by B. J Daniels
Frankie chuckled and shook her head. “Hank only came into the bar to pick up some dinner. Apparently it had been a long day at work and he’d heard that we served the best burgers in Idaho. I just happened to be working that night, and since it was slow, we got to talking. A few days later, he tracked me down because I was only filling in at the bar. A friend of mine owns it. Anyway, Hank asked me out and the rest is history.”
It was pure fiction, but it was what she saw Dana needed to hear. Hank was no bar hound. Still, she felt guilty even making up such a story. It would have been so much easier to tell the truth. But her client had been adamant about them keeping the secret as long as they could.
Dana took a sip of her coffee and then asked, “So when not helping a friend, what do you do?”
“I’m a glorified secretary for a boss who makes me work long hours.” That at least felt like the truth a lot of days. “Seriously, I love my job and my boss is okay most of the time. But I spend a lot of time doing paperwork.”
“Oh my, well, you must be good at it. I’m terrible at it. That’s why it is such a blessing that our Mary stayed around and does all of the accounting for the ranch.”
“These cookies are delicious,” Frankie said, taking a bite of one. “I would love your recipe.” The diversion worked as she’d hoped. Dana hopped up to get her recipe file and began to write down the ingredients and explain that the trick was not to overbake them.
“So you cook,” Dana said, kicking the conversation off into their favorite recipes. Frankie had no trouble talking food since she did cook and she had wonderful recipes that her grandmother had left her.
* * *
FRUSTRATED AND ANGRY at himself and Naomi, Hank drove out of the ranch, not sure where he was going. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone for a while.
But as he turned onto the highway, he knew exactly where he was headed. Back to the river. Back to the cliff and the ledge where she’d jumped. Back to that deep, dark, cold pool and the rocks where her body had been found.
He knew there was nothing to find there and yet he couldn’t stay away. It was one of the reasons he’d left after Naomi died. That and his grief, his unhappiness, his anger at his father.
After pulling off the road, he wound back into the pines and parked. For a moment he sat behind the wheel, looking out at the cliff through the trees. What did he hope to find here? Shaking his head, he climbed out and walked through the pines to the rocky shore of the river. Afternoon sunlight poured down through the boughs, making the surface of the river shimmer.
A cool breeze ruffled his hair as he sat down on a large rock. Shadows played on the cliff across from him. When he looked up at the ledge, just for a moment he thought he saw Naomi in her favorite pale yellow dress, the fabric fluttering in the wind as she fell.
He blinked and felt his eyes burn with tears. Frankie was right. He and Naomi had wanted different things. They hadn’t been right for each other, but realizing that didn’t seem to help. He couldn’t shake this feeling he’d had for three years. It was as if she was trying to reach him from the grave, pleading with him that he find her killer.
Hank pulled off his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair. Was it just guilt for not marrying her, not taking the job with her stepfather, not giving up the ranch for her? Or was it true? Had she been murdered?
He reminded himself that this was why he was back here. Why he’d gone to Frankie to begin with and talked her into this charade. He realized, as he put his hat back on to shade his eyes from the summer sun, he trusted Frankie to find out the truth. Look how much she’d discovered so far. He told himself it was a matter of time. If they could just keep their...relationship secret...
At the sound of a twig breaking behind him, Hank swung around, startled since he’d thought he was alone. Through the pines he saw a flash of color as someone took off at a run.
He jumped to his feet, but had to work his way back through the rocks, so he couldn’t move as fast. By the time he reached the pines, whoever it had been was gone. He told himself it was probably just a kid who was as startled as he was to see that there was someone at this spot.
But as he stood, trying to catch his breath, he knew it hadn’t been a kid. The person had been wearing a light color. The same pale yellow as Naomi’s favorite dress or just his imagination? He’d almost convinced himself that he’d seen a ghost until, in the distance, he heard the sound of a vehicle engine rev and then die away.
Chapter Nine
After her visit with Dana, Frankie realized that she and Hank had to move faster. His mother was no fool. Frankie could tell that she was worried.
“Is there a vehicle I could borrow?” Frankie asked after their coffee and cookies chat.
“Of course.” Dana had moved to some hooks near the door and pulled down a set of keys. “These are to that blue pickup out there. You’re welcome to use it anytime you like. Hank should have thought of that. Where did he go, anyway?”
“He had some errands to run and I didn’t want to go along. I told him I would be fine exploring. I think I’ll go into town and run a few errands of my own.” She gave the woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile and took the keys and the pickup to head into town.
Frankie felt an urgency to finish this. It wasn’t just because their pretense was going to be found out sooner rather than later. Nor was it because she’d left a lot of things unfinished back in Idaho, though true. It was being here, pretending to be in love with Hank, pretending that there was a chance that she could be part of this amazing family at some time in the future.
That, she knew, was the real problem. Hank was the kind of man who grew on a woman. But with his family, she’d felt instant love and acceptance. She didn’t want to hurt these people any longer. That meant solving this case and getting out of here.
At the local grocery store, she found the manager in the back. She’d assumed that after three years, the managers would have changed from when Naomi had worked here. She was wrong.
Roy Danbrook was a tall, skinny man of about fifty with dark hair and eyes. He rose from his chair, looked around his incredibly small office as if surprised how small it really was and then invited her in. She took the plastic chair he offered her, feeling as if being in the cramped place was a little too intimate. But this wouldn’t take long.
“I’m inquiring about a former worker of yours, Naomi Hill,” she said, ready to lie about her credentials if necessary.
Roy frowned and she realized he probably didn’t even remember Naomi after all this time. The turnover in resort towns had to be huge.
“Naomi,” he said and nodded. “You mentioned something about an insurance claim?”
She nodded. She’d flashed him her PI credentials, but he’d barely looked at them. “I need to know what kind of employee she was.”
He seemed to think for a moment. “Sweet, very polite with customers...” She felt a but coming. “But I had no choice but to let her go under the circumstances.”
This came as a surprise. Did Hank know Naomi had been fired? “The circumstances?” That could cover a lot of things.
The manager looked away for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with speaking of past employees, or of the dead? “The stealing.” He shook his head.
“The stealing?” All she could think of was groceries.
“Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her hand out of the till. Then there was the drinking, coming in still drunk, coming in late or not coming in at all. I liked her mother, so I tried to help the girl.” He shook his head. “Finally, I had to let her go, you understand.”
Frankie blinked. He couldn’t be talking about the same Naomi Hank had been involved with. “We’re talking about Naomi Hill, the one who—”
“Jumped off the cliff and killed herself. Yes.”
Stealing? Drinking? Partying? Blowing off work? She tried to
figure out how that went with the image Hank had painted of Naomi, but the two didn’t fit.
A thought struck her. “She wasn’t doing all this alone, right? There had to be someone she hung out with that might be able to give me some insight into her character.”
He nodded. “Tamara Baker.”
“Is she still around?”
“She works at the Silver Spur Bar.” She didn’t have to ask him what he thought of Tamara. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “She should be coming to work about now. If she is able to.” He shook his head. “I hope this has helped you. I find it most disturbing to revisit it.”
“You have been a great help, thank you.” She got to her feet, feeling unsteady from the shock of what she’d learned. Sweet, timid little Naomi. Frankie couldn’t wait to talk to her friend Tamara.
* * *
WHEN HUD CAME home for lunch, as he always did, Dana had sandwiches made and a fresh pot of coffee ready. She hadn’t planned to say anything until he’d finished eating.
“What is it?” her husband demanded. “You look as if you’re about to pop. Spit it out.”
She hurriedly sat down with him and took half of a sandwich onto her plate. Broaching this subject was difficult. They’d discussed Hank on occasion but it never ended well. Sometimes her husband could be so mule-headed stubborn.
“It’s Hank.”
“Of course it is,” Hud said with a curse.
“Something’s wrong.”
Her husband shook his head as he took a bite of his lunch, clearly just wanting to eat and get out of there.
“This relationship with Frankie, it just doesn’t feel...real.”
“You have talked about nothing else but your hopes and prayers for Hank to move on, get over Naomi, make a life for himself. Now that he’s doing it—”
“I don’t believe he’s doing it. Maybe coming back here was the worst thing he could do. I can tell it’s putting a strain on him and Frankie. Earlier, I saw them... They aren’t as loving toward each other as they should be.”
Hud groaned as he finished his sandwich and reached for a cookie, which he dunked angrily into his coffee mug. “What would you like me to do about it?”
“Why is it we can’t talk about Hank without you getting angry?” she demanded. They hardly ever argued, but when it came to the kids, she was like a mama bear, even with Hud. “I want to know more about Frankie.” She said the words that had been rolling around in her mind since she’d first met the woman.
“You don’t like her.”
“No, I do. That’s the problem. She seems so right for Hank.”
Hud raked a hand through his hair before settling his gaze on her. “What am I missing here?”
“That’s just it. I like her so much, I have to be sure this isn’t—I mean, that she’s not—Can’t you just do some checking on her to relieve my mind so I can—”
“No.” He stood up so abruptly that the dishes on the table rattled, startling her. “Absolutely not. Have you forgotten that the trouble began between my son and me when I did a background check on Naomi?”
“Because he was so in love with her. It was his first real crush. I asked you to make sure that she was all right for him because he seemed blind to her...”
“Blind to the fact that she didn’t want what he wanted more than anything? That she would never have been happy with Hank if he settled here? She wanted marriage so badly that it was all she talked about. That she was pressuring our son and I could see that he felt backed against a wall?” Hud demanded. “Yes. Those were all good reasons. Along with the fact that I sensed a weakness in her. A fragility...”
“You questioned her mental stability, not to mention she’d been arrested for shoplifting.”
He nodded, looking sick. “Something I never told our son. As it turned out, maybe I should have. I was right about her, which gives me no satisfaction.” He raised his head to meet her gaze. His eyes shone. “I lost my son. I’m not sure I will get him back because of everything that happened. I can’t make that mistake again.” He reached for his Stetson on the wall hook where he put it each time he entered the kitchen. “Thank you for lunch.” With that, he left.
Dana looked after him, fighting tears. She couldn’t help the knot of fear inside her. Something was wrong, but she had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
TAMARA BAKER WAS indeed behind the bar at the Silver Spur. The place was empty, a janitor was just finishing up in the restroom, and the smell of industrial-strength cleanser permeated the air.
“Tamara Baker?” Frankie asked as she took a barstool.
“Who wants to know?” asked the brunette behind the bar. She had a smoker’s rough voice and a hard-lived face that belied her real age. Frankie estimated she was in her midthirties, definitely older than Naomi.
“You knew Naomi Hill.”
Tamara’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You a reporter?”
Frankie laughed. “Not hardly. I heard that you and Naomi used to party together.”
“That’s no secret.” That was what she thought. “But if you aren’t with the press, then—”
Frankie gave her the same story she had Roy, only Tamara wasn’t quite as gullible. When Frankie flashed her credentials, the bartender grabbed them, taking them over into the light from the back bar to study them.
“You’re a PI? No kidding?”
“No kidding. I was hoping you could tell me about Naomi. Other people I’ve spoken with have painted a completely different picture of her compared to the stories I’ve heard about the two of you.” She was exaggerating, but the fib worked.
Tamara laughed. “Want something to drink?” she asked as she poured herself one.
“I’d take a cola.”
“I knew a different side of Naomi,” the woman said after taking a pull of her drink. “She let her freak flag fly when she was with me.”
“How did you two meet?”
“At the grocery store. She helped me out sometimes when I didn’t have enough money to feed my kids.” Tamara shrugged. “I tried to pay her back by showing her a good time here at the bar.”
Frankie understood perfectly. Naomi would steal out of the till at the grocery store for Tamara, and Tamara would ply her with free drinks here at the bar. “What about men?”
“Men? What about them?”
“Did this wild side of her also include men?”
Tamara finished her drink and washed out the glass. “Naomi wasn’t interested. She had this rancher she said she was going to marry. She flirted a little, but she was saving herself for marriage. She had this idea that once she was married, everything would come up roses.” The bartender laughed.
“You doubted it?”
“I’ve seen women come through here thinking that marriage was going to cure whatever ailed them,” Tamara said. “I’ve been there. What about you?” she asked, glancing at Frankie’s left hand. “You married?”
She shook her head. “You must have been surprised when you heard that Naomi dove off the cliff and killed herself.”
The woman snorted. “I figured it was just a matter of time. She was living a double life. It was bound to catch up with her.”
“You mean between the bar and the cowboy?”
Tamara looked away for a moment as if she thought someone might be listening. “Naomi had a lot more going on than anyone knew.”
“Such as?”
The front door opened, sending a shaft of bright summer sun streaming across the floor like a laser in their direction. A man entered, the door closing behind him, pitching them back into cool darkness.
“Hey, Darrel,” she called to the man as he limped to the bar. “What ya havin’?” The bartender got a beer for the man and hung around talking to him quietly for a few minutes.
Frankie saw the man gla
nce in her direction. He was about her age with sandy-blond hair, not bad-looking, but there was something about him that made her look away. He seemed to be suddenly focusing on her a little too intensely. She wondered what Tamara had told him about her.
When the bartender came back down the bar, Frankie asked, “You didn’t happen to see Naomi that night, the night she died, did you?”
“Me?” She shook her head. “I was working until closing. It’s my usual shift. You can ask anyone.”
Frankie noticed that the woman now seemed nervous and kept glancing down the bar at the man she’d called Darrel.
As she straightened the shirt she was wearing, Tamara asked, “Can I get you anything else?” She didn’t sound all that enthusiastic about it.
“You said Naomi was into other things. Like what?”
“I was just shooting my mouth off. You can’t pay any attention to me. If I can’t get you anything else, I really need to do some stocking up.” She tilted her head toward the man at the end of the bar. She lowered her voice. “You know, want to look good in front of the customers.”
“Sure.” She could tell that was all she was going to get out of Tamara. But she wondered what it was about the man at the end of the bar that made her nervous.
As she left, she found herself still trying to piece together what she’d learned about the woman known as Naomi Hill. The pieces didn’t fit. She tried to imagine what Naomi could have been involved in that would get her murdered—if that had been the case.
More and more, though, Frankie believed that the woman had come unhinged when she’d seen her planned life with Hank crumbling, and it had driven her to do the one thing that terrified her more than her so-called double life.
* * *
HANK KNEW HE couldn’t put it off any longer. He swung by his father’s office, knowing the man was a creature of habit. Marshal Hudson Savage went home every day for lunch. And every day, his wife would have a meal ready. Hank used to find it sweet. Then his father went back to his office. If nothing was happening, he would do paperwork for an hour or so before he would go out on patrol.
