by D. A. Bale
That got me a snort. “That car is a money pit. Don’t know why you keep it.”
“Because it’s my money pit,” I said. “A gift that keeps on giving.”
“But I know how you feel about the giver.”
“It’s my name on the title, and that’s all that matters.”
I plopped another bite of manicotti in my mouth for good measure and smiled around the cheese. After all the cotillion training, Mom would be ashamed if she saw me, though she should’ve realized I was a lost cause after I threw up all over the floor on my first day of kindergarten. Or after tripping over the threshold entering a swanky restaurant after church on Sunday and exposing my Hello Kitty undies to an astonished crowd. Then there was the time I tore down the aisle of the old church during the kid’s Christmas production, ruining my grand entrance as the Virgin Mary and launching the Baby Jesus doll into the audience to escape the rampaging donkey colt.
But that was all before I’d descended into my present day adult anarchy.
Zeke just shook his head as if he’d had a front row seat to my walk down memory lane. “So why’re you really snooping around for Bobby? Hoping to jump back on that bandwagon now that the wife is out of the way?”
I so wanted to spit cheese in Zeke’s face. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“You always were good at playing us against each other in high school.”
“You’re thinking of Lorraine Padget.”
That stopped him for a second. “Nah, I was thinking of you and me.”
“There is no you and me. There is no me and him. Bobby was my friend. Is my friend and always will be. That’s it. Case closed.”
“You wish,” Zeke mumbled into his loaded meat-lovers lasagna.
I ignored the jab, but it got me thinking. Was my past with Bobby really a closed deal? Sure he was still finger-lickin’ good-looking. Yeah my heart did a little pitty pat where Bobby was concerned, and my panties rode the tilt-a-whirl on occasion.
But the guy was a pastor now, which is a no-go in my book. There’s no way I’d ever desire to hold the title of pastor’s wife, so why bother admiring the goods on the shelf? Besides, the shelf life on my virginity expired a long time ago, and we all know what Mary Jo Vernet thought of that. This outlaw putting up with the Vernets as in-laws? A big nuh to the uh. Bobby and me a couple? Not an option.
“If you’re done living in the past, let’s bring this meeting to order,” I urged in my best Judge Judy voice.
“Fine. Did you talk to Bobby?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He and Amy had a very open marriage.”
“Open as in…”
“Honesty, Zeke. Open and honest,” I said. “Gee, get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Sounds to me like yours is the mind that’s gutter bound.”
“Hey, if you want me to pick up tonight’s tab, you better lay off.”
“What about the lack of family at Amy’s funeral?” Zeke asked, zeroing in and right back on track like a good Ranger.
“Bobby said her mom died of a drug overdose a couple of years ago,” I offered. “I understand she was a lifelong user.”
“Father?”
“Never knew him.”
While Zeke chewed on that thought, I signaled a wine refill from the waiter. If my checkbook balance was going to drop tonight, it might as well go down happy. Or at least make me feel happy so I could wake up feeling like I got something out of the night. After all, Zeke drove so I could drink all I wanted.
Then again, wine always did things to me. Strange things. Made me feel all warm and gooey inside. Warm enough to do something really stupid if I wasn’t careful. One more glass wouldn’t hurt, but then I’d have to call it quits. I already had Nick complicating my life. The boss too. Now Bobby, but in a different way. Cross my heart.
Oh man. Maybe I am a slut riding the express train straight to Hell. I dropped my fork into the manicotti and sighed.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Zeke asked.
I glared. “Really poor choice of words right about now.”
That got me a smirk and an intense – and interested – stare from molten eyes edging toward ebony. Sent my womb into a swoon. I clenched my thighs together with a firm mental no and reminded my wine-soaked brain of Zeke’s two-timing ways with the pageanted Padget. Then there was that resolve to stave off men.
Yeah, yeah, I know. It hadn’t worked with Nick either. Don’t remind me.
Zeke continued with the questions. “Did Bobby have any idea why Amy was at your building then?”
I shook my head. “Last thing he remembered was hearing her get up that night, assuming she was going to the bathroom. Pregnancy and all that, you know.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Zeke replied.
My turn to stare. “Anyway, he must’ve gone right back to sleep since he didn’t hear the car start.”
“Where’s their bedroom in proximity to the garage?”
“Haven’t a clue. Never been to their house.”
Zeke cocked a brow in disbelief. What is it with all the suspicion? I usually got it from the church crowd, but I don’t think Zeke has sat in the family pew for a few years either. Longer than me even.
“Garage doors cause quite a racket,” Zeke said.
“They just moved in though. Maybe the car wasn’t in the garage.”
“Do me a favor then. Surprise Bobby with a visit to get the lay of the land.”
“That might work,” I mused. “What about your end? Did you check the case file? See any good reason to poke your nose in it?”
Zeke pushed his empty plate away before tipping back the remainder of wine like throwing down a shot. His tongue curled to capture a drop at the edge of his lip. My pulse skipped its usual rhythm as I recalled the talents in that tongue – and I ain’t talking syntax.
Had someone turned the air conditioning off in here? I gulped ice water to temper my enflamed memories. Yeah, I’d definitely had too much wine.
“The report is pretty straight-forward,” Zeke stated. “No appearance of struggle on the rooftop. None of your neighbors reported hearing anything out of the ordinary. By all appearances, the scene suggests suicide.”
“What about toxicology?”
Zeke leaned forward and touched my fingertips. “You were always good at talking my language.”
The right thing to do in that moment would’ve been to remove my hand, but the familiar zing of his touch sent luxuriating chills down my spine to my overactive nether regions. My brain turned sluggish as I stared at my empty glass. How much wine had I drunk?
“And?” It was the only answer I could get past my thick tongue.
“An over-the-counter sedative was discovered in her system.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous to take while pregnant?”
“I called the M.E. It’s commonly used, even during pregnancy.”
I finally succeeded in convincing my brain to remove my hands from the table to my lap. “So you share the police department’s conclusion?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So what are you saying, Ranger Taylor?”
“Something’s missing from the report.”
My turn to lean forward in breathless anticipation, and it wasn’t because of Zeke’s musky scent. “What’s missing?”
His nose was mere inches from mine. “Footprints.”
Chapter Nine
Cars in the driveway? Check.
The question of vehicle location crossed off my list as I rounded the corner onto Bobby’s tree-lined street and saw the moving boxes crammed into the open garage. A few were piled along the sidewalk for the sanitation crew, and Bobby added one more as I parked along the curb with a wave – and received a half-hearted one in return. Hmm. Rough day.
My day wasn’t shaping up much better. Mom had acted none too thrilled when I’d cut our Tue
sday luncheon short and skipped out on afternoon shopping. You would’ve thought she’d be happy with the credit card reprieve, but it didn’t stop the barrage of questions she peppered my way.
Where’re you going?
Who will you be with?
Who will you really be with?
Why can’t you go another day?
This doesn’t have anything to do with Robert, does it?
‘Course I expertly deflected all of the questions. For the most part. Maybe. If Mom smelled any hint of my true destination, she would’ve bashed me over the head and tossed my carcass in her trunk faster than I could down a shot of Jack. Actually she’d probably have had a waiter do it, but I digress.
Bobby squinted through the sunlight and scowled at my gauzy, white dress. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna help in that?”
I pulled a bag from the passenger’s seat and slung the strap over my sore shoulders. Yesterday’s target practice had already come back to haunt me. Helping Bobby move boxes today was gonna be the final thing to send my muscles packing – or in this case unpacking. Oh the things I do for friends.
“Brought a change of clothes,” I called.
“Well come on then.”
His jeans and t-shirt were coated with dust and marred with sweat. Why is it that guys still look good even when they’re grimy? I remember how sweaty Bobby and Zeke had appeared after winning a high school basketball game – and I would’ve still given my right arm to have had them hold me and lay on a big one even then. But girls? We women were expected to look picture perfect at all times. Our hair in place, makeup perfect, and clothes neat even after playing a round of coed softball in the middle of July. Or hitting the shooting range. It just wasn’t fair.
An older lady perched on the porch next door. I could only imagine what she thought as I traipsed up the walk into the house with my duffle in tow. Headline – pastor who just lost wife and unborn child brings in another woman before the bodies are cold. Some people would probably go so far as to misconstrue it as an overnight bag. I so wanted to run over and explain to the sweet old lady it wasn’t what it appeared – even though I’d used this as an overnight bag before. But I had no intention to this time around. I swear.
Bobby didn’t seem too concerned as he directed me into the modest three or four-bedroom home, up the stairs and to a spare room with an assortment of sturdy and wilted boxes in varying stages of unpacking. The pile of royal blue Christian Bible Fellowship High School t-shirts brought back some interesting memories.
“Nice shirts,” I said.
“Yeah.” Bobby stared absently at the pile. “I was planning to do something special for my alma mater while the baseball team finished their season, but it’s kinda taken a backseat.”
“Understandable.”
“You can leave your stuff on the bed there,” Bobby said. Eyes shifted and an unusual hardness settled in them. “I’ve given up on this room for now.”
“I’ll join you in a flash,” I said.
As I got dressed, I considered my cute little shorts to his practical jeans. I tugged on the lacy tank and stared in the mirror at the cleavage while I wrapped my hair in a loopy pigtail. The nosey neighbor had me reconsidering my choice of apparel. The thought got my dander up.
There was nothing going on between me and Bobby. I had no intentions toward him anymore, regardless of what others might think of my clothes. So then why did we have to justify any and all association? Already I’d had to tiptoe around my mom. And now the nosey nana next door. I was here to assist a friend. Period. End of story.
Well and get some information like I’d promised Zeke, but that was it.
After borrowing a blue t-shirt from the stack to better conceal what God gave me, I marched into the hall and glanced through each doorway. Question number two – check. The master bedroom was upstairs and toward the rear of the house while the driveway and road were toward the front on the opposite end. The cars along the drive instead of in the cram-packed garage made it clear Amy could easily have left the house in the middle of the night without disturbing Bobby. Most guys slept so hard a nearby bomb blast might not awaken them. A girl could sneak in or out without waking anyone when she needed. At least that was my experience. Experiences.
Bobby had returned to the garage while I’d explored. A neat path carved its way between the stacks toward the open garage door, where he kicked a box and sent it sailing into the grass like a field goal attempt. ‘Cept there weren’t any hash marks or uprights in the yard to gauge the distance.
“Score,” I yelled, throwing my arms up like a referee in the end zone and immediately regretted the movement as my muscles protested.
That only got me a glare and a huff. So much for trying to lighten the mood.
“Oka-a-ay,” I continued, tying the shirttail in a knot at my hip. “Anything I should know about?”
“Nothing much,” Bobby snarked. “Just that Amy’s mom was a cotton-pickin’ liar.”
“I thought she was…um…gone?”
Avoidance is my specialty. I avoided using the words dead, deceased, or the usually appropriate phrase passed on, ‘cause they wouldn’t do anything for Bobby’s current state. The substituted football in the yard maintained his stare like he’d light the thing on fire with the power of his mind.
“She is,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t stop her from continuing to screw with our lives.”
“Issues with the in-laws,” I said with a nod. “Common problem with marriages, or so I’ve heard.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Shoulders slumped and the fight appeared to drain from him before Bobby turned back to the never-ending boxes and settled on the wilted ones at the front. “Help me drag these to the curb, will you?”
These looked like the ones from the spare bedroom I’d changed in upstairs. “Aren’t you gonna go through them first?”
“I don’t want to know anymore of her secrets.”
“Whoa. I didn’t think Amy kept secrets from you.”
“Not Amy.” Bitterness seethed between Bobby’s teeth. “Her mother.”
A couple of lawn chairs were smushed into the far corner. I rescued them and set them up in the shade at the edge of the garage to catch a furnace-like breeze and where Nosey Nana couldn’t see us. Since my arms felt like I’d already spent hours maneuvering boxes, I had no qualms about putting off additional strain a bit longer. I plopped down in a chair and patted the other.
“You look like you could use a break there, pardner. Take a load off for a sec and do a little ‘splaining to this confused cowgirl before you do something rash like kick the neighbor’s dog.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Bobby snatched a couple of water bottles from an ice chest, handed me one and took a swig from the other before sitting down with a sigh. Sweat from the humid afternoon trickled down his temples, and he smelled like he’d just played a round of one-on-one with the guys. Ah, the memories.
“Tell me what’s got you all worked up today,” I said.
“I don’t feel much like talking,” he returned.
Leave it to a man to clam up when he should be getting things off his chest. “Then you can listen.”
Even though I hadn’t done any heavy lifting yet, I was still hotter than a woman in the throes of menopause and tucked the water bottle down the shirt neck to rest between my boobs. Living in Texas all my life hadn’t acclimated me to the heat and humidity of a good ol’ southern summertime. That was one reason I covered as little as I could legally get away with. Personally, I’d rather live somewhere north – like near the Arctic Circle.
I dove in. “Found out something interesting from Zeke last night.”
Bobby glanced at the moisture outlining the water bottle under my shirt. “You two have a hot date?”
I threw him a look. “Just business.”
“Not what I heard.”
“Since when d
id you join the gossiping gaggle?”
“I imagine the information was an attempt by my mother to discourage my spending time with you.” He air quoted around the bottle in his hand. “Now that I’m single.”
“Well tell your mother that you were the one who asked for my help.”
“I did.”
“And Zeke is the only law enforcement officer I know well enough to ask a favor.”
“I figured.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Uh-huh.” Bobby took a long gulp of water.
Zeke a friend – not sure I’d go so far as to consider us that. We hadn’t spoken to each other in the more than two years since the epic breakup – or breakdown, depending on how you saw it. Sharing a meal last night had been nice at times, that is until Zeke opened his mouth and reminded me how good he was at frustrating the life out of me. But he truly was the only LEO I knew well enough to ask about the police report. That didn’t mean I hadn’t known a few others. You know – in the Biblical sense.
“Why don’t you just get Zeke to help you instead of using me as the middleman?” I asked. “Save us all a heap of headaches.”
He tossed the half-full water bottle up in the air a few times as if stalling. “Zeke and I had a bit of a falling out in high school.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t over Lorraine Padget.”
“Besides,” Bobby said, completely ignoring my comment. “I know how good you are at sizing people up at first glance. Amy was a lot like you in that regard…gifted with discernment.”
At one time, I too thought I was good at sizing people up. Had a lot of fun with it at the bar these days, though it didn’t always seem like a gift. Zeke’s betrayal had cured me of that delusion.
“Speaking of Amy, do you want to know what Zeke found in the report? Or should I say didn’t find?”
“You’ve got my attention.”
“So my apartment building is old, right?” I asked.
“Um, okay,” Bobby responded.
“It’s got one of those flat asphalt roofs with a rubber liner sealing it.”
“Yeah?”
“So why didn’t she leave any foot imprints leading from the door to…”
“…the edge,” Bobby finished as realization dawned across his face.
“There should’ve been pictures of shoe prints in the file, references of dimensions and stuff in the write-up. At least that’s what Zeke said.”
