LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2)

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  Cord emerged carrying two earthenware mugs, steam rising from each. “You must be a real coffee drinker, then. No true coffee lover would kill the taste of perfectly good coffee by adding a milkshake to it.”

  She remembered her aunt saying the same words. Unconsciously, she fingered the cashmere throw.

  Cord smiled. “Lou gave me that,” he said. “She knew I liked to sit up and read late into the night. She worried I’d catch a chill.” His smile grew wistful, but then he cleared his throat. “So, what brings you here, Allie? Not that you’re not welcome for any reason.”

  “I met Janet French yesterday.”

  Cord chuckled. “Frenchie is something else, isn’t she? Did she embarrass you with her cussing?”

  Allie looked at him over her cup rim. “I’ve been known to use a few of those words myself.”

  “Not all of them, I hope,” Cord said, still smiling. “That woman can curse a blue streak and does at every opportunity. Makes my old drill sergeant sound like a pussycat.”

  “I think she must have toned it down for me,” Allie said, putting her coffee cup on the scarred table in front of the sofa. The man made a good cup of coffee. Maybe better than her own. “She tried to bribe me. She said she’d talk to me if—”

  “No, let me guess,” Cord broke in. “She wanted you to bring her a bottle of whiskey.”

  “Don’t I wish,” Allie said ruefully. “No, she held me up for a bottle of Grand Marnier. The hundred-year-old variety.”

  Cord whistled. “Her tastes sure have changed. Used to be she’d tell all for a ten-dollar bottle of rum.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what did you tell her?”

  “I told her yes. Of course, that’s before I went to the liquor store and priced it.”

  Cord automatically reached into his back pocket, but Allie held up her hand. “No, it’s already in the car.” She motioned with her head. “It wasn’t the cost so much as it was the shock that a bottle of liquor could cost that much.”

  “Scary, isn’t it, what people will pay for oblivion? Then, they go home and sick it all up and tell themselves they’ve had a good time.” He shook his head. “People are funny.”

  His response pretty much summed the man. Cord was in a position to be the most judgmental man in the county, yet here he was, excusing the behavior as “odd.” And the way he’d reached into his back pocket for his wallet so he could give her the bribe money to get Janet to talk to her.

  She sat back, sipping her coffee. She’d never met a man like Cord Arbutten. He was the fairest, most impartial, most giving person she’d ever known, except for her aunt. The two had been perfect for one another. It was a tragedy that they’d never been able to come together.

  “In another life, we will.”

  Allie and Cord both froze. Then, they looked at each other. Had they both heard her? Allie sat back a bit. Was it such a stretch of the imagination to think that her aunt was also talking to the man she’d loved? Allie was too embarrassed to ask, and Cord didn’t offer anything. Maybe they could be honest about it some day.

  Cord finished his coffee and put the cup on the table. “So you’re going to see her?”

  Allie nodded. “This afternoon. I’m hoping she can help me understand her daughter better. None of the things I’ve learned about Jean adds up. You told me your wife was unhappy. Rand told me she was terrified of you.” She saw Cord flinch, but she went on, “The neighbors and the people she associated with in the county say she was friendlier than she’d ever been toward the end. She was making long-range plans. She had a hairdresser appointment the day after she died.”

  “On Wednesday?” Cord asked, his expression puzzled. “Jean always got her hair done on Tuesday.”

  “Maybe they were closed or something that week. She had committee meetings the week after that where she was supposed to make presentations. None of it sounds like she was a woman about to commit suicide.” She saw the worried frown begin to form on Cord’s face. “I know you didn’t kill your wife,” Allie said gently. “I am absolutely, one hundred percent certain.” She was rewarded with a lessening of the frown. “I’m also certain your son didn’t kill her. I have a witness to that fact.” That earned her a full-blown smile. “The problem is, if you or Rand didn’t kill her, and she didn’t commit suicide, where does that leave us?”

  Cord sat back as if she’d pushed him. His eyebrows came together. “I never even gave it a thought. I was so certain she killed herself.”

  “Maybe I can get some insight from her mother. Maybe she’d made someone angry or had an enemy none of us knows about. Maybe she told Janet things she didn’t tell anyone else.”

  Cord was shaking his head. “I wouldn’t build any hopes on that,” he said. “Jean and her mother were always at odds. Jean was ashamed of where she came from, and she wanted to hide her mother away somewhere so no one else would see her. I didn’t think it was right. I mean, it was her mother, after all, but there was no talking to her on that score.”

  Allie knew he was probably right, but she was determined to try. When she realized Cord was in uniform, she jumped to her feet. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to stay so long. I know you have to get to work.”

  Cord stood also, but he got up like an old man. “There’s no rush. Actually, I was thinking of staying home today.” At Allie’s surprised look, he seemed to wrestle with himself. Finally, he said, “I had another visit from Frank. The man you met at the office.” Allie nodded. “He said they are thinking of asking me if I might entertain the idea of early retirement.”

  Allie’s mouth fell open. All this because of a stupid newspaper article?

  Cord seemed to follow her thoughts. “It wasn’t totally because of the article. There were plenty of those, and they might have been able to overlook those, to weather whatever came from them. No, the media got hold of the information about the divorce and that she was killed with my old service revolver.” He looked at Allie, his face bleak. “They knew that, of course, but now that it’s been in the paper, they can’t ignore it.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know where she found the thing. In the attic? Jean was the one who decided where to put things. I hadn’t seen it in years. I don’t even think it was loaded.”

  He leaned against the back of the sofa. “Thing is, I know I should take them up on their offer. This kind of suspicion isn’t good for the department, and that has to be my main concern. But—” He paused for a minute, and then he continued. “But I just can’t bring myself to do it yet. I keep hoping—well, that something will come to light. Some miracle to tell us what really happened that day.”

  He rubbed his lower face with his hand, his gesture so like his son’s that it caught Allie off guard for a moment. “I’ll have to decide soon,” he said, his voice hardening. “I can’t let it go on indefinitely, or they’ll be forced to fire me; but neither can I give up all I’ve worked for without a fight.”

  He walked Allie down to her car, ever the gentleman, and then made his way back up the stairs. Allie would swear she could see the indecision in his step.

  She sat for several moments before she started the Jeep. She didn’t want to leave Cord alone. The man had built his entire world around his job as sheriff, and why not? He had a wife who despised him and a son who feared and reviled him. The only woman he ever loved, at least to Allie’s knowledge, was her aunt, and her aunt was dead. If he lost his job, what would he have left?

  She remembered how Sheryl had slipped the gun out of Joe’s hospital room after they found out what really happened with Rupert Cornelius. Allie initially thought Sheryl overreacted. Then later, after Joe died, she wondered how Sheryl guessed what he might do. Now, she knew. When a person reached a point of having nothing left to love, or to lose, she could see why they might choose to end it.

  She felt a stirring of grim determination that started low in her stomach and spread until it fairly radiated from her body. She wouldn’t let Cord Arbutten end up a suicide statistic. Not if she could
help it. She would learn what happened to Jean Arbutten if it was the last thing she ever did.

  She had hours to kill before she could visit Janet French, so she headed to the paper. The parking lot was close to full, every visitor space taken, which surprised her. She locked the Jeep and headed inside.

  She heard voices coming from the direction of Rupert Cornelius’s office. Many voices. The clink of coffee cups. The booming sound of male laughter. Myrna wasn’t at her desk. As Allie started to turn toward the newsroom, Myrna backed out of the office and turned toward her. The smile on her face could have lit up Delaware. She practically ran down the hall. Grabbing the cigarettes and lighter off her desk, she dragged Allie outside.

  “Can you believe it?” she said, quickly lighting a cigarette and taking a deep puff. Laughter trickled out of her mouth with the cloud of smoke. “Rand has them eating out of his hand. They love him, just like I knew they would.”

  Allie wasn’t caught up in her excitement, but she was curious. “Who loves him?”

  “Our advertisers! Those vultures who wanted to dump the paper three days ago. Rand set up this jazzy breakfast so they could all meet each other. He said they’d feel more comfortable if they each realized the others were on board. You’d think it was the annual meeting of the Cocoa Kiwanis in there. He has them all talking to each other and laughing. They’ve been at it since seven.” She smiled, shaking her head. “I knew a man could do it, especially one who could really talk to them in their language. I might not agree with how it works, but I know it works. Every single one of them signed a contract for another year, even the jerks that had already told us no. We’re good to go, Allie. We won’t lose the paper.”

  Allie saw the glimmer of tears in Myrna’s eyes, and she relented. She hugged her. “Congratulations, Myrna. I have to give you credit. You pulled it off single-handedly.”

  “Hardly,” Myrna said, wiping her eyes with a finger. “Rand is the one who deserves the credit.”

  “Maybe some of it, but it was your idea. You’re the one who knew what it would take. Don’t diminish your achievement. You should be the one running the paper.”

  Myrna shrugged. “I wish, but you know they’d never accept it.” She motioned toward the building with her head. “You saw what almost happened. I won’t take that chance again.”

  Allie didn’t agree with her, but she wasn’t ready to argue the point. Not so soon after Myrna and Rand’s coup.

  As Myrna crushed her cigarette under her shoe, people began to come out of the building. They were laughing and still talking as they headed for their cars. Several spotted Myrna and Allie, and they waved.

  “Thanks for coming,” Myrna called across the lot. “See you next week.”

  Allie waited until they left. “Next week?”

  Myrna grinned broadly. “Rand’s set it up weekly. Power Punch breakfast, he called it. He pitched it as a way to get local business people together—at least those who are our loyal advertisers—to discuss what they see as the future of our great county. They bought it hook, line, and sinker. The man’s a genius.”

  Allie didn’t know if she believed that, but she wasn’t about to rain on Myrna’s new and shiny parade. Instead, she said, “OK if I use a desk for a while?”

  “Sure, but why aren’t you out there investigating?”

  Allie’s face set into an expression of grim determination. “I will be. I have an appointment this afternoon not far from here, but I don’t want to drive all the way back home and then come back. I figured I could type some notes.” She held up her briefcase that now held her laptop. “I brought my own computer.”

  Myrna laughed aloud, clearly still floating on her cloud of sudden success. “Sounds like our star reporter is hot on a trail. Who you going to see?”

  “Jean Arbutten’s mother.”

  “What do you want to go see that old cow for?” When Allie was silent, she said, “Hey, what’s up? Want to tell old Auntie Myrna about it?”

  Allie wasn’t ready to tell anyone about it, not yet. Sometime during the night, she’d awakened to a thought so radical, so sickening, that she couldn’t get back to sleep. She hoped she was wrong, wanted to be wrong. If she wasn’t…

  Her face must have given Myrna her answer. “Come on,” she said. You can use your old desk. It still has all your stuff in it.”

  All her old stuff consisted of a motley collection of pens, half of which didn’t write, a few Post-it Note pads, a stapler and Scotch tape holder, and a clunky old desktop computer Allie pushed off to one side. She set up her laptop and, in minutes, was lost typing her notes from her conversations with Libby the night before and with Cord this morning. So great was her concentration that she didn’t see Alf Reed standing in front of her until he knocked on her desktop.

  He smiled unpleasantly. “How’s our ace investigative reporter?”

  Allie had always backed away from Alf’s sarcasm because she was intimidated by his years of experience at the paper, but she didn’t feel like backing off any more. “Busy,” she said curtly. “What’s up?”

  “I just wondered if you wanted to share with us what gems your excellent investigative skills have netted,” he said, looking around the newsroom and laughing.

  The room was busy today. Some laughed with Alf. Others, like Tommy Saers and Holly Miller, new guys on the block, looked embarrassed and sympathetic. Allie had been taught to be polite at all costs. She had been taught to respect age and experience. Right now, though, she didn’t think those lessons would serve her. “No,” she said, looking down at her computer screen.

  She heard titters of laughter and saw Alf Reed leaning insolently against her desk out of the corner of her eye. She’d be damned if she’d acknowledge him. She heard him take a breath to speak when a rich baritone boomed behind Alf, cutting him off.

  “Allie. I’m glad you’re here.”

  When she looked up again, Alf was scurrying back to his desk. In his place stood Rand Arbutten. He was dressed much as he had been the other day, in a suit and tie. His face above the shirt looked healthier, almost tan, and he smiled at her. “Could I interest you in lunch?” he asked loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “I want to update you on how successful our marketing plan is proving to be.”

  Allie swallowed. Our marketing plan? She wasn’t sure what was going on, and she was even less sure about the wisdom of going to lunch with Rand, but there was no way she would say no in front of all these people. She wasn’t willing to embarrass him. “Sure, just let me get my things together.”

  “I’ll help you,” he said, gathering her notes together and slipping them into her briefcase. After she saved her work, he detached the power supply and stashed that in an outside pocket. When she had put her computer in the briefcase, he snapped it closed and picked it up. Allie felt like he was carrying her books home after school. It was embarrassing…and somewhat nice.

  “Everyone,” Rand said, turning to the room for the first time, “we just had a great meeting with our advertisers. They’re all on board for another year at least. With their help, I wouldn’t be surprised if our circulation increased by 30 percent or more. You can be proud to work for the Brevard Sun.”

  They walked out amid a lot of excited chatter. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Rand said to Myrna as they passed her desk.

  A couple of hours?

  Myrna grinned after them.

  Rand led Allie to the parking lot. His car was a dark sedan. She didn’t know if it was the same make and model as the car that had followed her to the beach. Cars weren’t her forte. This one had tinted windows, but weren’t the windows of the car that had been following her darker? She wasn’t sure. Just because Butch had cleared him of murder didn’t mean he hadn’t been the one trying to intimidate her, although now, it seemed a lot less likely. He opened the door for her, and Allie glanced in the back. No fright wig and mask. Rand came around and slid in behind the wheel. “Where would you like to go?”

&nbs
p; “Not the Dixie Diner,” Allie said before she could stop herself.

  Rand grinned at her. “I had the questionable pleasure of lunch there with Myrna a few days ago. I think we’ll pass on that.” He turned the key in the ignition. “I know just the place.”

  He headed south on US 1 and took a left on 520. For a minute, Allie was afraid he was taking her to the place in Cocoa Village where she and Marc first had lunch. Not that there was anything wrong with that. She and Sheryl had eaten dinner there a few months back, but somehow, the place seemed to belong to her and Marc.

  “Sorry about Alf,” he said as they waited for a traffic light to change. “I know he’s a problem. I’d talk to them about letting him go, except the newspaper is all he has. Myrna told me his wife died years ago. His kids are out of state, and he doesn’t seem to have any friends.” He looked at her and smiled. “It not too hard to understand why. I think he’ll be all right once he understands his boundaries. I’ll have a talk with him this afternoon.”

  His words were so much like what she would expect out of his father’s mouth that she had no rejoinder. Rand Arbutten as the competent, successful businessman was a stranger to Allie. She realized suddenly that his appearance at her desk just at that awkward moment probably wasn’t a coincidence. She’d bet money Myrna had seen what was happening and sent him in. She had to admit she admired the way he’d sent Alf Reed packing without outright embarrassing him. It wasn’t what she would have expected.

  He drove with easy competence. In his movements, his facial expressions, and now, even his words, she could see so much of the father in the son. He had that aura of strength and solidarity she’d always sensed when she was with the sheriff. He had the force of personality without the filter of great maturity. It was overpowering and, well, appealing.

  He crossed the first bridge and immediately pulled into what seemed to be a vast boatyard. A narrow gravel road ran beside it parallel to the river. Allie could see small pleasure boats pulled up to the dock. The road continued for about five hundred feet before ending in the parking lot of a seafood house, a two-story wooden structure with tables overlooking the water. Allie hadn’t even known it existed. She couldn’t imagine how Rand had found it. As they were being led to their outside table, he said, “Myrna told me about this place. It’s supposed to have good food. She said if they allowed smoking, she’d be here all the time.” They both laughed at that.