Along Came Trouble

by Sherryl Woods

  “Oh, right,” she said skeptically. “And I’m the tooth fairy.”

  “Sometimes you are,” Tommy volunteered.

  Daisy frowned at him. “Stay out of this and drink your juice.”

  Tucker hid a smile. It would not help the situation to let Daisy see his amusement. She was trying to protect him, not entertain him.

  Apparently his effort was less successful than he’d hoped, because she turned her scowl on him next.

  “This is not a laughing matter,” she said.

  “Never said it was.”

  “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that not one tiny little hip-hip-hooray crossed your mind when you discovered Mary Elizabeth at your place?”

  He could tell her that, maybe even keep a straight face while he said it, but he couldn’t look her in the eye and they both knew it.

  “I thought so,” she said. “Stay away from her. Even after all this time, you’re still way too susceptible to her.”

  “What does that mean?” Tommy asked, regarding them both with curiosity.

  “Drink your juice,” Tucker and Daisy said in a chorus.

  “Geez,” Tommy said with disgust. “You’d think I asked about sex or something.”

  Tucker couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out. One glance at Daisy told him she was having an equally difficult time choking back laughter.

  “What is wrong with you?” Tommy demanded. “All I said was—”

  “We know what you said,” Daisy said, flipping a stack of pancakes onto a plate and handing them to him. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  “How’s a kid supposed to learn anything if he can’t ask questions?” Tommy grumbled as he poured syrup over his pancakes.

  “He has a point,” Tucker said.

  “Then you explain about ‘susceptible,’” Daisy said, stripping off her apron. “I have errands to run. I’m going into town before it gets too hot.”

  “Hey, where are my pancakes?” Tucker demanded as she flew out the door.

  “Fix ’em yourself,” she hollered back. “I have better fish to fry.”

  “See what you’ve done,” Tucker said, nabbing Tommy’s plate. “Guess I’ll just have to finish yours.”

  Tommy grabbed the plate right back. “I’m a growing kid.”

  Tucker sighed and stood up. He could make pancakes in a pinch. How hard could it be when the batter was already made and the griddle was hot? He poured four pancakes onto the flat surface and watched them intently, trying to decide when it was time to flip them. Was it before the bubbles popped or after? Better not take any chances, he decided, flipping them and winding up with a soggy, misshapen mess.

  Sighing, he tossed the whole batch into the garbage disposal and turned to Tommy. “Where’s the cereal?”

  Grinning, Tommy shoved his chair back and headed for the cabinet. “Maybe I’d better fix it. You don’t seem to be such a whiz in the kitchen.”

  “You know, kid, I’d watch that mouth of yours, if I were you. Since Daisy just took off, it looks as if you’re stuck with me till she gets back. I’m thinking that my car could use washing.”

  “And I’m thinking that I’m real tired,” Tommy said with a grin. “I’m sure I’ll feel a whole lot better after a nap.”

  “You just got up,” Tucker said, catching a handful of T-shirt as Tommy headed for the door.

  “Isn’t making me wash your car like violating some kind of child labor laws or something?”

  Tucker laughed. “I can live with that.”

  “But you’re a cop,” Tommy protested.

  “Not today. I’m on leave. And my best deputy is out of town for the day. Looks like you’re out of luck.”

  “Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” Tommy said. “I’ll wash your car if you’ll go out in my boat with me after.”

  Tucker hesitated. “Is that thing seaworthy yet?”

  “Bobby and Walker say it is,” Tommy assured him.

  “Have they been out in it yet?”

  “They say the paint’s not dry.”

  “When did you paint it?”

  “Weeks and weeks ago.” Tommy regarded him with a perplexed look. “How long does it take paint to get really, really dry?”

  “Months,” Tucker said firmly. “Definitely months.”

  When Liz couldn’t stand being housebound for another minute, she took Tucker’s advice, drove into Trinity Harbor and went exploring.

  A lot had changed in the last six years. There were more shops, including a wonderfully cozy bookstore where she whiled away most of the morning in the mystery section, hoping it would give her some ideas about how to solve Larry’s murder. Leaving all of the investigating in Tucker’s hands was beginning to chafe. It was past time she stopped heeding his advice and tried to figure this whole mess out for herself. After all, who had a more vested interest in finding answers than she did? And which of them had better insight into the potential cast of suspects?

  Not only that, she was the only one who knew for an absolute fact that she was not the killer. For all of his protestations that he believed in her, she knew that even Tucker probably had his occasional doubts. How could he not?

  After scanning the mystery section for more than an hour, she took a brisk walk on the boardwalk and wound up at Earlene’s, once their favorite hangout for milk shakes and burgers. She hesitated at the door, knowing she was bound to run into familiar faces inside, then took a deep breath and walked in, her head held high.

  When she finally risked a look around, the first familiar face she spotted was Daisy’s. The lack of welcome in her one-time friend’s expression was not a good sign. Apparently she’d been right. Daisy wasn’t interested in renewing old ties. Thinking of Tucker’s advice, Liz ignored the scowl and went over anyway, grateful for the fact that Anna-Louise was there, as well.

  “Daisy, thank you for coming to the funeral,” she said. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak that day. It’s good to see you again. Marriage obviously agrees with you. You look fabulous.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Daisy responded stiffly.

  Her curt reply drew a frown from Anna-Louise, who was already sliding over to make room for Liz.

  “Have a seat,” Anna-Louise commanded gently.

  Liz hesitated. “Daisy?”

  “Oh, go ahead and sit. Anna-Louise won’t be happy if I chase you away. But just because she makes forgiveness her business doesn’t mean that I go along with her,” Daisy said irritably.

  Liz bit back a sharp retort about her lack of manners. Instead, she held firm to her determinedly friendly attitude. She was going to try to bridge the gap between them if it killed her. “I also wanted to thank you for bringing those clothes over to Tucker’s. It was a huge help. I’ll get them back to you as soon as they’re laundered and ironed.”

  “Burn them, for all I care,” Daisy said.

  “Daisy Ames!” Anna-Louise scolded. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “That’s okay,” Liz said. “Let her speak her mind.”

  “You don’t want me to get started,” Daisy said tightly.

  “Okay, let’s just get it out in the open. You know that I never meant to hurt Tucker,” Liz said, cutting right to the problem. “My friendship with Larry during the time Tucker and I were dating was totally innocent.”

  Daisy sniffed.

  “It was. When you pointed out that you thought otherwise, I took a step back and examined my feelings and realized you could be right. The instant I discovered that, I told Tucker. If I’d realized it sooner, I would have told him sooner, but there was nothing to tell. He knew Larry and I were friends. We were never sneaking around. I was always as honest with your brother as I could possibly be.”

  “But you still hurt him,” Daisy said, her expression unrelenting. “He didn’t deserve it. And now all the signs point to the fact that you’re going to do it again. Why him, Mary Elizabeth? Why couldn’t you have gone to someone else fo
r help?”

  “Because Tucker is very good at what he does, and I needed the best,” she said, even though it was only part of the truth.

  “There’s no quicker way to a man’s heart than acting needy,” Daisy said, putting the worst possible spin on Liz’s motives.

  “Daisy!” Anna-Louise said, looking shocked by the accusation that Liz was using her husband’s death to get back into Tucker’s life.

  Daisy regarded the minister defiantly. “You know it’s true.” She turned back to Liz. “Are you really under suspicion for murder, or do you just want Tucker to think that you are?”

  Liz understood the anger behind Daisy’s skepticism, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  “There was a time when I didn’t,” Daisy said. “But that was before you left Tucker the minute something better came along. Being the wife of a small-town sheriff’s deputy wasn’t good enough for you back then, not when you could have a man who had his eye on the governor’s mansion.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Liz protested.

  “You might be able to convince my brother of that, but you’ll never convince me.” Daisy glanced apologetically at Anna-Louise and slid out of the booth. “I’m sorry, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  Liz watched Daisy walk away and sighed.

  “Is she right?” Anna-Louise asked.

  “About what?”

  “Any of it?”

  “No. Long before Larry was killed, I knew I had made a terrible choice six years ago. I was already in the process of doing something about it when this happened.”

  “So you were already planning to come back here?”

  Liz nodded. “I’d had my fill of city living and of politics.”

  “And Tucker? Did you want him back, as well?”

  Liz nodded again, unable to tell Anna-Louise anything less than the truth. She hadn’t realized it herself at first, had convinced herself she was coming back to Swan Ridge simply because it was her home, a safe haven after so many years of turmoil. But the minute she’d seen Tucker, she’d known that she had been drawn back by him, as well.

  “I wonder if Tucker will ever believe that, though,” Liz asked plaintively.

  Anna-Louise reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Give it time. Let all the rest of this sort itself out. When it’s right, love can triumph over just about anything.”

  “Even betrayal?”

  “Even that,” Anna-Louise assured her.

  For the first time since she’d come home to Trinity Harbor, Liz felt the faint stirring of hope. And meeting Anna-Louise’s concerned gaze, she realized something else, as well. She might have lost Daisy as a friend, but she had a new friend who was willing to overlook everything she’d obviously heard about Liz and give her a chance.

  16

  King was still carrying that blasted engagement ring around in his pocket. His dinner with Frances had gone well enough, but when the time had come to pop the question, it was almost as if she’d anticipated it. Looking vaguely panicked, she’d taken off for the ladies’ room. Five minutes later, she’d claimed she wasn’t feeling well and asked him to take her home. She’d even insisted on skipping bingo. A man couldn’t ask a woman to marry him when she was almost literally turning green around the gills.

  She hadn’t been responding to his phone calls since then, either. He was almost as annoyed by that as he was by the fact that Tucker was steering clear of home these days. Talking some common sense to his son was yet another mission that was being foiled.

  First things first, though. For once he had to make Frances a priority. He had to give her some sign that he was putting her ahead of his children. Since she wasn’t answering her phone or turning up at Earlene’s, the one place he could be sure of catching up with her was her office. She couldn’t very well duck him there.

  He drove over to Montross and went straight to the Social Services building on the outskirts of town. As he strolled down the hall, fingering the jewelry box in his pocket, he heard peals of laughter coming from Frances’s office. When he got to the doorway, to his complete shock, he saw her laughing her fool head off with Chauncey Mayberry, a slick character if ever there was one.

  Mayberry had come to Trinity Harbor just a few months back, a widowed retiree with money in his pocket and an eye for the ladies. It was apparent from the scene King had walked in on that Frances was his latest target.

  “What the devil is going on here?” King demanded, drawing a startled look from Mayberry and an embarrassed, guilty expression from Frances.

  “Chauncey just dropped by with some fresh peaches,” Frances said, her cheeks blooming with patches of bright pink. “Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

  “If you wanted peaches, why didn’t you say so?” King grumbled. “There’s a stand every few miles around here. I would have picked some up or taken you over to the Westmoreland Berry Farm for one of those fresh peach sundaes you love.”

  Frances regarded him with a pitying look. “But I didn’t have to ask Chauncey to do this,” she responded mildly.

  King’s temper flared at the subtle reproach. So that was the way it was? Chauncey, with his snow-white hair, tanned skin and fancy seersucker suit that made him look a lot like TV’s Matlock, was taking advantage of Frances’s fondness for the Andy Griffith character. He was going to aw, shucks his way right into her life with these out-of-the-blue gifts.

  “But has he bought you a diamond ring?” King demanded before he could stop himself. He drew the velvet jewelry box from his pocket and slapped it on Frances’s desk. “Has he told you he loved you? Has he asked you to marry him?”

  The last of the color drained out of Frances face. She eyed the jewelry box as if it might contain something lethal. “What is that?” she asked, her voice quaking.

  King felt a great satisfaction at having taken her by surprise. Even Mayberry looked shell-shocked, and it took a lot of rattle a man who’d retired from the marines.

  “It’s the ring I bought you,” King said, flipping the box open to display a two-carat, emerald-cut diamond set in platinum with baguettes on either side.

  “But why?” she asked, regarding him with bewilderment. “I thought you didn’t want to marry again.”

  “Did I ever say that?” he asked irritably, then answered himself. “No, I most certainly did not. I never said any such thing. In fact, I was the one who thought we should consider taking our relationship to a new level. Do you recall that conversation, or have you conveniently forgotten it?” He glowered at her. “So what’s it going to be, Frances? Yes or no?”

  With that, Frances burst into tears and ran from her office, leaving King and Mayberry staring at each other.

  “Well, you certainly made a mess of that,” Mayberry said, his eyes twinkling merrily. “A piece of advice, old man? If you want a woman like Frances, you need to court her with a little class.”

  “And I suppose peaches qualify better than diamonds?” King said snidely.

  Mayberry shook his head, regarding King with a level of pity that topped Frances’s earlier display. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see about that, won’t we?”

  “Oh, go on and get out of here,” King muttered, unwilling to admit to the competition that he had screwed up royally. He hadn’t so much proposed to Frances as he had dared her. Under other circumstances, that might be an effective tactic, but not when marriage was on the line.

  “A smart man would retreat and give her some time to recover from his monumentally stupid behavior,” Mayberry said as he plucked his straw hat from a bookcase and headed for the door. “But I imagine you’ll be staying.”

  “You imagine right,” King said, ignoring the fact that he’d just been insulted. Mayberry might think he knew a thing or two about courtship, but King knew Frances. Leaving her alone to ruminate on all this was exactly the wrong thing to do. He needed to apologize for bungling everything and he needed to do it now, while
the incident was still fresh and the damage could be repaired. That, at least, was one lesson he’d learned when he’d let her run off to Maine a few months back and hadn’t gone after her.

  When Mayberry was gone, he sat down to wait. It didn’t take long for Frances to return, her eyes red and puffy. She peeked into her office, spotted him and almost turned tail.

  “Get in here, woman. Let me say my piece.”

  “I think you’ve said quite enough for one morning,” she retorted, retreating to sit behind her desk.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She regarded him with suspicion. “For?”

  “Bulldozing in here and making an ass of myself and embarrassing you.”

  “Good start,” she said approvingly. “Why did you do it?”

  “I saw Chauncey wooing you with those peaches and it made me crazy.”

  “Jealous?” she asked, studying him with mild curiosity.

  “Me? Jealous of a man like that? I don’t think so,” he snapped.

  “King Spencer!”

  “Okay,” he admitted, backing down from the blatant lie. “Maybe I was a little jealous. What’s going on between the two of you, anyway? You interested in him?”

  “He’s a nice man. Unlike some I could name, he’s both thoughtful and considerate.”

  King grated at the compliments. “That’s not what I asked,” he grumbled.

  Frances sighed. “No, I am not interested in him. You’re the only man I care about, heaven help me.”

  “Then let’s talk about the ring.”

  “Let’s not,” she said, her expression grim and determined. “I think before you bring that up again, you ought to ask yourself why you want to marry me.”

  “Didn’t you hear me say I love you?”

  “I heard it, but under the circumstances, since you and Chauncey were engaged in some sort of male ritual for staking out turf, I didn’t exactly buy it.”

  “I meant it, dammit! I had the ring with me, didn’t I?”

  She stood up and rounded her desk. Before he realized her intention, she slid onto his lap and kissed him, pretty much taking his breath away. At his age, that was a risky business, but he had to admit he liked the sensation. He’d been waiting a long time for her to let her passion overrule her head. Her breath was hitching and her cheeks were flushed again by the time she stopped.