Could my dad have killed Tina?
Chapter 9
With my fake smile firmly in place, Cooper and I walk into the kitchen. The smoky aroma of chicken fajitas, Spanish rice, and pinto beans fills the air. My father, Meg, and Brittany are stuffing their faces with guacamole and chips. They all wave when they see me, but don’t stop grazing as my father regales them with one of his many crazy stories from his time on the road.
While Cooper trots to the laundry room to inspect his food bowls, I check the pot with the Spanish rice. It looks a tad dry, but I stop myself from adding more tomatoes. It’s Brittany’s dish, and I need to respect that. “This all looks amazing!”
Brittany appears beside me with a big grin. “I know. I amazed myself.”
I replace the lid on the rice pan and then give the fajitas a stir. “How much time before we eat, Chef?”
“About five minutes. Don’t you think?”
I nod. “Looks right to me.” I give Brittany a shoulder bump. “Thanks for making dinner tonight. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Brittany grabs plates from the cupboard and heads back to the nook.
“Maybe we should eat in the dining room tonight.”
Brittany frowns. “I thought that was just for guests. Or special occasions.”
I grab a chip and sample the dip. “This amazing guac makes tonight a special occasion.”
“Thanks. But I’m not even staying. I promised Raphe I’d bring him dinner. His parents got stuck in the city at some meeting, so he was just going to make a sandwich.”
Of course, boyfriends trump adopted sisters.
I want to ask her to stay, or at least invite Raphe here, but it’s probably best to let her go. No one wants to have a date with the whole family watching. “You’ll be home by nine, right? It’s a school night with homework, even if you’re not going tomorrow.”
“Yep.” Brittany nods as she sets the table. “Homework’s all done too.”
“Great.” Trying my best to hide my regret we won’t have a potentially last dinner together, I turn to my father. “Can I see you outside for a second, Dad?” I grab his arm, giving him no choice but to accompany me to the backyard.
After the door is closed behind us, he adjusts the sleeve I just tugged on. “Where’s the fire?”
I stare into my father’s striking blue eyes, searching for an easy way to ask him if he killed Tina. It’s probably best to address Emily’s accusation first. “Did you at any time have anything to do with Tina’s iced tea the day she died?”
Dad’s brows move slightly, but his forehead doesn’t crease. On account of the Botox, he gets to look good on stage. But he looks confused as he considers my question.
Finally, he says, “No. Not her tea. Why?”
Relief makes me slump against the back door. “Because Emily told Dylan she saw you adjusting the lid on Tina’s to-go cup. Which is now missing. And the current thinking is that Tina might have been poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” The blood runs from dad’s face. “I think I know what Emily thought she saw.” My father looks away as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking pretty guilty of something.
That swarm of bees is back in my gut. “What did she see?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
He lifts his hands. “It’s hard to compete with all the electronics and special effects the younger performers have these days. And crowds can be harsh, Jellybean.”
“Yeah.” I cross my arms. “Get to the point.”
“Well…” he stammers. “Sometimes, I take a little hit of liquid courage before I go on stage these days. It helps loosen me up.”
“Alcohol?” I ask.
“Yes. But I didn’t want anyone to see me drinking out of a flask. That’d be tacky. So, I used Tina’s empty cup she’d left on a table in back. I tossed the cup away before I got into the ice-cream cannon outside the theater.”
I throw my hands over my eyes. “The flask would have been ten times better. Now Dylan has an eyewitness who saw you mess with Tina’s drink that might have been poisoned. And who knows when that trash was last emptied so we can prove you didn’t do it?”
“Dear Lord.” Dad sets a hand on the side of the house for support. “Where is Dylan, by the way? I thought he was going to join us.”
“He was, but he decided it was better to break up with me instead.” I try for a neutral tone, but my upset is too great.
My father’s jaw tightens. “That varmint. Did he give you a reason why?”
“Yeah. Because he might have to arrest you for murder!”
“Arrest me?” Dad’s face goes white again.
My father starts sliding down the wall, so I grab him. “Stop. We’ll figure this out. I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t want to go to jail, Sawyer. Those men are vicious. I’m not one to fight.”
No, faint at the first sign of trouble is more like it. “Calm down. You just have to tell Dylan’s deputy the truth when he asks you about the cup tomorrow. And it wouldn’t hurt to find someone who might have seen you pour from your flask.”
“No one else saw me.” Dad slowly stands on his own. “Except Emily after the deed was done. It’ll just be my word against hers.”
This is not helping my stress level. “The truth always wins. Try not to worry too much.”
While I’m following my father back inside, a thought strikes me. Dylan told me about Emily’s accusation against my father before the deputy even interviewed Dad. That must’ve been Dylan’s way of letting me help my father prepare for the deputy’s questions. Heaven knows Dad will need all the help he can get with even more circumstantial evidence piling up.
I have to find that cup.
If I find it, though, I could be accused of evidence tampering to cover up for my father, so I pull out my phone. As unhappy as
