by Sheryl Lynn
Elaine dropped the string. It fluttered to the dusty floor.
“The shooter hightails it out of here. Del doesn’t have the strength to hold the gun. He drops it. He crawls to Bobby, tries to give him CPR, but he’s hurting too much. He makes it to the desk, hauls himself onto the chair, calls the sheriff, manages to choke out that Bobby’s been shot, then he collapses.”
“Murder,” Ric said.
“An honest to God whodunnit. Oh, man, I hate whodunnits.”
Elaine clapped a hand over her mouth and raced out the door.
Chapter Seven
Elaine sat on a stump. Sunshine warmed her body, but she felt cold and numb inside. She waited for Tate and Ric to finish collecting evidence from inside the lodge. Through the open doorway she could see occasional flashes from the camera. If she had her way, she’d never step inside the lodge again for as long as she lived. She wanted to burn it to the ground.
The forest was conducive to contemplation. Big trees and blue sky and the clean smell of snowy ground made self-delusion impossible. One thought kept returning over and over again: Daddy wasn’t a murderer; he was a hero who had died trying to save her husband. It should have alleviated her anger and despair. Instead, guilt swarmed like buzzing flies. Her cowardice had allowed a murderer to escape.
A double-murderer. For surely, if not for the stress and trauma of seeing his son-in-law gunned down, Daddy wouldn’t have suffered a heart attack.
If King had searched the lodge, he would have found the bullets. If he hadn’t been able to bear being in the place where his brother-in-law and nephew-in-law had died, he should have allowed Tate to collect evidence. Perhaps his refusal had nothing to do with squeamishness or the fear of exposing Del as a murderer. Maybe it had to do with prime riverfront property and housing developments and a big money deal being worked out behind Del and Lillian’s backs.
Why had Daddy even called King? She distinctly remembered her uncle saying he’d taken the call. The old rotary phone didn’t have speed dial or programming capability. It would have been faster to dial 911. Unless Daddy hadn’t made any calls at all. Which would mean King hadn’t raced to the scene—he’d been there already.
Imagining her beloved uncle involved in murder was as sickening as believing her father capable of it.
Ric and Tate emerged from the lodge. Tate carried the plastic box. Atop it was a stack of plastic bags containing the bullets and fingerprint cards. Ric carried several brown paper sacks with the tops neatly rolled and sealed with tape.
“We searched both bedrooms and the bathroom,” Tate said. “If he had a woman up here, she didn’t leave anything behind.” The men loaded the kit and evidence into the Bronco.
“Is there any way to check phone records from the night of the shooting?” Elaine asked.
“If I can get a court order to demand records from the telephone company. If they archived the records. Some companies don’t. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering why Daddy called King instead of 911. Or why didn’t he call home? Or if he called anyone at all? What if King was here all along?”
Tate smiled dreamily at her. The smile caught her off guard. She’d never thought him attractive before; big and beefy held no appeal. Now she understood why many women in town had tagged him as “yummy.”
“Points to the pretty lady,” he said, his tone admiring. “Those are real good questions.”
Ric scowled at his friend. Elaine sensed a definite rise of testosterone. It both amused and annoyed her. One kiss did not give Ric dibs on her.
Although, it had been a pretty hot kiss.
“I hate thinking Uncle King had anything to do with it.” She drew a deep breath. It was appalling how much sense this line of reasoning made. “I can’t conceive of him hurting Bobby, but he’s certainly in a position to hide evidence.”
“She’s got a point.” Ric draped an arm around her shoulders, ignoring her look askance. “If we turn the evidence over to King, it could disappear. Then where are we?”
“Let me talk to Linda Pallo,” Elaine said. “If anyone can explain about the maps and sketches, she can. If she doesn’t know about them, then that tells us plenty. Tate, do you know anyone who can help us process the evidence without Uncle King knowing?”
“The old man’s got friends all over the state. I couldn’t make a move in any official capacity without him finding out.” He snapped his fingers. “Unless…I might be able to plead my case with the FBI. I hate bringing feds into a local matter. Not to mention how the sheriff will react when he learns he’s the target. I’ll talk to that private eye Tom hired and see if he can come up with anything. He works for a large firm. Maybe he can get the phone records.”
“Without a court order?”
“Hey, where gumshoes get their info is none of my business.”
“Now might be the time to speak to your mother,” Ric said.
Eyes closed, Elaine breathed, “No, not yet. Especially if King is involved. Let me talk to Linda first and see if I can figure out the deal with the maps.”
Tate was agreeable. Elaine watched him drive away, then deliberately removed Ric’s arm from her shoulders. “Don’t assume liberties with me,” she said tartly.
He struck an aggressive pose with his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets. “Liberties?”
“I’m not a fence post, and you aren’t a hound marking territory. You don’t have to get all jealous because of Tate.”
He laughed mockingly. “Jealous of Tate? Right.”
“Then why did you put your arm around me?”
“You looked cold.”
“Ha! Big fibber.” She jerked a thumb at his truck. His jealousy shouldn’t flatter her, but it did. “You drive out first. I have to chain the road.”
He muttered something she didn’t quite catch. She thought it might have been, “…a little jealous.” A glance at her watch showed almost the entire morning was gone. If she hurried, she could take Linda to lunch and still get home before the school bus dropped off Jodi.
“What’s your phone number?” she asked.
Ric paused in the midst of opening his truck door. Her gaze slid down his backside. A calendar containing only photographs of his taut, sexy backside would probably sell millions.
“Call the shop. I don’t have a phone hooked up yet at home.”
He looked reluctant to leave—she didn’t want him to leave.
“I’ll find you after I talk to Linda.” She climbed into the Jeep. She reached for the door to pull it closed when Ric stepped to her side.
He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He kissed her hard, close-mouthed, but passionate. Her senses reeled with pleasure and instant arousal. All her joints seemed to liquify. He broke off as abruptly as he’d begun. His smile was crooked, wicked and warm. His fingers teased her neck then the line of her jaw. He tapped the tip of her nose, winked and walked away.
He fired up the truck engine, tooted the horn, then drove off.
She pressed a fingertip to her lips. All doubts as to whether she could ever feel sexually aroused again vanished. She wanted him, all of him. She wanted a second chance to love him.
Ric Buchanan is back in town…How would he like knowing what you really did to him?
If she knew Cedric Buchanan at all, he wouldn’t like it one little bit.
THE FIRST THING Elaine saw when she pulled into the Crowder Realty parking lot was the last thing she wanted to see. Axton Cross and Tom Greene were having an argument at the realty’s side door.
Axton was a slender man and not very tall. If pressed, Elaine would call him a dandy, especially given the double-breasted suits and tastefully subdued ties he always wore. Tom had lost weight since Bobby’s death, going from lean to skinny. He looked wiry, coiled like a compressed spring. He loomed over the real estate broker. He shook a fist at Axton’s face.
“Tom!” Elaine called. Her father-in-law whipped his head about. Seeing his sunken eyes and
gaunt cheeks made her heart ache. It was as if grief and anger were burning him up from the inside out.
“Tom.” She reached his side and placed a hand on his arm. “What is going on here?”
“I want this son of a bitch to ’fess up.” He shook a sheaf of papers in the air. “I got all the proof I need right here!”
Axton backed up a step, shaking his head, but never taking his gaze off the older man. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have nothing to confess, Mr. Greene.”
“I got some options now.”
The side door opened and Linda Pallo stuck her head out. “What is going on out here? Axton, is everything okay?”
“Not for long,” Tom said. “I hired myself an attorney. He says I got grounds for a civil suit.”
Linda said, “How about I do some suit filing of my own, Tom? There’s customers awaiting Mr. Cross and calls on hold. You’re impeding the progress of a legitimate business. I can throw in trespassing and harassment, too.”
“Don’t you care this no-account carpetbagger was scheming to murder Del? Huh? That he killed my boy to shut him up?”
Elaine tugged on Tom’s arm, but he was as unmovable as a bull.
“I’m filing a wrongful death suit. You just wait ’til I open up your life like a can of beans, Cross. Everyone will see what a murderous, scheming low-down dog you really are.”
“That’s enough.” Elaine dug in her heels and pulled Tom. “Come on. Let’s go on over to Walt’s.”
“Gonna go over your life with a microscope,” Tom growled. “I’ll own you! I’ll ruin you!”
“Tom, please!”
“I’m calling the sheriff.” Linda ducked back inside.
“You murdered my boy, and you’re gonna pay.” Tom finally allowed Elaine to haul him away from the door.
She shot Axton an apologetic look, then hustled the old man across the street. He kept muttering about lawsuits and the promises his attorney had made. She practically shoved him inside the wood shop.
Walt Buchanan shut off a table saw and pulled goggles off his eyes. Ric emerged from a painting booth. Buster trotted over to greet them. Seeming to sense Tom’s agitation, the dog slunk under a bench.
“Talk some sense into him, Walt,” Elaine said. “He was practically assaulting Axton. He’s going to end up in jail.”
“Stay out of this, girl,” Tom grumbled at her. “You might be happy with your uncle’s conspiracy to make everything nice and neat, but I’m not.” He slapped the sheaf of papers on a table. “I got the full report from the investigator. Axton Cross is up to his ears in muck. He’s a con man and a killer. My attorney says I can file a wrongful death suit. It’ll all be public record then. If King doesn’t change his ruling and open an investigation, then I surely have enough to go to the state attorney.”
Elaine dropped her face on her hand and groaned. When Tom Greene grabbed hold of an idea, he was like a snapping turtle—he wouldn’t let loose until his head was cut off. She held not the slightest doubt that Tom would sell off every material possession he owned in order to finance a legal battle.
Ric guided Tom to a stool. Though the older man resisted, Ric pushed until he sat. Ric tossed a significant look at Elaine. “It might be even more complicated than you think, Tom.”
Elaine tensed. Ric was going to reveal what they’d found at the lodge. She didn’t consider it wise. There was no telling what Tom might do with the information.
“Take a break, Uncle Walt,” Ric said. “You might want to hear this, too.”
Ric explained how he, Tate and Elaine had examined the lodge and collected evidence. When he talked about the bullets, Tom’s eyes widened and his weathered cheeks paled.
“You’re saying it’s a solid fact Del didn’t shoot my boy?” Tom asked.
“I’m not saying anything is a fact except what we found. You need to back off. If you go off half-cocked after Axton, King will stomp you. He’ll shut down Tate and the evidence we collected will disappear.”
“He’s right,” Walt said. He handed his friend a mug of coffee. “I can’t quite believe King is crooked. I do know the man will not tolerate being embarrassed. No matter how this turns out, he’s in for a big old cherry face. No sense poking at him before we have to.”
“The attorney says he’s never seen such a blatant cover-up,” Tom argued.
Elaine cleared her throat, catching Tom’s attention. “I hate admitting this, but I have spent the last eighteen months scared to death that some evidence would turn up that proves Daddy is a killer. I’m as guilty in the cover-up as Uncle King. I am so sorry.”
He refused to look at her.
“But I won’t close my eyes any longer. No matter what happens, or what comes out. Not even if it hurts Mama. So, please, hold off on filing a lawsuit. And stay away from Axton. I promise you with all my heart, on Bobby’s grave, that if Axton murdered Bobby, justice will be done.”
“I got a case. Once I get it rolling, I’m going to the state attorney. If I gotta sit in his office forty days and forty nights, I’m gonna make him see what kind of corruption infests this valley.”
Elaine considered briefly calling Gwen. All that would accomplish would be to deepen the poor woman’s worries. Gwen wasn’t the type to defy or argue with her husband.
She threw her hands in the air. “Talk sense into him, Ric. I’m going across the street. Maybe I can convince Axton not to press charges.”
“Gonna let that slick-talking con man convince you the sky is orange?” Tom asked with a snarl. “He fooled your daddy and he’ll fool you, too.”
“I intend to convince him to not file a restraining order against you.”
She left the wood shop, her mind churning. Talking Linda into having lunch, and getting her to talk was probably impossible now. Linda had worked at the realty for so long, she’d assumed a proprietary interest. Elaine felt duty bound to try anyway.
It relieved her to see only Linda and Axton were in the office. Not that she felt comfortable around Axton. At least the other agents, all of them eager for gossip, weren’t around as witnesses. Elaine forced a smile she didn’t feel.
“Oh, Axton, I’m so sorry about Tom.” It gave her eye-strain trying to look convincingly contrite.
He sat on the edge of a desk, sorting through mail. He harrumphed. Elaine had never figured out his age. His hair was thinning and nearly white, but his face and hands were smooth. He looked extremely irritated.
Axton Cross could have put a bullet through her husband’s heart and left her father to die. Suddenly, the air felt oppressive and the office way too small. She remained near the door.
“That old codger is nuts,” he said. “He’s been harassing me up and down ever since Bobby died. I’m sorry. Really sorry for his loss. And yours, too, Elaine. But I didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m fed up with him acting like I do. People are starting to take their real estate business elsewhere.”
Linda was seated at the receptionist’s desk rather than in her cubicle. Her fingers moved rapidly over a computer keyboard. Elaine could tell the woman was paying close attention. Elaine wondered if Linda had transferred all her loyalty to Axton now that Del was gone.
Axton dropped the mail and indicated a door. It led to the private office her father once occupied. “Come on in. I’ve been so busy lately, I’ve been neglecting you. Forget Tom Greene. He’ll come to his senses eventually. How are you doing? Staying out of trouble?”
If only you knew. Her face ached from the effort it took to keep smiling. No way was she going behind a closed door with Axton Cross. “Actually, I came to see Linda. Uhm, I never properly thanked you for taking care of those busted pipes in the Fourth Street house. I’d like to take you over to Daisy’s for lunch.”
“All I did was call a plumber,” Linda said.
“At three in the morning. You’ve been a godsend to me and Marlee and Davis the way you take care of the rentals.”
“That’s what I get paid for. Besi
des, I can’t leave until Kay gets back.”
“If you girls want to go to lunch, I can man the phones,” Axton offered. “Go on, Linda. I’ll be more than happy to eat your tuna fish sandwich for you.” He winked at Elaine. “Woman makes the best tuna salad in the world. If we could figure out a way to sell her sandwiches over the Internet, we’d make a fortune.”
Linda huffed and stomped into her cubicle. She returned with a paper bag that appeared much reused. “If you want my sandwiches so bad, Axton, say so, and I’ll bring extras.”
He hid a smile behind his hand.
The woman’s grouchiness was all show, her way of expressing affection. She used to snap and snipe at Del the same way. Elaine made a mental note to not say a single negative word about Axton.
It took a bit more coaxing, but Linda finally agreed to trust Axton with the telephone. Elaine sensed the woman was flattered by the invitation. Although Linda had been born and raised in McClintock, she didn’t have many friends. She had an abrasive personality, plus had spent so many years caring for two no-account husbands and her elderly parents that she’d never acquired the habit of socializing.
In Daisy’s Cafe, Elaine and Linda sat next to the window where they could watch people passing by. The cafe had seven small tables. It was open for lunch and breakfast only. The aroma of their signature cinnamon rolls permeated the walls. Rolls so good that tourists made special trips to McClintock merely to pick up a dozen or so. Fresh flowers on the tables and tole-painted tinware on the walls gave it a homey feel.
“We haven’t talked in ages,” Elaine said. “How are you doing?”
“Well as can be expected.” Linda scanned the menu.
