Kill and Run (A Thorny Rose Mystery Book 1) Page 11

“Do what?” Stepping back from the wall, Murphy took a long drink from his water bottle.

  Discovering that the chairs around the table spun, Izzy whirled around in the chair while asking her questions. “Meditate? Get up real early in the morning and stand on your head and all that stuff? Why? I mean … your wife is rich and you live in this big house and I saw that Ferrari that she drives. She’s obviously crazy about you. Why do you work and knock yourself out like that?”

  “I don’t consider it knocking myself out,” he answered, eying the green car down below. “I consider it a blessing to have my time alone to talk to God in the morning. I look forward to it. It makes me feel connected to Him and better able to handle what life throws at me.”

  “Like catching my mom’s killer?” Stopping in her seat, she looked straight at Murphy, daring him to answer.

  He turned from where he was watching the red head watching his home. “Your mother and you are at the top of my prayer list.”

  The dare in her glare evaporated. They regarded each other in silence. Finally, she asked him in a soft voice, “You prayed to God for me?”

  “Yes,” Murphy said, “I pray for everyone I love—everyday.”

  Unable to respond, she shrugged while gazing down at her feet. Murphy touched her hand. Prying her stare from her feet, her big moist eyes met his. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Murphy searched his mind for an answer to her question. In the silence, he remembered asking that same question himself, the morning after his mother died. While he was seeking comfort and assurance, he also wanted the truth. You’re going to be okay isn’t going to cut it.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen to you,” Murphy replied in a soft voice. “But I do know this … Whatever happens, you aren’t going to be alone.”

  “I’m already alone,” she replied.

  Glancing around the deck, Murphy spread out his arms and turned around in a complete circle. “Hel-lo! What am I? Chopped liver? There’s another person here in case you haven’t noticed.” He flashed her a broad grin—dimples and all. “No, Curly Top, you’re not alone and you won’t be.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Izzy said. “Yeah, right now, I’m here with you and Princess Jasmine, but as soon as things settle down, and you catch Mom’s killer, or the case goes cold and you move on to rescuing other people, then I’m going to have to go someplace else. Some social worker will swoop in and take me to another place that smells bad like where you found me yesterday, and you and Princess Jasmine will go on with your fancy-dancy lives and forget all about me.”

  “I don’t operate that way,” Murphy said.

  “Do you and the princess want to adopt me and let me live here forever?”

  Murphy wanted to say yes. Not so much because he wanted to adopt a teenaged girl, but because he wanted to prove to her that she was wrong about him and Jessica abandoning her as soon as the case was closed or worse, had gone cold. It’s just not realistic, Murph. You can’t go around adopting every lost kid. The brownstone isn’t big enough for everyone.

  “Guess that proves my point,” Izzy broke through his thoughts. “I’m alone.”

  Murphy said, “Just because we can’t adopt you doesn’t mean that we don’t care about you, or that we won’t do everything in our power to make sure you don’t end up in the system and alone. We’ll be here for you whenever you need anything.”

  He pulled a chair around and sat down next to her. “Maybe if we can find your father, he—”

  “I don’t have a father,” she said in a firm tone. “I already told that detective and the social worker that.”

  “Everyone has a father,” Murphy said. “Just because he hasn’t been a part of your life up until now doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be willing to step in if he knew what had happened to your mother. He could even be a suspect. What do you know about him? Do you know his name?”

  Izzy turned to Murphy. A cold glare came to her eyes before she replied, “He was a rapist and Mom wouldn’t tell me his name.”

  Murphy swallowed. “Your mother was raped?”

  Izzy slowly nodded her head. “She only told me a couple of years ago because I kept asking her to tell me about him. She said he raped her and he got away with it.”

  “He wasn’t caught?”

  Izzy shrugged her shoulders while shaking her head. “Mom didn’t tell me the whole story. All she said was that he was one of those people who doesn’t have to follow the rules.” A spark of fury came to her eyes.

  “I don’t believe that,” Murphy said.

  “She said he was never arrested or charged or anything,” Izzy said, “because he was—”

  “There aren’t two different set of laws,” Murphy said, “one for the rich and a different set for the rest of us. Unfortunately, there are people responsible for enforcing those laws who are too weak to stand up to those who think they are above the law. If your mother knew who raped her, then it wasn’t the system who failed her and you, it was the cowards in the system who allowed themselves to be intimidated into letting him get away with it.”

  “So what are you saying?” Izzy asked. “Are you going to find my daddy and put him in jail? Like I want to go live with my daddy the rapist? Still doesn’t solve my problem.”

  “No, that won’t solve your problem.” Murphy leaned in close to her and grinned. “You’re my friend, and I make it a point to never let my friends down.”

  Izzy met his gaze. A weak smile came to her lips.

  “You’re going to be okay, Izzy. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you … I promise.”

  “Tristan, what are you doing cooking breakfast in my kitchen instead of yours?” Jessica charged into the kitchen so abruptly that her brother jumped from where he was buttering toast.

  The slice flew off the counter and dropped into Spencer’s waiting mouth. With a joyful bounce in her step, Spencer raced into the living room to show off her prize to Newman.

  “My kitchen is too wet to cook in.” Pushing his dark framed eyeglasses up onto his nose with the back of his hand, Tristan took another slice of bread out of the pack, dropped it into the toaster, and pushed down the lever. “Murphy doesn’t eat bread, does he?”

  “Only organic whole wheat and not very often,” Jessica said. “He’s not a fan of carbs.”

  With the butter knife, Tristan pointed at the blender containing a green frothy drink. “I made a kale protein smoothie for him.”

  She started to ask where her brother had found the recipe for Murphy’s breakfast smoothie until she’d noticing Tristan’s tablet resting upright on the counter with the webpage of a healthy recipe site displayed.

  “It’s got all kinds of green disgusting stuff in it,” Tristan said. “Murphy will love it.”

  Tristan was a third year undergraduate student at George Washington University with a double major in natural science and computer engineering. With a tall, lanky build and dark framed eye glasses, Tristan Faraday resembled the computer geek he was, of which he was quite proud.

  “What do you mean your kitchen is too wet to cook in?” Jessica peered into the aquarium resting on their dining room table. “It’s true. You did bring her.”

  “I guess you didn’t see the news this morning.” Tristan opened the oven door. “When did you and Murphy decide to adopt?”

  “We didn’t.” While peering into the aquarium, Jessica shuddered when she saw the huge, black, hairy tarantula looking straight at her. “Why can’t you have a more normal pet—like a pit bull?”

  “You have to walk pit bulls.” Tristan plopped a warm plate filled with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and two slices of bacon onto the table—at the opposite end from Monique. “Here you go, sis.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now you can’t say I never did anything for you. Who’s the kid I fed a little bit ago?”

  Uttering a l
ow bark, Newman came into the dining room and stomped his big feet at the end of his short legs. At the same moment, the slice of toast popped up from the toaster. Tristan took the toast and tossed it to the dog as if it was a Frisbee. Instead of jumping to catch it, Newman watched it fly over his head. Once it hit the floor, he picked it up and returned to the living room to resume watching the morning business and financial news.

  Tristan dropped another slice of bread into the toaster and pushed down on the handle. “Toast is on the way, sis.”

  Jessica asked, “Are you telling me you fed breakfast to someone without asking who she was and what she was doing in our home?”

  Tristan came out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee, which he placed in front of Jessica. He also placed the cream and sugar next to it. “Maybe she thought I was the cook. I came out of the kitchen and caught her trying to take Monique out of the aquarium.”

  “Izzy was trying to take your tarantula out of the tank?” Jessica stopped with her fork in mid-air.

  “She wanted to pet her,” Tristan said. “You’d be surprised what a chick magnet that arachnid is. So, I took Monique out and introduced them. Monique took right to the kid. She crawled up her arm and chilled out on her shoulder while this kid ate her breakfast. She must have good vibes. Monique likes her and,” he lowered his voice, “Monique doesn’t like just anyone.”

  “Izzy obviously loves animals and they seem to love her.” After blowing into the hot mug, Jessica took a sip of the hot coffee.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Her mother was murdered yesterday,” she said in a solemn tone. “Murphy is working the case.”

  “Oh.” Tristan hung his head while Jessica concentrated on moving the food around on her plate.

  “If I had known about her mother, I would have let her have the second pack of chocolate pop tarts.”

  “You gave her my pop tarts?” Jessica said

  “You can buy more. My biscuits are burning.”

  While her brother rushed into the kitchen, she called after him, “What happened to your townhouse?”

  “There was a water main break in Georgetown during the night,” Tristan said. “Flooded two whole city blocks. Guess which brownstone bore the brunt of it.”

  “Yours?”

  “The whole lower floor is under a foot and a half of water,” Tristan said. “By the time they drain it, I’m probably going to have to replace drywall and the hardwood floors—the first floor is going to need to be completely renovated.”

  “What about your roommates?” Jessica asked.

  “They both went back home to their folks.” With a wide coaxing grin, he wrapped his arms around Jessica. “Of course, since Dad lives in Deep Creek Lake, the only place I could go …”

  “Of course you can stay here.” Jessica returned the hug. “But I’m not so sure about Monique.”

  “I can’t leave her alone at the townhouse,” Tristan said.

  “Murphy hates Monique,” Jessica said. “He hates bugs.”

  “His sister loves Monique.” Tristan eased down into the chair next to her.

  “Sarah is not like her brother,” Jessica said. “Just like you’re into spiders and crawly things and I’m into high heels to stomp on those crawly things, Murphy and Sarah are two different people.”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “Speaking of Sarah …” Staring down the length of the table at the aquarium, he fell silent.

  Jessica dropped her fork. “What about Sarah?”

  “Well, you know she and I have been texting and skyping and … stuff.” He cleared his throat.

  “I knew you two had become friends.” Jessica’s brows practically met in the middle of her forehead. “’Don’t tell me it’s more than that.” She gasped. “Are you two sleeping together?”

  “No,” he replied sharply. “But if I play my cards right …”

  “Cards right?” Losing her appetite, she shoved the half-filled plate away. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

  “Uh … how long have you and Murphy been married?” He cocked his head at her. “I thought you’d be happy that I was finally dating again.”

  “Sarah is Murphy’s little sister,” Jessica said. “Think about it, Tristan. Murphy and I are married. One day, we’re going to have children.—”

  “Are you—” His eyes dropped to her stomach.

  Clutching her flat tummy, she glared. “No!”

  “Then why are you talking about having kids?”

  “Because one day we will!” With a grimace, she plunged on. “My point is—our two families are joined together with Murphy and me in the middle. Our dads are friends. Dad had selected Josh to be a groomsman at his wedding. If you have a fling with Sarah and things don’t work out, you two can’t just walk away and never see each other again. When Murphy and I have family gatherings here then people are going to be feeling awkward with each other.” She sighed. “If you really love Sarah, then go for it. You have my blessing. You’ll have Murphy’s, too. But, if this is just a pair of hormones calling to each other—then I suggest you go take a cold shower and walk away before it’s too late.”

  Tristan’s face fell with disappointment. “Problem is,” he said, “it may already be too late. I feel really good about how things are going with her, and Sarah was planning to come out next weekend. We were going to hook up.”

  Jessica was out of her seat. “Here?”

  “No, at my place, which is now under a foot of water,” Tristan said. “I was hoping you and Murphy would go away for the weekend so that—”

  “No!”

  “No what?” Murphy asked upon entering the dining room. He had his towel slung around his shoulders. Upon spotting the aquarium with the huge, hairy, tarantula, he pointed and yelled, “No, no, no, and hell no!”

  “That’s exactly what I was saying no to Tristan about,” Jessica recovered to explain.

  “I like Monique.” Izzy pulled up a chair and peered with wide eyes into the tank. “Can I hold her again?”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Murphy ordered Tristan before he could answer.

  “Tristan’s townhouse got flooded in a water line break, and he’s asked if he and Monique could stay here,” Jessica said.

  “Where?” Murphy asked.

  “You have two guestrooms,” Tristan pointed out.

  “But Izzy is staying in the one and Cameron is going to be in the guestroom off the loft,” Murphy said.

  “Cameron?” Tristan’s eyes grew wide. “Cameron as in your stepmother, married to your father, Cameron?”

  With a quizzical expression on his face, Murphy replied, “If she wasn’t married to my father, she wouldn’t be my stepmother.”

  “She’ll be here this afternoon,” Jessica said. “Tristan, the sofa in the rec room pulls out into a queen sized bed. You can stay down there until Cameron leaves. It should only be a few days.”

  “Is your dad coming to visit too?” Tristan asked Murphy in a voice that was one full pitch higher than normal.

  “No, he’s got a big court case, and Tracy has him up to his armpits in her wedding.” Murphy asked. “Why?” He chuckled. “Are you afraid of my dad?”

  “He carries a grenade launcher in the back of his SUV,” Tristan said.

  “Your dad carries a grenade launcher in the back of his SUV?” Izzy’s eyes were wide.

  “He only uses it when he has to,” Murphy replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “What does he do?” Izzy asked.

  “He’s a lawyer,” Jessica giggled.

  “Must be some bad-ass lawyer,” Izzy muttered before turning her attention back to Monique. “I wish I had a tarantula. If she has babies can I have one?”

  “She’s not going to have babies,” Tristan said.

  “Thank God,”
Murphy replied.

  “Why not?” Izzy asked. “You should get her a boyfriend. She probably gets lonely in that tank all by herself.”

  “Spiders don’t get lonely,” Murphy said.

  “How do you know?” Izzy asked him.

  “Yeah,” Jessica giggled. “You’re not a spider.”

  With a wink, Murphy told his wife, “I’ll explain it to you later … upstairs.”

  Tristan whispered to her, “I thought you already knew about the birds and the bees.”

  “But Mom never told me about spiders,” she replied in a low voice.

  “Can we get back on topic?” Murphy asked.

  “What were we talking about?” Jessica asked with a smile.

  “About getting Monique a boyfriend,” Izzy said.

  “No,” Murphy said.

  “You were about to say that Monique can stay,” Tristan said.

  “Not exactly.” Murphy gestured for him to follow him into the living room.

  Watching them leave the dining room, Izzy pried the lid up from the top of the tank and peered down at Monique, who was resting on top of an artificial log.

  “Don’t touch that spider,” Murphy called to her from the living room. “Drop that lid now.”

  Jumping back from the tank, Izzy allowed the lid to drop back down.

  In the living room, Newman raised his head from where he was resting it between his two front paws while watching People’s Court. A woman was suing her ex-boyfriend for a seven hundred dollar unpaid loan. Gloating over what she considered to be a great catch, his current girlfriend—the plaintiff’s former best friend—claimed the lawsuit was nothing more than a vengeful act by a woman scorned. “She’s just jealous because I have a man and she don’t!” the girlfriend claimed with a cocky swagger, while her deadbeat boyfriend beamed with pride over being the prize sought by the two squabbling women.

  With a groan, Newman slapped the remote with his paw. The channel switched to a profile of Bassett Hounds on Animal Planet.

  “How does he do that?” Tristan asked Murphy, who was peering out the window onto the street.

  “He’s self-taught,” Murphy replied. “Hey, I need you to hack into the DMV for me to check out a license plate.”