Karen Harper - Shallow Grave

Brit came instantly awake and got groggily to her feet. Jace stood too, steadying her as he leaned against the desk and she went around it. He expected the two of them to hug, but they stopped ten feet apart.

Brit said, “I can’t believe it took you so long to get here.”

“Since Dad was dead, the orchestra manager made the decision to tell me after the concert. After all, I am first chair and key to everything.”

He peered around Brit. “Jace. Brittany, I see you had someone to comfort you anyhow. Where’s Mother?”

“In the little bed in back. She’s sedated. The tiger was too. Shock, of course—for Mother.”

“Yeah, well, we’re going to help her through this, but this just goes to prove what I said more than once, and none of you listened to me. This kiddy zoo was ridiculous from the get-go.”

“Not now, Lane, please,” Brit said. “And keep your voice down.”

“I’m not going to let her blow any death benefit money from Dad’s will or insurance on spiffing up this grade-C sideshow, so I’m serving you notice.”

“Death benefit money? Life insurance? On Dad? If he had that, it must have been recent. Anyway, not now. Let’s just sign a truce to get Dad’s body back from the medical examiner and help Mother make funeral arrangements.”

Jace was no whiz at insurance policies, though he’d sure seen and known fellow pilots who needed them. He’d made out a will in his midtwenties in case he never came back from the Middle East, let alone when he became copilot on international flights and had a young family. But if Nick did go further with this case, wouldn’t a big insurance policy taken out recently on a soon-to-be-dead man seem suspicious?

Coming around the desk, Jace said, “Brit, unless I can help you with something, I’ll head out, now that big brother’s here. Sorry for your loss, Lane, whatever your feelings about the BAA.”

“I’m sure they told you I think it’s nuts. Well, they weren’t exactly behind me when I majored in violin in college, paid my own way, playing for weddings, gigs in an Italian restaurant, things like that. They could have been at the matinee performance today where I had the solo, since I’m now first chair, and this wouldn’t have happened. They could have seen Lane Benjamin Hoffman playing Leopold Hofmann’s Symphony in A major.”

“Mother and I were coming Sunday afternoon, while Dad oversaw things here...oversaw...” she got out before her voice broke and she collapsed in sobs. Jace held her again, glaring at Lane over her head.

“Well,” Lane said, “since you haven’t taken Mother out of here yet, I’ll take her home in my car. Come along if you want. She obviously needs someone with her tonight. I’ll stay there for a while, and you’d better try to help her instead of all your pets here, especially that killer tiger you were so enamored with. I can’t believe Dad went into that cage on his own, can’t believe it.” His voice cracked, and he clamped his hand over his mouth either to stop from saying more or to keep from sobbing.

Finally, Jace thought, this jerk was showing some emotion. He’d obviously been hurt either as a child or lately—or both. Yeah, he understood a son being let down and damaged by his father, knew that up close and personal, so maybe this guy wasn’t so bad, just grieving in his own way.

Lane lowered his hand and went on in a shaky voice, “Maybe Dad was just going to shove the food in and fell in—or the cat grabbed him, pulled him in. He wouldn’t be drinking on a Saturday morning, would he?”

“Of course not,” Brit insisted, and blew her nose. “I’ll go see if we can get Mother up and moving. She wanted to stay here rather than go home before, wanted to be here where they were living their dream.”

“Your dream too,” Lane said under his breath as Brit opened the door to the smaller room and tiptoed in, closing the door behind her.

Jace felt torn about Lane. He came off as a self-centered, snobbish SOB, yet maybe Brit had been Daddy’s golden girl. Lane hadn’t taken more than a few steps into the room. He hadn’t hugged his sister. He sounded much more angry than grieved.

And, Jace thought, as the two of them stared at each other, though he was no forensic psych like Claire or a law genius like Nick, hadn’t this guy just spewed out at least two things that would suggest Ben Hoffman’s death wasn’t an accident? That maybe Ann Hoffman—Brit too—had benefited from his demise financially, and Lane himself emotionally?

* * *

Though it had been a hellish day earlier, Nick broke out a bottle of congratulatory champagne to toast Bronco and Nita. Claire and Gina kept fussing over her engagement ring.

“Pretty, huh?” Nick overheard Heck ask Gina. “You want one like that?”

“Maybe someday,” she told him with a tight smile and a toss of her dark hair.

Nick liked Gina, their Cuban refugee. She was bright and perceptive, which he was used to in Claire. Gina had picked up on the fact that Claire was wavering with exhaustion and had taken over hostess duties, insisting Claire stay put and telling the radiant Nita this was her special night and she should sit still while Gina brought in the goblets for Nick to pour the champagne.

Then Gina put dishes in the dishwasher while Claire and Nick said good-night to the newly engaged couple.

“So romantic, so bonita in the moonlight by the gazebo he built,” Nita was telling them at the front door.

Nick had his arm around Claire’s waist, in a way propping her up. He had to get her late-night meds into her, get her to bed. But he should have known his sweetheart had insisted on walking Bronco and Nita to the door for a special reason. He wasn’t surprised that she brought up a plan they had discussed recently.

“Nick and I would like to offer our gazebo, backyard and home for the wedding, if you want,” Claire told them.

“Right,” Nick put in. “You two talk it over and let us know. Or, if you want to be married in a church, the reception could be here. Just if you want—no pressure either way.”

Nodding madly, Nita started to cry again. “Lexi, she can be a flower child,” she told them.

“Flower girl,” Bronco whispered, his arm around her waist. “It would be a great honor—a great gift to us, but we buy the food and drinks, sí? If you two would stand with us, best man and best lady of honor, it could be here. You both already been so good to us. We’ll say yes now, ’cause we got reminded today that life can be over fast, bad things hit people they don’t see coming. Joy in life comes to you, but maybe teeth and claws too.”

As Claire and Nick went back inside, Nick said, “Pretty profound from Bronco.” Heck and Gina were heading toward them, holding hands. They said their goodbyes, then, when they were finally alone, Nick told Claire, “Now let’s get you to bed.”

“You’ll take the case if they ask you, right? It will be cut and dried, obviously an accident.”

“Just don’t you get involved. Obviously is a dangerous word in the practice of law.”

“And for forensic psychs who need to rely on observations, not feelings. I’m just so tired I’m not thinking straight—obviously.”

He kissed her, locked the front door behind them and led her toward the master bedroom, thinking with relief that there could not possibly be another day like this one.

6

Claire stepped into the room that had bars all around it. She was trapped and afraid. Ahead in the cage were two identical doors. She had to protect herself, save Lexi and her new baby. Where was Nick?

The bigger question was—where was the tiger?

Her mother was reading a story out loud to her called The Lady and the Tiger. The tiger was behind one of the doors, and Nick was behind the other. She was being forced to choose by the king in trial by ordeal... If she chose the door with Nick, she was safe. If she chose the one with the tiger...