“Are you happy now?” she asked.
He snorted at the ridiculous question. “Not even close. But I’m a patient man,” he warned, his voice thick with shameless need. “Eventually I intend to be very, very happy.”
Her blush darkened. “What about me?”
“Oh, you’ll be happy. That’s a promise.”
She released a reluctant laugh. “I’ll admit that you’re persistent.”
“That’s what made me such a good investigator,” he said without modesty.
He had been a good investigator. And when there was something he wanted, he didn’t let anything stop him.
Not even a bullet.
She gave him a light push. “Then go and investigate.”
He allowed his fingers to brush over her cheeks and down the slender curve of her neck.
“I’ll bring back lunch,” he promised before turning to head out the door. “Tell Doris I’ll take a raincheck on that coffee.”
Chapter Seven
It wasn’t noon yet, but the door to the Lodge was unlocked. Nate pulled it open and stepped into the long, narrow bar that was wrapped in shadows.
“We’re not open yet,” a voice called from the back.
Nate paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could catch the pungent scent of bleach—probably the manager cleaning the bathrooms—as well as the deeper smell of old leather and musty wood. He’d seen pictures of the Lodge when it belonged to the Masons.
It was a shame that the once stately building was now nothing more than a dank, ratty tavern.
By the time he could at last see through the gloom, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
“I said we’re not open.”
Paula Raye, the current manager of the Lodge, had short brown hair and a square body that was attired in a black sweatshirt with the logo of some band Nate had never heard of, and baggy jeans.
Nate flashed what he hoped was a charming smile. “Sorry, but if you don’t mind, I have a few questions.”
The woman studied him with a frank gaze. “Are you working with the cops?” she abruptly demanded.
Nate swallowed a sigh. He hadn’t told anyone he was retired from the Bureau when he’d moved to Curry, but it hadn’t taken long for the gossips to somehow discover his past and spread it around town.
“Why do you ask?” he hedged. It wasn’t a yes, or a no.
Hey, if she wanted to think he was there in an official capacity, he wasn’t going to protest. He needed information and he no longer had a badge to ensure he could get it.
Paula moved toward the bar that ran along the wall. “I’ve been expecting them to stop by ever since I heard they found Daniel dead in that field.”
Nate followed her, taking a seat on one of the high stools as the woman began polishing the wood. He felt like he was a character in an old film noir. All he needed was a fedora and a cigarette.
Squashing his ridiculous thoughts, he studied the woman. Clearly, she assumed he was there because of Daniel.
“Because he was here the night he died?” He hazarded a guess.
“Yep.” She waved the rag toward a booth in the corner. “Sitting at that table.”
Nate paused. He was here to find out if Barb Adams had recently been at the tavern. And if she ever met with friends when she came there.
But he suddenly realized that he might have found another connection to the strange events swirling through Curry. Both Barb and Daniel spent their evenings drinking at the Lodge.
It might be meaningless, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility.
“Was he alone?” he asked Paula, leaning his elbows on the brass railing that ran the length of the bar.
Paula resumed her polishing. “Most of the night, but around closing time a couple of guys came in and joined him.”
“You didn’t recognize them?”
She gave a decisive shake of her head. “They weren’t local.”
Hmm. There weren’t many reasons for strangers to come to Curry. Not unless they were visiting family.
“Were they friends of Daniel’s?”
Paula paused, considering her answer. “They knew each other, but I don’t think they were friends.”
“Why not?”
Paula tossed aside her rag and reached beneath the bar to pull out a laptop.
“See for yourself,” she said, firing up the computer and tapping on the keyboard. There was an unexpected jiggle of charms from the silver bracelet around her wrist. Was it to distract attention from those ugly tats? She didn’t seem like the jewelry type of woman. “I saved the surveillance video. You wouldn’t believe how many people come back and try to claim they gave me a fifty instead of a ten, or that they left their wallet on the bar and accuse me of stealing it.”
It took a few minutes for her to find the file she wanted and then fast-forward to the end of the night. At last she turned the computer so Nate could see the screen.
There was no sound, but he could make out the grainy image of Daniel hunched over his beer as he sat in the corner booth. He appeared impervious to his surroundings. At least until two men strolled through the front door and headed directly to where he was seated.
Nate leaned closer, watching as Daniel tried to leave, only to have the men stop him. It was clear that Daniel wasn’t happy with the appearance of the two. And equally obvious that he couldn’t tell them to go away.
“Tense,” he muttered. He didn’t have to see Daniel’s expression to read the stiff set of his shoulders and the nervous twitching of his fingers.
“Yeah,” Paula agreed. “I had my phone in hand, ready to dial 911.”
“I don’t suppose you managed to overhear what they were discussing?”
Paula shrugged. Nate guessed that she didn’t get too excited about anything. Probably a good trait for a woman running a tavern. Curry might not be a big town, but alcohol made people act stupid no matter where they were.
“No, but I’ve been a bartender long enough to recognize when someone is collecting a debt,” she said.
Nate was impressed. That was exactly what he was thinking.
He focused on the screen as he watched the two men have an intense conversation with Daniel. One leaned forward, revealing the teardrop tattoos on his face. Then, with jerky motions, the two strangers slid out of the booth and headed toward the door.
“They didn’t leave together?” he demanded.
“I didn’t really notice,” Paula admitted. “I was tired and ready to go home. I was trying to get as much done as I could so I could lock up when the clock hit midnight.”
“I guess they came to some sort of agreement,” Nate murmured. Or more likely the threat had been delivered, he silently acknowledged.
Daniel slumped back in his seat, wiping his forehead. Relief? Or just a druggie needing his next fix?
Five minutes passed before Daniel abruptly grabbed his phone off the table and glanced at the screen. Then he slid out of his seat and headed for the door.
If Nate had to guess, he’d say that Daniel had been waiting to hook up with his dealer. Of course, if the sheriff would get his lazy ass in gear, no one would have to guess. They could get Daniel’s phone records and find out exactly who sent him the text.
Nate sat back as the video continued to run, showing Paula as she finished her late-night cleaning.
“His car was found out back, wasn’t it?” he finally demanded.
“Yeah.”
Daniel had left through the front door.
“So, either he walked to meet a friend, or someone picked him up,” he surmised. “Do you have a camera outside?”
Paula snorted. “No, most of the trouble happens in here.”
Nate sighed. A perp couldn’t walk ten feet in a large city without being on camera. Around here a person could dance naked around the town square without fearing they were being recorded.
Making a mental note to ask Walter if he had access to Daniel’s phone records, Na
te turned his attention back to the reason he’d come to the tavern in the first place.
“Can I see the video from last night?”
Paula stilled, her expression suddenly wary. “Why?”
“I want to see if Barb Adams was here,” Nate admitted with blunt honesty. He didn’t want the woman afraid he was searching for any illegal activity in her dubious establishment.
He didn’t care if someone was sneaking a joint in the corner or having sex in the bathrooms.
“Oh.” A portion of the woman’s tension eased, although she was still wary. As if she didn’t completely trust Nate. Or maybe she just didn’t trust anyone connected to law enforcement. Nate sensed she was a woman who’d been on the wrong side of an interrogation table. “I’m sure she was. Barb’s here almost every night,” she admitted.
Nate nodded his head toward the computer. “Do you mind?”
“Knock yourself out,” Paula said, clicking on a new file. Once the video was running, she shoved the laptop close enough for Nate to fast-forward the video until he reached the point that Barb entered the tavern and made a beeline for the bar. “Are you looking for something specific?”
Nate grimaced. He was sitting on the same stool that Barb had chosen. It was weirdly disturbing.
“I want to see if Barb talked to anyone.”
Paula folded her arms on the bar, eyeing Nate with blatant curiosity.
“What’s your interest in her? Do you think she’s connected to Daniel’s death?”
Nate paused. If he thought that the sheriff might treat the older woman’s death as a murder, he might hesitate to discuss his interest. Unfortunately, he was willing to bet good money that Gary Clark was going to try and pass off her death as natural causes. Or even a tragic accident. Which was why he hadn’t bothered sharing his suspicion that someone had broken into Barb’s house before her death.
“She passed away today.”
“Passed away?” Paula looked confused, then she went rigid with shock. “Are you saying she’s dead?” Nate nodded. “Oh God, she wasn’t driving, was she?” Paula demanded.
“No. She was at home.”
“Jesus.” Paula grimaced. “I assumed she’d drink herself into an early grave, but not this early.”
Nate didn’t bother to argue with the woman’s assumption that Barb’s death was related to her alcohol abuse. For all he knew, that was exactly what had killed her.
“How well did you know her?” he instead asked, watching the video as Barb leaned on the bar and abruptly motioned toward Paula, who was pouring a beer a few feet away.
“She was here most nights, and if it was slow I would spend a few minutes chatting with her, but she was just another customer,” Paula told him.
Nate pointed at the screen that revealed Paula strolling toward Barb, then abruptly the older woman lunged across the bar to grab Paula’s arm.
“What’s going on here?”
Paula frowned. “I don’t remember.” The bartender abruptly snapped her fingers. “Wait. She was asking to run a tab.”
“And?”
“And I told her no. I have a strict policy of not extending credit. Not to anyone.” Paula’s square face reddened. As if she thought Nate was judging her business decision. “It saves any misunderstandings.”
Nate gave an absent nod, his gaze returning to the video. Paula had pulled away from Barb and the older woman was giving a vague shake of her head.
“She looks confused,” he murmured.
“She was more drunk than usual. To be honest, I was glad when she left. Now she’s dead.” Paula grimaced. “Damn.”
Nate continued to watch the video until Barb slid off the stool and headed toward the door. She stumbled more than once and walked with a lean to the right, as if the floor was slanted. Paula hadn’t been wrong. The woman was toasted.
“No one spoke to her?” he asked.
Paula shook her head. “Not that I noticed. Why?”
“Just trying to piece together her last hours.”
“Do you think someone slipped her something that killed her?”
He gave a vague shrug, closing the laptop and shoving it across the bar. “It’s possible.”
Paula studied him, clearly sensing there was more to his questions than he was willing to admit.
“Barb liked to drink, but I don’t think she took drugs,” she told him.
Nate slid off his stool. “You never know.”
“That’s the God’s truth.”
There was a sincerity in the woman’s voice that told Nate she’d seen and endured more than most people.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Finding a twenty, he dropped the bill on the bar. He might have more questions later. He liked to keep witnesses eager to talk.
“Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.”
He walked out of the tavern, feeling Paula’s gaze until he was out the door and headed down the sidewalk.
He hadn’t really found out anything that could help discover who was bothering Ellie, but he knew how both Barb and Daniel had spent their nights before they died.
Whether or not that was information that would actually lead to anything remained a question.
For now, however, he wanted to concentrate on something besides death and mutilated rodents and potential stalkers.
Ellie needed a distraction.
He intended to give her one.
Chapter Eight
After Nate left, Ellie refused to dwell on the kiss. The explosive sensations were too confusing to be sorted through. Not without a large bottle of wine. Instead, Ellie forced herself to return to her office. She didn’t get any work done. She was still too freaked out by the rats to concentrate. But she at least had stopped pacing the floor.
Progress.
In an effort to keep busy, she sorted through her files, searching for anyone who might have an axe to grind. Not literally. Or at least she hoped not.
A shiver raced through her as she finished her list and sat back in her chair.
She had some names scribbled down. A couple of them were relatives of clients who blamed her for their family member going to jail. One was a victim of a hit-and-run who was furious when she managed to get her client, the driver, off on a technicality. And a couple of local men who’d taken it personally when she’d brushed off their attempts to get her into bed.
She truly didn’t believe that any of them would slash her tires or leave dead rats on her patio, but she needed to feel as if she was doing something productive.
It was well past noon when she at last heard the sound of footsteps headed down the hallway, and Nate stepped into the office. Ellie lifted herself to her feet. It was an instinctive reaction to the sheer force of his personality.
It would be easy to be intimidated by Nate Marcel. His potent masculinity was like a punch to the gut.
He halted in the middle of the room, his expression impossible to read.
“Ready for lunch?”
She glanced toward his empty hands. “I thought you were going to bring something with you.”
He flashed a crooked grin. “I have a better idea.”
Her heart skipped a beat. The treacherous sensation put her in full retreat-mode.
“I really don’t have time to leave the office.”
“It’s nearby.” He held out his hand. “I promise.”
Ellie paused, then blew out a deep sigh. She really did want to get out of the office. It was starting to feel like the walls were closing in.
She grabbed her keys and cell phone off the desk, and headed toward the door. Nate stepped aside, allowing her to take the lead as they left her office and headed into the reception room.
Ellie halted next to Doris’s desk. The older woman was busy shuffling files, but Ellie wasn’t fooled. Her secretary was still rattled. Even if she would rather have her tongue cut out than admit it.
“Why don’t you go home for lunch today, Doris,�
� Ellie urged. Both women usually shared lunch on the patio. “I’ll lock the door.”
Doris nodded, rising to her feet. “A good idea. Those rodents were a nasty shock.”
“Take the afternoon off,” Nate abruptly announced. As if he had every right to tell her employee what to do.
Doris paused, her probing gaze studying Nate. Then her lips twitched.
“You know, I think I will.”
Without even a glance toward Ellie—the woman who signed her paychecks—Doris turned and walked toward the small closet so she could grab her coat and purse.
Five minutes later, the secretary was gone and Nate was escorting her out of the office. Ellie glared at her companion as she locked the office door and they headed down the sidewalk.
“Did I miss the memo that says you’re now in charge of my office?”
He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “We all need a few hours to clear our heads.”
A shiver of pleasure raced through her at his tender touch. Once again, she was reminded just how long it’d been since she’d shared her bed with a man.
With an effort, Ellie relaxed her tense muscles and sent her companion a rueful smile. Nate was going above and beyond the call of duty to help her. The least she could do was appreciate his efforts.
“And that’s what you have planned? Clearing our heads?”
His fingers trailed down her cheek. “What else?”
“Hmm.”
He chuckled, lowering his hand to grasp her elbow as they reached the corner.
“First, lunch,” he said, steering her to the north side of the square.
Ellie sent him a puzzled glance. “You do know the diner is in the other direction?”
“I have something better.”
She frowned. She was willing to be nice, but she wasn’t prepared to offer more. At least not this afternoon.
“Nate.”
“Really,” he promised.
“There’d better be food wherever you’re taking me or you’ll discover that there are few things more dangerous than a woman denied her lunch,” she warned.
He laughed. “I grew up in Chicago, crammed into a house with four boys and a dozen of our friends. Mealtime is a sacred event to the Marcel clan.”
You Will Suffer Page 8
