Along Came Trouble

by Sherryl Woods

  “He’s a friend,” Liz told her. “He’s helping me try to solve Larry’s murder. Dominique Gerard, this is Tucker Spencer. He’s one of the last remaining good guys.”

  “And a handsome one, too,” Dominique said after another frank assessment.

  Tucker, bless his heart, blushed. “About this man who called,” he reminded her.

  “Ah, yes, it was Charles Foley.”

  Tucker shook his head. “I don’t recognize the name. Should I?”

  “He’s an aide to the governor,” Liz said. “I’ll bet you’d recognize him if you saw him. He’s in almost every bill-signing photograph taken in the governor’s office and he’s usually on or near the podium when he speaks. Governor Hastings seldom goes anywhere without him.”

  “Was the governor here with him that night?” Tucker asked Dominique.

  “No, I heard that he was meeting with a delegate. I believe it was someone the governor hoped to win over on his health-care initiative.”

  “And Foley? Who was he with?” Liz asked.

  “I did not see him when he arrived or when he left,” Dominique said. “My mâitre d’ seated them. Perhaps Jacques will remember.”

  “I’ll speak to him,” Liz told Tucker.

  “Does that mean the governor was home that night, since Foley’s presence wasn’t required?” Tucker asked.

  “Or working late in his office,” Liz replied. “He has a habit of staying past business hours. It drives his staff and the delegates crazy, since he’s constantly calling them in at all hours of the night to go over legislation and plan strategy.”

  “But wouldn’t Foley be around for that?” Tucker persisted.

  “Not if the governor had sent him on another mission,” Liz said thoughtfully. “Which meant this dinner was important, and since Foley wanted his name taken off the reservation book, it was no doubt something he didn’t want widely known.”

  “Then why come here?” Tucker asked. “You told me yourself this place is usually crawling with movers and shakers.”

  “But our booths are very private,” Dominique explained. “And if one wishes not to be disturbed, there is the private dining room. That is where Mr. Foley was dining that night.”

  “Mind if I take a look at the layout?” Tucker asked. “I want to see what he could see or overhear from that room.”

  “Surely,” Dominique said. “Liz, will you show him or shall I?”

  “I know the way,” Liz said. “And we’ve already taken up too much of your time. Could you make me a copy of that night’s reservation pages?”

  “Of course,” Dominique said at once. “I’ll have it ready before you leave, though I don’t know how much luck you’ll have reading my handwriting. As for Jacques’s…” She shrugged eloquently to express her dismay over the legibility of her mâitre d’s scribbles.

  “We’ll manage,” Liz assured her. “Thanks so much for your help.”

  “Will you be returning to Richmond soon?” Dominique asked. “I’m sure there are many here in town who wish to express their condolences in person.”

  Liz exchanged a look with Tucker. “No. I’m hoping to stay on in Trinity Harbor, at least for the time being. I’ve been away from home for far too long.”

  The other woman chuckled. “Yes, I can understand the allure,” she said with another of those disconcerting surveys that clearly rattled Tucker.

  He all but ran from the office. Liz caught up with him at the entrance to the dining room.

  “Don’t tell me she made you nervous,” she teased him.

  “Nervous? Me? Don’t be ridiculous,” he grumbled, but his neck was slowly turning a dull red.

  “Dominique is a very attractive woman, isn’t she?” Liz prodded.

  He frowned at her. “What are you trying to do? Set me up with her?”

  Just the suggestion of anything like that brought her pulse skidding to a halt. It was way too soon to know exactly what she wanted where Tucker was concerned, but she definitely didn’t want to set him up with a woman like Dominique. The restaurateuse had a reputation for going through men like tissues, discarding them without thought.

  “No, absolutely not,” Liz said fervently, telling herself it was only her protectiveness where Tucker’s emotions were concerned that made her so vehement.

  He grinned at last. “Glad to hear it,” he said, leveling a look at her that made her knees go weak. “Now show me where you were when you and Larry fought.”

  “Over here,” she said, leading him to the table with its heavy damask cloth and floral centerpiece. Chez Dominique had first-rate Old World style and ambience. That, and Dominique’s penchant for discretion, kept its lofty clientele coming back again and again.

  “And the private dining room is where?” Tucker asked.

  Liz gestured to a door less than twenty feet away. There were only a few tables in between.

  “So it’s entirely possible that this Foley character could have heard every word the two of you shouted without you being aware he was around,” Tucker surmised, his expression thoughtful. “What does this guy look like?”

  “Tall, a little heavy around the middle, usually a bit disheveled,” Liz said. “Why?”

  “Brown hair, thinning a bit? Ruddy complexion?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “You do know him, don’t you?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, he was in Trinity Harbor just this morning.”

  Liz couldn’t hide her shock. “He was? Why?”

  “Trying to make sure that we arrested you for your husband’s murder.”

  12

  It was all way too easy, Tucker thought as he considered the discovery that the man who’d come to tip Walker off about Mary Elizabeth was the same man who’d tried to get his name erased from the Chez Dominique reservation book.

  Of course, amateurs were often sloppy, he reminded himself.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing Mary Elizabeth’s hand. “We’ll pick up those copies and then head over to the Capitol.”

  “You want to pay a visit to Foley,” she guessed at once.

  “Just a little get-acquainted call,” he confirmed. “If I’m right about him being in Trinity Harbor this morning, it ought to rattle him to have me turn up on his doorstep a few hours later, especially with you in tow. How well do you know him?”

  “Better than I’d like to,” she said with a wry grimace. “He’s a very friendly man, if you get my drift.”

  “He’s made a pass at you?” Tucker didn’t like the possessive feeling that stirred in him.

  “He’s made a pass at anything in skirts walking around Richmond. He’s a bachelor who’s made excellent use of his power to draw the attention of women who otherwise might not give him the time of day.”

  Tucker was astonished. “Why does the governor put up with that?”

  “Because Foley is also very good at his job,” Liz explained. “He gets things done without the governor having to get his hands dirty. The expression ‘backroom politics’ was coined for men like Charles Foley. He exerts pressure. He makes deals. And he plays dirty when he has to.”

  “Dirty how?” Tucker asked.

  “I know of at least one delegate he allegedly tried to blackmail to get the vote the governor wanted on an environmental bill. It was defeated by a margin of one vote, and that margin was provided by a man with a previously strong record on environmental issues. There were rumors in the paper for a month about why he would have changed his vote on such an important bill, and all of them kept coming back to a meeting he had with Foley just hours before the bill went to the floor. Since no one else was at that meeting, we’ll probably never know what really happened, but it certainly raises suspicion.”

  “Make a mental note. I’ll want that name.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You get those copies, and I’ll meet you outside,” Tucker told her. “I need a couple of minutes to process all this.” He had a feeling it would take days, not minutes, to make s
ense of just the few shenanigans Liz had described. Small-town politics were convoluted enough. What she was describing was downright Machiavellian.

  When Mary Elizabeth had retrieved the reservation-book pages from Dominique and joined Tucker in the parking lot, he gestured toward his car. “I’ll drive.”

  She shook her head. “I’m the one with the parking pass. Let’s go, Spencer. Surely you can handle being a passenger for once.”

  “I let other people drive all the time,” he retorted. “It’s you behind the wheel I’m worried about. You’ve always liked to push the limits.”

  “Check my record, Sheriff,” she challenged with a grin. “No tickets.”

  “Oh, well, then, that’s certainly reassuring,” he said. “What it tells me is that you’ve managed to sweet-talk your way out of them. I know you’ve dazzled a couple of my deputies a time or two.”

  “Maybe,” she taunted. “Are you going to risk it or not?”

  “Let’s go,” he said, and followed her to the luxury sportscar with its vanity plates that had given away her presence at his house just over a week earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was also disconcerting to realize that in a few short days she had managed to wash away years of anger and hurt. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to trust her entirely, but he no longer felt that sick sensation in his gut when he looked at her. No, in fact, what he felt was something a whole lot more dangerous.

  Tucker studied Mary Elizabeth as she expertly wove through the congested streets of downtown Richmond. She drove with a relaxed posture, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. In fact, he thought he detected genuine excitement sparkling in her eyes.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She glanced at him. “As long as I don’t think too hard about why it’s necessary,” she told him with apparent candor. “Then it makes my skin crawl.”

  “You don’t have to come along. You could let me do the job you asked me to do.”

  “I could,” she agreed. “But I’m the one with everything at stake. Besides, why should I sit at home at Swan Ridge worrying about you and what sort of trouble I’ve sent you into, when I could be right here to protect you?”

  He chuckled at the notion of Mary Elizabeth with her soft heart doing what it took to protect anyone in the kind of situations they might encounter. She’d carried on so loudly about her grandfather even keeping hunting rifles in the house that he’d finally gotten rid of them. That was yet another reason why the idea that she had shot Chandler was so completely ludicrous.

  “I can handle trouble,” he reminded her. “I’ve been a cop for a long time now.”

  “And just how many high-profile murders have there been in Trinity Harbor?”

  “Okay, not that many, but the county has had its share of murders.” He turned the tables on her. “How many have you investigated?”

  “None, but I’m a whole lot more familiar with the high-powered backstabbing that goes on down here than you are. Face it, Sheriff, you need me.” She met his gaze with an unflinching look. “If I truly get in your way, you can send me home. Deal?”

  Tucker considered the offer, then nodded. Better that she was where he could keep an eye on her, than poking around on her own, which she would do, no question about it. For a woman who’d had major self-esteem issues as a kid, she’d not only gotten over them in a big way, she was now evidently confident and stubborn as a mule.

  “Fair enough,” he said finally.

  At the Capitol, Mary Elizabeth breezed past the security guards with a smile, barely pausing to acknowledge the condolences that several of them expressed. She marched past the receptionist in Foley’s office, rapped on his door and walked in before the woman could even react.

  “Wait,” the receptionist demanded, but Mary Elizabeth was already inside.

  Tucker gave the woman an apologetic shrug. “I guess she’s in a hurry,” he said, and followed Mary Elizabeth through the door. Foley was just in the process of slamming the phone down, clearly agitated over the interruption. When he spotted Tucker on Mary Elizabeth’s heels, his complexion paled.

  “You!”

  Tucker gave him a jaunty grin. “Since you had so much to say about Mrs. Chandler earlier today, I thought we’d drop by so you could say it to her face.”

  Foley sputtered, but couldn’t seem to think of a single thing to say now that the target of his venom was smack in front of him.

  “Ah, cat’s got your tongue now, I see,” Tucker said. “Shall I repeat what you said this morning?”

  “No need,” Mary Elizabeth said sweetly. “I can just imagine what Mr. Foley had to say. My only question, Charles, is why you would be so anxious to see me locked up?”

  “Because your husband was a fine man and you shouldn’t be allowed to get away with murder.”

  “Come on,” Mary Elizabeth chided. “You can do better than that. You hated Larry’s guts, because he didn’t go along with the governor’s agenda. You’re probably relieved that he’s gone, because he was a major obstacle in your plans for the next session.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Foley said, clearly shocked. “Our legislative differences didn’t mean I’d want him dead. You, however, had what? Several million reasons to kill him?”

  Mary Elizabeth looked equally aghast. “Is that what you think? That I killed him for his money?” Then, to Tucker’s shock, she started to laugh. It was a brittle sound that echoed in the cavernous room. “Oh, Charles, all those big bucks you thought Larry had obviously dazzled you. But surely even you must be aware that the tech stocks have taken a beating in the last couple of years. Larry’s fortune, which was once quite large, at least on paper, took a beating right along with everyone else’s. And even if it hadn’t, I’d signed a prenuptial agreement. If we ever divorced, he kept what was his and I kept what was mine. There were no exceptions.”

  Relief flooded through Tucker as he listened to her explanation. It would be easy enough to check out, but at least for the moment it put to rest the last of his lingering doubts about money as a motive for Chandler’s murder.

  “You’re telling me that Larry’s fortune was gone?” Foley asked. “Every penny?”

  “Not every penny, but he was no longer a multimillionaire,” she said. “He’d managed to keep the losses from becoming widely known, but if you don’t believe me, check out his tax records for the last two years. I’m sure you have access to them.”

  “What about if he died?” Foley asked, looking triumphant. “Who got what was left then?”

  “Every dime of his business fortune stayed with his business partner, Roland Morgan. His personal funds went to a few charities,” Liz said.

  Foley looked shaken. “But if you had nothing to gain, why would you threaten to kill him?”

  “I didn’t,” she said flatly.

  “But I heard…”

  “You misunderstood,” Mary Elizabeth said. Then with a hint of impatience, she added, “That’s the point, I didn’t. That begs the question—why were you so anxious to pin it on me? Were you trying to tie up loose ends and wipe the slate clean before the next legislative session? Or was it something more? Were you protecting someone?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” he snapped. “Who would I be protecting?”

  “The governor comes to mind,” she said at once. “I’ve always suspected you’d throw yourself into a raging inferno to save his political butt.”

  Even Tucker was astounded by the implications of that. “Mary Elizabeth, surely you’re not suggesting…”

  “She’s slandering the governor, that’s what she’s doing,” Foley said, quivering with indignation.

  “No worse than you slandered her earlier today,” Tucker pointed out. “What say we all back off from all the mudslinging and try to make some sense of this?” He avoided Mary Elizabeth’s gaze and looked straight at Foley. Maybe this was a chance to make the man an ally, rather than a venom-spewing enemy. “Who would stand to gain the most in t
erms of political clout with Chandler dead?”

  Foley ticked off several familiar names, then added, “But none of them are killers. I’d stake my life on it.”

  Mary Elizabeth sighed. “So would I.”

  “Which leaves us exactly where?” Tucker asked.

  “Looking at business colleagues and others with a personal vendetta against him,” she said. “Let’s go by the house here and look through his papers. Maybe something will jump out at us.”

  “Fine by me,” Tucker agreed.

  Foley regarded Mary Elizabeth with something that looked like genuine regret. “Liz, I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful that you cared enough to get involved, but I’m still not entirely certain that you didn’t have some personal ax to grind. If you did, I’ll figure it out, I promise you that,” she told him.

  “I suppose I deserve that,” he said. “But you won’t find anything, I assure you.”

  Tucker couldn’t gauge Mary Elizabeth’s reaction, but he believed the man. He kept his opinion to himself, though, until they were once again cutting through heavy traffic and heading toward the outskirts of town.

  “What did you think?” he asked eventually.

  “That he’s the same calculating, self-serving pig he’s always been, but that there was no real malice behind the accusations he came to Trinity Harbor to make.” She glanced at Tucker. “You?”

  “Ditto. You want to grab some lunch before we start on the papers at the house?”

  “What I really want to do is stop the car, get out and scream bloody murder, but lunch will do.”

  “I recommend a glass of wine to go along with it,” Tucker said.

  She chuckled. “It will take more than a glass of wine to keep me from wanting to scream.”

  “A whole bottle would probably be too much, since you’re the one behind the wheel,” he said judiciously. “I’ll drink the rest.”

  She slanted a look at him. “You having a bad day, too?”

  “I’ve had more productive mornings.”

  “I think we’ve learned a lot,” she countered. “We have a list of names from the reservation book at Chez Dominique. We’ve eliminated a few suspects, and we’ve gotten Charles Foley off my case. That means he won’t be tossing around allegations to incite the local media.”