When I finally lifted my head from his shoulder and stepped back, he released me. The caring in his eyes tore at the defenses I’d built around my heart.
I tried to dispel the cloud of intimacy that surrounded us. “How come every time I see you, you end up hugging me?”
“You’re overdue a few hugs. I don’t mind helping you reach your quota.”
I retreated further, and my arm bumped the wall. Ike immediately snagged my hand and checked for damage. “Easy.”
My heart missed a beat. So much for keeping him at arm’s length. “Thanks. Nothing personal. I can’t start up something with you.”
“Linds, I hate seeing you hurting. I wanna help.”
“Being home is stirring up issues I buried a long time ago, but I’m working through them.” My spine stiffened. “Take my dog fishing tomorrow while I get caught up at home.”
“That’s a start, but I want to take you to dinner.”
His sexy grin nearly broke my resolve. “I’m not that grateful.”
“Just checking.”
~*~
The next afternoon, Ike’s son stood at my door, dripping wet. Mud boots encased my dog’s legs. I’d spent three hours cleaning the house, and wet dog wasn’t what I wanted to smell for the next week. “Hold on there, Ace.” I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
The sheriff climbed out of his Jeep. His form-fitting gray tee and blue swim trunks were mud-free. My hand strayed to the messy knot of hair on my head. I wished I’d worn something nicer than this white tee shirt and capris to clean house. “Did Trent and Bailey fall in?”
“I went swimming,” Trent crowed. “Then Bailey jumped in the mud. Daddy says I have to bathe her. Can I?”
The sheriff’s posture seemed unusually rigid. Did he think I would be mean to this sweet child? “Sure. Bailey needs a bath. I’m glad for the help. Let me get a few things. The hose is on the side of the house.”
“Awesome.” Trent’s face lit up like Christmas morning.
“I’ll be right back.” I dashed inside for supplies and helped Trent wash the dog. Ike manned the hose. The sun beat down on us in waves of ninety degree heat, so I didn’t mind getting soaked. When we finished, Bailey dashed madly around the yard. At last, she slowed, and I handed Trent a towel to use to rub her down.
“You’re good with him.” The sheriff turned off the hose.
I emptied the wash bucket. “Dealing with little boys is easy. It’s the big ones that give me trouble.”
Heat flashed in his gaze. “I wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“That’s what they all say.”
His grin broadened. “Nice shirt.”
My tee shirt clung to me like second skin, and my lace bra had turned transparent. Quickly, I draped a towel over my shoulders. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”
He laughed and mussed my hair.
~*~
It was noon on Sunday before I connected with Ellen’s ex-husband for his “business interview.” Thomas Mattingly sat on the stern of his boat with machinery parts spread around him. I wore my darkest sunglasses to help me avoid seeing the water clearly.
Would I ever get over my fear of drowning? As a kid, I could swim rings around people. Once, I even beat Cousin Janey at a hold-your-breath contest, and she was two years older than I. Water sports came naturally to me. Until my brother’s death at sea. Now I froze at the sight of water.
The tide was high, so the vertical drop from the dock to the deck of the boat was minimal; thus, I could keep my gaze nearly level and not see the water.
Thomas’s fishing nets were uniformly clean of any debris or patches of mending twine. Even to my untrained eye, they appeared brand new. “May I have a word with you?”
He barely glanced my way. “I’m busy.”
“I won’t take much of your time.” I outlined my idea for interviewing local business owners. “I plan to write about commercial fishing next. Are you interested in being featured?”
His chest puffed up like a blowfish. “About time. I’m the best fisherman in these parts.”
“Your boat looks so neat and tidy. These nets, for instance, they look pristine.”
“That’s because they’re brand new.”
“Can a person still make good money in shrimping?”
“Sure. I’m the model of hard work.”
That didn’t jive with him stiffing his family. I pushed a little harder. “Where did you make the big catch?”
His face blanked for a moment, and then he settled into an easy grin. “Wasn’t just one big haul. I’m having good luck every trip. With newer equipment, I save on fuel and wear and tear on the boat. Fishing smarter and making more.”
My skepticism returned. Cousin Janey’s ex had relatives that docked here. They’d know the truth about this man’s fishing prowess.
“I have a new sonar module in the pilot house.” He stood and pointed to the boat’s cabin, as if I didn’t know what a pilot house was. “Wanna see it?”
“No thanks.” I paused, gathering my nerve. “One more question, and I’m asking this of all my business owners. In light of recent events, do you feel safe in our community?”
“Sure.” His gaze narrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“A homicide occurred near your workplace. Did that event change how you do business?”
“Nah. Three Danville men have been killed during my lifetime. All were personal, same as this matter with your dad and the judge.”
“You knew of their dispute?”
“Saw it on the TV, same as everybody else.”
“That’s all I have. Thanks.” Just to be sure I wasn’t missing anything, I checked his tanned arms for a watch. Bare. So much for my investigation. I turned to go.
“Send Ellen over to take my picture,” Thomas said. “I need to talk to her anyway.”
“We’ll get a photo if we don’t have one in our archive.” I hurried through the deserted shrimp factory house. I could write a short feature on Thomas, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t like his attitude. Besides, he was a deadbeat dad. Definitely. No feature for him.
~*~
Daddy and I dined at Captain John’s Seafood just over the county line. Thick hemp ropes, net fragments, and plastic fish decorated the walls. Patrons of Captain John’s were a mix of Danvillers and folks from nearby Brunswick.
I ordered a crab cake dinner and an iced tea. Daddy had the same. We were actually making small talk, which was progress. I was finishing my salad when Sheriff Harper appeared at our table, breathing dragon fire. He leveled a finger at me. “You. Outside. Now.”
What had his shorts in a knot? “Can’t this wait? We’re eating dinner.”
He glared right back. “We can do this one of two ways. Walk out of here with me, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you out.”
“You can’t talk to my daughter like that,” Daddy said, standing.
“Your daughter is interfering with police business. I can arrest her if you like.”
Since my lilac blouse and filmy skirt weren’t conducive to cave man treatment, I rose. “Excuse me, Daddy. This won’t take long.”
I marched out of the restaurant and into the humid dusk. I stopped in the parking lot.
Ike’s aura pulsed with anger. “I told you to leave well enough alone. You’ve been all over the county asking questions. You got the judge’s women so riled up, I had to pull them off each other. Now you’re bothering the shrimpers?”
“I didn’t cause Angie and Trish’s bad blood. Their dispute has nothing to do with me.”
“You also talked to two shrimpers. Why can’t you leave it alone?”
I didn’t care for his attitude. “I work for a newspaper. I asked questions about the shrimping business, and they answered. Last I checked, this is a free country.”
His heated breath warmed my exposed collarbone. I stepped back and bumped into a sedan. I barred my arms across my chest.
“The case against your father i
s solid,” Ike said. “He threatened the judge, his prints are on the murder weapon, and he has no alibi for the time of death. That’s motive, means, and opportunity. It doesn’t get any clearer cut than that.”
But it was all wrong. “Daddy was framed.”
He exhaled heavily. “I don’t believe that for one second, but—assuming there was a frame job—I’d look for someone who hated your father as much as the judge. The two of them had little in common. And I checked that angle, even though your dad is clearly my guy. Your father wasn’t involved in any of the judge’s cases, and the judge had nothing to do with the newspaper.”
The judge’s wife connected them. Much as I hated to admit it, the evidence against Daddy was compelling.
His gaze narrowed in speculation. “You know something. What is it?”
I wasn’t blabbing about Trish and Daddy’s friendship. “It’s nothing that will help Daddy’s case. If I find any evidence to help Daddy, believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Police work isn’t for amateurs.” His voice softened. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The hunger in his eyes hinted at unfinished business. Something that I needed to avoid entirely. But that something kept weighing on my thoughts.
Chapter 9
My cousin chickened out on questioning Dixie Lou, so the job fell to me. The clerk of Superior Court wore gray sneakers, baby blue slacks, and a seersucker blouse. Dixie Lou lumbered to her feet and opened her arms. “As I live and breathe. Look who’s here. Lindsey McKay.”
I moved forward to hug her.
“Careful,” she cautioned. “Still recovering from hip replacement surgery. They thought I’d retire, but there’s plenty of life left in this old broad.”
Dixie Lou couldn’t retire. She was an institution. We had a long visit, until finally I wrestled the conversational lead back from her. “I’m trying to help Daddy. What can you tell me about Judge Sterling’s lunch routine? Did he go home for lunch every day?”
She laughed heartily. “Heavens no. He never went home at mealtime. Said it was too far.”
Ten miles was too far? “Why didn’t he move closer to town?”
Dixie Lou winked at me. “I’m sure the geography suited him fine.”
Progress. “Did he have a routine?”
She bit back a smile. “Variety mattered.”
Variety. Was I supposed to read between the lines? “Are we talking about a person, place, or thing? Where did he go for lunch?”
“Not where, but who. Sometimes he had business lunches. Mostly he went to the motel. Earlier this summer, he lunched with someone else briefly, but no names were ever mentioned.”
Interesting.
~*~
After Ellen left for lunch the next day, I realized I’d forgotten to send my work to Atlanta. Needing a break, I decided to run it to the overnight service myself. I flipped the door sign to the “Closed” side. “Come on, Bailey.”
The dog’s tongue lolled as we stepped into the heat of midday. River Road ran perpendicular to Main Street. From my position, Ellen’s car at the gas station on Main was visible. So was her ex’s pickup farther up the street. When Ellen pulled out, the truck followed, several cars back.
The hair on the nape of my neck bristled. My package could wait a minute. I joined the caravan, at a distance. Ellen stopped at the Post Office, the bank, and her mother’s house.
Thomas pulled off three driveways past Ellen’s mother’s house. I circled to town, questions simmering in my head. Why was Thomas following Ellen?
Was he stalking her? When Ellen returned from lunch, I’d encourage her talk to the sheriff about her ex’s behavior. Meanwhile, I need to learn what else or who else the judge had been involved with.
In life, Alan Sterling kept himself surrounded by women. Dixie Lou had been his court clerk. Trish, his wife. And Angie, his long-time mistress.
“I don’t know, Bailey. I keep coming back to The Oaks Motel. Is it significant to the case, or just to me because I had no idea about all the shacking up out there?”
The Oaks was ahead on the left. On impulse, I veered into the parking lot, parked beside a black SUV, left the AC running for Bailey, and hurried into the motel office. “Angie?”
I heard a mechanical sound from the back room, like when Daddy lowered the footrest on his recliner. “Be right out,” Angie called.
She appeared a moment later. From her flushed face it seemed she’d been doing something strenuous. Muffled noise continued in the back room. Was someone else in there?
“What can I do for you?” Angie asked.
I cleared my throat, aware that I was fishing for information. “I’m piecing together Judge Sterling’s last day. Did he spend the early evening with you?”
She gave a slight nod. “He often came here.”
Bingo. “Do you remember what you talked about that night?”
The office door opened, and the bail bondsman swaggered out. Angie touched her hair as if she just realized it was disheveled. Junior nodded to me, before bussing Angie on the lips. “See ya around, Babe.”
He roared off in his SUV. Angie flushed sunburn red. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Junior Curtis and Angie? Hmm. “What is it?”
Angie squared stacks of brochures on her counter. “Junior helped me move furniture, and we got carried away. A one-time thing.”
Until now, I hadn’t considered Junior a suspect. He was good with guns, but was he good with knives? Something to consider. “Back to the judge. He visited you the night he died?”
“Alan stopped by to talk to me about the deed. See, he planned to transfer ownership of the motel to me. Been promising it for years. But he said there was a glitch, and he was still working on it.” She wrung her hands. “If Trish gets ahold of this place, I’m toast.”
“What kind of a glitch?”
“I don’t remember, but this place is supposed to be mine. He promised. A long time ago.”
The deed. A piece of paper. It should be recorded in the courthouse. Luckily I had a realtor in the family. Cousin Janey had looked up lots of deeds.
As I drove through town, the bail bondsman, Junior Curtis, weighed on my mind. He seemed territorial. He was mob connected. He liked Angie. On the other hand, he didn’t tolerate fools and was direct. Shooting someone would be his style. Even so, it didn’t feel right to rule him out. He was a definite maybe on my suspect list.
After I overnighted the package, my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten. I grabbed an ice cream and returned to the paper. Ellen sat at her desk talking to a customer on the phone.
I ambled back to my office and waited. When Ellen ended the call, I joined her in the lobby. My dog followed. “Can we talk?”
A bright smile lit her face. “Sure.”
“After you left for lunch, I locked up to run a quick errand. When you headed out of the gas station, a rusty truck followed you everywhere you went. I know because I followed the truck all the way to your mom’s.”
Ellen’s expression darkened. “Why won’t Thomas leave me alone?”
“He shouldn’t be following you around. That’s creepy.”
“I don’t like it either. I’ll talk to the sheriff.”
I nodded. “Do it now and take my dog with you. If Thomas follows, Bailey won’t let him near you.”
Ellen grabbed her keys. “Thanks. We’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Chapter 10
Late that afternoon, Aunt Fay, Cousin Janey, and I met at the courthouse to search for the motel deed. One look at the jumbled stacks of deed books, and I knew why my cousin demanded that we help. “How does anything get found?” I asked.
Janey sank into a wooden chair. “It’s best if you walk in here with the deed book number. Otherwise you may have one foot in the grave before you leave.”
“Where do we start?” Aunt Fay sat her basket purse on a metal table. The handkerchief cover parted
to show her pet raccoon sleeping inside.
“We have to match the number we have to one in a book,” Janey said.
I opened a book and looked for the plat number. The first deed showed the plat number handwritten in large numbers on the first page. On other deeds, I wasn’t so lucky. Pages were out of order, and I had to hunt for the one I needed. Realization dawned. Finding the motel deed would take a while.
Ike appeared in the doorway. “Didn’t expect to find the entire McKay clan in here.”
We all said hello and when he stuck around watching us, I realized it was up to me to divert suspicion. So I headed down the hallway like I was going to the ladies restroom. Except the sheriff took my leaving as an invitation to join me. He matched my stride. “What exactly are you doing, Lindsey?”
That now familiar rush I got in his presence flooded my senses. “Looking for the motel deed.”
Ike herded me through a side door toward his Jeep in the lot. “What makes you think the three of you could find a deed that I’ve had my deputies searching for?”
He was looking for the deed? That was news to me. “I’ve got a pro on my team. Janey is a real estate agent. She knows how the filing system works. If it’s in there, she’ll find it.”
“You think this has a bearing on the case?”
“Hope so. All I know for sure is that it’s a loose end.”
Ike opened the passenger door, and I gawked at the high tech instrumentation. “Wow. Look at all this cool gear.”
He chuckled softly and waved me inside. “If I’d known you liked high tech gadgets, I would’ve dragged you to my car the moment you arrived.”
Like a sleepwalker, I climbed into the passenger seat. His scent filled me, and I wanted a moment of indulgence, a moment of letting my guard down. Despite my best intentions, I liked Ike. I believed Ike liked me. Too bad it couldn’t go anywhere. Not while he wanted to put Daddy away for life. But still, a girl could dream.
Ike came around to the driver’s side, cranked the car, and cool air pulsed from the vents. His brown eyes looked troubled.
“What?” I asked.
Really, Truly Dead Page 5
