by Mary Ellis
“The competition is still weeks away, and I promise to wear a crash helmet, knee and elbow pads, and a life vest in the water. Satisfied?”
“Relieved, actually. And now you have a get-out-of-jail-free card for the future.”
“What do you mean?” He cast her a sideways glance.
“One free chance to stick your nose into my business. Now if you have nothing else to show me, let’s head to City Cemetery. I want to be there when Alice arrives so she doesn’t face this alone.”
Michael put the car in gear and headed up the ramp. “We’re less than ten minutes away. Regarding that Monopoly card? I plan to play it when you least expect it.”
They rode to the cemetery in total silence. Beth wasn’t sure why she wasn’t happier for Michael. Maybe it was due to the somber occasion or maybe she was jealous. She’d never ridden in a nicer set of wheels in her life. But once she was at the gravesite, surrounded by men with shovels, a backhoe, and the coroner, all thoughts of fast cars were forgotten. Beth held Alice’s hand throughout the exhumation until the hearse drove away with her husband’s body.
On their way back to the office, Beth’s sense of guilt kicked in. When Michael pulled into the lot, she blurted her confession. “I didn’t handle your good news very well. Seriously, I’m happy for you about the car. Life is short. Since you can afford it, why shouldn’t you drive something cool?”
“Thanks, Elizabeth.”
“And I’m proud of your self-improvement. Most people only talk about changing, but you’re doing it. Truth be told, I’d like to get rid of a few bad habits too.”
“I can’t imagine what those might be.” Michael leaned across her to open the door.
“Maybe I’ll start today. Aren’t you coming inside?”
“I promised Maxine donuts, and this guy delivers. We need something to eat with our cold coffee. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Beth closed the car door and watched him drive away. Is this what it meant to have a real friend? Michael had every reason to be mad at her but he wasn’t. Become a nicer person moved to the top of her to-do list. Or was something else simmering beneath the surface? She had to admit there was something appealing about a man without pretense, someone comfortable in his own skin. If she wasn’t careful, she could become attached to her new partner. And if she’d learned anything from the past, falling for someone at work was a bad idea.
THIRTY-ONE
Beth had approximately half an hour to pull herself together—the time it took to get to Donut Scene and back. Considering what Michael found out about Paul’s investment in Spare the Children, she needed to bring Natchez PD up to date. And in light of her recent decision to change, she needed to face Chris alone. She wanted all the cards on the table, hers and his, so there would be no further dancing around the elephant in the room. They both lived and worked in Natchez. Most likely, she wasn’t moving anytime soon.
“Oh my gosh! What do you have in that pink box?” Maxine’s exclamation caught Beth’s attention exactly thirty minutes later. She emerged from her cubicle as Michael opened a bakery box.
“Cream-filled éclairs with caramel frosting and chocolate sprinkles,” he said. “Ten for you, one for me, and one for Beth.”
“You are a man after my own heart.” Maxine reached for a stack of napkins from atop the filing cabinet. “If I wasn’t already married, I’d be chasing you all over town.”
“Story of my life, Miss Maxine.” Michael handed the donut box to Beth.
“Thanks, Mike. Put one on my desk while I reheat our lattes.” Beth walked into the kitchen amazed by how women in their fifties could say whatever they wanted to men. If she lived that long, she would enjoy that particular perk. When she returned, Mike and Maxine were talking LSU football like old pals. Beth pulled up a chair and bit into her treat.
“Did Nate call this morning?” she asked during a break in their conversation.
Maxine offered a one-word negative reply.
“Did you call Jack about Paul’s involvement with that charity?” Beth directed this question to her partner.
“Not yet, but I will after I finish another éclair. These are too good to be true.” Michael flipped open the box.
“I’m only letting you have a second one because you’re so cute.” Maxine imbued her final three words with special emphasis.
Beth swallowed a mouthful of donut. “When Nate gets back, we need a seminar on sexist comments in the workplace. It’s been brought to my attention the womenfolk here don’t know the federal guidelines.”
“Lighten up, missy. What Nate doesn’t know…” Maxine finished her mocha with a satisfied slurp.
“I changed my mind about a second donut,” said Michael, brushing sugar from his shirt. The rest are yours to share with your lucky husband. I’ll go make that call,” he said to Beth.
She scrambled to her feet. “Wait. I decided to go to the station for an in-person conference.”
Michael stared in confusion. “Are you mad because I was late to work?”
Beth felt like Mean Mom, who never let the kids have any fun. “Absolutely not, but while you were picking up breakfast—thanks, by the way—I realized it was time for a showdown with Chris. I’ll give him an update and clear the air of past issues.”
For several moments no one spoke. Beth had never referenced her crush on the chief in front of Maxine or anyone else. But the time had come to lose a few insecurities. “After today, all conversations will be with Jack, the detective in charge of the investigation. But I’d like one final solo meeting.” Beth finished her coffee, wishing she’d requested chocolate syrup too. The drink had turned bitter on her tongue.
“Of course,” Michael said softly. “Should I continue to research that charity?”
“No. Please book us on the earliest flight to Denver tomorrow. Let’s go meet the director of Spare the Children in person.”
Maxine dropped the rest of her éclair into the box. “I’ll take care of those tickets, Beth, so Michael can complete the case report before your trip. When you talk to that slimy Chris McNeil, remember you have the full faith of Price Investigations behind you.” Maxine laid a tentative hand on Beth’s shoulder.
“Hear, hear,” added Mike.
“Thanks, you guys.” Beth walked out with a feeling of camaraderie, something long absent in her life. But her new paradigm received its first test at the Natchez police station. When Beth asked to see Chief McNeil, she was buzzed through the front door by Sergeant Mendez.
He blocked her path like a guard dog. “Don’t you mean Detective Lejeune? He’s the one you’re supposed to talk to.”
“Please see if Chief McNeil can spare five minutes.” Beth heard notes of panic in her voice.
“I’ll see if he’s available.” Mendez glowered as he punched in the chief’s extension and then turned his back to her. “He has a few minutes before a meeting with the mayor, so I suggest you make it snappy, Miss Kirby.”
“Thank you. I will.”
At her knock on the partially open door, she heard, “Beth, come in.” Always the gentleman, Chris rose to his feet. “Does your visit involve the exhumation? I’ll see if Jack is available to join us.” He lifted the receiver of his phone.
“Hold up there, Chris. There’s nothing to discuss. The body is barely on its way to Jackson. When I do have information, I’ll contact Jack directly. I’m here to clear the air between us.”
“In that case, have a seat.” He pointed at the closest chair.
“I woke up this morning feeling as though I’d been laboring under a false assumption for years, to use my mother’s expression.”
His friendly demeanor faded. “Speak your mind.”
“I realized everything that happened was my fault—my resignation, my leaving town with my tail between my legs, the bad blood between me and other cops.”
“I never wanted you to resign. I knew the ‘bad blood’ as you call it would die down. Unfounded gossip is an unfortuna
te work hazard.”
Beth ignored his reply and continued. “I chose to resign and I’m not sorry I did, but I need one straight answer from you. Then I will never bring this up again. Were you ever in love with me?”
He paid her the respect of not answering quickly. “I loved you as a person, as clichéd as that sounds. I stupidly thought we could be good friends without offending other employees. But no, I didn’t feel that way toward you.”
Beth gazed out the window, absorbing his words. She felt neither sadness nor disappointment, only mild embarrassment. It was as though her subconscious knew the truth while her mind insisted on going through the familiar motions. “Yeah, a smarter girl would have realized that. I’m sure you tried to make it clear, but I refused to believe.”
“No, Beth, this isn’t all on you. I knew where we were headed, but I was flattered by your attention. I should have curtailed our relationship much sooner than I did.” He rolled back from his desk. “I’m sorry you paid a higher price for our foolishness.”
She waved away the notion. “Don’t be. I love my job. It’s better than being a cop. The money’s not great, but I have real friends now, something I didn’t have on the force.”
“I wish you all good things in life.”
“Okay, before we start singing ‘Happy Trails,’ let me update you on our case while I’m here. Then you can get to your meeting with the mayor.”
“What meeting with the mayor?”
“I must have misunderstood Sergeant Mendez. No matter.”
Beth explained Michael’s discovery of the paper trail leading to Spare the Children. “Paul had control of the building fund, just as Ralph Buckley said, but he didn’t steal the money or stash it away for his and Alice’s retirement. He invested it for a twelve-month term with a Colorado charity. Because Calvary Baptist wouldn’t need the money until then, Paul thought he could help a worthy cause while earning decent interest.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“Apparently it was. My partner and I are flying to Denver tomorrow to meet the director of Save the Children. Michael is a forensic accountant. He’s gathering evidence to prove this is nothing but a shell game out to dupe unsuspecting churches.”
Chris scratched his chin. “He’s probably right, but this is out of our jurisdiction. I’ll put you in contact with the FBI in Jackson. Their Financial Crimes Division will take whatever evidence you’ve gathered and contact the SEC if necessary.”
“Hold off until I get back. I’ll question the director solely as Alice’s agent in the settlement of her husband’s estate. I promise not to compromise any federal investigation should one arise in the future.”
Chris stood and extended his hand. “I trust your judgment. I’ll inform Jack of today’s discussion and tell him you’ll be in touch with the second autopsy report.”
Beth shook hands and left with her chin up. She even thanked Sergeant Mendez on her way out. For the next hour she drove around putting every bit of the past into perspective. Briefly she wondered if Chris would tell Jack about their entire conversation. With a sense of freedom, Beth discovered she didn’t care.
As often was the case when she drove into the country, Beth ended up at her aunt and uncle’s farm. Funny how an afternoon of shooting aluminum cans off a fence rail burned away the last of her pain. When she kissed her aunt goodbye and drove home, Beth discovered a new outlook on her life…along with Michael sitting on her porch.
“Chicken, Miss Kirby? I have beans and slaw too.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to stop grinning.
He shook the tub. “Waiting for you with dinner. I thought you might be hungry after a trip to Dorrie and Pete’s.”
“How did you know I went—”
“Please, when you didn’t come back to the office, I figured that’s where you went. Maxine also packed up two éclairs. She said they would taste good with a glass of milk before bed.”
“I wouldn’t make a very good spy. Too predictable.” Beth plopped next to him on the glider. “My mother didn’t drag you in to eat?”
“She tried to bribe me with baked chili-mac, whatever that is, but I said we had important business to discuss over dinner.”
“Do we have something important to discuss?”
“Nope, but Maxine thought you might need a friend tonight. She had a garden club meeting, so here I am.” Michael opened a cooler by his feet. “Coke, Pepsi, or water?”
“Pepsi.” Beth started the glider moving. “Funny. I was just talking about my new friends. I’ll take a chicken leg. Did you get fried or grilled?”
“Grilled. I’m in training for the mini Iron Man, remember?”
“Just checking your dedication, Preston.”
Michael handed her a plate with a leg and scoops of both side dishes. “We even have dinnertime entertainment.” He pointed at a yellow moon rising over the treetops.
“Looks like it’s almost full.” Beth settled back to eat and watch the moon as though it were a rare occurrence. It was an odd feeling to have on her parents’ front porch. But there was no place she would rather be.
THIRTY-TWO
Bay St. Louis
Wednesday
Good morning. You’re up awfully early.”
Isabelle’s cheery greeting, along with a peck on his cheek, jarred Nate awake. “Good grief, wife. Don’t sneak up on a man like that.” He grinned sheepishly at the sight of her fresh, well-rested face.
“Good grief is right. How late did you stay up? You’ve got bags under your eyes that could hold a king’s ransom.”
“I’m hoping today’s plans include time in a chaise catching a tan or a cool breeze in the shade.”
Isabelle spun his chair around and looked at him squarely. “Nate, are you saying you didn’t sleep at all?”
“Relax. After a quick shower I’ll be good as new.” He turned back to his computer and tapped the screen.
“What has so captured your attention that you stayed up all night?” Isabelle leaned over his shoulder.
“Researching a complex topic from a position of total ignorance isn’t for those who need beauty rest.” Nate pinched the bridge of his nose.
Isabelle read aloud from the web page: “Any guy who thinks a pair of eights is a great hand and then folds after running up the pot is a total jerk.” She stopped abruptly and stared, unable to repeat the next expression if her life depended on it. “Where can I find this Joey K person? I plan to wash his mouth out with soap.”
“You’ll have to bring several bars and buckets of water.” Nate scrolled down the message board to reveal a plethora of bad grammar and an appalling selection of descriptive phrases.
“Goodness, Nathaniel Price. Turn this computer off this instant and go to bed.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
Nate focused a bleary eye on her. “With no breakfast and no TV for a week, Ma?”
Isabelle chuckled and perched on the edge of the settee. “Seriously, what are you researching that involves people who talk like that?”
Nate pushed away from the desk, stretching out the kinks in his spine. “The time has come for full disclosure, for better or for worse. I’m researching the game of poker, specifically high-stake poker tournaments at casinos.”
“Have you lost your mind? Gambling ruined my first marriage and is about to ruin Craig’s second. Do you think this is a healthy pastime for our honeymoon?” Isabelle lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.
“Simmer down, woman. I didn’t even buy raffle tickets to help the SPCA’s spay-and-neuter program. When I couldn’t sleep last night, I decided to investigate the world of poker. I’m curious as to what a well-educated man like Craig finds so irresistible, and frankly, I’m a little ashamed I showed little compassion toward a man I should pity. If you two hadn’t divorced, I could have never married the woman of my dreams.”
Isabelle covered her face in her hands. For one horrible moment, Nate thought she was crying befo
re he realized she was laughing hysterically. “Care to let me in on the joke?”
“If ever two people were at cross-purposes during the most romantic three weeks of their life, it’s us.” She wiped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt. “Night before last, I reached the conclusion that I’ve been selfish this entire trip. Instead of making my current husband my top priority, I was focused on fixing Craig’s life. I’d decided that if Cassie called again, I was going to tell her to contact the local police or hire a private detective. Craig deserves nothing more than a mention in my prayers.”
“You haven’t neglected me.” Nate pulled her onto his lap. “And there’s no reason we can’t help the Mitchells and still enjoy some fun in the sun.”
“Cassie is here in Bay St. Louis now. If anyone can bring Craig back to the straight and narrow, it’s her.”
Nate tapped the computer screen. “Ignore the vulgar language and read a few of these poker room chats. I’ve trolled message boards, Facebook groups, and blogs dedicated to serious poker players. Craig might have fallen into something he can’t climb out of.”
Isabelle scrolled down, skimming the contents with a grimace. “Ugh, can’t you give me a summary? I’d rather not read their nasty rants this early.”
Nate shifted his wife’s one hundred twenty pounds to the other chair. “Part of the reason for the foul language is that these gamblers are furious. Most serious players are at least casually acquainted with each other. Poker players in Shreveport and Tunica are complaining they were cheated. Nobody knows how it happened, but in both cities high-stakes games were won by card sharks no one recognized.”
“Could just be sour grapes from losers. I thought you said casinos have high-tech security systems, making it impossible to cheat at cards.”
“Difficult, yes, but not impossible. After my crash course on how to play poker at three o’clock this morning, I learned that rules are different in high-stakes games than on the casino floor. Gamblers play against each other, not against the house, and you must be invited to those games by one of the hosts. No casino wants to harbor cheaters, so security keeps a watchful eye, but a player’s privacy must also be taken into consideration.”
