“Where’d you sell them?” The sheriff interrupted. “Not around here, by gum. I’d have noticed.”
“Yeah, sure you would, Sheriff.” Reeves’s tone held a ton of derision. “You can’t tell a Porsche from a Jaguar, and everybody knows it. But the owners might have tumbled to it. We mostly sold the cars out of state. We’d stick the cars in the back of the paint shop till we made the deal. There’s always some antique or jalopy waiting out there, tarps over them, and nobody paid much attention to one more. I had a customer or two, and if the boys noticed anything, they’d just figure I was doing a private job. Once we had things ready, then I’d tell ever’body I was going to see my folks for a few days. Late at night, I’d ease out of the shop and make tracks for wherever we’d found a sucker. You know sports car fans go all over for some of these events. Danny made it a point to get to know the outsiders, sound ’em out about what they wanted, and when we spotted one, the buyer would get an anonymous call. Deal made for cash, car delivered to some neutral point. I’d rig a title good enough to get by, and everybody was happy. Even the guy we stole from didn’t come off too bad—he got a check from the insurance company, didn’t he?”
“I can’t believe Danny was part of that kind of operation,” Nina insisted.
“Can’t or don’t want to,” Reeves taunted. “Danny didn’t take the money. He didn’t need it, didn’t care about it. It was just the fun of setting up the deal that hooked him.” He shot Nina a sidelong glance. “And you might have caught on somewhere along the way, you know. Danny figured that, so he started taking other gals, dumber ones, to the meets. He wasn’t going to let a girlfriend with brains mess up his hobby.”
The sheriff leaned across the table, folded his arms, and maintained a poker face. “So you know what happened to Danny Wilson? Is that it? You know what he did. Sounds to me like you know what happened to him.”
The chair Reeves sat in creaked as he shifted his weight. “Danny’s dead.” No expression colored his voice. “Been dead since an hour or so after he left the church.” He waved back the words that came from all directions. “No, hell no, I didn’t kill him. Or if I did, I didn’t know it. It went down like this.” Reeves reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one free and lit it. “Danny had plans,” he went on, with a glance at Marigold. “He wanted to be loose of Mama’s apron strings, live like a man, not a nine-year-old kid, reporting in, going where the old lady wanted to go. Wanted to drink a beer, stay out all night if he felt like it. He knew that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in Santa Rita, so he made some elaborate plans to skip out. Even went so far as to dream up that wedding, Nina, but he never intended to go through with it. Something happened, something really dumb—he fell in love with his own bride. And that gummed up the works all around. He had figured there’d be hell to pay when folks found he was gone, so he was gonna let me take the T-Bird and give me that customer list so I could stay in business. His plan for that night before the wedding was to tell Paula he was coming to see her, tell you, Nina, that he had to get home, and tell the dragon lady that he’d be with Nina canceling the wedding. I’d pick him up outside Paula’s place, and we’d head for the big city. He planned to get a wad of cash and take off for parts unknown, getting a new name and a new life along the way. I’d take the car and the list. He’d get away from here. The car and the business were my payment, my stake to the good life.”
“And Danny changed his mind somewhere along the way,” Peter suggested.
“Changed his mind, ditched the plan, and said he was keeping the girl, the business, and the car.” Reeves dropped the cigarette to the floor and, with a glare of fury in his eyes, ground out the ember. “He didn’t show up at Paula’s place. That was my first hint that Danny had turned on me. I got there and waited, waited till I was afraid people were noticing me, and finally left. Made the tour of all his haunts and finally cruised by Nina’s place. Five o’clock in the morning and I was at the end of my patience. Pulled up on Jasmine Street, a last resort, you might say, and there was the T-Bird, pretty as you please. I sat there trying to figure out what was going on when the door opens and out comes our Danny, bright as Mary Sunshine. I caught up with him and said, ‘What’s up?’ He grins, kinda goofy-like, and says the plan’s off, he’s staying, getting hitched, and he’ll be taking Nina to Dallas for the week. Business as usual when he gets back. I say I need the car, I’ve got it sold, at least give me that, but he says nothing doin’, see him after the wedding.”
“And then?” the sheriff prompted.
“And then I got to thinking how Danny Wilson did just what Danny wanted, never mind what it might do to anybody else. Got fuming, got madder by the minute, and...well, it took a while, but I found where he’d put the car. I was taking the car when Danny came for it. I tried to laugh it off, make a joke, but he got mad about me taking the car. Ragged at me about selling somebody a car I didn’t have, and how that customer list would’ve kept me going for years if I had it, only he wasn’t giving it to me. Taunting me, he was. Kept on till I just had enough of his ragging and took a swing at him. Hit him. I guess it was pretty hard, ’cause he went down like a bag of sand. I didn’t know what to do. It looked like he wasn’t breathin’ too good. He’d had his keys in his hand, dropped them when he fell, and I grabbed them. Found the list in the car pocket like he’d planned to give it to me all along. At first I thought I’d just take the car and the list. I had the title in my pocket from when we got together in Dallas, so I was set. I’d just leave Danny behind and head out. Then it hit me that if he came to, my good buddy Danny would have the sheriff after me and the car in nothing flat. He could make it sound like I’d been alone on stealing those cars. I couldn’t tear up the list. Couldn’t keep it. I’d lose all around, and probably go to jail. So I popped the trunk, dumped out all those pink suitcases, and rolled old Danny in. Figured I’d take him out of town and, if he didn’t come to pretty quick, maybe leave him where somebody would find him and take care of him. I could be long gone before that happened.”
“Danny? You put him in the trunk of the car?” Marigold shuddered at the idea. “Danny couldn’t breathe in a place like that. You killed him!”
“Dang, woman, that poke in the jaw may have finished him off, but you’d been killing him, smothering him to death, all his life. Why the hell didn’t you let him get out and get dirty, find out how the real world lives, let him off the leash before he got so fed up he was ready to run to Mexico or somewhere just to get away from you?”
“I loved my son,” Marigold wailed.
“That’s not part of this discussion,” Sheriff Hayes interrupted. “You admit you killed Danny Wilson?”
“I admit I hit him. I admit I put him into the trunk. But I didn’t kill him, I damn well didn’t. He was alive when I rolled him into the trunk and put his suitcase up front. He had air and some room back there. And Nina told me his license and pocket knife were hidden inside the trunk. So he had to be alive. He dang sure put those things there. I didn’t.”
Sheriff Hayes nodded. “He did have to be alive at least for a while. But you said that you know he’s dead. How do you know, if you didn’t make it happen?”
“Because I took the car out to the paint shop like always, and when I opened the trunk, Danny was dead. He was breathin’ when I put him in and not when I opened the trunk. I didn’t kill him; I know I didn’t. He was always bellyachin’ about his damn health, so I figured it was natural causes, heart or something. I think maybe I had something to do with bringing it on, but by heaven, Sheriff, I didn’t start out to kill him. It just happened.”
“And you were the one who made that call to me, told me Danny was following those race car people, I suppose,” Marigold interrupted.
“And posed as Jeff Davis in Dallas,” Nina added.
“Jeff Davis was the seller’s name on all the fake titles, guys. It got to be almost automatic to sign things that way.” Reeves looked at Marigold and gave a
chuckle. “You bet I made that call, and got a kick out of hearing you sputter and fume over ‘my boy’s got no business associating with that sort,’” he answered, his voice a close, taunting imitation of Marigold’s drawl. “You’d have kicked up more fuss than a high plains tornado if you hadn’t thought you knew where your baby was. Made sure to send a telegram from wherever I delivered a car, somewhere around a race track, if possible, to keep you happy. Took you a lot longer to catch on than I expected.” He grinned. “That part was kinda fun, watching to see how long you’d keep the blinders on.”
“Enough, Reeves. Finish the story.” The sheriff sighed at the man’s sudden blank expression. “So where did you bury him? Where is Danny Wilson now?”
“Where he’d have picked to be if I’d given him the choice, Sheriff. In the berm beside the museum, next to all those fine old cars, probably the only things Danny Wilson ever really loved. Eldon was having that driving area paved, and the men piled up all that dirt we used to build up the berm. I just made a place—nice, easy dirt to move, so it wasn’t all that hard—and left Danny and his suitcase there. Workmen finished up the paving and we planted grass over the berm. That’s where Danny is.”
****
“So it’s all over now, Nina. You’re home, you have your answers, and you can pick up your life again.” Peter pulled her into his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder and watched the sun drop lower in the sky. The curtains fluttered in the evening breeze behind the big armchair.
“Way back, oh, it seems ages ago, you asked me if I was sure knowing was better than not knowing.”
Peter nodded. “I remember asking you that, and you said you’d rather know the truth than be in doubt. Did today change your mind? Would you rather not have learned the worst about Danny?”
Nina shifted so she could look at Peter. “No, I still think it’s better to have everything out in the open. Don’t laugh, but I hate it for Marigold more than for myself. She had to face the kind of man her son really was. It hurt to watch that happen. She aged ten years this afternoon.”
The security of Peter’s arms and the quiet strength he gave her went a long way toward easing the hurts of the day’s revelations, but Nina knew there would be no solace for Marigold.
“She did, sweetheart, but remember, she also did everything she could to sabotage your life as well. She has some debts to pay.”
They sat quietly in the darkening room, Nina releasing the past that had held her hostage for so long, Peter simply giving comfort.
“We have some other things to discuss, you know.” His words drew her back to the present.
“Do we?”
“Miss Kirkland, for some time I’ve been telling you that the minute Danny Wilson was out of your life I was planning to mount a campaign to gain your affections.”
“You know you have them, Peter. It took a while, with a lot of doubt along the way, but you know my feelings.”
His hand lifted her chin and he left small kisses on her lips. “I love you, Nina. Have, do, and will, for all the years we have together. I know you’ve come through hell in the last few days, almost dying, pulling a miracle out of your garter to free not just yourself but Eldon and me, as well...” He paused, a puzzled twitch in his eyebrows. “By the way, how did you happen to have that knife tucked into your stocking, if I may ask without sounding ungrateful?”
Nina felt her face color. “Don’t laugh at me, but it was just a silly, sentimental notion. I was sure Danny was dead, gone, but in spite of his money he never had much out of life. Rogue and charlatan he may have been, but he always wanted to see the Isotta run. Miss Dee told me about keeping lipstick and cigarettes in her garter when she was a girl. I didn’t have a handbag, needed my license, and thought of Miss Dee’s story, so I put my license there. Putting Danny’s knife with it was just a whim. It was a way of remembering the good part of him. A bit of him got to share the moment.” She touched Peter’s cheek gently. “I know it sounds foolish, but it seemed right at the time.”
“No doubt that it worked out for all of us. And I’ll feel a little less antagonistic toward that man since, in a way, he helped save the life of this girl I love.” The solemn look in Peter’s eyes faded, and he pulled her closer. “That’s all past now, Nina, and I hope your regrets, your mourning, will soon pass, as well. It may be too quick, but I’d like to know that down the road one day you’ll stand in front of a preacher, a judge, even a witchdoctor if you like, and take those vows again—the ones that go ‘I, Nina, take you, Peter,’ and so forth. Do you think we could talk about that in the near future?”
Nina pushed away all but his first concern. “Mourning? I don’t think I can keep mourning a man I never really knew. That’s senseless.” She stirred in his arms. In a hesitant tone she asked, “Peter Shayne, are you making some kind of indirect, slightly academic proposal? Do you by some chance think I’d consider spending the rest of my life with a tall, redheaded professor who likes to unravel puzzles and drive snazzy yellow sports cars?”
“Yes, ma’am, that is essentially what I’m asking.”
She sat upright. “Well, if that’s what you’re thinking, my friend, you’d better be careful, because that’s exactly what I plan to do. Spend a long, happy life driving along winding roads with a man who can solve a riddle and even spot a flock of plaster geese.”
The teasing look faded from Peter’s eyes. “Really, Nina, you really will marry me?”
“I will, Peter, with all my heart I promise I will.” She paused. “But not till next summer. I’ve signed my contract with the school for this year, so I have to teach. But come next summer...”
Nina couldn’t finish her thought. Peter’s lips and the bear hug he wrapped around her stopped all conversation.
When he drew back, he grinned. “Okay, next summer it is.” He paused, “Just one thing, sweetheart.”
“What’s that, my love? You want a huge wedding, a thousand guests, and a three-day party afterward?”
“That’s a good idea, and we’ll work on it. What I was really thinking was that it might be interesting to hand out rally instructions instead of invitations to the guests, to lead them to the event. And maybe make our getaway in the Isotta?”
Nina groaned. “I’ve created a monster. I should never have taught you to drive the T-Bird.” She curled into his arms. “We have a whole school year to make plans. A road rally wedding? Who knows, I might let you talk me into it. But the Isotta? You’ll have to convince Uncle Eldon, and that’s going to be a harder sell, my love. Ever so much harder.”
Try a taste from the other Santa Rita books now available from The Wild Rose Press,
and you’ll want the whole feast:
DON’T CALL ME DARLIN’
“Miss Library Lady, if you don’t take that damn book off the shelf, all hell’s gonna break loose. For sure and certain, with every Joe-Bob and Minnie Fay in the country seeing Communists under the bed and believing a Red Menace is beating on the door, folks are gonna shy away from anything that stirs up controversy. Things get heated up, and the County Commissioners’ll have you for breakfast.” The County Judge fiddled with his straw hat, rolling the broad brim, fingering the crease in the high crown. “It isn’t worth losing your job over some piddlin’ novel.”
“Sam Lindley, you can’t be serious. McCarthy’s witch hunts are dead, the House hearings have lost their bite, and the country’s tired of both. I’m the librarian, not the Book Commissar.” Carole kept her tone even, but the impulse to stamp her foot and throw something at the man was strong.
~*~
BLACK RAIN RISING
Evie skirted the barroom to find the farthest table in the darkest corner, where she ordered coffee. The man in jeans finished tuning his guitar and checked two microphones before he settled on a tall bar stool and strummed a few chords. Evie flinched. She’d listened to any number of no-talent singers and off-key guitars in the last twelve hours. She resigned herself to hearing another. She didn’
t suppose one more would be fatal. At least this singer was better-looking than most. The tousled, sun-streaked hair was natural, the drooping moustache framed a handsome mouth, and those almond eyes looked like they really had seen a thousand miles of empty road. Evie poured a packet of sugar into her cup and leaned back.
“Good evenin’, folks, and welcome to Duff’s. Good of you all to get out on a night like this.” His voice was low, intimate, warm as whiskey on a winter night, with a slow drawl like wild honey. “My name’s Dallas Baird. I’ll do what I can to make your Saturday night a little more pleasant.”
~*~
ELOPEMENT FOR ONE
“All I want you to do is delay the limo that’s picking up the three of you for half an hour or so. Spill something, break a heel on your shoe, whatever it takes to tie things up for a little bit, long enough for me to call for a taxi and slip out the back door.”
“You’re going to get changed and out of there in half an hour, with the wedding planner and the photographer hanging onto you every minute?” Zarah sounded skeptical.
“The wedding planner is out with the photographer trying to find the setting I wanted for the pictures. Since that corner of the church parlor is full of stuff for the kids’ party tomorrow evening, they’re going to be occupied for a little while moving things around. I can’t unfasten this dress by myself, but I think I can get out the back door without anyone seeing me. All I need is a car and driver. Pray a taxi can get here in time.”
“Our Troy engages in another harebrained adventure.” Zarah’s tone came across the wire with wry resignation. “Don’t worry about getting a taxi there, Troy. It’s too undependable. It might come too late or not come to the right door. I’ll get someone over there to pick you up. You just get yourself out of there. And thank heaven you decided to do it before the wedding march started. I’d hate to take on your dad and Eric that late in the day. Make your dash to freedom in about fifteen minutes.”
Half Past Mourning Page 28
