Killer in the Band Page 4

  Suellen met Cameron on the steps and took the dessert from her. “I’m Suellen Russell, the cougar Josh probably told you all about.”

  “And I’m Cameron, the evil stepmother J.J. told you about.”

  “A cougar and an evil stepmother.” Tad held the door open for them. “Sounds like your average dysfunctional American family.”

  Stepping across the two-story front foyer, Cameron took note of the pristine white appearance of the luxurious home. It was easy to see that Suellen Russell was a lover of the arts and that she especially enjoyed original oil paintings and artwork. An archway to the right opened into a spacious living room with a great bay window, which provided a view of the front gardens, the driveway, and the pastures. J.J. was introducing Joshua, Izzy, and Donny to a bay mare and to her colt who had come up to the fence.

  A giant antique mirror with an elaborate gold frame filled a wall at one end of the room, which made the room appear even more spacious than it otherwise would have. “The mirror has been passed down in my father’s family for four generations,” Suellen said. “I hate it. It makes me look fat.”

  The centerpiece of the living room was a baby grand piano. Cameron recognized J.J.’s acoustic guitar, which was resting against the piano bench. She also noticed that his violin case was resting against the wall. Sheet music was spread across the music stand and even on the floor around the bench.

  “Looks like Izzy is a horse lover,” Suellen said. “J.J. already told me all about his new baby sister. Congratulations to you and Joshua.”

  “We consider ourselves blessed.” Turning around, Cameron saw Tad take the pie from Suellen and hurry back to the kitchen. “She’s an animal lover. Within five minutes she’ll be asking for a horse and riding lessons.”

  “That would be great. I haven’t ridden since last summer, and they really don’t get ridden enough.” Suellen nodded in the direction of the black stallion who Izzy was trying to meet. J.J. warned her to stay away from him. “The stallion, Captain Blackbeard, is very high energy, and he hasn’t been ridden yet. He’s a tenth-generation descendant of the first Captain Blackbeard, an internationally ranked quarter horse. I doubt that Izzy’ll even be able to get close enough to pet him.”

  “I’m glad J.J.’s here to hold her back,” Cameron said.

  Suellen laughed. “My grandfather bred and trained the first Captain Blackbeard and took him all the way to London when he won the international quarter horse blue ribbon. My family has been continuing the line ever since.”

  “I thought you were a music conductor,” Cameron said.

  “I am,” she said. “I’ve tried my hand at this during the off-season. Clyde Brady has been doing the manual work, but he’s close to seventy, and while he says he intends to work until he drops, I don’t want to push him too hard. Last summer, Captain kicked him in the head. Stallions are very dangerous to work with—even for young men.”

  “All that testosterone,” Cameron said. “Human men are the same way.”

  “Clyde spent three days in the hospital.” With a frown, Suellen looked down at the horses in the pasture. “Those horses would make my mother turn over in her grave.”

  “Why?”

  “She felt about them the way I feel about a beautifully written composition,” Suellen said. “She feared that after she was gone, I would let Captain Blackbeard’s bloodline die out and let the herd go. I promised her that I wouldn’t. When I came back home last month, I saw that I had broken that promise. Since my folks died fifteen years ago, I’ve barely kept the bloodline going. Captain there is three years old, and those two colts are all he’s got. I haven’t done a show since my husband passed away ten years ago.” She sighed. “Neglect is a terrible thing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Suellen pointed out the window. “See that palomino mare?”

  The horse that Suellen was pointing to was so filthy that Cameron had a hard time believing she was a palomino. The horse was standing apart from the other horses. Izzy was trying to coax her up to the fence. The tan one with the blond mane reared up and bolted back behind the barn.

  “She’s five years old and has no name,” Suellen said. “She comes from a championship bloodline out west. Her previous owners decided they were going to get into showing quarter horses and paid a huge amount of money for her—and then they boarded her up at a farm and forgot about her. Never visited her. Never rode her. She’s never been touched. Just fed and watered and let out in a pasture once in a while.”

  “Sounds like jail,” Cameron said.

  “Pretty much,” Suellen said. “A friend of my mother’s heard about her and asked me to rescue her. She got here two weeks ago and won’t let anyone near her. Clyde is scared to death of her. Says we should just put her down.”

  “Speaking of Clyde—” Cameron cleared her throat. “I don’t know if J.J. mentioned that I’m a homicide detective for the Pennsylvania State Police.”

  Suellen’s eyes grew wide. “No, J.J. didn’t mention that.”

  “You’re probably aware that Clyde’s wife, Monica, was murdered in November—”

  “Yes, I am very aware of that. It’s tragic. They’d been married for forty-eight years. Clyde was devastated,” Suellen said. “He’s still not over it. Do you know who did it?”

  “Clyde found the killer standing over Monica’s body in their bed,” Cameron said. “He gave us a description of the killer. He was in his twenties. Long straight blond hair worn lose past his shoulders. Very thin, with a wiry build. Does that sound like anyone you know from the farm?”

  With a shake of her head, Suellen shrugged.

  “I have a composite sketch that we put together based on his description,” Cameron said. “I know now is not a convenient time. Can I come by tomorrow—”

  “Of course you can,” she replied. “I just can’t believe anyone would want to hurt Monica Brady. She was the sweetest woman. Always baking. When I was a little girl, I would run over there a couple of times a week—unannounced—and she would always have fresh cookies right out of the oven.”

  “Well, I promised Clyde that we’d catch the guy who did this.”

  “I hope you do,” Suellen said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. In the few weeks that I’ve been back, I’ve seen how lost Clyde is without her. He looks like he’s aged a dozen years since last fall. My heart goes out to him. That’s what pushed me to hire someone to work exclusively with the horses. Our vet recommended some breeders and trainers. We’re doing interviews on Wednesday.”

  Flashing a wide grin, she looked at J.J., who had brought forward a chestnut mare for Izzy to pet. “Now there’s a horse Izzy can ride. Daisy is as gentle as a new babe.”

  “Izzy’s never ridden a horse,” Cameron said.

  “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

  When Suellen stepped through a sunbeam streaming through the skylights in the foyer, Cameron was startled to see her complexion.

  At first glance, Suellen Russell was elegance personified. Slender as a runway model, she moved with the grace of a ballet dancer. Her years of living and working in the metropolitan were reflected in her ultrashort dark hair and in the long, flowing blue-and-violet top she was wearing over her faded jeans.

  However, when Suellen stepped into the bright sun, Cameron got a clear look at her complexion. Underneath her heavy makeup, she was pale to the point of looking ashen.

  In the kitchen, Tad had already cut the pie into slices and put them on plates. “I’m assuming this is Tracy’s apple pie.” He shot a wicked grin in Cameron’s direction.

  “Tad, have you ever known me to bake a pie?” she asked while taking note of the corner of Tad’s medical bag, which he had hidden behind the china closet. “Luckily, Cricksters had one left.”

  “Hey, Cameron!” Izzy said as she shot through the back door li
ke a blond curly-haired streak. “You should see the inside of that barn! I counted eight cats. J.J. says they have at least a dozen!”

  “That we know of,” J.J. said as he followed her inside.

  “And you’re not taking any home with you,” Joshua said as he followed J.J. inside.

  “They also have chickens,” Izzy said. “And a rooster named Charley!”

  To Cameron’s surprise, everyone else in the kitchen laughed.

  Donny’s face turned red while Izzy continued. “He’s huge! As big as a turkey!” She pointed in Donny’s direction. “And he attacked Donny! Pecked him right in the head!” Reaching up, she pecked her brother in the head with her fingers.

  Spotting a slice of apple pie, Donny turned his back on the embarrassing story so that he could soothe himself with dessert.

  Giggling, Suellen said, “Most people have watch dogs. We have a watch rooster. Charley is the toughest rooster on this side of the Mississippi.”

  “Clyde accidentally hit him with his truck. Feathers went flying everywhere, and Charley survived,” Tad said as he poured lemonade from a pitcher that he’d taken out of the fridge into glasses that he’d lined up on the kitchen counter.

  “And he’s had it out for Clyde ever since,” Suellen said.

  “I wish we lived on a farm,” Izzy said. “There are animals everywhere you look.” She pointed her finger at the kitchen window. “Like right now! There’s Charley!”

  Peering through the kitchen window, a huge white rooster turned his head to and fro. Upon spotting Donny, Charley spread his wings and let out a loud caw.

  “I think he’s got your number, Bro,” J.J. said with a laugh.

  “All of these critters have to be taken care of,” Joshua said. “It’s a full-time job. I know. When I was growing up, I’d spend a couple of weeks to a month living at Tad’s family’s dairy farm during the summer. It was half the size of this farm, and I had to get up at five o’clock every morning to go milk the cows and clean the barn. Then when I was in high school—”

  “You earned money to buy your first car by getting up at five o’clock every morning to drive out to the farm to milk the cows and clean the barn,” J.J. said with a groan. “Every morning, all through high school, rain or shine. Murphy and I heard all about it when we wanted our first cars.”

  “It’s hard work,” Tad said. “But depending on where your heart is, hard work can be a labor of love.”

  Cameron noticed that J.J. had quietly taken a seat next to Suellen and draped his arm across the back of her chair. Looking at her with tenderness in his eyes, he rubbed her back. “Tad, how long have you and Suellen known each other?” she asked.

  Suellen laughed. “Is that your way of asking my age? I’ve known Tad my whole life. Forty-eight years.”

  “Kind of young to be retiring from conducting the orchestra, isn’t it?” Joshua asked. “Tad told me that you had retired—”

  “Clark, my late husband, left me a third of his company when he died several years ago. Plus the orchards and the dairy farm are very successful. I wasn’t getting that much enjoyment from conducting anymore.”

  “It was time for a change,” J.J. said.

  Suellen brushed her hand across his cheek. “Very much so.”

  “Something is going on with those three,” Joshua told Cameron when they were alone in bed. “I don’t think Tad was there for a social visit when we dropped in.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Cameron said. “He hid his medical bag behind the china closet and tried to sneak it out while J.J. gave us a tour of the farm.”

  Their evening at the Russell Ridge Farm had come to an end not long after they had finished off the pie and lemonade. As Suellen and J.J. had taken them on a tour of the farm, Tad had left—but Cameron had seen him sneak his medical bag out to his SUV.

  “I think you were right,” Joshua said. “I saw how Suellen looked at J.J. and how he looked at her. They really do love each other.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “Then why do I feel like the three of them are conspiring—”

  “She’s sick, Josh. Did you take a good look at her?”

  “She’s lost a lot of weight,” he said. “Suellen has always been thin, but she’s as thin as a rail now.”

  “Did you see her complexion?” she asked. “She’s as pale as a ghost. They don’t want us to know she’s sick.”

  “J.J. invited Izzy out to the farm on Wednesday, when the applicant for the new breeding-manager position will be meeting with them. I think I’ll do some poking around while I’m there.” With a sigh, he lay down next to her. “If Suellen is seriously sick, depending on how bad it is, J.J. is going to need help. He’s never lived on a farm. He’s never even ridden a horse.” Caressing her cheek, he smiled at her. “Thank you for making me go over there today.”

  Wrapping her arm around him, she kissed him.

  “Today could have ended up being a disaster. If you hadn’t forced me to look at things differently—well, you probably saved my relationship with J.J.”

  “And here I thought I was just being my usual obnoxious self.” Cocking her head at him, she asked, “Is that why you never asked me out?”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “I never asked you out because you never gave me a chance to.”

  Giggling, she nuzzled his neck.

  “That’s one of the things I love most about you,” he said. “You know what you want, and you go right after it.”

  After planting a long, lingering kiss on his lips, she asked, “Do you know what I want now?”

  A wicked grin crossed his face. With an evil laugh, he reached up to turn off the light.

  Letting out a breath filled with ecstasy, Suellen fell back onto the pillows. Her heart was beating so hard and fast that she feared J.J. could feel it pounding against his chest.

  He eased down onto the bed next to her. His eyes were soft with tenderness and concern. Brushing his fingertips across her face, down her throat, and onto her chest, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Taking in a deep breath, she sighed. “Couldn’t be better…now that you’re here.” She curled up against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “This is everything that I remembered,” she said into his chest. “It’s like you never left…like we were never apart.”

  “I’d like to think I’m not as clumsy as I used to be,” he said with a laugh.

  “I never thought you were clumsy.” Rubbing her face against his bare chest, she hugged him as tightly as she could. Her voice trembled. “I’m sorry I hurt you, J.J.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t want—”

  With a “shush,” he pressed his fingers to her mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to waste the time we have together wallowing in the past. I want to make new memories with you.” He held her close. “I love you, Suellen.”

  “I love you, too, J.J.” She sighed. “And I am so glad your father came over and apologized—”

  “Being sorry and admitting you were wrong are two different things.”

  “Cameron seems very nice.”

  “I guess. I don’t know her that well.”

  Suellen looked up into his face. “You never told me that she was a homicide detective.”

  After pausing, he finally said, “I guess it never came up. She is—with the Pennsylvania State Police.”

  “She’s investigating Monica Brady’s murder. She wants to interview me.”

  “I guess she would, since Clyde works for you, you own his farm, and you’ve known them for so long.” He chuckled. “What’s wrong? Do you know something about the murder that you don’t want her to find out?”

  “No,” she said. “I just—”

  A flash of a memory crossed her mind—it crossed it very fast. It was a memory of something from long ago, and
it came and went so quickly that she paused and searched her mind, hoping to replay it. She had a sensation not unlike that of walking into a room to get something only to forget what you’ve been looking for as soon as you cross the threshold.

  For a split second, it was there. Then it wasn’t.

  “What is it, Suellen?” J.J. was sitting up and looking at her.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “You should relax.” He eased her back down onto the bed and pulled the comforter up to cover both of them. “Maybe we overdid it.”

  “Do you think they know?” Suellen asked.

  “No,” J.J. said, lying with as much certainty as he could put into his tone.

  Cameron was the outsider—the interloper on his family. She was the stepmother, with an emphasis on step.

  He didn’t spend much time with her. Until recently, he had spent only a weekend here and there with her when he visited. During those visits, he made a point of spending the short amount of time he had with his father and siblings. But he knew enough about Cameron to know that she was no dummy.

  Suellen’s dark eyes were wide as she searched J.J.’s handsome face—his square jaw, his penetrating blue eyes, and his thick hair that fell in soft waves to the bottom of his neck.

  Resting her hand flat against his chest, she caught her breath.

  He was as beautiful as she’d remembered.

  Tears of gratitude coming to her eyes, she gazed up at him.

  With an apologetic grin, J.J. said, “We need to get some sleep.” He reached over to turn off the lamp and then took her into his arms.

  She didn’t want to miss a second of their time together. Even as sleep tried to wash over her, she fought to take in every part of him—the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms holding her, his scent, and his touch.

  The seconds turned into minutes.

  She recalled the first time that they had made love, and the scene spun like a newsreel in her head.