by Laina Turner
Chapter 9
Last night it had seemed like a good idea to not tell Cooper or Dirt about Helen. However, by the light of day, I began to think maybe it hadn’t been the smartest idea. Who was I kidding? I was no detective. What if I screwed something up? Or even worse, what if withholding this information did get me in trouble like Katy said? I didn’t want any legal trouble. I was a good girl at heart and wanted to keep it that way. At this point, though, I figured the damage was done, and I just needed to redeem myself by finding out more useful information. Then, when I went to them with the information, they wouldn’t be so mad.
Yesterday at lunch, Katy and I had worked together to come up with a plan to see what we could find out around town about Helen and any extramarital affairs she may have been having. I wished I could get my mother to help—she surely knew what the rumor mills were saying. I felt convinced that finding out the identity of the person in the car with Helen the other night would help unlock the rest of the mystery—or at least satisfy my curiosity about Helen’s affair. Katy wasn’t thrilled about my interfering and not telling the guys what I knew, but I persuaded her to see my reasoning and Katy was loyal to a fault. One of the first things I thought of, was to talk to some of Helen’s friends here in town. Not that Helen was here much these days, but she had grown up here. I figured since childhood friends were usually the people you told your secrets to; it would be a good place to start. Besides, when Helen spent time here in Alkon, she was active in some women’s clubs, so people knew her.
As I pulled into the parking lot of the library, which was the first step in our grand scheme, I began to get nervous again. What if, by not sharing what I knew, I helped the killer get away? But, then again, what if I found an angle they didn’t think of and was able to help catch the killer because of it? I was the queen of rationalization; this was no different from being able to justify new shoes over paying a bill on time. I needed to give Dirt and Cooper more credit. I was sure they were smart enough to figure it out without my insignificant pieces of information. Besides, they probably already knew about Helen and would just be mad I was wasting their time with such trivial matters.
See what a small dose of positive thinking does, I thought and stepped out of my SUV. I felt better already. Now, I just had to figure out the best way to ask Ruth Johnson, the town librarian and best hometown friend of Helen Daniels, about Helen’s extracurricular activities. We thought Ruth was a good place to start, if she would tell us anything. She was one of the few friends Helen had here—at least that we knew about. I had tried subtly to get some information out of my mother last night, but she hadn’t been too forthcoming. She thought it was none of my business.
“Hi, Ruth,” I said, walking up to the circulation desk with a peppy smile plastered on my face. The type showing lots of teeth that I could spot as a fake from ten miles away. But I was hoping Ruth wouldn’t be as observant. Even my mother didn’t catch on to this all the time. I thought if I turned on the charm, Ruth might be susceptible to it. I had even been careful when getting dressed this morning, to be more conservative than normal—no Juicy Couture sweat suit today. I felt that adhering to a more conservative dress code could only help my cause. As a result, I was in a khaki skirt and blue button–down shirt and white Keds all borrowed from my mother since I didn’t own clothes like this. Adding the perfect strand of pearls made me the lady my mom always dreamed I would be—the younger version of herself.
As I was leaving the house; I swore her eyes were glistening with joy. I would never be part of the women’s club the way my mother wanted; it just wasn’t in my nature. But if the ladies of the town would trust me more in this get–up than if I were wearing jeans and three–inch heels, then I would do it.
Ruth hadn’t changed any. In fact, it looked as if she still thought it was the 1950s. I peered over the desk, slightly expecting to see a poodle skirt and bobby socks. Ruth had on gray slacks and a pink sweater, not too far off. And yes, don’t forget the requisite strand of pearls, I thought to myself, while fingering my borrowed ones. Ruth was also one of my mother’s good friends, so I needed to be careful about what I said to her. The last thing I needed was for Ruth to run back to my mom and tell her about the whole conversation.
“Hello, dear, how nice to see you,” Ruth said to me. “When I saw her your mother at bridge club the other night she didn’t say you were going to be home. Planning to stay long? You know, my Bobby is home too. Maybe you could get together.”
I groaned inwardly. The other aspect of my mother’s friendship with Ruth was that they never stopped trying to fix Bobby and me up. When we were little, the two women had forced us to play together and at a young age, we had fun. People just change and as we grew older; we found different likes and friends. There were five of us. Me, Katy, Bobby, Tracey Miller, and Steve Krump. I wasn’t sure what Steve was up to these days, and Tracy Miller was now Sister Tracy, although she was the last person I would picture joining a convent. Maybe it was penance for all the trouble we got into as kids; maybe she was now paying for all of us.
Too bad Bobby hadn’t followed her example. As we grew up, Bobby went from being a fun kid to one of the biggest losers in high school. He was lazy and smoked pot all day, thinking his looks and charm would get him by in the world. Shockingly, they often did, although both were lost on me. Part of his problem was that his mom always gave him everything he wanted. There was never any reason to shape up, and he didn’t seem like the type to undergo a complete transformation of own volition. But I had to be polite, or I would never get the information I needed. I replied, “That sounds like a great idea, but right now I’m here working and I am busy. Maybe I can give him a call some other time?”
“You have my number then. He is staying with us until he can get back on his feet. You know, his wife recently left him, awful woman. I always knew she wasn’t good enough for my Bobby. He needs someone who will treat him right.”
I was sure Ruth would never see the error in his ways. That was probably part of the reason he was so screwed up. Even my mother agreed with me on that one. She felt Ruth babied him too much.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Ruth. I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Sure. What do you need?” Ruth asked.
I was still undecided as to how I should approach this question. I didn’t think casually asking Ruth who Helen might be having an affair with would be a great idea, though it sure would make things easier if I could be that direct. But I wasn’t exactly sure how to approach it.
“I was wondering if you had heard anything around town. You know, about who might have wanted the senator dead or anything like that.” I tried acting nonchalant about the question, hoping it might help, but I knew I sounded stupid.
Ruth looked at me strangely, lips pursed. She didn’t seem to thrilled I was asking her this question. “I know that you probably think you are doing a good thing,” Ruth said and smiled sweetly, in an obvious attempt to be nice to me since I doubted she believed that. “But, I’m not one to gossip, even if I did know something. And if I did, I would go to the police. Shouldn’t they be the ones asking these questions?”
“I thought you might have heard something. I just feel so bad for Helen.”
She was looking at me strangely as the smile slid from her face. Uh–oh. I began to think Ruth realized my motivations might not be pure. She wasn’t stupid. Maybe she knew some hot, juicy gossip she didn’t want me to find out.
“Isn’t that a job for the police?” Ruth said again, more sharply.
“Of course, it’s a job for the cops, and I’m not trying to interfere with that, Ruth. I’m just looking for some information,” I said, trying to sound innocent. “I just want to see who might have had a motive and maybe help the police, all in the name of writing an accurate article to share with the public. Do you know of anyone who would want to kill him?”
“What are you getting at Presley? Why would I know?”
�
�You are pretty good friends with Helen, aren’t you? I thought maybe something she said to you might be enlightening?” I was trying to be careful, not wanting to offend Ruth because then she wouldn’t tell me anything. Though it seemed unlikely she would tell me anything anyway.
“What are you getting at, Presley?” Ruth asked again, clearly on to the fact I was looking for some private information on Helen.
“I don’t know. Someone obviously wanted him dead. There has to be a reason someone killed him. I’m just trying to figure out what that reason was. You know, like maybe he had money troubles or something.”
Ruth just stared at me, not biting at any of my hints, and I could tell she was suspicious about why I was asking. I weighed my options. If I didn’t come right out and ask; I wouldn’t know. If I did bluntly ask her about Helen, what was the worst that could happen? But if I did ask, then Ruth’s reaction might give me a clue about the person Helen was seeing. Was it worth it?
“I heard Helen was having an affair,” I blurted out.
“What?” Ruth exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed, and crossing her arms in front of her chest, she gave me a dirty look. “What right do you think you have, asking these questions?”
“Well, if she were that would be a motive for someone to kill Tom, wouldn’t it?” I continued. Ruth was clearly unhappy to hear me talking about this, so I added quickly, “Not that anyone would blame Helen or anything—”
Ruth interrupted. “First of all,” she said coldly, “Helen is not having an affair, and if she were, that’s not anyone’s business but hers. And they’re not having money problems. Or any other problems for that matter.”
“Ruth, I’m just saying...”
“Second, you should be ashamed of yourself, spreading these kinds of lies about Helen and Tom.” She continued with her rant. “Have you no shame? Helen just lost her husband, and you are accusing her of cheating. And murder.”
“Ruth, I’m not accusing Helen of anything,” I said, hands on hips, trying to act indignant, which wasn’t that difficult as Ruth was making me feel defensive. I wasn’t trying to say anything bad about Helen. Each to his own and all that. “From all I’ve heard, she was entitled to have an affair with the way Tom acted.”
Ruth walked out from behind the counter and pointed to the door. “I think you should leave, Presley. I will not continue to listen to you slander poor Helen. She’s been through enough.”
I started walking toward the door when I turned back to Ruth and said, “I am not trying to start rumors about Helen. I just want to find the truth. It’s going to come out eventually. If something is going on, the cops will find out.”
“Presley, this is none of your concern.” As the door started to shut behind me, I heard Ruth call out, “Don’t think I won’t be telling your mother about this!”
I cringed at the thought, but I got the sense Ruth might be hiding something. Not that I expected her to spill all the beans, but what Ruth didn’t say, and the way she looked when I mentioned Helen having an affair, were the real clues. I hadn’t realized my HR skills would come in so handy. When interviewing job applicants, body language and what they didn’t say, usually, spoke volumes.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to help me think, trying to decide my next course of action.
I decided my next stop would be Betty’s Baked Goods. Not only did Betty have the best peach cream cheese muffins in the world (I had eaten enough to know over the years and always made my parents bring me some when they came to visit), but Betty also knew everything that went on in Alkon. If there were something going on inside or outside of Helen Daniels’s marriage, Betty would know it, and Betty was not shy about spreading gossip. She always said, if you didn’t want someone to talk about it you shouldn’t be doing it. I agreed with that motto, at least when it was about other people. There were some things I would much prefer no one ever found out about—like the time I had too many cosmos and danced on the table at Muldoon’s in a skirt. Though in my defense Jared dared me, and I couldn’t turn down a dare.
I smelled the sweet treats as I walked up to the building, and deeply inhaled the heady aroma of cinnamon buns and freshly made donuts. Yum. My senses drank in the flavor. It was enough to make one drool, and I quickly swiped my chin to make sure I hadn’t.
Deep into the daydream of fresh, hot muffins, I ran into something hard. “Excuse me,” I said, looking up and finding myself face–to–face with that obnoxious security guy named Simon, who worked for Cooper. He had a coffee in one hand and a bakery bag in the other. He obviously had the same mid–afternoon snack idea I had.
“Watch where you’re going, lady.” Simon looked me up and down.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” I retorted as he just stared at me.
Taste buds in overdrive, I put all thoughts of Simon out of my head. Time for a snack. Betty’s was slow at this time of day. The only people in the bakery were a couple of old farmers talking over late morning coffee, the cook in back, and of course, Betty. I never knew of a time when Betty wasn’t there overseeing the place, making sure everyone was enjoying their food and giving them a hard time. That kind of special attention was one of the nicer things about a small-town. Back in Chicago, people barely looked you in the eye while you were eating, much less cared if you enjoyed yourself, or engaged you freely in conversation.
Betty’s back was to me when I walked in, so I snuck up behind her and said, “Any fresh peach cream cheese muffins today?”
Betty turned around, startled, and then smiled when she saw it was me. She looked pretty much the same, as if time had stood still for her. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, wisps going in many directions, and she wore her uniform of blue jeans and T–shirt with a flour–dusted apron tied around her waist. However, unlike most women her age, which was somewhere north of sixty, her blue jeans were fashionable, distressed–looking wide–legs. And she had a sassy T–shirt saying I’m too good for you on it.
“Why, it’s Presley Thurman,” she said, reaching across the counter to hug me. “Of course, sweetheart, I always have fresh muffins. Although, you probably don’t deserve them, never comin’ around anymore. I miss you and your friends stopping in here. Kids just aren’t the same these days,” Betty grumbled, good–naturedly. “Best peach cream cheese muffins in the state, you all used to say.”
“What do you mean state, Betty? These are the best in the nation.”
“Quit flattering an old woman. Here,” Betty set a hot, oozing muffin down in front of me. “These are fresh from the oven about five minutes ago. New cook back there,” she said, pointing her thumb in that direction. “Still not sure if she is any good.”
I took a bite of the still–warm muffin. The soft peach–flavored cream cheese flowed into my mouth. I closed my eyes in delight. This was heaven. As I enjoyed my muffin, Betty sat down on the old worn out stool behind the counter—the one she kept around to use while chatting with customers. The food at Betty’s was good enough that it was worth waiting for if she was perched on a stool talking to folks. People knew better than to interrupt her. At least people from around here knew that, and if you weren’t from around here, you figured it out pretty quickly. I couldn’t count the times I had been in here and seen out–of–towners being put in their place after trying to interrupt Betty.
“Haven’t seen you around here in a while. Where have you been keeping yourself?” Betty asked.
“I live up in Chicago now. I’m here visiting, and I can’t believe what happened to Senator Daniels.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Never found him that fascinating when he was alive. I was always surprised he was smart enough to be taken seriously as a politician. I think Helen married beneath her with that one,” Betty said, and I chuckled. “That man wasn’t on the up and up.”
I was glad Betty hadn’t changed. I didn’t have to ask any questions and she was already spilling the beans. No dancing around on eggshells here. If only it had been t
his easy with Ruth. I should have come here first.
“Really? Like what?” I asked, licking my fingers. This muffin was so good that the information was just a bonus at this point.
“Well...” Betty leaned closer to me, eyes sparkling with a secret as if to keep others from hearing. Granted, nobody else was within earshot, but hey, who was I to say anything. Besides, it added a dramatic flair and made it that much more exciting. “For one, I think he had a gambling problem.”
Now we were getting somewhere. This was the same stuff I heard from Dirt, but if Betty knew, then it was common knowledge or at least people in town had been talking about it freely at Betty’s.
“Are you sure about that? I mean, how do you know?”
“Are you questioning my information?” Betty said with a teasing grin. “I heard it from Mabel Winters, who heard from her daughter Ginny, whose son, Victor, was in Las Vegas a couple months ago when Senator Daniels was there.”
Wow. My first thought was surprise that Mabel Winters was still alive. She was old when I was a kid; she must be positively ancient now. “That doesn’t mean he has a gambling problem,” I said, taking the last bite of my muffin. “Lots of people go to Vegas just to see the shows or even to gamble. It doesn’t necessarily mean they have a problem.”
“Well, now let me get to that. Victor saw Senator Daniels at the Venetian. You see, Victor was there with some buddies from college. A bachelor party, I think.” The one thing about Betty was she always had a lot of back story to tell and you couldn’t rush her. Trying to would get you nowhere. I sighed. I knew I would have to wait but hoped she would get to the point soon before my resolve to not have another muffin weakened, and my thighs took the hit.
“That boy runs around too much. His mama worries to death about him.”
Argh! Hurry up and get to the good stuff. Patience was not one of my virtues. “He’s old enough to take care of himself, Betty.”
“So, Victor was playing craps,” Betty finally continued, “and I guess the tables were right next to the high roller room, whatever that means. As Victor was sitting there just enjoying his game, he said the door to the high roller room burst open, and Senator Daniels came out looking angry.”
Yes! I said to myself, mental fist punching the air. Finally, we were getting somewhere.
“Victor, recognized who the senator was, being from Alkon and all, and was about to go up and say hi. Figuring Daniels seemed friendly enough, when two other men followed him out of the room. Victor said these men also looked angry, and the three of them got into an argument right there in front of everyone.”
“About what, Betty? What did Victor say they were fighting about?” I got excited.
“Calm down, all in good time. Now Mabel said Victor couldn’t hear exactly, at least that is what Mabel’s daughter said. However, he said the two men who followed the senator out were angry about some money the senator owed them. Victor said they were threatening Daniels. Before he could hear anymore, the senator’s bodyguards came and broke up the argument. According to Trudy, Mabel’s daughter, Victor said the senator was not only angry, but also seemed upset by this turn of events. Almost scared, she said.”
I wondered if those bodyguards included Cooper. “Do you think this could have anything to do with his murder?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Betty said, giving the already immaculate counter an absentminded wipe with her ever–present dishrag. “It’s as good a reason as any, I suppose.”
“Have you ever heard anything about Helen having an affair?”
“Nosey little thing, aren’t you?” Betty said, but not in a judgmental way.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, I heard some things and thought you would be the person to ask. I tried asking Ruth over at the library, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled with my questions and all but threw me out the door.”
“Did she now?” Betty snorted. “Ruth is as much a busybody as anyone. I don’t know where she gets off thinking she’s better than the rest of us for gossiping. I don’t have any names, but yes, there has been talk that Helen was stepping out with someone. Though most folk, I think, would turn a blind eye. Tom, known for being unfaithful, should have thanked him lucky stars that Helen stayed married to him. I say it’s about time Helen got her own. After all, aren’t women supposed to be equal? At least, that’s what I told that cute fellow, Cooper, when he stopped by earlier.”
Damn that Cooper. He was already ahead of me on this though I wasn’t surprised. “I agree, Betty.” I laughed and got up to leave.
“You leaving already, sweetheart? Don’t you want to hear about all the other gossip?” she asked merrily. “Like who else is sleeping around? I bet I could tell you a few things that might surprise you. This town may be small, but it has its fair share of secrets. Come back tomorrow. I’m trying out a new recipe for cranberry walnut muffins. Gotta challenge this new cook—make sure she is up to snuff.”
“I will, Betty. Thanks.” I started to walk out the door but had one more question I was almost afraid to ask. I turned back to her. “Hey, Betty?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I almost asked her if she knew anything about my parents. My dad lying threw me for a loop. But that was crazy. I’m sure there was a good explanation, and I was over-reacting. The last thing I wanted was to start gossip about them.
As I walked out of Betty’s Baked Goods, I saw a tall, lean figure resting against my SUV. Lucky me, as it wasn’t every day I walked out to find a hot guy waiting for me. While I could appreciate the gesture, the look on Cooper’s face told me this wasn’t social. In fact, if I wasn’t so curious about why he was leaning on my car waiting for me, I might’ve been a tad bit worried. He looked pissed.
“I recommend the peach cream cheese muffins,” I said casually as I walked up to him. “Betty just made some fresh. You should try one.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Pres?” Cooper asked quietly.
Gosh, but he was hot. I got weak in the knees in spite of myself, just looking at him. “Nothing but enjoying Betty’s muffins. I tell you, they’re the best.”
“I suppose you are also going to tell me that you went to the library strictly to check out the latest book,” he said, raising one eyebrow, which made him look even sexier. “Are you that bored?”
“Like it’s any of your business, but maybe I did,” I said. “I do read, you know.”
Obviously, someone had called him the minute I left the library. That had to be Ruth. But why would she call Cooper? Unless maybe she called Helen? And Helen called Cooper. And how he knew I was at the bakery was a question I would like to have answered, too. Had he put a GPS tracker on my car when I wasn’t looking? Not to mention that seeing him here made me have thoughts I shouldn’t be having about Cooper. I wanted to grab him and kiss him, and that was just for starters. What was wrong with me?
“Listen, Presley,” Cooper said. “You shouldn’t be sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“You’re not supposed to be investigating this either,” I said, glaring at him. “Since you still are, then I guess I can too.”
“Is that why you’re dressed like this?” he asked. “Is this supposed to be a disguise?”
“What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“You look ready to attend a luncheon to plan this year’s garden show.” Cooper laughed while looking me up and down. “Baby, not your best look.”
“Don’t baby me! Like it matters to you what I wear,” I said. With him staring at me, I couldn’t help wishing I’d said to hell with trying to dress to please the ladies of this town, and had worn something sexy. But how was I to know I would run into Cooper like this?
“I get paid to be observant. And I would always notice what you’re wearing, Presley.” His voice turned husky. “Or not wearing.”
I shivered, feeling a heat that surged through my whole body, and I quickly realized the khaki I had o
n didn’t matter. Cooper’s look was doing things to me I hadn’t expected. This was not in my plans, but...to hell with plans. Rick always told me I should be more spontaneous. Maybe I should start taking his advice. I chuckled to myself because I wasn’t sure this was what Rick had in mind.
“What’s so funny?” Cooper asked as he reached out and traced the pearls around my throat with his finger. I sharply inhaled his touch electric. It was feather light and sensuous, and I didn’t want it to stop. It made me want to feel his hands all over me. As he drew his hand back, I leaned ever so slightly toward him. I couldn’t help it. I looked at him, trying to decipher what he was thinking.
“Will you please leave this to the professionals?” Cooper said, breaking the connection like it was nothing.
My eyes narrowed as I wondered if he did that on purpose. Maybe he wasn’t feeling the connection at all. No, that wasn’t possible; he had to feel it. He started it. And he made that comment about my outfit. Talk about mixed signals. A few seconds went by, and the signals became less mixed as Cooper reached to caress the back of my neck and drew me close to him. His lips touched mine, softly at first then more deeply. I started to melt and enjoy him for a minute and then was the one to pull away. I needed to give myself a break from his intoxicating kiss. I couldn’t allow myself to get sidetracked and, boy, he could get me off-track in a minute.
“Before I forget, Betty did tell me something useful. She said that Mabel Winters’s daughter’s son, Victor, saw the senator in Vegas arguing with some men. I already heard that maybe he had a gambling problem, so this could be a real lead,” I said. Willing to give up some information to get things back to the matter at hand and to get my mind off kissing Cooper. And to see if he would say anything about being there in Vegas with the senator. “But you already know all that.”
Cooper’s eyes danced, showing he didn’t think for a minute I stopped our kiss because I didn’t want to forget this information. He knew exactly the effect his kiss was having on me. He pulled me close and tried to kiss me again. “We can talk about that later, King.”
“No,” I pushed him away, and God it was hard. I wanted to kiss him, but he made me mad, trying to get me off the subject of the murder and assuming I wanted to continue our kiss. Who was I kidding? I was more than a willing participant, which made me mad at myself.
“Pres...”
“Don’t Pres me,” I said hotly. “Don’t think you can have your cake and eat it too. If you won’t work with me in this investigation, then you can’t kiss me either.” I stepped back, arms crossed defiantly, wanting to add so there! but feeling that to be a little childish.
Cooper groaned and looked at me as if I were crazy. He leaned back against the car, running his hand through his hair. “Fine. I know he had an issue with gambling, but I don’t have hard evidence, and until I do, there isn’t much I can do about it.”
I was miffed that he had given up so easily.
“Isn’t there a way to check it out? Don’t you have connections or something?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Speaking of being nosey, how did you get into the security business, Coop?” I said, changing topics.
He looked surprised at the quick change in topic. A few seconds went by, and he didn’t say anything. I started to become distracted again by his lips and by remembering how nice that kiss had been, so I asked again.
“I will check on the casino angle, but only if you promise to stay out of this,” he finally said, ignoring my question.
“I’ll see what else I can find out here then.”
“Fine, but at least quit bugging the town ladies, or you’ll regret it.”
“Why? What are you going to do about it?” I said in a more teasing tone.
“I’m not the one you have to be worried about; your mother is.” He tapped me on the nose and turned to leave.
Oh, crap! He was right. If he had already heard about my visit to the library, so had my mother. He was lucky, because if he hadn’t reminded me about what I was sure to face when I got home, I would have been livid about the tap on the nose thing. Seriously, what the hell was that all about? How do you go from a passionate kiss to a tap on the nose? What...was I a cocker spaniel?
“Oh, by the way.” He turned back around. “If a reporter named Lisa Simmons comes sniffing around you wanting information, do me a favor and don’t talk to her.”
“I saw her at La Casa the other night, but why?”
“Because the last thing I need, or the police need for that matter, is another nosey female poking around.”
I stuck out my tongue at his back as he walked away.
