Tomorrow Doesn't Matter Tonight Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Tomorrow Doesn’t Matter Tonight

  by

  Debra Jupe

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Tomorrow Doesn’t Matter Tonight

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Debra Jupe

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-487-9

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-488-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For all the laughter and joy,

  I dedicate this book to my precious son, Stephen.

  I’m honored God chose me to be your Mom.

  Love you, baby.

  Chapter 1

  Jackson Pharrell jogged down a mile long driveway, zigzagging amid hundred-year-old live oaks and elms while careful to dodge the fresh pansies landscapers had planted the day before. Normally, he didn’t care about flowers, but his host would be peeved if he smashed their new, expensive yard deco with his size twelve running shoe.

  He continued to trek across the yard, rounded a bend, glancing at the tail ends of a shiny Bentley, Jag, and Lexus displayed in the opened three-car garage. He mentally shook his head. These people didn’t know how lucky they were.

  He sprinted to the end of the drive. Running in place, he pressed a button located on a squared, red-brick column located next to the drive’s exit. An automatic transmitter rumbled as a wrought iron gate shook, trundling open, leading out into a neighborhood full of gorgeous, older homes with gracious, manicured lawns, but only visible from behind steel rods.

  Outside the gird, he picked up his pace, his head held erect. Leaves crunched under his shoes as the crisp fall air whipped across his face. Smoke flowed from a nearby chimney, melding in the breeze.

  Jack did his best to relax, glad to get a run in before his day started.

  Thoughts cleared, he concentrated on exhaling each time his right foot struck the sidewalk. He’d been skipping his regular workouts, although he still enjoyed a brisk jog every day. His mind emptied and his problems evaporated. Speed increased, his breathing deepened, perspiration flowed through his pores. He pushed his body harder, further.

  Skirting the corner, he entered a less exclusive area. Nice homes, but smaller, without the privacy fences or gates guarding the entrances. He glided down the block, euphoric from the momentary freedom.

  A furry, flash of gray darted in front of him. The toe of his shoe caught on a crack in the walkway. Jack briefly became airborne before he toppled flat onto his back into someone’s yard.

  In what seemed like slow motion, he pushed to a sitting position, shaking his head with a groan. Once the fog cleared from his brain, he twisted around, and spotted a huge, gray cat. The feline sat hunched across the lawn and glared at him, its yellow eyes taunting. Jack swore it laughed at him.

  Struggling to his feet, he slid his palms over his pants and jerked. His right hand stung. He turned it over. A small spurt of blood seeped below the base of his fingers. He gagged a bit and delicately brushed the gash against his sweats when something odd on the concrete caught his eye. Tiny drops of red dotted the sidewalk.

  What the—he glanced at his nick. His wound wasn’t serious enough to drip this much blood. He knelt to examine the specks. Some of the spots were in the shape of a paw. His gaze lifted to the cat. It sat in the same place, now cleaning a crimson stained mitt. The animal was hurt. He straightened and took off across the grassy slope. The feline sensed him coming its way, scurried through a fence, and dashed under a bunch of shrubs.

  Damn. Jack’s only other recourse was to speak with the owner. He started for the front of the house when he detected more blood sprinkled over the walkway leading to the entrance. The door was left ajar. He slid to a standstill, his frame stiffened. His gaze traveled down as if drawn to the ground. Shivers prickled upon the back of his neck.

  A bright pink slipper with a fuzzy ball on top rested between the door and structure. A foot was inside the shoe.

  Careful not to touch anything, he crept nearer the shod foot for a closer look. His stomach coiled. A woman’s body, unnaturally twisted, blood covered her upper torso and face and had splattered over the small entryway. He stumbled backward, before catching himself before he fell. After he regained his balance, he advanced forward to check on her again. She lay motionless. Her eyes were open but lifeless. Her chest was still, no signs of breathing.

  This woman was dead.

  ****

  Jack leaned a shoulder against a railed fence. Wind gusts bashed a cluster of bare limbs above him as gray clouds shrouded the early November sky and added an extra sinister touch to the already eerie setting.

  Arms folded, his legs crossed at the ankles, he was careful not to glance in the direction of the grisly site again. He swallowed repeatedly in an attempt to silent his rolling stomach, but the scent of blood and death lingered, keeping his gut in a constant vortex.

  It didn’t help that the commotion around him had metamorphosed into total chaos. Lights flickered from the tops of emergency vehicles. Law enforcement agents, crime scene investigators, and a medical team moved about taping off the area, taking photos, and collecting evidence. Although the morning air had turned chillier, the cold didn’t stop a crowd from gathering behind the yellow strip to gawk at the investigation.

  Jack vaguely scanned the mass of oglers, hoping to get far away from this circus sometime in the near future. For the past several hours, a young police officer grilled him to the point that he wished he’d reported the death anonymous.

  The squeal of tires halted the interview. A compact skidded to a stop on the opposite side of the street. Doors slammed. Two women emerged from the vehicle. They elbowed through the onlookers, ducked under the crime tape, and hurried up the driveway.

  One was tall. Her height was enhanced by elevated shoes with heels that resembled pointed spikes and could be considered lethal. Her suit gave the impression she’d spray painted it over her perfect form. Silky, darkened tresses bounced onto her slender shoulders, cool indigo eyes surveyed the commotion as she sashayed across the concrete like a runway model. Several of the younger pol
iceman guarding the home’s perimeter, stopped what they were doing and followed her graceful strides. Jack also found it difficult to tear his gaze away. But he did. She was an attractive woman, but her demeanor reminded him too much of—he shook his head to erase the memory.

  He eyed the other. A total contrast to the brunette. Dull, blondish hair pulled back with sparkly, hair thingies, haphazardly clipped to the top of her head. Sensible flat shoes covered her feet, her eyes hid behind brown-framed square glasses. Her expression remained calm, her robust shape almost hidden behind an ankle length, khaki coat. She walked toward the frenzied spectacle in a bland manner. A corner of his mouth lifted. If Jack been a betting man, he’d guess she was the smart one.

  The cop who’d been questioning him stepped away as the two woman approached. He snapped up a palm and spoke in a stern voice. “This is a crime scene. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Both women’s mouths fell open.

  Hands flew to Curvy’s cheeks. “My God, what happened?”

  “Is someone hurt?” Plain Lady rose onto her tiptoes and leaned sideways for a better view.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” replied the officer in the same firm tone.

  “We work for the woman who lives here, and we’ve been calling her since early this morning.” Plain Lady’s intonation rose to a high, nervous squeak. “We came to check on her.”

  The policeman motioned to the street and spoke with rigid authority. “This is an official investigation. You need to leave. Now.” The ladies stole a hasty glimpse at Jack before they reluctantly turned around. The officer rotated back to him.

  “You’re free to go too, Mr. Pharrell.” He held up a small notepad. “We have your information. We’ll be in touch.”

  Thank God. No disrespect to the departed, but he’d had enough of carnage for one day. Jack hitched his chin in acknowledgement toward the policeman catching an inadvertent glimpse of the marred corpse. Another icy nip of air blew through him.

  Make that forever.

  He pushed from the gate to follow the women off the property.

  Plain Lady glanced over her shoulder. “You seem familiar. How are you involved?”

  “I live a few blocks from here. I discovered the body while on a morning run.”

  The women came to an abrupt halt. Jack stopped too so as not to plow into them.

  Curvy turned to stare at him. The color drained from her face. “Body?”

  He gestured toward the house. “Someone is dead inside.”

  A new vehicle pulled to the curb and stopped. “Medical Examiner” printed in large letters was displayed on the side door. A sizeable, elder gentleman emerged from the sedan and pushed through the crowd. He picked up the tape and with some difficulty bent to move underneath.

  The bottom of the man’s shoes scraped against the concrete as he climbed the steep drive with obvious strain. He ignored Jack’s group, ambled past the detectives circling the crime scene, and headed straight to where the deceased lay.

  Curvy released a cry and covered her mouth with her fingers while the other looked as if someone slapped her. Neither seemed able to speak.

  Curvy found her voice first. “Did they tell you who…who was killed?”

  “Surprisingly, they weren’t much on giving me information inasmuch as asking me a bunch of questions.” He shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets, and twisted to glance at the house before he returned to them, ready to say adios.

  “Like I said, we work for the lady who lives here. I’m her assistant Tara Olifant.” Plain Lady gestured at Curvy, who appeared to be in shock. “This is Vanessa King.”

  He raked a quick glance over Vanessa. She acted distraught, but Jack’s instincts told him her distress wasn’t from the possible death of her boss. Her worry seemed more personal.

  “As I explained to the officer,” Tara continued, “she hasn’t answered her cell or her home phone this morning, which is unlike her. We’ve been worried, so we drove here to make sure she’s okay.”

  Vanessa stared at Jack. “Was the person a woman?”

  He nodded.

  They gasped. Hugging her middle, Vanessa spun to Tara and almost whispered. “That could be Hazel.”

  Jack raised a brow. “Who?” His preference was to not get any more involved, though it didn’t dissuade his curiosity about who the dead person might be.

  “Hazel Nutt, our employer.” Tara checked her watch.

  He stifled a chuckle. “Hazel Nutt.” he repeated, still holding in a laugh. “Are you serious? That’s her real name?”

  “She owns the most elegant party planning agency in the city. I’m her top consultant.” Vanessa bit her bottom lip, and skimmed the area. Her eyes watered. “Or was.”

  “Hazel lives alone,” Tara explained. “I hate to hear anyone’s dead, especially in such a brutal fashion, I’m hoping against all odds it’s not her.”

  “Could you tell what happened?” Vanessa asked him.

  “By the looks things, I’m guessing someone assisted in her demise.” Their faces went blank. “She was murdered.” Jack didn’t know why he bothered. He was more than ready to forgo the rest of this conversation since he had a possible name of the casualty.

  “I’m so not wanting this to be her.” Tara turned and scowled at her partner. “But who else could it be? Hazel’s not answering her phone. For years she’s been estranged from the few relatives she has, and she never mixes with associates. She doesn’t have real friends. No one would be at her house except consultants, and they’re all accounted for.”

  Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and frowned at Tara. “Hazel is a wonderful person. She isn’t close to anybody because she puts her company first. Everyone is jealous of her success, and her family members are nothing but selfish jerks.”

  “Anyone who’s dealt with Hazel as an employee, vender, or her competition is aware she’s not a nice person. Her distance from her daughter and sister is her own doing.”

  Vanessa squared her shoulders. “She’s taught me more about business—”

  “Now isn’t the best time to have this conversation.” Tara interrupted. She pointed at the detectives. “The police are right over there. We don’t want to draw their attention by arguing.”

  Both glanced in the direction of the law enforcement agents before they returned to Jack who’d taken several steps backward, ready to make his getaway.

  “Wait.” Tara flung out a hand. “Can you tell us anything else? Did the police give you a hint as to who might have done this?”

  He shook his head. “No clue.” He did a half turn. “If you will excuse me…”

  Vanessa placed a palm on his arm. “Don’t leave just yet.” She batted her eyelashes. “You said you live around here?”

  He studied this new composed air. Her concerned manner transformed into flirty. A seductive smile played at her pouty lips. This woman just performed the quickest remorse recovery Jack had ever witnessed.

  “Several blocks over,” he answered. “My place is on River Ridge.”

  She took a step closer to him. Jack swore dollar signs flashed in the woman’s irises. “You haven’t introduced yourself.” Her voice converted to a husky tone. Full of temptation.

  He almost smiled. If she only knew he stayed in the exclusive area as a guest and didn’t have anything tangible of his own, she’d probably stomp on his toe with a spikey heel and leave him to asphyxiate in a veil of her stifling perfume.

  Tara shook a finger at him. “Wait a minute.”

  A lump welled and lodged in his throat. Here it comes. This unwanted recognition had become old, fast. The horrible stares, the invasive remarks, and the rest of the humiliating shit that went with a stupid act performed in front of an entire city. He’d love to leave the state or move to someplace where he could maintain anonymity. But the luxury of disappearing escaped him.

  “You’re Jack Pharrell. We went—.”

  “I’d rather not discuss my personal issues,” Jack
interjected. “Let the past be.”

  Tara dropped her hand. “You went to Allytown High. I did too. You were ahead of me by a couple grades, but we worked on the yearbook committee together my sophomore year.”

  Jack leaned closer and nodded, though, he had no clue to who she was. He’d graduated fifteen years ago. He’d moved on and gotten a life. And lost it.

  “Right. I remember.” He lied.

  Vanessa’s cool palm remained on his arm. “I’m more about the present too.”

  Tara cleared her throat and glanced at her watch again. “Vanessa. The wedding rehearsal is in several hours, and we need to stop by the office before we head over to the chapel. We’re already late. We should go now.”

  If he hadn’t been observing her, Jack would have missed the brief guise irritation flash across Vanessa’s face before her expression rapidly morphed back to normal.

  She eyed Tara. “You can leave. I need to stay until they tell us who this is.” She blinked and wiped away an invisible tear. “It doesn’t look good that Hazel’s not around.”

  Jack suppressed his grin from Tara’s eye roll response.

  “I’d like to find out if this is Hazel too, but we do have responsibilities to our client.” Tara glanced at the investigation. Her skin whitened again. “This situation makes me dizzy. I can’t breathe when I let myself think about what might have happened to her.”

  “Just a few more minutes, please. I have to know. If you need something to do, I could use a coffee to calm my nerves.” Vanessa rubbed her sleeved arms. “There’s a cafe a couple of blocks over. Why don’t you get us one while we wait?”

  “Fine.” Tara voice held a hint of anger. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

  “Caffeˊ Latte, of course.” Vanessa turned to Jack, the corners of her lips lifted. “Would you like something?”

  Jack shook his head. “Thanks, but I left my wallet at home.”

  “My treat?”

  “I’m good. The police are through with me. I’m going to finish my run.”

  Soft fingertips grazed across his arm one more time before she dropped her hand, and slid her fingers into her jacket pocket to remove a business card. She flicked it at Jack. “In case you’re ever in need of my services. I’m the best—wedding coordinator in the city.”