Braking Points Page 27

  I wondered if we’d ever know who killed Ellie and Felix or who tried to kill me and Juliana. I wondered if those were the same person. I was ready to hang up my magnifying glass, because I had no ideas. Felix was a good suspect—it was easy to imagine him lashing out at women threatening his domain. But him turning up dead blew that theory.

  Scott also seemed like a good suspect—at least to me, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. I wondered about Rosalie, who seemed strangely angry. Could she have killed Ellie? Could I believe that of her? I knew her. At least, I thought I knew her—but I also thought I’d known Ellie.

  I applauded with the rest of the audience as, up on stage, the president of the American Le Mans Series gave way to the president of Kreisel Timepieces.

  A few sentences later, I went back to my reverie. Maybe I should be looking at Nash Rawlings or the cousins. Were they the types to commit murder? Who was I kidding? How did I know what “the type” was? Nice theories, Kate. Maybe you can buy a tin star and play sheriff, too.

  I might not know what a killer personality was, but I knew the people on my short list weren’t all sunshine and light. There was also more than meets the eye with our two fans. I couldn’t tell if they were happy super-fans or creepy stalker wannabes.

  Tomorrow, the racing world and fans would disperse to the far corners of the country, if not the globe. I hoped the off-season would take care of inappropriate attachments, lingering resentments, and homicidal tendencies aimed my way—if they hadn’t been dispelled already with Felix’s death and Miles Hanson’s royal visitation. Tomorrow I’d call the different law enforcement agencies to ask about progress. Otherwise, I decided, it was time to stop worrying.

  I felt lighter. My life was turning around. With any luck, Jack would have me back, and I’d pick up a ride for the Daytona 24 in January. Step-by-step, I’d make my mark on the racing world. Second place in the ALMS championship this season was a good start, and we’d get better next year.

  With another round of applause, Benny and Jules stepped forward to start the awards process. They went from the lowest, slowest class to the fastest, which meant we started with the GT Challenge class, calling third, second, and finally first place drivers and teams to the podium for their trophies.

  Then it was time for our class. Mike and I headed to the stage amid applause from the room and foot-stomping from our three tables. Juliana broke her routine by giving me a big hug before handing over my trophy. Mike and I turned to the audience and raised our linked hands and trophies high above our heads. It felt great. I knew it wasn’t first in category, but we’d worked hard and done well. I had the best job in the whole world.

  “@katereilly28: So proud to share second place in #ALMS GT honors with Mike Munroe and the Sandham Swift team. Thanks for letting me be part of the fun.”

  The LinkTime Corvette team accepted first place trophies with short speeches, and then Jack accepted the Founders Cup for the top non-factory-supported entry. I was shocked to see my normally gruff and taciturn boss wipe tears from his eyes as he spoke to the crowd. “I can’t tell you what this means to me—then again, you’ve been through it with me the last couple years. We’ve had our setbacks.” There were a few chuckles around the room, as we all remembered the declining fortunes of the driver I replaced, Wade Becker, before he was killed.

  “But I couldn’t be prouder of this group of people.” He looked to our tables. “The way you came together this year and became a team. You’re everything I’ve hoped for, every one of you. Thank you. Let’s do it again next year.” Then he pointed to the LinkTime tables in the center of the room. “Except we’re gunning for that top spot, so watch out.”

  Jack returned to the table and passed his trophy around, pausing to lean over Mike and me, a hand on each of our shoulders, and thank us for the effort.

  “Did you mean that, Jack?” I asked, looking up at him. “Same again next year?”

  “Unless you try to skin me on a new contract, I do. You thought otherwise?”

  “I heard a rumor you were looking at other options.”

  “Fat chance. You two gave this team its best finish in almost a decade.”

  The relief that swept through me was more potent than the champagne. I felt weightless, giddy.

  He gripped my shoulder tighter. “I’m serious about a run at the top spot next year. I think we can do it, too.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.” Mike saluted, making the others at the table laugh.

  The rest of the awards passed in a blur, until Mike elbowed me right before the LMP1 class honors.

  “And now for the second award voted on by the fans, the Most Popular Driver this year…” Benny fumbled for the right piece of paper.

  I felt a quick flutter of excitement, which I quenched, saying to Mike, “No chance at all, with my bad luck lately.”

  “Kate Reilly!”

  Sound receded, and I was frozen in a bubble of shock. What just happened?

  I looked at Mike, who was clapping, mouthing, “Go! Go!”

  I stood up slowly, pausing to be sure my shaking knees would support me. That’s when my hearing returned, and the sound of hundreds of people applauding crashed down around my ears.

  Walking to the stage, I started to laugh from the absurdity of it all. From delight.

  By the time Benny handed me my trophy—a Momo racing wheel on a wood stand, with a nameplate reading “Most Popular Driver” and “Kate Reilly”—I’d gotten my giggles under control. I stared at my name as I moved to the microphone, and for five seconds more as I stood there. I looked up at the quiet room.

  “If you Google ‘unbelievable’ tomorrow, this photo will be the first hit.” I paused for laughter. “I’m stunned and honored. Also so proud to be part of such a talented group of drivers and teams. My dream growing up was to drive a great car against tough competition. What I understand now is how important and fun it is to have passionate, knowledgeable, supportive fans with us at every turn. Thank you to the fans for this award and for making what I do more enjoyable every single day.”

  I went back to my seat in a daze, cradling my trophy.

  “@katereilly28: In shock still at receiving #ALMS Most Popular Driver award from the fans! Thank you all!”

  After the show concluded, the ballroom behind the stage was opened for dancing, and the music trickled out into the banquet area. Champagne and other drinks flowed freely, and people wandered from table to table chatting with friends.

  I was hesitant to leave my trophies, but Jack waved a hand and said there’d be someone at the table for a while. “We’re not going to tote all this hardware around. We’ll keep an eye on it. Go have fun.”

  I slung my evening purse over my shoulder and headed to Holly’s table, stopping to shake hands and accept or give congratulations every few steps. I found Holly just as she left the table for the dance floor.

  “Join us, Kate,” she urged.

  “I will soon. I want to sit in a quiet place for a minute. I thought I’d go look at the displays, go outside for some air. Maybe call Gramps with the news.”

  “I saw Scott and Juliana heading that way. But sure, you go find your second wind, sugar, then come dance the night away with us. You’re the rock star tonight—time to celebrate!” She put her hands in the air and wiggled her butt.

  I laughed, promising to see her soon, and headed down the hallway.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  I rounded the corner to the long entry hall and discovered Juliana and Scott arguing.

  “Why can’t you—” Scott shouted, gripping her arm.

  “I won’t have it—let go of me.” Juliana couldn’t pull away, but slapped him with her other hand.

  Scott grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

  “Jules!” I started forward, unsure what I could do, besides be a witness to prevent him from doing something else.<
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  He looked at me, turned back to Juliana, and spoke quietly. I was still fifty yards away when Scott shoved her down into a chair against a window. He moved toward me, clenching his hands. His face murderous. One cheek red from her slap. I faltered mid-step, fingers on the clasp of my purse. Then he was past me, avoiding my eyes as he walked down the hall to the banquet.

  I exhaled and hurried the rest of the way to Juliana. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  She looked disgusted, not intimidated. “I’m fine. He’s being a prima donna. If he can’t stand the heat, he should get the hell out of the kitchen.”

  My heart still pounded from observing their altercation, but Jules was cool as a cucumber. I sat down in the chair next to hers. “You’re sure you’re OK?”

  “Takes more than that to rattle me. How about you? What a night!”

  “It’s been amazing. You were spectacular. Showing them what a pro can do. It’s a shame Ellie wasn’t here with us.”

  “Yes.” She had an odd tone in her voice. “She wasn’t perfect, you know.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant I wish she was still alive because then this evening would be pure joy, without the dark cloud over it.”

  “You’d say the same about Felix, right?” She looked at me sideways, a twisted smile on her lips.

  “I don’t feel lingering grief about him, but I’m not glad he’s dead. I know other people are sorry—”

  “It’s fine, Kate, I understand. Trust me.”

  We sat in silence. “Jules, I talked with Ellie’s husband. He told me about her.”

  “Her alcoholism?”

  “Did you know?”

  “Not then.”

  “Ethan said it was important for her to talk to us, but she never reached me. Did she talk with you?”

  “The week before she died.” She stood up. “I need a trip to the ladies.”

  “I could use that, too.” I followed her back toward the banquet hall, into a small women’s restroom with two sinks in the front half and two stalls in the back. We passed a woman I didn’t recognize coming out the door, otherwise we had the place to ourselves.

  I refreshed my lipstick in the mirror as Juliana came around and washed her hands, then pulled a complete makeup kit from her purse—which explained why she carried a large leather handbag, instead of a small evening bag. I watched her expertly touch up her face. I could learn to use those Beauté products from her, too.

  I shook my head. “I’m still so surprised about Ellie. Did she tell you anything about her recovery or how she could function when she was drinking?”

  “Not really.”

  “What would she have to apologize to us for?”

  Jules put her hands down on the counter and bent her head. “Lord have mercy, you won’t let this go, will you? You always were a terrier.”

  “I’m sorry, forget—”

  “You asked, I’ll tell you. She wanted to make amends for betraying me.”

  “She—what? She wouldn’t have—”

  Juliana’s face twisted. “She did. I never had the chance to handle things my own way, she saw to that. She went running straight to Robertson-Kennerly when she found out I’d been diagnosed with epilepsy.”

  “The job I got that made you quit racing for pageants?”

  She nodded and went back to applying mascara with choppy, angry strokes.

  “Epilepsy? That was the health problem you had that year?”

  She nodded again.

  “You couldn’t have raced anyway, could you?”

  She rounded on me. “I should have been able to make that choice for myself. I’m fine now, it simply took some time to diagnose and balance out my medication.”

  “So she told them about it and they gave the seat to me.”

  She slammed the mascara into her purse. “And ruined my racing career.”

  “But Jules, you couldn’t have raced. Not if you were being diagnosed, right?”

  “That’s not the point!”

  I thought it was entirely the point.

  “She betrayed me. She kept me from winning that ride, from going on in racing. And then she had the nerve to come crawling to me asking for forgiveness.” Juliana faced me, waving her hands in the air as she ranted.

  “I’m sure she was sorry—maybe she was drinking back then, and that was why she betrayed you.”

  “Being weak is no excuse. She’d beaten me. Betrayed me. Then, of course, they were going to pair us in the pits next year. Fucking ‘pit princesses’ idea. Assholes.”

  I blinked as she turned back to the mirror and rummaged in her bag. “That would be hard to take.”

  She applied lip liner, then dug out her lipstick. Our eyes met in the mirror. “You have no idea, little Miss Most Popular Driver, how it felt to be on the outside wanting in. To have lost like that.” Her face was bleak.

  I reached to touch her. “Jules, I’m so—”

  She swept her left hand out to stop me and caught the edge of her bag, sending the contents spilling onto the floor.

  I gasped and crouched down to gather the items, glad to help her somehow.

  It wasn’t until I glanced at the box in my hand that I heard her saying, “No, don’t,” and “Stop.”

  A Kreisel watch case, with a clear cover to better display the large, men’s watch inside. A race-winner’s watch.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “Shit,” she said. “I knew there was a reason to bring the other purse, not this one.”

  I felt numb. “Where did you get this, Jules?”

  “A boyfriend gave it to me years ago.”

  I stared at it, pieces falling into place. Juliana was in every location. She knew stories about me from the past. She knew about the hospital visit. She had access to a watch. She was furious at Ellie.

  “And then you gave it to Felix?” I lifted my head to look at her.

  She nipped the watch out of my hand and tossed everything back in her purse. “He thought he was so clever. So I gave it to him. Then I took it back.”

  “Jules.” I stood up. “What did your mother die of?”

  “Heart problems.” She stood, thumping her purse on the counter.

  “Did she have a prescription for nitroglycerin?”

  She didn’t respond, but leaned forward and applied lipstick, blotting it with a tissue.

  I remembered Juliana speaking to the young pageant girl at the mall event: “Want it, and find a way to be on top.”

  “This is about winning, Jules?”

  “Be the best, that’s my motto.”

  Sorrow washed through me, weakening my knees. I braced myself on the counter. “Were you trying to kill me all along?”

  “No, the car, the helmet and suit, the hospital—even all those lovely stories in the right blogging ears—were all diversions.” She stowed her lipstick away.

  “The car that tried to run you down?”

  “What car?” She barked out a laugh. “You’re the easiest person to fool. All I had to do was sacrifice an old pair of pants and purse to the cause.”

  “Did you really mean to kill Ellie and Felix?”

  “That bitch deserved it. And honestly, what’s one less misogynist in the world?” She eyed me. “I did womankind a favor with Felix. He would never let a woman get ahead if he could stop it, not on track, not in the pits. That’s unacceptable. Plus he thought he’d try to blackmail me because he saw me put pills in her juice. Did you know nitroglycerin was terribly lethal with his little blue pills?”

  “You killed him! Womankind doesn’t want those kinds of favors.”

  “Old goody two-shoes, Kate.”

  I bolted for the door, but she was faster. She bumped me aside, pushing me into the wall, then flipped the lock on the door. I lunged at her, trying to force he
r out of the way, but she turned and used my momentum to carry us both to the sinks. I hit the counter with the point of my hip, and she slammed into me. I cried out and crumpled over. It hurt like hell.

  “Nice try, Kate. But you’re not going to beat me. I’ve come too far to lose now.” She kept me pressed against the counter as she reached over to her purse. I bucked against her, moving her back. I was free for a moment. Then she turned and shoved me with both hands.

  I stumbled backward on those stupid heels, overbalancing and going down hard on my tailbone against the far wall. My head sounded like a melon thunking against the tiles as I fell. My vision swam, narrowed. I saw black at the edges, and I shouted silently at myself, like I did in the racecar. Don’t pass out, Kate. Focus. Stay awake. Get up and get past her. My limbs were slow to respond, but I’d kept a death grip on my purse, and my fingers fumbled with the clasp.

  Red in my narrowed vision. Then pain as Juliana knelt on my legs. She peered into my eyes, nodded. I got my hand in my purse. Juliana pinched my nostrils closed and raised a cupped hand to my open mouth. Small objects hit my tongue. Some part of my brain shrieked a warning.

  I lurched forward. Spit the pills out. Raised my right hand from my purse and shot hairspray point-blank into Juliana’s eyes. She fell back with a shriek, rubbing her eyes. Swearing at me. I scooted forward and grabbed, untying the long, black ribbon from her waist. She struck out at me with hands and feet, blind, tears streaming down her face. I stole her trick and sat on her legs. Grabbed one arm. Wrapped the ribbon tight around it and tied a knot.

  I scooted two feet away to the metal dividers separating the toilet stalls and wrapped the ribbon around the pillar secured to the floor. Pulled. Juliana’s arm was reeled in toward the divider, and she flopped over onto her side on the floor. When she reached her other arm to her bound wrist, I wrapped the ribbon around both wrists together and knotted it again.

  She was furious, crying, eyes closed. Stretched out on the floor, kicking. But immobilized. “Don’t think this means you’re better than me, Kate Reilly.”