Paying The Piper - 6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth tore through her wardrobe as though possessed. The victims of her little temper tantrum, thousand dollar dresses and equally expensive shoes, littered the floor of the large walk-in. She was so involved in the destruction that she never heard Cale come in.

"What are you doing?" he asked in shock.

Surprised, she spun around. For a minute, they stared at each other. Then Cale broke the silence. "Quent is on his way over. He said he has some questions for you."

Elizabeth went pale and Cale pursed his lips. "Do you have any idea what they might be about?" he asked, voice tinged with anger.

Elizabeth recovered quickly. She lifted her chin and brushed by Cale, stepping over clothes as she went. "I have no idea."

Relentless, Cale followed her into the bedroom. "Because he was very specific. He said he had questions for you."

Elizabeth spun around and put her hands on her hips. "I have no idea what he's talking about," she huffed.

Cale leaned back against the nearest wall. He rubbed at his temples, trying to stave off his impending headache, though avoiding it seemed unlikely now. "Well, we'll soon find out."

**********

Quent arrived at the McCoy Mansion and was greeted at the door by Cale for the second time that day. Quent frowned at his friend's pale complexion. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

Cale rewarded him with an actual smile. "Since when do you subscribe to social niceties?" he asked.

Quent shrugged and gave Cale a hard clap on the back. "I'm trying it out. How does it come off?"

Cale actually laughed this time and Quent mentally congratulated himself for driving some of the worry lines from Cale's face. "It needs some work, " Cale said. "But there's potential there." He led Quent into the living room.

"Potential to shock people to death," Quent muttered under his breath.

Cale shook his head and, still smiling, poured them both a scotch. It was noon, after all, and he knew Quent would want one. When he handed the glass over, however, Quent declined. "I'm here on official business."

Cale's smile slipped, but he didn't comment. Instead, he placed the full glass back on the bar and turned back to Quent. "I'll just get Elizabeth, then," he said quietly. Quent nodded.

Cale left and Quent cursed the manipulative witch his young friend had married. The last thing Cale needed was more problems in his life. What he really needed, Quent admitted, was to find someone who'd make him happy. Unfortunately, the chance of Elizabeth giving up the McCoy fortune was about as likely as Cale dishonoring the McCoy name by divorcing her. They were trapped together, it seemed. And it was growing more tedious by the year.

Quent's thoughts were interrupted by Cale's return. Elizabeth followed him into the room. Quent stood and inclined his head in her direction. "Elizabeth."

"Quent," she replied. She took a seat next to Cale on the couch, but Quent noted they purposefully didn't touch each other.

"I have some questions about last night," he began. Elizabeth turned innocent eyes on him and Cale looked on curiously. Quent had to admit – he was curious himself. "Braden White tells me you were at The Tin Man last night."

Cale blinked, but hid his shock well. He turned to Elizabeth. "I thought you had a board meeting for the Women's Club last night."

"Well – I did. But it ended early," Elizabeth said with complete confidence. She nodded as though confirming it to herself and looked at Quent. He stared back at her impassively.

"S-s-so," she stuttered, "we…a few of us went to The Tin Man for drinks. That's all."

Quent consulted his notebook. "A few of you included Ms. Patterson and Ms. Mullen?"

"Marci?" Cale asked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Quent's pen stopped scribbling and hovered over the page. He glanced up at Cale.

"That's right," he clarified. "Marci Patterson. She and Elizabeth and Cynthia were seen talking last night."

Elizabeth let out a short, high-pitched laugh. "Oh, that," she scoffed. "Well, no. That was Cynthia's thing. She cornered Marci and I about investing or some such nonsense. Well, actually, she overheard us talking."

"You were talking to Marci about investing?" Cale asked. His tone indicated he thought the possibility farfetched.

Elizabeth nodded so enthusiastically that several wisps of hair escaped her tight bun. Then she shook her head. "Well, we didn't talk so much as…she stopped me and asked after a good financial advisor. I recommended Jim Stahl and told her why I thought she should give him a try. Anyway, while I was talking to her about it, Cynthia popped her nose into our conversation. It seemed to annoy Marci, actually. Cynthia said she wanted to learn about investing and didn't know where to start. So I told her the same thing I told Marci. Call Jim. He'll get you started for nothing and stick with you for a fair price." Elizabeth stopped abruptly and began playing with her wedding ring. "I mean, I told her I thought it was a fair price. I know some people think it isn't."

Quent filed that piece of information away for later. "And that was it?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Well…."

Quent barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes?"

"She was talking to Braden."

"Braden White? The bar owner?"

"Yes."

Quent sighed. "Ordering a drink, perhaps?" He was beginning to suspect he was being led on.

"Nooooo. I don't think so. I think from the look of things, their relationship was on the rocks." Elizabeth sat back, smirking like the cat that ate the cream. Quent ignored her gloating.

"Are you telling me that White and Cynthia were seeing each other?"

Elizabeth feigned a look of surprise. "Why, yes. Didn't you know?"

Quent continued as though she hadn't spoken. "So you didn't see her talking to that new man you told me about?"

"Drew Marcus?" Elizabeth asked with complete innocence.

There was a long shocked silence. Then both Quent and Cale spoke at once.

"How do you—"

"You never told me—"

Quent cut Cale off with a sharp gesture. Reluctantly, Cale backed off.

"You know Drew Marcus, Elizabeth? This morning you made it sound as though he was a complete stranger," Quent said with a growl.

Elizabeth shrugged. "You didn't ask. I haven't known him long. He just moved here about a week ago. He carried my bags to the car for me the other day." She glanced over at Cale. "You know, at the mall."

Quent swallowed a snort. "I'm sure they weighed a ton," he said under his breath.

Cale gave his wife a slow nod, but we wouldn't meet her eyes. Suddenly, Quent got the feeling that Cale wasn't comfortable with the subject of Drew Marcus. Interesting. He turned a pensive look on Elizabeth. "He carried your bags at the mall. And that's the only time you've seen him." The statements, not phrased as questions, had Elizabeth looking nervous all over again.

"And, of course, at The Tin Man last night," she piped in. Her voice faded as she took in the expression on Quent's face. "Of course, I didn't talk to him," she added.

"Of course," Quent said with a glance toward Cale.

Cale couldn't explain his sudden anger. It wasn't directed at Elizabeth. He didn't begrudge her a night out with her girlfriends. Instead he discovered, quite shockingly, it centered around Drew. Cale realized he didn't like the idea of the man frequenting the local bar.

"Have I done something wrong?" Elizabeth asked with false sweetness.

The question jarred Cale from his musings. He looked up in time to see Quent shake his head and replace his notebook in his lapel pocket. "No. I just needed to know what happened. Thank you for your time."

"Of course. It's silly to even mention it. I want to help as much as I can." She leaned across the couch and latched on to Cale's arm. "We both do."

Quent saw the storm gathering on his friend's face. "If that's the case, then perhaps I can borrow Cale for a couple of hours," he said.

Elizabeth's smile froze, but she did agree with a shaky nod. Cale, on the other hand, glared at him with suspicious exasperation. And perhaps a bit of exhaustion, but that was to be expected. Elizabeth could suck the joy out of a flock of angels. Cale, a mere man, didn't stand a chance.

"Come along, Cale," Quent said as he stood. "Tempus Fugit."

Cale rose obediently, but his eyes were angry. Quent thanked God that his friend still had some spirit left in him. He led Cale through the room, into the foyer, and out of the house. When they were seated safely inside the car, Cale rounded on Quent.

"What the hell was that all about?" he asked, annoyed. "I'm not a child for the two of you to decide how I spend my time."

"No, you're not."

"Then what the fuck are you doing?"

Quent sighed. "When this case is over, we need to talk." He shook his head and started the engine. He hadn't realized up until the very point he'd opened his mouth that he was going to say something. But it was time. Something had to give and Quent was hoping he could convince Cale it should be him.

"About what?" Cale asked sullenly.

"What do you think?"

Cale sighed. "It won't change anything."

"Something has to change," Quent said, verbalizing his thoughts. "Something has to give."

Cale didn't answer.