Happy Hour Page 5

  Alex nodded but said nothing, leaving an empty space in the conversation I felt compelled to fill with more explanation. “I really thought I’d never have to see him again. I’d wished for nothing more. Well, that and for scorpions to crawl into his underwear and sting him unmercifully.”

  When I finished, I realized my shoulders were sitting somewhere just south of my earlobes. Nothing like seeing the ex to stress you out. Pushing them down to where they belonged, I sighed, but then Alex reached across the table to take my hand in his and smiled at me.

  “Things are different now, Poppy. You’re with me, we’re happy, and we’re planning our first trip away together. By the way, have you come around to my idea of the hotel with the jetted tub and fireplace in the room?”

  With every word that came out of his mouth, I felt my stress melt away. Smiling for the first time since before Jared interrupted my fantasy of Alex and me in one of those tubs together, I said, “It’s going to be summer. I can’t imagine we’ll need a fireplace in the middle of July.”

  He winked and said, “We will after we get out of the tub and lay around naked.”

  My eyes grew as wide as saucers, and I looked around to see if anyone else had heard what he’d said. The grin on his face looked full of mischief and way too sexy for early morning at The Grounds.

  “I’m not used to you being so…”

  I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Alex and I had certainly moved past the point where I wondered if we’d ever sleep together, but we hadn’t gotten to where either one of us mentioned it so openly, except when we were in private.

  “Everyone knows we’re together, Poppy. I doubt they think we get together at night and play Scrabble. We’re two consenting adults.”

  “Sitting in the town coffee shop talking about taking a bath in a jetted tub, drying off in front of a fireplace, and sex,” I whispered. “This is Sunset Ridge, Alex, and I was the latest addition to the old maids club until recently.”

  “Well, they’re going to have to go on without you because you’re with me now.”

  I truly loved him and how he could make me feel better, even after having a run-in with the one man who had made me doubt myself more than anyone else in the world. “So what about this hotel choice? No bungalow?” I asked with a smile while secretly dying to get to the hotel room with that tub now.

  His phone vibrated against his hip, and he lifted it to see who’d messaged him. “The great hotel debate will have to wait. I know who the owner of that car is and we need to go talk to him.”

  He stood to leave and tossed his coffee cup in the nearby garbage before pointing to my cup. Handing it to him, I smiled as I watched him throw mine away.

  When he pressed his palm to my lower back to guide me out of the shop, I quietly said, “You win. We’ll go to the hotel with the tub and the fireplace.”

  Smiling, he whispered in my ear as we walked through the line leading to the register, “I knew if you thought about it you’d come to see it was a good idea.”

  I had a feeling when I saw the triumphant look he wore that he had known all along I’d end up agreeing with him.

  Chapter Five

  “So who is this Gerald Engels guy?” I asked as we drove down Main Street to the very man’s house at 317 Sycamore Street on the outskirts of town past the Hotel Piermont.

  Alex had said his name as we walked to the police cruiser but hadn’t said another word about him. He likely assumed I knew who he was, but the name didn’t sound familiar to me. He really had to stop thinking I knew everyone in town. I mean, I did know a lot of Sunset Ridge’s citizens, but that didn’t mean I knew everyone who lived there.

  My question was met with silence, so I asked again, this time with frustration tacked on to every word. “Alex, are you going to tell me who Gerald Engels is? And please don’t say you thought I’d know who he is.”

  He stopped the car at the last traffic light in town where Serpentine Road met Sycamore Street and stared straight ahead for a moment before saying, “He’s the owner of the car Marcus Tyne was found dead in.”

  Okay. So why all the pregnant pauses and strange silence?

  “That’s good to know. But is there something wrong that you’re not telling me? You don’t look very happy about going to speak to him,” I said as the light turned green and we turned onto Sycamore.

  Alex shook his head, quickly dismissing my concerns. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  But I knew differently. I’d spent enough time around him to know when something wasn’t right with my partner. Maybe he thought going to see Gerald Engels would put me in danger. Our victim had been found dead in his car. Maybe Engels was the one who killed him.

  So I tried to ease his mind about that possibility. “You know, I can stay in the car if you think this might be dangerous. I don’t want to, but if it would make you feel better about things, I’m fine with it.”

  I didn’t like the idea at all, to be honest, but if that made the worried look leave his face, it was a small price to pay.

  He looked over at me and smiled. “I’m not anticipating any problems when we interview Gerald Engels, so you don’t have to sit in the car, Poppy.”

  “You don’t? Don’t you consider this Engels a suspect since Marcus Tyne was found dead in his car?”

  Alex’s smile spread across his face. “Not necessarily. It would seem to me that if someone wanted to murder Mr. Tyne, the dumbest thing to do would be to make his own car the murder scene. I don’t know Gerald Engels, but I’m not assuming he’s that stupid.”

  I thought about this line of reasoning and couldn’t disagree. That would be pretty dumb to leave that kind of clue right back to you, if you’re the murderer. But if he wasn’t worried going to see Engels would be dangerous, why was he acting so strange?

  “Okay, Alex, let’s lay our cards on the table. What is up with you?”

  Stopping the car in front of a small, white house, he put it in park and turned to look at me with an expression that told me he had no idea what I was referring to. “Nothing’s up, Poppy. What are we laying our cards on the table about?”

  Frustration settled in and I threw my hands up. “You’ve been acting weird this whole ride. Is this because of seeing my ex?”

  He shook his head, but his mouth turned down slightly into a frown. “No. I took care of that. At least I think I did.”

  “Then what’s going on with you? You’ve looked worried the whole time we’ve been in this car, and if it isn’t that Gerald Engels could be a dangerous murderer, albeit a sloppy one, then what’s with the worried face?”

  Alex brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my palm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Poppy. My face is just like it always is. I think you’re reading into things that aren’t there.”

  That was the second time in one morning he’d said that. Now I knew something was wrong. Whenever he told me I was reading into a situation too much, it never failed that later he admitted something had been wrong but he didn’t want to talk about it. Alex Montero was nothing if not reliable in his reactions. I just didn’t know what he was reacting to at the moment to upset him.

  But there was no point in talking about it now. When he was ready to discuss whatever the problem was, he would. I’d learned that much from being around him for the past year.

  So I let it go, knowing we’d talk about it sometime in the near future.

  “Okay, you’re probably right. You know how I am. I love to see things that aren’t really there. It’s my active imagination.”

  That actually came out a bit more snide than I’d intended, but he didn’t react to my sarcasm and instead nodded like he approved that I’d given up for the moment. “Good. Now let’s go in and see what Gerald Engels can tell us about why Marcus Tyne would be lying dead in his car early this morning.”

  We walked up the creaky wooden stairs that led to the equally rundown wrap-around porch to the Engels’ residence, and Alex knocke
d on the front door. As we waited in silence, I wondered how long it had been since the house had been taken care of since the paint on the door had practically all peeled off and the same thing had begun on the house itself. Gerald Engels clearly wasn’t a man who took care of where he lived.

  After a few minutes of waiting, Alex knocked again, this time much harder. I wondered if anyone was home, so I looked in through the front windows that desperately needed a good cleaning and saw the TV on. In a chair nearby sat a man.

  “Someone’s in there. I can see them. Maybe they can’t hear you knock. Bang a little harder,” I said as I watched the man just sit staring at the TV.

  Alex did as I suggested and slammed his hand against the door three times. Thinking out loud, I said, “If he can’t hear that, maybe he’s dead too.”

  Just then, I saw the man stand up slowly from the recliner and begin to make his way toward the front door. Joining Alex, I said, “He heard that one.”

  “Good. I was beginning to think we had a second crime on our hands.”

  The door opened and there in front of us stood a man who looked to be slightly shorter than six foot with disheveled brown hair and in clothes so wrinkled they looked like he’d worn them for days. Worst of all, his eyes had a vacant feel to them that unnerved me.

  “Gerald Engels, I’m Officer Alex Montero and this is Poppy McGuire. We’d like to talk to you for a few minutes about Marcus Tyne.”

  The mention of our victim’s name elicited no reaction whatsoever from Mr. Engels. He simply stared out through the screen door at us and then turned around to walk back into the house.

  Alex and I looked at each other completely baffled at his behavior. “Do you think he’s drunk or high?” I asked, trying to come up with some reason for what had just happened.

  “I have no idea, but I want to find out,” Alex said, opening the front door. “You might have been right about the danger, though, so stay alert, Poppy. Okay?”

  His concern for me filled his dark eyes, but I wasn’t worried about what would happen so much as curious about why Mr. Engels seemed so out of it.

  Following Alex into the house, I saw what might be considered a pack rat’s home. Knickknacks and collectables cluttered shelves and anywhere there may have been an open space. The only spot spared was on top of the TV. Some things looked old, like the dozens of jelly jar glasses my grandmother used to have from the 1970s that lined the countertop in the kitchen.

  This place certainly wasn’t like a usual bachelor pad I’d ever seen.

  Gerald Engels had returned to his brown recliner to watch some show about fly fishing. At least that might have explained the vacant look he wore when he answered the door.

  “Mr. Engels, I’m Officer Montero and this is Poppy McGuire. Are you okay?” Alex asked as he positioned himself between the man and the TV to block his view.

  But still Gerald Engels didn’t react in the slightest.

  “Sir, is there something wrong?” he asked, louder this time.

  Finally, the man looked up at Alex and the fact that he had two people standing in his living room registered in his brain. “Who are you?” he asked slowly.

  Alex pushed down his frustration and once again explained who we were before saying, “We need to speak to you about your car, sir.”

  Gerald Engels looked up at him, his mouth hanging open. “My car?”

  “Yes, your car. Where is your car, Mr. Engels?”

  “My car? What car?”

  “Your car, a 2010 Acura TL. Do you know where that car is? Was it stolen because we have no record of it reported stolen?” Alex said as Engels tilted his head and stared toward the TV.

  He seemed truly lost about what Alex kept saying. “I think he’s trying to watch his fly fishing show through your legs.”

  Turning around, Alex shut off the TV before asking Engels once more, “Sir, are you okay? Do you understand what I’m saying? We’re here about your car, your 2010 Acura TL.”

  Still the man didn’t respond, so I said, “Let me try.”

  I crouched down next to the recliner and asked, “Are you okay, Mr. Engels? Is there something wrong?”

  After a second or two, he looked down at me with a vacant stare and slowly shook head. “I don’t think I am.”

  Gently, I touched his hand and asked, “What’s wrong? Did you take something?”

  In a quiet voice, he said, “I don’t know where I am.”

  I looked up at Alex in surprise and saw his shock at Engels’ answer. Something was definitely wrong with him.

  In my sweetest voice, I explained, “You’re at your house, Mr. Engels. This is your house.”

  He slowly turned his head and looked around like everything in the room was foreign to him and said again, “I don’t know where I am.”

  I looked up at Alex and said, “I think we have a problem here. He doesn’t seem to know what’s going on.”

  Alex asked, “Gerald, do you know what day it is?”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it before opening it again, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. “I don’t feel well. I have a headache. I feel sick.”

  I leapt to my feet, suddenly worried something bad could happen to this man if we didn’t get him to a doctor immediately. “We need to take him to the hospital, Alex. Something’s very wrong with him, and I don’t think we have time to wait for an ambulance.”

  Alex sprang into action, lifting Gerald Engels out of his chair and steadying him on his feet. Barely able to walk, he leaned heavily on Alex as the two of us helped him out to the police cruiser and put him in the back seat. I hopped into the passenger seat as Alex turned on the flashing lights and pressed the gas to the floor.

  We raced down Sycamore onto Serpentine Road through the red lights near the Hotel Piermont and all along Main Street as I watched Gerald Engels get progressively sicker. Worried we wouldn’t get him help in time, I said to Alex, “Can you drive faster? I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  “Poppy, I’m going fifty already. The people in this town aren’t used to lights or sirens meaning anything, which makes racing through town twice as hard since I have to keep an eye out to make sure I don’t run anyone over. I’m going as fast as I can.”

  I heard the fear in his voice that I felt too. Gerald Engels seemed to be fading away right before my eyes, and I didn’t know why or how to stop it.

  He looked like he would pass out at any second, so I took his hand and held it as I tried to keep him calm. “It’s okay, Gerald. We’re taking you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, all right? Stay with me and try to keep those eyes open.”

  “I don’t know…I don’t feel right,” he mumbled as his eyelids fluttered closed.

  “I think he passed out!” I yelled in a panic. “Are we almost there yet?”

  Alex cut the tires hard to the right to turn onto Anderson Street where Sunset Ridge Regional Hospital sat at the very end of the road. Squeezing Gerald’s hand, I tried to get him to look at me. If only he could stay awake just for a few seconds more.

  “Gerald! Stay with me!” I yelled into the backseat. “We’re almost there. Stay with me!”

  His eyes flew open, and he clutched his chest as he cried out, “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

  Just then, Alex slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in front of the Emergency Room entrance. He and I jumped out, and while he ran to get someone to help us, I tried to soothe Gerald’s fears.

  Sitting next to him in the backseat, I stroked his arm as he continued to complain he couldn’t breathe. “We’re at the hospital now. They’re going to take care of you. Just stay with me and you’ll be okay, Gerald.”

  Two orderlies ran out to take him into the Emergency Room, leaving me standing at the car exhausted. I didn’t even know Gerald Engels, but the thought of him dying bothered me. I began to choke up, and when Alex came back to the car, I turned away so he couldn’t see how overcome the w
hole situation had made me.

  He put his hand on my shoulder and quietly said, “He’s going to be okay. You did great, Poppy. You really did.”

  I tried to will the tears away, but it was no use. They rolled down my cheeks as I wiped them away and made excuses for my emotions. “I’ll be okay. I just guess it was all a bit much.”

  After I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, I turned around to see him smiling at me. “You were fantastic with that whole thing, you know that?” he said sweetly.

  “I just hope we got there in time, Alex. Can we go in and see how he’s doing?”

  “Sure.”

  As we walked into the ER, I asked him, “Do you think whoever killed Marcus Tyne tried to kill Gerald too?”

  “I don’t know, but something happened to him. I want to know what.”

  A crowd of hospital personnel in blue scrubs raced past us toward one of the patient rooms as a voice on the intercom announced, “Code Blue ER! Code Blue ER!”

  “What’s a code blue?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t for Gerald Engels.

  Alex pulled me toward the wall as doctors and nurses tore down the hallway toward that same room. “It’s a code for cardiac arrest,” he said somberly.

  I looked down toward that makeshift room just as a nurse yanked the curtains closed around it and my heart sank. What had happened to make him so sick so quickly? We’d just been talking to him at his house a few minutes before and now he may have been lying on a hospital gurney in cardiac arrest.

  Choking up from emotion again, I pushed down everything I felt and followed Alex as he walked to the nurses’ station at the far end of the room. I couldn’t fall apart every time something terrible happened if I wanted to continue working on cases with him.

  “We just brought Gerald Engels in. I need to know when he’s stable enough to talk,” Alex said to a harried looking woman with three pencils stuck in her disheveled blond bun as she hung up the phone that immediately rang again. Handing her his card, he added, “Please contact me at this number.”

  She took the card and nodded as she answered the phone. “Okay, Officer Montero. I’ll make sure you know when he’s able to talk to the police.”