Marshall's Law

by Denise A. Agnew

  Dana didn’t know whether to scream, or give into their machinations without a whimper. What did it matter? Whether she found the man attractive or not, a simple brush of lips across lips didn’t necessarily mean much. Perhaps she’d imagined every hot, needful look he’d sent her way.

  “You’re nuts, Kerrie. A freak thunderstorm does not a conspiracy make. There are no sparks between Marshall and me, so you can get that idea right out of your head. There can’t be any special feelings.”

  Kerrie’s brows drew down as she frowned. “Why not?”

  Why not?

  The words rang in her mind. For a full thirty seconds she said nothing, because she didn’t know the answer. “Because I’m not staying in Macon forever. Once this whole ghost thing is finished I’ll go back to New Mexico where I belong.”

  Kerrie appeared skeptical. “You mean you’d throw away a really wonderful opportunity with a fantastic man? You wouldn’t stay and see how your relationship progresses? What are you afraid of?”

  Doubt crept around the edges of Dana’s lame excuses. She wanted to hate Kerrie for being so reasonable and right. Before she could speak Kerrie continued.

  “Eric said that Marshall believes the same thing. That you two are not having a mutual attraction.”

  Dana hesitated, unsure she’d heard her friend right. “Eric? You’ve been talking to Eric about Marshall and me?” A new feeling emerged-pissed off. “Eric said Marshall is not interested in me?”

  A flush filled Kerrie’s cheeks. “It slipped out. Eric and I were talking one day and we both noticed this…this thing going on between you and Marshall and Eric said he tried talking to Marshall about his ex-wife.”

  “Ex-wife? I didn’t even know he’d been married.” A stab of jealousy and annoyance toyed with Dana. The annoyance because she didn’t like her personal life splattered about like gossip in a tabloid.

  Kerrie put up one hand. “Wait. One situation at a time, please.”

  Curiosity made Dana lean forward, her hands clasped together on the table. “Go on.”

  “Yes, he’s been married before. But he’s divorced now and has been for some time.” A heavy sigh ushered from Kerrie. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be talking about this. Marshall is going to have to explain.”

  Too many things tangled in her mind, and Dana realized if she wanted to know what cranked Marshall’s chain, she’d have to ask the man himself. “Now that sounds interesting. But I don’t think I’ll ever find out. I’m not about to ask Marshall personal information like that.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that. Eric can’t get much out of him. If Marshall had a good woman he could confide in, that might help him to heal. He’s got some wounds inside that could use some serious balm.”

  “Yet Marshall isn’t interested in me, according to Eric.” Dana felt the earth sink about an inch, along with a little piece of her emotions. Okay, a big piece. “That’s a fine howdy-do. And all right with me.”

  “What I mean is, Marshall might say he’s not interested, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  A thrill raced through Dana’s midsection, erasing the lump in her intestines. “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

  Kerrie smiled. “Like he wants to eat you up.”

  Sweet shivers seemed to attack Dana from all sides. But mystification mixed with a desire to know what went on in the infuriating man’s head. “I wouldn’t expect Marshall to talk with anyone like that. He seems a little too hard, too internal to let anyone in.”

  Kerrie drained the last of her coffee, then stood and took the cup to the sink. “Are you sure? He was married once. Don’t you think he had to get close to her?”

  Dana closed her eyes a moment and imagined him intimate with any woman. Just the idea of him touching, maybe even kissing another woman, made the acid burn in Dana’s stomach. Rats. Now I’ve done it. I’ve started to care. Enough to be jealous of the woman he isn’t married to anymore. Double crud.

  Wrestling with treacherous feelings, Dana stood and rinsed her coffee mug and they put the cups in the dishwasher. Dana mulled things over in her head before speaking again.

  “You obviously have an interesting relationship with Eric Dawes if he would confess his friend’s secrets to you.” The idea made Dana feel better than she had moments before.

  Kerrie shrugged and an embarrassed flush covered her cheeks. “I’ve got several confessions to make.”

  “Okay, I’m the priest. Go for it, and it better be good.”

  Instead of smiling as Dana thought she would, Kerrie sank further down into her seat until she could prop the back of her head against the wood. “Eric and I have always been pals, and it wasn’t until a few weeks back that I started to think of him a different way.”

  Dana sat upright, her back feeling tight as a board. Awareness prickled over her as well as mischief. “Different? The way pumpkin pie is different from lemon custard pie?”

  “Uh, you could say that. Eric’s handsome. But if that’s all it was, I’d be able to ignore him. I never thought after my husband died I’d be interested in another man. Ever.”

  Tears stung Dana’s eyes, and she took a heaving breath to shove back the wave of unexpected sadness for her friend. “I can only imagine.”

  “Anyway, I spent some time with Eric and Tabitha and discovered that I love being with them. We’ve uh…”

  Dana’s eyes widened. “You’ve slept together?”

  “No, no.” Kerrie laughed. “Nothing like that. We’re in an exploratory stage.”

  It made sense. Kerrie and Eric had both experienced some rough times and their spouses had died in accidents. “You share something in common.”

  Kerrie speared her friend with a sharp glance. “I try not to think about that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

  “It’s all right. When Eric and I have been together we haven’t spoken about the way our…the way his wife died and the way Stuart died. It may be too soon. In a way the pain is too fresh.”

  Threads of hurting spilled through Kerrie’s words. She reached across and clasped Kerrie’s hand for a moment. “I’m really sorry. I’ve been selfish. I’ve been caught up in my writing problems and the bizarre stuff going on in this house. I’ve ignored everyone else’s feelings.” Guilt brought more sympathetic tears to her eyes. “I apologize.”

  Kerrie smiled, her warmth evident and shining from her eyes. “Oh, come now. You’re the best friend a lady could have. And you can’t take the world’s weight on your shoulders, either. Especially when someone tried to run you off the road. That’s a lot more serious than Eric and I suffering from old grief.”

  Dana didn’t believe it. Kerrie had always tried to stay strong, and now Dana could see the way it had worn her down. “Have your tried talking with Eric about his wife…about any of it?”

  “Like I said, no.” She made a rueful smile. “You could say I’m a chicken.”

  Dana grinned. “Okay. Kerrie, you’re a chicken.”

  Kerrie’s laugh echoed around the room. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a smarty pants?”

  “Someone asked me that question the other day.”

  Kerrie put her index finger to her chin in thought. “Let me see, who could that be? Does the first name start with a B?”

  “You got it.” Dana decided she’d done Aunt Lucille a wrong. The energy boost she got from this stuff went on and on. She wrinkled her nose. “I gave him an outline of all the other people who’d called me smart-ass. Just so he’d know he wasn’t the first one.”

  Kerrie laughed. “I see. So he wouldn’t have the pleasure of thinking he was first.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kerrie sighed. “You are bad. Really bad.”

  The phone rang, making them both jump. Knowing that Aunt Lucille was in the attic and wouldn’t hear the sound, Dana rushed to grab the phone. “Hello?”

  “Dana, this is Marshall.”

  Her heart started stuttering and
slamming. As if she wouldn’t know that voice anywhere. “Speak of the devil. We were just talking about you.” A long pause made her speak again. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah. Listen, do you have some time to talk?”

  “Sure. Fire away.”

  “It’s private.”

  A strange, tingling anticipation slid like warm honey through her veins. “Kerrie’s here. Is that private enough?”

  “No.”

  Dana looked at her friend, but Kerrie seemed to have read her mind. “I get the hint. Must be Marshall.”

  Chuckling, Dana said into the phone, “You’re driving away my friends.”

  He grunted.

  “I see. The gorilla has spoken, Kerrie.”

  “Tell the furry fellow hello,” Kerrie said with a wave and a smile. She left the house.

  “Gorilla?” His inquiry sounded indignant.

  Then she remembered that she’d vowed moments ago to give people more slack. “Sorry.”

  “Why were you talking about me? Did you mention last night?”

  His curiosity made her wonder why he cared. She scrambled for something to say. “Uh, no. Not last night. I thought you might want to keep your nocturnal wanderings a secret. I did tell her that I was in the basement and didn’t hear anything.”

  A sigh came over the line. “Good. Because no one else needs to know. It ties in with what I needed to talk with you about. What I propose should happen after the football game on Sunday.”

  “That’s only a day away.”

  “Just listen.”

  Exasperation warred with her promised patience. “Okay. What is it?”

  “I want to spend the night with you. Just the two of us. Alone.”

  Dana almost swallowed her tongue. “Stay all night with me?”

  “We need to investigate further.”

  “Investigate?” she asked, her voice coming out as a croak. Heat crept up her neck into her face.

  “The ghosts. In the basement. I figured I could stop by after the game and finally get to the bottom of what’s going on with that bed.”

  Oh, he’s talking about ghosts here, and I’m thinking he means…oh, hell—

  “But you said you don’t believe in the ghosts,” she said.

  “I don’t believe it’s ghosts, but someone is messing around in that basement and I’m finding out who it is.”

  Tiny panic inched under her skin. “Okay, I’m sure Lucille will approve. You could camp out in one of the rooms upstairs.”

  “I’m not staying in a bedroom. I’ll be downstairs. And you’ll be with me.”

  Dana didn’t like the direction the conversation turned. Carrying the cordless phone, she walked from one side of the kitchen to the other. Honestly. Now you’ve taken on his annoying pacing habit?

  “A man not only of few words but even less explanation. Why just us? I’m not letting you off the hook.”

  “Because you obviously care about your aunt and want to solve the mystery. That’s as good a reason as any.”

  Someone cleared her throat, and Dana whirled. Aunt Lucille stood in the entryway to the kitchen, her smile broad. “Who is on the phone, dear?”

  Dana handed the phone to her aunt. “Marshall.”

  Delight covered the older woman’s face as she took the phone. As she listened to Marshall’s proposal, Aunt Lucille took up the pacing Dana had started earlier. “Of course. What a fabulous idea. I’ve got that Ladies Auxiliary meeting in Carter. Dana must have forgotten to tell you. You’ll have the entire house to yourself for the evening.”

  Dana glared at her smiling aunt. Bull hockey! There was no auxiliary meeting in Carter. She’d made it up on the spot, the conniving matchmaker.

  After she hung up the phone, Aunt Lucille clapped her hands once and smiled. “This is wonderful. You can make a party out of it. The catch the ghost party.”

  “Party?” Dana asked.

  Aunt Lucille flapped her hands. “You know. Chips. Dip. Maybe even pizza.”

  “Uh, I don’t know about that. I think all he’s looking for is covert stuff. Hiding behind the couch and watching for the bogie man. Things like that.”

  “You’re absolutely right, dear. Chips crunching would scare the ghosts away. Pizza it is.”

  Dana had to laugh. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Aunt Lucille hid behind a grin. “Of course. I can’t obstruct the law, you know.” She took Dana’s hands in her thin, cool palms. “Dear, you know there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Releasing Dana she walked to the bay window that formed part of the breakfast nook and waved a hand at the panorama outside. “Why don’t you go outside and lay on the hammock. Daydream a little. Find something pleasant to fantasize about so that you can let your writing mind go free.”

  “What does that have to do with our ghost party?”

  “Release of tension. Release of that block that is keeping you from more than just writing.”

  “Such as?”

  “Pent up frustrations. You need to have some fun, darling. I think your life is too much work and not enough play.”

  Dana suspected she knew what her aunt meant. “How can I play while my unfinished manuscript languishes like a half eaten sandwich? Soon my ideas will be all moldy.”

  “Honey, it’s because you’re not playing that your ideas aren’t bearing any fruit.”

  Dana grinned. “You’re saying I need the writer’s version of prunes.”

  Aunt Lucille laughed. “Exactly right, my dear.”

  Logic warred with emotion. “What would you call this? I’ve been here a short time and all I’ve done is play. I’ve been through several adventures, gone to a dance, been run off the road. What more can I ask?”

  Dana went to the window. Beyond the multi-paned glass stood a covered patio with the hammock, deck chairs and table. She could picture herself enjoying the fall weather ahead. Pine needles graced the ground beyond, leading into a dark forest rife with horror novel possibilities. Past that, hiding among nature, lay the answer to her writer’s block.

  Dana looked at her aunt. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Aunt Lucille patted her shoulder. “Of course I’m right. Now enjoy the Indian summer. I hear a snow storm is due next week.”

  With her imagination beginning to awaken, Dana envisioned a log fire and the taste of hot cocoa. Along with that she saw Marshall on the couch downstairs with her. His arm would be around her, drawing her against him as he lowered his head, his lips tasting—

  Startled by the intimate picture, she jerked back to the present. Heat flooded her body.

  “Pleasant thoughts, my dear?” Aunt Lucille asked with a grin.

  Aunt Lucille’s question made Dana grimace. “Not exactly.” She headed for the kitchen door. “I’d better get on that daydreaming if I want to write a few pages today. Before that big lug Marshall arrives.”

  Marshall strode through the Sheriff’s office after his call to Dana, wondering what the man wanted.

  When he knocked on the Sheriff’s closed door, he received an instant reply to enter. He slipped inside the small office. Pizer looked up from paperwork and gestured toward the chair in front of his massive desk. “Sit down, Marshall. We’ve got to have a talk.”

  For the first time in a long time Marshall’s gut clenched. He sat down. “Anything wrong?”

  “Yes and no. It’s about this Cummings woman.”

  The sheriff’s tone, edged with roughness, didn’t endear him to Marshall. “Dana Cummings?”

  Pizer’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I’m talking about.”

  “If it’s about Skeeter watching out for her—”

  “We’ve got a manpower problem around here, Marshall. You’ve pulled plenty of extra shifts to know that we can’t pamper one person in this town to the detriment of all the others.”

  Marshall stiffened in his chair, letting anger wash
through him and hoping it didn’t show on his face. “I wasn’t aware protecting Miss Cummings against further attack was pampering her, sir. It is our job to protect and serve.”

  Pizer shifted behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed, I-could-care-less attitude. “We can’t afford to have Skeeter protecting her around the clock. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Skeeter isn’t protecting her around the clock. You know about Logan. They’re spreading the work out in shifts. Besides, I’ve been…” He realized too late what he’d revealed.

  Pizer’s gaze turned hard. “You’ve been watching out for her?”

  “On my own time.”

  “And what exactly motivates you to spend extra hours looking out for Miss Cummings?”

  Marshall didn’t think too deeply about that. “Trying to do my job is enough motivation.”

  Pizer didn’t appear to buy it. Instead he straightened in his chair. “You’re not falling in love with her, are you, Marshall?”

  The words hung in the air long enough that Marshall felt them like solid entities, weighing on his conscience and his beliefs. “I care what happens to her. But only in the way I care for the rest of the people in this town.”

  “Uh-huh.” Pizer reached inside his desk and took out a box of toothpicks. He offered the box to Marshall as if it were a humidor of Cuban cigars. Marshall shook his head. “So if any other woman in this town needed the same type of assistance you’d offer her protection.”

  “Of course.”

  “Uh-huh.” Pizer picked his teeth, then rolled the toothpick around in his lips. “That still doesn’t solve our problem. Pull Skeeter off the detail.”

  Swallowing hard, Marshall took the plunge. He knew if Pizer refused his request, he’d find a way around it. “All right. But I’d like to replace him. Full-time.”

  “What?”

  Marshall knew the Sheriff had heard him. Maybe Pizer thought he’d say something different if he played deaf? “I want to be placed as her full-time bodyguard.”

  Pizer took the toothpick out of his mouth. “What about your other cases?”