Part 8
There was little else in this life that Cassy held dear over her self-respect, but lately she was holding onto very little of the precious commodity. As much as she would like to, she wasn't able to fool herself and pretend she wasn't involved in something so very wrong. Even if she had wanted to hide from herself, the ironic situation in which she found herself did nothing if it didn't underscore her behavior. And her confusion.
Cassy was no stranger to being shunned. She had been Internal Affairs, she had divorced one of the department's most beloved cops and she was a woman doing what many believed was a man's job. It was being welcomed with open arms that unnerved her, disgusted her even, especially as the reason for the warm welcome was that she was thought to be cheating on her husband. That, not her skill or intelligence, made her acceptable to members of the self-appointed elite ladies who spent days taking lessons and sauna at the clubs while their wealthy husbands worked or pursued their own iniquitous interests elsewhere. In other words, her mother Evelyn's type of people.
What made it all the more ironic was that she really was being unfaithful, to Brett her boyfriend with her so-called husband. The man who proposed to her and who she hadn't yet given an answer. She didn't know whether to be relieved or frustrated that they were no closer to catching their killer than they were almost four weeks ago when they went on this case. Once this cover was over she would have to deliver that answer. She truly didn't know what she should say. Heart or head?
If this had been a solely PBPD case they would have been removed from their cover a long time ago, but the FBI was pushing hard on this one - the murder of rich women at country clubs didn't make for good press or garner congressional support from congress members who belonged to ritzy clubs themselves.
With an agitated sigh, Cassy pressed a button on the keyboard of her laptop computer. More than a dozen times that morning she had sifted through the rolls of employees and members of the various clubs, and nearby clubs, looking for something that might lead them to the identity of their killer. After three solid hours in front of the screen a headache was beginning to form behind her eyes. She needed a break to clear her head, maybe a fresh perspective would let her get at this from a different angle. Closing her eyes and rubbing her brow Cassy switched off her screen and pushed away from the desk in the office she and Tom had set up as their own.
The only thing Cassy was grateful for this morning was that Tom was at the club playing the cuckolded-but-oblivious-husband.
One thing Cassy had no issue with was the fact that this house had a private pool. Taking only a few minutes to change, Cassy reappeared clad in a bikini and a pair of sunglasses as she moved with lazy determination towards the pool. She was just about to dive in when the door chimes sounded. Scowling she stopped, picked up her gun under a towel and moved to answer it.
"Brian, come in. I wasn't expecting anyone," Cassy said brightly a few moments later as she let the young son of the tennis pro inside. Unobtrusively she put the safety to the gun on and slipped it back under the towel and placed both on the table by the door.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ryan. I know I should have called first. I didn't mean to disturb your swim." Brian's cheeks flushed and he wasn't able to look Cassy in the eyes.
"First of all, call me Cassy. Secondly, I said you were welcome here anytime and I meant it. Would you like a drink? A cola? Juice?" she turned and led him to the kitchen as she wondered why he was there.
"A beer?" he asked, hopefully.
"How old are you? Did you drive here?" Cassy asked with a chuckle as she and pulled out a can of cola and tossed it to him without waiting for the answer to emerge from his sheepish face.
"Thanks," Brian said politely before turning to gaze out the glass doors to the pool area where it looked as if Cassy had been lounging the morning away just minutes ago.
"How about a swim?" she asked from behind him, her easy smile gone now that he wasn't looking and in its place a curious expression. Why was he here, she wondered as she put her hand on his shoulder. By the time he turned to look at her, her smile was back in place.
"Do you want to go for a swim?" she repeated as she brushed past him and walked outside ahead of him.
"If you want to." He smiled, his eyes skimming her scantily clad figure as his fingers fidgeted with the soda can tab.
"Do you want to talk instead?" Cassy tilted her and head and looked up at him.
"Can we just, um, sit for a while?" he asked quickly before taking a sip of his soda, as if his throat was suddenly dry.
"Sure," Cassy agreed and sat down on her lounger. Patting the one next to it she smiled up at him.
Brian swallowed nervously before he nodded and walked stiffly over to the lounger. He sat where she had indicated, his legs only centimeters from hers.
"Are you in trouble Brian?" Cassy asked gently.
"N...no. I'm not in trouble," he stumbled over his words.
"It's okay if you are. I want to help you," she took his hand in hers, quelling his fidgeting and forcing him to look her in the eyes.
"I came to warn you," he said in a sudden burst of speech.
"Warn me?" Cassy's fingers tightened.
"Your, uh, behavior, with that man. Things happen to women who behave like that. Bad things," he said.
"Like what happened a few weeks ago?" Cassy's eyes darted to her gun and back to his face. "Do you know who's doing that? Is you Brian? I can help you."
"No!" He was up like a shot and moving backwards.
"I can help you." Cassy stood up slowly so as not to startle him.
"It's not me. I'm just trying to warn you," he was backing away.
"Warn her about what?" Tom asked, coming out of the house behind Brian.
"Nothing." Brian tried to run around Tom, but the older, stronger man grabbed him.
"What's going on here Cass?" he asked.
"I just wanted to warn her. Please let me go!" Brian pleaded.
"Do you know who's doing this?" Cassy eased Tom's hands from the boy's arms and held him in place.
"No. I don't know anything. I was just warning you," he swore.
"You've seen this before son, we know you have. Is it your father?" Tom asked.
"No!" Brian struggled out of Cassy's weak grasp.
"Wait!" Tom ordered.
"Let him go Tom," Cassy said in a low voice as Brian bolted out of the house.
"He knows something," Tom said angrily.
"And he's not going to tell us if we scare him. You might just have tipped him off to who we are." She turned on Tom, her annoyance palpable. "I might have gotten him to tell me something if he trusted me."
"He was threatening you." Tom crossed his arms.
"He was warning me. I believe that. I think he may know who it is, but he's obviously trying to protect them. We can't force him to talk," she reminded him.
"Then why is he warning you? Because you entertain the kid wearing that?" Tom motioned at her bright yellow bikini.
"I was taking a break when he came in." Cassy's eyes flashed as she looked up at him.
"For a moment there I thought you might be intending to seduce the boy into talking," Tom said.
"What's gotten into you?" Cassy asked.
"Sorry." Tom closed his eyes with a sigh. "I'm a bit annoyed with being treated like a cuckholded husband. You should have seen everyone's faces when your supposed lover came in."
"You're a frustrated artist, pretend this is another play like the one you did in college." Cassy tapped him on the arm teasingly.
"That was because I lost a bet," Tom glared.
"But I bet you were good. You looked cute in the pictures your Dad showed me." Cassy pinched his cheek.
Tom grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, his eyes suddenly burning with a different kind of heat as his eyes caressed her.
"Tom." Cassy sounded breathless.
"I'm tired of being the cuckold," Tom whispered huskily as he tugged her flush against him and then trapped her with his arms. "Comfort my bruised ego."
"Oh brother." Cassy rolled her eyes and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. Her motions only brought her more fully against him.
Tom bent his head and buried his face in her hair and ran his hands over her body.
"Tom," Cassy's protest was weak and Tom paid it no mind as he trailed his kisses down her face and neck.
"We have company," he growled near her ear.
"What?" Cassy froze, but didn't pull away.
"Andy and Meghan missed you today and wanted to come home for lunch with me. They came in when Brian ran out. They're watching us, which I suspect is why they're here," he explained, smiling down at her falsely.
Cassy pushed Tom away, pretending she was angry and disgusted, rather than just acutely embarrassed.
"I'll have lunch delivered while you get dressed for our guests," Tom hissed at her, his sympathetic eyes belying his tone.
Cassy snapped the towel around her body and made a hasty retreat into the house through another door, leaving Tom to entertain their guests while she changed, and hid the files she had left lying about the den, just in case.
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"I think you've had enough to drink, dear," Cassy's teeth were clenched underneath her smile.
"You know, they say the first year of marriage is the hardest. Many couples don't even make it that long," Tom waved his glass around to punctuate his statements. "But I think that Cassy would say that the second year is even harder, wouldn't you, dear."
"Tom," Cassy hissed.
"Come on. We're all friends. I think that Meghan and Andy can benefit from our experience. You know why Cassy married me? My money, my looks, and the lifestyle I could afford her. Don't make that mistake, it's no foundation for a marriage," Tom finished his glass of wine.
"I think that's enough," Cassy stood up and took her and Tom's plate into the kitchen.
"I think we'd better be going," Andy said, sounding uncomfortable.
"Perhaps you'd better, the missus is going to ream me out about now," Tom said bitterly.
"Tom, you and Cassy make a beautiful couple. I'm sure everything can work out if you both try." Meghan took Andy's hand and stood up next to him.
Tom's sloppy behavior ceased the moment the door closed behind him. In the place of his bitter smile was a somber look as he walked into the kitchen where Cassy was still slamming around the dishes.
"Cass..."
"What were you trying to accomplish with that display? Was that your version of advice to me?" Cassy spun around and demanded.
"You know I didn't mean anything by it," Tom said.
"It sure came easy to the tongue," Cassy's words were affected by the Texas accent she had left behind a long time ago.
"A few days before the last murder there was a confrontation between Mr. and Mrs. Blant about her extracurricular activities. I heard talk about it in the men's locker room today. I was urged to put you in your place too. Nothing else worked, I thought maybe this would set the killer off," Tom explained.
"And our pals are on their way back to the club to spread the story." Cassy wiped her hand on a towel and scowled at him. "I think I'll go to the club and try and find Brian and see what the talk is like."
"Cass." Tom put his hands on her shoulder, his face apologetic.
"I know, you're sorry. You don't have to be," Cassy said before moving out of his reach.
"I'll see you for dinner," Tom called after her, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
End Part 8