint him.”
Sheldon was a good assistant, but his social gift was with the dead instead of the living. He was sweet in a golden retriever kind of way, but he took a lot of time and energy. If anyone but Lily had said what she had, I would’ve thought they were being sarcastic, but she treated Sheldon like a kid brother and she had more patience than Job.
“That’s a sucker’s bet,” I said, handing her the keys to the Suburban. “I’ll catch a ride back with Jack.”
People with better manners probably would have turned away to give Lily and Cole a few minutes of privacy to say their goodbyes, but Jack and I weren’t those people. We watched openly as Cole whispered something in Lily’s ear that made her blush, and then they kissed goodbye.
Lily drove off and then Cole turned and arched a brow at us. “Any comments from the peanut gallery?”
“Kiss looked like it needs some work,” Jack said.
I snorted out a laugh and said, “Maybe monogamy is making him lose his technique.”
Cole blew out a breath. “Y’all can shut up now. Don’t we have a crime scene to investigate?”
“That kiss looked like a crime scene to me,” Jack murmured, making me burst out into laughter. “I’m kidding!” Jack held his hands up in surrender, but his grin was unrepentant.
“Laugh all you want,” Cole said, slapping Jack on the shoulder. “But I’m serious about her. I’ve never been this serious about anyone before.”
“Wow,” I said. “You only turned a little green when you said that. It must be love.”
“I didn’t say love,” he hurried to say. “I said I was serious about her. I just don’t know what that looks like yet.”
“Other than the fact that I’ve known you for twenty years and you’ve always been dead scared of commitment,” Jack said. “Why the protest about love? Are you anti-love?”
We retraced our steps to the alley and then made our way inside the theater where it was dry and warm.
“I’m not anti-love,” he said, squirming uncomfortably. “I’m just not exactly sure what it feels like. I’ve never been in love before. How do I know if it’s love or lust? What if it’s all just physical?”
“You’ll know,” Jack and I both said at the same time.
“The fact that you’re so scared of it you’re white in the face should tell you you’re on the right track,” Jack said. “You’ve been in lust lots of times. If this feels different it’s because it is. Lust will fade. What you have to figure out is what your foundation is made of? Friendship? Companionship? Respect?”
“Your psychology is showing,” Cole said.
“What are you scared of?” Jack asked, ignoring the comment.
Cole was quiet for a bit, and I wondered if he was going to answer. “She wants me to meet her parents.”
I would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the sickening look of dread on his face.
“I’ve met her parents,” I said. “They’re nice people. They’re not a firing squad.”
“That’s because you’re not sleeping with their daughter,” Cold said. “How would you feel if your daughter brought home a man seventeen years older than she was, and that man was me?”
Jack and I had only recently been talking about children, and the thought of having a daughter one day still made my heart skip a beat in complete panic. And then the thought of that daughter bringing home someone like Cole brought on an entirely new feeling altogether.
“Exactly,” Cold said after a prolonged silence.
Jack looked at me with wild-eyed panic, and I knew he’d had the same thought as I had. Cole would be lucky if Lily’s dad didn’t murder him before appetizers were served.
“Look,” Jack said. “At the end of the day all any parent wants to know is that their child is loved and well taken care of. When you can give Lily those things, then you’ll be ready to meet her parents. Good talk. But now that my fingers and toes aren’t numb anymore, let’s get back to the case.”
The transition between topics wasn’t as smooth as Jack normally managed, but I had to give him props considering the land mine our previous conversation had dodged.
“Dressing room is through here,” Cole said, obviously glad for the reprieve in conversation.
I’d never been backstage at the Curtain Call before. The front part of the theater was for show—ornate carvings and murals on the ceilings reminiscent of famed Italian artists. The walls and curtains were a deep burgundy velvet and there were gold accents throughout. No expense had been spared in restoring the two-hundred-year-old historic theater.
But backstage was a different story. The walls were white plaster, the halls were narrow, and the dressing rooms were cramped. It looked like a bomb had gone off with papers and costumes and flowers everywhere. There were empty champagne bottles and glasses, and if I had to guess, it looked like the cast and crew had decided to celebrate closing night by going out to party and worry about cleaning up later.
“We’re going to have to talk to all of the cast and crew once daylight hits,” Cole said. “See if we can establish a timeline. She’s got the biggest dressing room, not that that’s saying much.”
The room was too cramped for all of us to fit inside, so I stood in the doorway and watched Jack and Cole. They were both big men, and standing shoulder to shoulder they took up almost the entire width of the room. A rack crammed with costumes was shoved against one wall, and a vanity with bright lights held more makeup than a department-store counter. Every other available space was filled with vases of flowers.
“There were flower petals outside by the door,” Jack said. “Crime scene tagged them.”
“Good eye,” Cole said. “I bagged a bouquet and a note attached before you arrived. One of those big expensive bouquets. Don’t ask me how I know that. The note was from someone named Peter. The card was a soggy mess, so no chance of prints. But the florist shop logo was on there, so we’ll run it down and see who placed the order.”
“Peter?” I asked. “The husband?”
Cole smiled. “Nope. Husband is Brian Dunnegan. But obviously whoever Peter is he’s someone important enough that she’d run out back to meet him.”
“We’ll need to establish a timeline and see when the performance ended,” Jack said.