I rubbed his hand and took a deep breath, hoping I could get out what I had to say without bawling. “Thank you,” I said. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did… Anyway, thank you. You saved our lives.”
“You owe me,” he croaked. “Just like always. This time, though, it’s going to cost you big time.” And he gave me that lovely, silly, crooked grin.
I crawled up next to him and lay my head on the pillow beside his. “Anything, pal. You name it, it’s yours.” I kissed him on the cheek.
He turned to look at me and grinned again. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”
“In your dreams,” I said. “In your wildest dreams.”
22
I spent about thirty minutes snuggling on the bed next to Tim watching the morning news. Then the nurse came in and shooed me out of the room. “You can come back in about an hour,” she said.
I wandered down the hall toward the waiting room, wondering what all the commotion coming from there was all about.
Ricky was draped across one of the chairs, signing autographs. I wanted to smack him. Just because he was rich and famous and the best looking thing on two legs didn’t mean that he should be able to waltz around town like he owns it.
I jostled through the crowd and stopped in front of him. “What on earth are you doing here?”
He flashed The Smile and tried to pull me into his lap. “There you are, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve been worried sick over you.”
I jerked away and glowered at him. “I said, what are you doing here, Ricky?”
He stood up, opened a black case and took out his guitar, propped his foot on the coffee table, and began strumming. I recognized the tune, “Love is a Dream”, the only song of his that I really like, the one he sang to me the night he proposed. He broke off in the middle of the second go round of the chorus, ‘love is a dream that floats in your mind,’ and bowed to the little group of patients, visitors, and staff knotted around us. They applauded wildly, shouting ‘encore’, ‘encore’.
“Well, thank y’all kindly,” Ricky drawled. “I hate to ask you kind folks, but do y’all think you could let me have a minute alone to talk to my Marty, darlin’?”
They couldn’t get out fast enough, clearly ready to grant their idol’s every wish.
“Goodness gracious, darlin’,” Ricky said when they left, the last one pulling the door closed after giving us a wink, “but I’ve been fretting something awful over you. Thank the good Lord that you’re safe.”
He gathered me into his strong arms and kissed me gently before I could react. I pushed him off of me and hopped up and down. “Stop that, Ricky! Stop it right now.”
He had the audacity to look hurt. “What the heck, Marty? I’m just happy to see you. I was worried sick about you, you know?”
I took a deep breath and fought the urge to pummel him. “You’re a real SOB, you know that Ricky. A complete and utter jerk. I heard your interview on Channel 42.”
Ricky reached for me again, cooing to me that I was, and always would be, his Marty Darlin’ and that he was so sorry about that interview. I backed away from him, determined not to let him touch me again. He moved with me until he practically had me pinned against the wall.
“Now, Marty, darlin’, come on. I told you that interview doesn’t mean a thing. I had to tell that little gal those things. My manager pointed out that it would hurt my career if I was dating a murder suspect. You’ve got to know that I meant every word that I said to you at lunch. I really do want us to get back together. That’s why I came here. That’s why I sang you your favorite song.”
“No! You might have thought you meant it at the time, Ricky, but you didn’t. I’m not some dumb bimbo groupie with a pea-sized brain you can tell stories to, and then turn around and buy a piece of jewelry for, when you get tired of her. It’s me, Marty. Remember? The one who’s known you since kindergarten? The one who used to be your darlin’, but isn’t anymore. I’m not the one who ran off to St. Maarten, Ricky. I’m not the one who did the dumping. So stop it. Stop it right this minute.”
He flashed me the million-dollar grin. “I know darlin’, I know. That’s why I want us to give it another try. I promise, this time I won’t hurt you. I can give you everything your heart desires. Everything you deserve. I can take you to St. Maarten or anywhere your heart desires. Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere we can be alone. I’ll show you how much I love you.” He put his hands on the sides of my face and leaned in for another kiss.
I shoved him and stomped my foot. “No. No, no, no! I’m not falling for it again, Ricky. You mean nothing to me. Nothing, you got that. You’re pond scum. Lower than pond scum. Now take your guitar and shove it up your — no, I’m not going to sink to that level. Just get out. Get the heck out of here and don’t come back. I mean it.”
I shoved him again, this time catching him off guard. He stumbled backwards and fell over the guitar case. I hurdled his legs, took his guitar and threw it on the ground. Then I jumped up and down on it, taking out all of the anger and rage I felt about everything that had happened to me in the last week. Since he’d jilted me. I’d probably have jumped on it until nothing but splinters were left, but Ricky bear hugged me off of it and cradled it in his arms like it was a baby.
“You’re nuts, Marty. Just plain old nuts, you know that?” He cuddled the guitar to him. “I don’t know what got into me, ever thinking you’d changed.”
He stomped out of the room, still embracing the guitar, his face contorted with anger. He didn’t look sexy or handsome or anything like that to me any longer. I smiled to myself, sat down on the green chair, and waited for the nurse to come and tell me that I could see Tim again, all the while humming ‘Love is a Dream’ to myself over and over again.
They finally let me go back in to see Tim about an hour later. I hung out, watching TV and cracking jokes until around lunchtime, then went to Pilazzo’s for some real food to sneak into him. Dad and Charli had jump started my Mustang and brought it over to the hospital around eleven, leaving it in the parking lot after they visited Tim. They didn’t stay long since they both had to help Mom and the rest of the committee with the final stages of planning the Breast Cancer Awareness fundraiser.
When I returned from Pilazzo’s with the bag full of goodies, several police officers and Detective Winger were in visiting Tim. I waited in the hallway until they left. The detective was the last one to file out of Tim’s room and he stopped and stood beside me until the others were further down the hall.
“Ms. Sheffield,” he said, “may I have a word with you?”
“Sure. Let me just give Tim this bag of food first. I’ll meet you in the waiting room.”
I took my time setting all of the food up for Tim, making sure he had everything that he needed. Okay, I was stalling. So sue me. Based on my previous meetings with the detective, and with the way my luck had been running lately, I figured he was probably going to nail me for snooping around Sam’s shop.
When I finally schlepped my way down to the waiting room, Detective Winger was slouched in front of a print of a Virginia hunt scene, his hands jammed into his pants pockets.
“Sorry it took so long. This hospital food is so gross and poor Tim, only being able to use one arm…. Well, anyway, what can I do for you, Detective?”
The detective pulled out his little pad and the silver pen. I prepared myself for another spate of questions. My heart tattooed against my chest as I wondered what the penalty for lying to a cop was.
He carefully eased himself into one of the chairs and invited me to sit. “Ms. Sheffield, I mainly just want to apologize to you for the events of the past week. You’ve been a real trooper through all of this and I know you’re a good friend to Officer Unser. I spoke to your attorney this morning and let him know that, based on the ballistics report and other evidence, we no longer consider you a suspect in the murders of Robert Pluck and Franklin Billingham. The gun you were caught with wasn’t
the murder weapon, by the way.”
I cracked my knuckles and waited for the other shoe to drop. The detective was staring at me expectantly, like he was waiting for me to say something.
“Well,” I said, “I guess that doesn’t surprise me much since you’ve got the murderer behind bars. Which one of them did it, Sam or Art?”
Winger almost smiled. “You are rather blunt, aren’t you, Ms. Sheffield? Unfortunately, we still don’t have the evidence we need to support an arrest for the murders at this time. Mr. English, or should I say Mr. Redmond, has been arrested for manufacturing a controlled substance, drug distribution, and of course, kidnapping. We still have a warrant out for Mr. Danner. There’s an APB in force and we expect to have him in custody very soon. Thanks to you and your sister, both of them will go to jail for a long time.”
“So you’re saying they didn’t kill Frank and Robby?”
“No, I’m saying we don’t have enough evidence. There’s a difference.”
His pager sounded and he read the message. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. Good luck to you, Ms. Sheffield. And take good care of Officer Unser. We want him back as soon as possible.”
I spent another couple of hours hanging out with Tim, but he finally sent me away, telling me he needed to rest and that all of my hovering was grating on his nerves just a little. I grumped and griped at him, called him ungrateful, but I wasn’t really mad.
The Breast Cancer Awareness thing started off the next morning at the ungodly hour of six-forty five AM. Charli had to be there at six-thirty since she was participating in the Five K ‘fun’ run. Personally, I didn’t see anything the least bit fun about prancing around town, huffing up and down the hills of Glenvar just for a dumb t-shirt and I was surprised that my sister was still participating after being kidnapped and all. But, ever the trouper, Charli bounced out of bed and after a nutritious breakfast and a handful of vitamins, went off to inflict further torture on her body.
I rolled over and attempted to sleep, optimistically setting the alarm for eight. Sleep refused to return, though, so I got on up and slogged over to the park. Mom was the local chairperson of the event so she’d immediately delegated the music part of the festival to me. I’d managed to get three bands to donate their time to the cause and the first one was supposed to start playing at noon. I didn’t really have anything to do until then, but Mom put me to work as a runner and troubleshooter.
The fundraiser was being held at Glenvar Park, the flagship park for our city. It was a beautiful day, the heat and humidity once again giving way to almost spring-like temperatures. Hundreds of people were already milling around, checking out the crafts booths, gobbling down funnel cakes and fried pork rinds, laughing and enjoying being alive.
At eleven, there was an auction of the high dollar items Mom’s group had persuaded businesses to donate. There were some really great things, airline tickets, trips to Myrtle Beach, gift certificates, appliances, and all kinds of stuff going up for bid under the sure hand of Ginger Murphy, who was donating her time and talents to the worthy charity.
I stood in the back of the tent, listening to her patter, “come-a five, do I have five, that’s five, ten, ten, got ten, twenty, twenty, there’s twenty…” She was great, laughing that rich laugh of hers, cracking jokes with the bidders, coaxing them into spending more and more to help out the cause.
I was drooling over the third item, a trip for two to Hawaii when I noticed Charli, who was at one of the concession stands behind the tent buying a bottle of water, frantically motioning to me.
I hiked over to her.
“There you are,” she said. “Kyle’s here. I saw him a few minutes ago.”
I tried not to let it get to me. “So,” I said, then ordered a bottle of water from the concessionaire.
“So, he asked me where you were. Said he needed to talk to you.”
I twisted the cap off of my water. Miss No big deal. “Where is he?”
Charli pointed toward the craft booths. “Over at the volunteer sign in table. Mom roped him into working it.”
“Well, maybe I’ll mosey over by there a little later and see what he wants. Probably nothing. Although, I suppose it could be about the job.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “You don’t think he managed to talk Ellingsworth into changing his mind do you?”
Charli shrugged. “Beats me. If I were you, though, I don’t think I’d be standing here wondering about it. I’d run over and talk to him right this minute.”
“Okay, I’m going.” I attempted to tame my curls. “Do I look all right?”
“Gorgeous, as always,” Charli said.
I rolled my eyes. “Ha. That’s a good one.”
Charli grabbed my arm and spun me toward her. “Marty, don’t do that. It makes me crazy. You’re probably the most beautiful woman in Glenvar. Why do you always put yourself down like that? You really need to stock up on some self-esteem.”
Great. Just what I needed, another lecture. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m serious, Marty. Half the men in town, including Tim, are in love with you. I just can’t figure out why you’re so down on yourself.”
I grimaced. “Not now, Charli. Don’t lecture me now. I’ll catch you later. You can give me the deluxe version.”
I took off at a trot toward the volunteer table to see what Kyle Zagle had to say. The way things were going in my life he probably wanted to kick me. Kick me and then invite me to his wedding to Giselle. Kick me, invite me to his wedding to Giselle, and…
He looked so good, just like always.
“Hi,” I said. “How’s everything?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, nudging up that cute little cowlick over his ear. “Hey, Marty. I’m about done here. Can we go somewhere for a few minutes and talk? I hate to do it here, today, but it’s important.”
Uh oh. The way he said important made me think maybe I’d been right. He really was going to kick me. Well, maybe not literally, but kick me just the same.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m not due over at the stage for another hour. Want to grab a hotdog or something?”
He agreed, and when his replacement showed up a few minutes later, we headed over to the food booths and ordered two dogs with the works and a couple of the world’s best frozen lemonades.
“Come on, back here,” he said, pointing to a picnic table way at the rear of the park. We plopped down on the wooden bench and unwrapped our sandwiches.
I took a bite of the mustard, chili, and slaw-laden dog and waited for him to speak, determined to be Miss Calm, Cool, and Collected. A glob of chili squirted out of my hotdog and plastered the front of my Zac Brown Band t-shirt. So much for calm, cool, and collected.
Kyle handed me a paper napkin. “Marty, I owe you an apology. I’ve behaved like a real jerk this past week and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
Me, forgive him? For what? I was the one who’d acted like a goober. “You didn’t do anything. I did. I mean I’m the one that’s been running around all over town getting into knockdown, drag-out fights and I’m the one that accidentally spit that tea all over Mr. Ellingsworth. It was an accident, you know. I really and truly didn’t mean to do it. It’s just that when I saw Ricky Ray, I nearly choked.”
Kyle interrupted me. “I know that, Marty. And don’t worry about it. I spoke with Tom and everything is okay. We’re still offering you the job. I hope you’ll take it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m serious. We really want you. We think you’ll be terrific for us.”
He explained to me the terms, an offer that was so good it made me wish I knew how to turn handsprings. Instead I ran around to his side of the table and hugged him and then, when I saw the way he was eyeing me, the desire in his eyes, I kissed him.
He backed off immediately. I felt like crawling under the table. Obviously what I’d read as desire was something else. Probably disgust.
“I’m sorr
y, Kyle. I don’t know what came over me. I promise, it won’t happen again. It’s just that, well, I assumed after we went out last Saturday, I guess I assumed that you liked me.”
He caressed my hand. “I do like you. Very much. But the thing is, I like you as a radio personality too. I heard tapes of your show from Herb and they were simply superb. That’s why I knew I had to hire you for our morning show. There’s just one problem. The company has rules about employees dating each other. It’s strictly forbidden. And ultimately, since I’ll be your boss, it’s also wrong. That’s why I didn’t ask you out again. And then, when I saw you kissing Mr. Riley, I knew I’d made the right decision. It was obvious that the two of you still have strong feelings for one another.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong about that. Ricky Ray and I are so over.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m really sorry about your company’s rules. I like you. A lot. I sure would have liked to have had the opportunity to get to know you better.”
He lifted my fingers to his mouth. “The feeling is very mutual. But, there’s no reason we can’t be friends, is there?”
I forced a smile. “Absolutely,” I said.
We sat there awhile longer, talking about the weird week, about how Tim was doing, and about how much we were looking forward to working together. I checked my watch and realized that I had to get on over to the stage to introduce The Parnell Project, so I balled up my trash, slam-dunked it in the trash can, and hot-footed it across the park.
When Sue and her group launched into their first song, I felt my knees buckle out from under me and sort of collapsed into a chair someone had left behind the stage. I still felt dizzy, so I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The sun was so warm against my cheeks that pretty soon I dozed off.
The cold metal pressed into my skull, digging hard into my head. Everything was dark and I heard voices floating around me but I couldn’t make them out, couldn’t make sense of what was happening to me. Through the darkness I saw Tim, saw him walking toward me smiling, and then saw the red flower sprout out of his arm, and watched him fall. I tried to scream, tried to run, but my body was paralyzed, my legs wouldn’t move. The flower turned into a cardinal and flew toward me then I realized that Art had me pinned to the ground, and that the cold metal pressed into my skull was a gun. Art grabbed my arm and shook it. And I kept trying to scream, trying to run, but I couldn’t.
The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1 Page 40
