Chapter Four

Thursday, September 8, 2022

"Hey, Mom!" Violet called as she walked into her mother's house on Thursday evening. "Geez, Mom. What the hell?"

Scrunching her nose, she resigned herself to taking a shower when she left. Her mother was back to smoking in the house again, and no doubt that stench would be stuck to her when she left.

"Back here!" Daphne called. "I'm on the porch."

Violet headed for the back door, glancing into the kitchen to see what condition the house was in. It all depended on her mother's mood, and since those were a roller coaster on a good day, she never knew what to expect.

"Not bad," she muttered, admiring the glossy shine of the countertops. Looked as though Whitney had taken to keeping things clean because even the sink was sparkling. There was a fresh bouquet of roses on the bar, although Violet figured they would choke to death from the stench of nicotine and tar in no time.

"Mom, it doesn't help if you keep the door open when you smoke out here," she told her mother as she joined her on the back patio.

"I usually have it closed. I was waitin' for you."

"For me or for Dad?"

Daphne waved her off. "I'm done with that man."

"This week?"

"Quit givin' me a hard time and sit down."

Violet pulled up one of the chairs, brushed the leaves off the seat, and sat down. "Where's Whit?"

"She was gonna get groceries on the way home. What brings you by?"

"Just checkin' in. Haven't seen you in a minute."

Her mother frowned. "What does that even mean? In a minute? You have seen me in a minute because you've been here for more than a minute."

Violet smiled because she knew it was rhetorical. Her mother was always giving them a hard time about the words and phrases they used.

"What's goin' on with you?" Daphne asked. "That happened before a minute ago."

She chuckled. "Not much. Just workin'."

"Sales good?"

"I'll never be rich ownin' a bookstore, but yeah, sales are good."

"How're Harry and Hermione?"

"Perfect," she said, unable to hide her smile.

"Elana?"

"She's good. Busy helpin' JJ with Brantley's wedding preparations. You plannin' to go to that?"

"Of course. My brother would disown me if I didn't celebrate everything his kids did," she muttered, staring off into the yard.

Daphne and Frank had a strained relationship. Then again, Daphne had a strained relationship with just about all of her brothers and sisters. Violet knew her mother was self-conscious about the choices she'd made and constantly worried everyone was judging her. Because of that, she was often bitter and angry.

"How's Spencer?"

"I guess he's busy. I haven't seen him in a few days."

"That boy works too hard," Daphne said.

"You always say that, Mom."

"Because it's true. Maybe if he'd take a minute to enjoy life, the two of you could become more than friends."

Violet snorted. "I love him, Mom. But not like that. Never like that."

Because she was keeping Spencer's secret when it came to what went down with Slade's wife, she couldn't tell her mother—or anyone for that matter—that Spencer was gay and only pretended to be bisexual to keep up the ruse. It would cause far too many questions.

"That's too bad." Daphne took a drag on her cigarette, blew out the smoke. "What about the guy I heard you were talkin' to at the store the other night?"

"How'd you hear about that?" Violet deflected.

"Does it matter? What's his name?"

"Simon," she told her, shrugging it off. "He's a friend of Holt's."

"The writer guy?"

"Yeah. He's just in town for a few days to talk to Holt about a story."

"Is he a writer, too?"

"Journalist," Violet said because it was simpler than explaining what a podcast was.

Daphne stabbed out her cigarette and reached for another.

"Mother," she snapped. "Give your lungs a break. Shit."

"You mind your business. I'll mind mine." She put the cigarette between her lips and let it bob as she spoke. "Why were you hangin' out with him?"

Violet wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but she knew better. Daphne was sensitive, and while she could be a world-class bitch when she wanted to be, Violet knew it was because she was lonely and heartbroken much of the time.

"He was there. We just started talkin'."

"Are you gonna see him again?"

"It wasn't a date," Violet clarified. "He's not stickin' around."

"That's the best kind, isn't it?" Her mother flashed a smile. "The kind who can't break your heart because they won't be around long enough to have it."

"I don't even wanna waste my time with him," she said honestly, wanting to keep her mother from venturing into her bitter reflection of her relationship with Harold.

"Why not? Somethin' wrong with him?"

"He's nice."

"Nice?" Her mother's eyes widened. "And you consider that a bad thing?"

"We're cursed, Mom. Remember?"

Daphne took a drag of her cigarette. "We are that." Smoke billowed from between her lips as she spoke. "Look at your sister. She's hoppin' from one loser to the next?"

"Amanda?" Violet asked because, as far as she knew, Whitney hadn't dated anyone since she moved back to Coyote Ridge, so she wasn't doing any hopping. And Honor had been seeing Luca for what felt like forever.

"That girl's got the same taste in men I do," her mother muttered. "If there's a loser in sight, she's gonna latch onto him."

Violet didn't bother trying to placate her. There was no reason to. Her mother continued to take scraps from her father, proving that her decision-making skills when it came to men were questionable.

"I thought she was gettin' engaged?" Again. Violet left off that part since her sister's first failed marriage was a point of contention for everyone.

Her mother took another drag from the cancer stick. "Turned out the ring she found wasn't for her."

Oh, man. That had to suck. No wonder Amanda was avoiding her calls. They weren't close, but Violet attempted to check in with her older sisters every couple of weeks to see how things were going.

"Who was it for?"

Daphne met her gaze. "The guy's wife."

"Oh, shit. He was married?"

"Yup."

"It's the curse," Violet muttered.

"You should go out with this nice guy," Daphne said, stabbing her cigarette out.

"Me? Why?"

"Maybe if you do, it'll lift the curse, and we might get some of our sanity back."

"Why would it work like that?" Violet asked, laughing.

"Why wouldn't it?"

Hmm. If only it were that easy.

·····

"A dog daycare?" Simon asked, positive he'd heard them wrong.

"It's true," Rafe confirmed, shaking his head as though he didn't believe it either.

Holt nodded.

"Yes," Bailey told him, giggling. "Why're you having such a hard time with that?"

The four of them had shared dinner in the dining room since the only other guest at the B and B had opted to have her meal delivered to her room rather than eat with others. According to Bailey, that was a common theme among their guests.

"Because you used dog and daycare in the same sentence," Simon answered.

"Don't tell me your brother wouldn't take his dog to a daycare," Holt said, pointing at Simon.

That made him grin because, yeah, Simon could see his brother, Corbin, taking his Yorkie to a dog daycare. That was if the man didn't take him to work with him daily. Which he did.

Bailey laughed.

Simon looked between Holt and Rafe. "My brother aside, people actually use dog daycares?"

"More than you'd expect," Holt said, grinning.

Bailey got up, grabbing two of the plates.

"Let me help with that," Rafe said, taking the plates from her.

While Rafe assisted Bailey with the dishes, Simon let that sink in, imagining his brother dropping off and picking up Pickles every morning and night. Since he'd never owned a pet—not even a fish—he had a difficult time picturing it.

"I think you should talk to Brantley and Reese," Holt stated, interrupting the silence.

Not sure they'd ventured off the subject of dog daycares, Simon frowned. "Because they take their dog to the daycare?"

Holt rolled his eyes. "About what I told you."

"Ah. We're back on Meredith Prescott." Simon took a sip of his tea. "You think they have information you don't have?"

"Not necessarily. However, they were involved in tracking down Juliet Prince."

Simon shook his head. "I'm still tryin' to understand which angle you're playin' here. Are we lookin' at what happened to Meredith Prescott? Or at what happened to Kylie Walker?"

"I think they're somehow tied together."

"That's what I'm havin' a problem with," Simon told him. "I really don't see it." He held up a hand before Holt could cut him off. "We know Juliet Prince kidnapped Kylie's daughter, right?"

"Yes."

"During a school field trip."

"Yes. Juliet grabbed Kate while the class was visiting the Capitol."

Simon held his friend's stare, breaking it down as he remembered it. "She did it because she blamed Travis for her husband leavin' her and gettin' full custody of their daughter. And we know Juliet went off the deep end and wanted revenge against Travis, who she blamed since the woman Juliet's husband ended up with was one they'd interacted with during a visit to Alluring Indulgence."

Holt nodded. "Yes."

"Somewhere along the way, Brantley and Reese got involved with the search for Travis's daughter, tracked her down, and went to Mississippi to rescue Kate?"

"Correct."

"And we know that Juliet Prince was killed during a mugging gone wrong down in—"

"We don't know that," Holt interjected.

"That's what the official police investigation states."

"It does, yes. But why would they assume it was a mugging when Juliet was found in her own motel room?" Holt asked, sounding irritated. "She had two hundred thousand dollars in cash. I don't give a shit if there was an altercation. A mugger's not gonna leave that kind of money behind."

"Good point. Unless he or she freaked out and ran, as the police believe."

"Convenient story," Holt muttered. "But they aren't seeing that a man associated with Maximillian Adorite was in Port Isabel at the same time."

"Just out of curiosity, how many people do you think the Adorites associate with? Have you ever heard of six degrees of separation?" Simon countered. "It could be a complete coincidence—"

"Bullshit," Holt bellowed. "Don't even feed me that shit."

Simon laughed. "Okay, fine. I don't believe in coincidences, either. But according to your notes, Max's guy wasn't the only one down there. Sniper 1 Security filed a flight plan to Port Isabel that same day."

"They did, yes."

"If I recall correctly, Brantley Walker, Reese Tavoularis, Magnus Storme, Sebastian Buchanan, and Trey Walker were on that flight. And they were met by Decker Bromwell, another employee of Sniper 1 Security."

"They've all got alibis," Holt said, almost defensively. "They were caught on camera at Starbucks buying coffee at the time of her death."

"Very convenient. Almost as though they knew it was gonna go down."

Holt didn't respond, but Simon didn't need him to. They were both thinking the same thing. The Off the Books Task Force had been tipped off beforehand and had gone to that coffeeshop to ensure they were captured away from the crime scene.

"You mentioned Travis and Max are friends."

Holt's lips twitched. "I'm not sure they're friends, per se, but they know each other."

"And what? Max sicced his henchman on Juliet as a favor to Travis?"

"It's logical."

Yeah. It was. But he still didn't see how Meredith Prescott tied into any of it.

"I think it's worth talking to Brantley and Reese," Holt repeated. "They know things."

"And you think those things might help piece together this puzzle?"

"It definitely couldn't hurt."

Simon figured Holt was right. But until he met with Travis Walker, he wouldn't do anything. He needed to be certain that investigating this wouldn't do more harm than good.