No Good Deed - Marie Sexton Page 0,60
time.”
Jonas laughed breathlessly. “Don’t even say things like that.”
“But your wrists—”
“I don’t even feel it when it’s happening. I don’t mean to pull against them. It’s not that I want to get free.” He sounded happy and sated. “Something about being trapped makes it that much hotter. Now you’re being a big meanie and threatening to take that away.”
Charlie laughed and pushed everything aside to deal with later. He’d have to sterilize the sounding rod and put things away. But for now, he only wanted to lie with Jonas. “Fine. We’ll do things your way.”
“Good. I don’t need anything to change.” Jonas snuggled close, pointedly touching Charlie’s middle with both hands. “Anything. Do you hear me? I think you’re perfect in every way.”
Charlie resisted the urge to argue. Jonas liked him just the way he was. That was all that really mattered anyway.
The day before the wedding, Charlie received a call he’d never expected.
“Charlie? It’s Carmen Andino, Gray’s mom.”
“Oh. Right.” He’d met Carmen of course, but he hadn’t seen her in several years. He liked her, but not enough to put with the rest of Gray’s family for any extended period of time. “How are you?”
“Good. I wondered if you’d like to meet me for a drink.”
Half an hour later, Charlie arrived at the Tap House. Carmen was clearly dressed for work in a suit with a knee-length skirt and low heels, her thick dark hair swept back into a ponytail.
She’d already been to the bar. She sipped a beer while Charlie tested the one she’d bought for him—something a lot lighter than what he usually drank, but not bad. “Is this normal to conduct DA business in a bar?”
She laughed. “Definitely not. But as it turns out, the DA’s office has no business with you whatsoever.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed, setting her beer aside reluctantly, as if she’d rather keep drinking than waste time on work stuff. “I met with Officer Murphy today, to see how his case against you was progressing and whether or not there was enough evidence to press charges.”
“And?”
“He’s a prick. I halfway think he’s only coming after you because he can’t go after Gray.”
“He mentioned something about Gray not being able to help me anymore.”
She nodded. “There have been three other reports over the last ten years. In each case, Gray was the officer in charge of investigating. Each report said he questioned you and found no evidence of illegal activity.”
Charlie hoped his surprise didn’t show. Gray had been a by-the-book cop, for the most part. He loved his work too much to risk trouble. And yet it seemed he had, for Charlie’s sake. “I guess that explains how they were able to get a search warrant.”
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her either way. “Murphy’s in a real lather. He wants to nail you, and not in the fun kind of way.” She sipped her beer, smiling secretively. “He says he knocked on every door in your neighborhood. Even the white residents claimed ‘no hablo inglés.’”
Charlie said nothing. Many of his neighbors spoke Spanish, but very few of them spoke no English at all.
Carmen kept talking. “So the next day, he went back with a Spanish interpreter and knocked on doors again. He found out then that most of them speak English after all, but they still weren’t willing to talk. The most he got was from some eighty-three-year-old woman named Agnes who told him you’d given her legal, over-the-counter CBD lotion for free, then told him in very succinct, colorful English exactly what he could do with the rest of his questions.”
Charlie laughed out loud, imagining his fellow knitter with her hackles up.
“In the end, his entire case hinged on a pan of enchiladas made by one Señora Roberta Maldonado.”
“Will I get in trouble if I admit that Bertie’s enchiladas are the best I’ve ever tasted?”
Carmen laughed. “Murphy claimed they were payment for services rendered. He seemed to think that once he established a ‘pattern of payment,’ as he kept calling it, he’d be able to get other neighbors to testify that they’d also paid you in nontraditional ways. But even the enchiladas became questionable once she was interviewed by a fluent Spanish speaker. She swore she only gave them to you because she worried you didn’t have a wife to cook for you and she didn’t want you going hungry.”
Now Charlie really did laugh. It wasn’t as if he was all skin and bones, wasting away from lack of