He glanced down at the table, red-faced.
“Don’t bother answering,” I said, weary and disgusted. “I know you were together. Someone saw you leave the hotel with her. You lied when I asked if you knew she was in town.”
“Why would I admit I was with her?” He twirled a pack of sugar. “Laycee wasn’t a great subject between us, okay? So I lied to spare your feelings. What’s the big deal?”
“What if Forrest found out she went out with you that first night? He may have tracked her cell phone to your house using GPS and flown to Los Angeles to confront her.”
Jarret smirked. “Good guess, but Laycee knew Forrest spied on her. She couldn’t figure out how he always knew where she was. One of her friends showed her the GPS trick. Instead of changing her password, when she didn’t want to be found she turned off her phone to make Forrest think she fell out of signal range.”
I sat back, impressed. Laycee wasn’t the brightest in the bunch but the girl had improved her cheating skills.
“So no,” Jarret said, “Forrest had no way to find Laycee, and he sure didn’t know she was at my house. She turned off her phone both nights.” He opened his menu on the table, mindlessly twirling the sugar packet while he read.
So much for my theory. If Laycee’s phone was turned off, Forrest had no fast means to find her. He assumed she was with me. I understood his fury toward Jarret after he learned the truth. Forrest was hurt, jealous, cuckolded, and heartbroken. I pitied him for the pain he suffered.
That left me with Margaret Smith and the mysterious woman who gave Schelz’s pamphlet to Weisel. One and the same or two different people? I glanced across the table at Jarret—handsome, charming, with a strong instinct for self-preservation. If Jarret knew Margaret linked him to the symbol, he might lie to protect himself whether he was innocent or guilty. And worse, if I told him about her connection to Herrick Schelz, Jarret’s scum of a lawyer might find a way to twist the knowledge against me.
Exhausted from making assumptions, I leaned back against the wooden bench. Panicked and paranoid—not exactly the state of mind I was shooting for.
Across the aisle, a couple whispered and glanced in our direction. I opened a menu in front of my face.
“I got the autographed baseball for your dad,” Jarret said. “It’s up at the house. Do you still want to give it to him for his birthday?”
If I said yes I’d have to meet Jarret again tomorrow. Saying no meant between now and the party I’d have to shop for a replacement gift for Dad—the man impossible to shop for—and who knew if I would end up spending the day at the station with Carla, or worse. I loved Dad too much to disappoint him.
“Thank you, Jarret. Dad will love the ball.”
“Good, because it was embarrassing to ask for autographs and then lose to the Cubs on the same night. The ball is on the table inside my front door. You can swing by anytime tomorrow to pick it up.”
“Give me a time and I’ll meet you there. I’m not going into your empty house alone again.”
“The first pitch is at twelve-thirty. I should be home by six unless we go into extra innings. I’ll text you after the game. We’ll set a time.” He glanced at the menu then closed it on the table. “I hear you’ve been working out at Game On.”
“Only for a few days until my bathrooms are finished.” I scanned the main courses. Chicken or fish? Fish or chicken?
“The gym is doing business. Kyle is turning a profit,” he said.
“For your partnership or himself?”
Jarret tipped down my menu, narrowing his eyes at me. “Why would you say that? Laycee made a snide remark about Kyle’s money that night at Fifth Base.”
Insecure Laycee made people squirm to feel superior but she jabbed with nasty or embarrassing truths, never fiction. Did provoking Kyle get her killed?
“How did Kyle respond?”
“He ignored her. So did I. You know Laycee—she teased people for a reaction.”
Our waiter appeared again. “How are you folks doing? Ready yet?”
I selected grilled salmon; Jarret ordered a New York steak, rare. Appetizers? No. Salad? No. The waiter collected our menus and left us alone.
“I assume your accountant is watching the books at Game On,” I said.
“I told you, we’re turning a profit. Membership is up and costs are down. Besides, Kyle wouldn’t steal from me,” Jarret said. “I would know.”
“I noticed Kyle holds a lot of closed-door meetings with an odd cast of characters.”
“That’s how guys are. We like to hang out in private. You wouldn’t understand.” He looked down then back up at me again. “Odd in what way?”
I described Kyle’s visitors and the meeting I had interrupted. “I heard Kyle was arrested for dealing drugs in Atlanta after we moved.”