“The question is, did the artist use his imagination to draw these, or at some time either in the past or recently, did Stephanie Preston pose for them?” Charlie looked from Bernie to Jim.
“If you’re asking for my opinion, I’d say he used his sick imagination,” Jim said.
Bernie nodded. “Unless there was a side to Stephanie that no one knew about, I agree with Jim.”
“There are a few other things.” Charlie pointed to the open box atop the closed cedar chest. “Little gifts. A string of pearls. A bottle of perfume. A gold ankle bracelet. A tube of pink lipstick and matching nail polish.”
“Gifts a guy would give his girlfriend?” Bernie thought about the presents, two pieces of jewelry and three toiletry items. “Why these things?”
“Good question.” Jim’s gaze met hers. “Were they things he knew she liked? Or were they items he wanted to see her use?”
“Look, you two, I’ll get these items to our CSU today,” Charlie told them. “While I’m taking care of that, why don’t y’all follow up on the old boyfriend? And while you’re at it, get a list from her family of every man in Stephanie’s life, other than her father and husband.”
“That could be a long list,” Bernie said. “She worked at McDonald’s during the day and went to school at night. Plus, she attended church regularly. The list of men in her life could add up to a hundred or more.”
“We’ll start with the old boyfriend and then go on to any guy who’s shown a particular interest in Stephanie recently,” Jim said.
Charlie nodded. “I’ll try to get a preliminary report for us and we can go over it tonight. Unless tonight’s out for some reason.”
“Tonight’s fine,” Jim said.
Bernie nodded. “Good thing I don’t have an active social life.”
“Hey, you’ll get to spend the evening with two good-looking guys.” Charlie chuckled.
“What more could a girl ask for on a Saturday night—two handsome lawmen, takeout from the King Kone and a stack of crime scene photographs?” Bernie rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically.
Chapter 7
Thomasina had skipped Sunday school this morning, so she’d driven her own car to eleven o’clock church services. When she’d dragged in five minutes late, her mother had given her one of those disapproving glares that only parents can give. She had sat through the sermon, doing her best to relate to what Reverend Donaldson had to say, but the honest truth of the matter was that she’d spent those forty minutes looking at the new minister, actually drooling over him the way every other woman in the congregation was. The man was gorgeous. Black hair, blue-gray eyes that were such a contrast to his darkly tanned face, and a body that would put sinful thoughts into a woman’s mind.
Her sister Amanda, who’d been sitting on her right, had nudged her in the ribs and whispered, “He’s single, you know.”
Thomasina hadn’t reacted in any way except to smile. Matthew Donaldson was drop-dead gorgeous and single, facts that under different circumstances would have interested her greatly. But not now. Not when Brandon Kelley was on a mission to woo and win her with a very old-fashioned and utterly romantic courtship. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of her secret admirer this morning, but Brandon wasn’t overly religious and came to church on average once a month. Not seeing him had been disappointing, but she consoled herself with the thought that she could make a point of running into him at school tomorrow. She would be friendly, maybe even a little flirtatious, but in a very ladylike way. If she came on too strong, too female-in-charge, she might turn him off and put an end to their romance before it actually began. Taking her cues from him was the wisest course of action. Apparently he wanted their relationship to begin by being sweetly romantic, with an air of mystery.
Thomasina made a point of speaking to Reverend Donaldson and welcoming him to Adams Landing. She figured if Amanda had picked the man out as a potential brother-in-law, her mother had zeroed in on him as son-in-law material. And as every girl knows, it’s always best if you can keep your mama happy. Of course, every mother in town with a single daughter over the age of twenty was probably making mental wedding plans for her daughter and the reverend. Young, handsome, successful single men in Adams County were few and far between.
Amanda grasped Thomasina’s arm just as she started walking toward the parking lot. “Hold up.”
Thomasina paused. “I spoke to him, smiled at him and made friendly. That should satisfy Mama.”
“Hmm…What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, I know you. You’ve got a new boyfriend, haven’t you? And it’s about time. You should have stopped pining over Ron Hensley two seconds after the bum dropped you like a hot potato.”
“He didn’t drop me like a hot potato. We just wanted different things from a relationship.”
Amanda lowered her voice. “Yeah, all he wanted was sex.” She looked directly into Thomasina’s eyes, as if daring her to lie to her. “Come on. Who is this new guy?”
“Swear you won’t tell a soul.”
Amanda giggled. “I swear.”
“It’s Brandon Kelley, the art director at the college.”
“And when did this start? When was your first date? Details, girl. I want details.”
“Look, I’ll fill you in on everything after dinner today, when Mama takes her nap and the guys and kids are outside playing ball. But I can tell you this—he is so romantic.”
Amanda let Thomasina leave without further questioning, probably realizing that they could easily be overheard by any number of people. The church grounds were covered with three fourths of the congregation who lingered to chit chat and gossip before going home.
Despite the clouds blocking the sun, the July heat seeped through and the high humidity created a damp heaviness in the air. On her way to her car, she spoke to half a dozen people and threw up her hand and waved at Robyn and Bernie Granger, who were with their parents. She’d bet Brenda Granger had her eye on the reverend as a potential mate for one of her daughters.
When Thomasina reached her car, she realized that in her haste to make it inside the church on time, she had forgotten to lock the doors. No big deal. She didn’t have anything worth stealing inside the vehicle, and who’d want to take her older model Grand Am? She opened the door and started to slide inside, wanting to get the air-conditioning going as quickly as possible. But she stopped dead still when she saw the large manila envelope lying on the driver’s seat. Her heart lurched. Was this another gift from Brandon? After picking up the envelope, she got in, closed the door, started the engine and turned up the air-conditioning. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching her, she tried to decide whether to open the envelope now or wait until she got home.
No one was paying any attention to her, so why wait? She opened the envelope eagerly, barely able to contain the fluttering excitement in her belly. Peering inside, she saw a note and what looked like four-by-six-inch snapshots. She removed the note from its envelope.
I love looking at you. You’re so beautiful.
Thomasina sighed. Her whole body quivered with pleasure.
Her hands trembled as she reached inside the manila envelope and removed the photographs. Three pictures of her. One taken at the college, one coming out of Robyn’s Fitness Center, and one going into the Piggly Wiggly yesterday.
An odd feeling rippled up Thomasina’s spine as she realized that he’d been following her yesterday, that he’d been close and yet hadn’t made his presence known. It was almost as if he was stalking her. A hint of uneasiness crept into her romantic fantasy of Brandon Kelley courting her with notes and gifts.
You’re being silly. There’s a difference in a man like Brandon being secretively seductive and some guy she wasn’t interested in stalking her. After all, she wanted Brandon to notice her, to take an interest in her, to pursue her.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Thomasina banished every negative thought fr
om her mind. Perhaps tomorrow, at school, Brandon would make his next move and ask her for a date. After all, how long could he continue admiring her from afar when it was obvious what he wanted was to admire her up close and personal.
Jim felt downright awkward coming for Sunday dinner at the Granger house when it was apparent that everyone else here had come straight from church services. Everyone was still dressed in their Sunday best. Reverend Matthew Donaldson still wore his suit and tie. Raymond Long had removed his jacket, but wore a white button-down and blue-and-gray striped tie. Only R.B. Granger looked halfway comfortable, having taken off his jacket and his tie, leaving him in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. My kind of man, Jim thought. Jim wore khaki dress slacks and a navy blue, short-sleeve, cotton pullover. In comparison with everyone else, he was definitely underdressed. But he usually didn’t put on a suit and tie, except for funerals.
“Come on in, Captain Norton.” R.B. invited Jim in with a wave of his hand. “Bernie’s introduced you to everybody except her mother and sister. They’re out in the kitchen getting dinner ready to put on the table.”
Jim entered the large den where the others had congregated. This room, like the living room and dining room he had glimpsed when he’d entered the foyer, possessed a sense of hominess. The furniture was a mixture of styles, mostly dark woods and earthy colors, antiques blending with sturdily built, more modern pieces. In many ways, it reminded him of the home he’d grown up in, the place where he’d been happy and at the time hadn’t realized what a lucky kid he was. As a boy, he’d had everything he now wanted for Kevin. A happily married mother and father, a kid sister, and a house filled with love.
“Smile, Jim,” Bernie whispered to him. “This is Sunday dinner, not a walk to the electric chair.”
He forced a closed-mouth smile and entered the den. Bernie had introduced him to everyone, including Raymond Long’s mother, Helen, who was at this very minute studying him intently. He couldn’t figure out why she was so interested. It was as if she’d taken an instant dislike to him and was searching for a reason to justify her decision.
“Dad, you’ll have to keep the conversation going,” Bernie told her father. “I need to help Mama and Robyn. Dinner should be on the table in just a few minutes.”
Jim glanced at Bernie as she walked away hurriedly. She wore a two-piece tan suit, with a skirt that hit her mid-calf, but she didn’t look all that different today than she had the past two days. Everything about her—from her simple style in clothes to her minimum of makeup and long hair pulled away from her face and secured in a ponytail—was neat, orderly and…well, to be honest, plain. Not that Bernie wasn’t pretty. She was, but in a plain sort of way. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium complexion, simple clothes, simple hairstyle. Bernie’s only outstanding feature was her five-nine height, making her as tall as a lot of men.
R.B. pulled Jim aside and said, “Bernie tells us that you’re going to be keeping your son for a few weeks while your ex-wife undergoes surgery and then chemo.”
“That’s right.”
“I sort of know what your ex-wife is facing. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years ago.” R.B. grunted. “Cancer. That’s a word no one wants to hear in reference to their own health.”
“No, sir.”
“Look, son…” R.B. clamped his big hand down on Jim’s shoulder, the two men standing eye to eye, R.B. not quite an inch taller. “Brenda and I talked things over after Bernie explained your predicament, and we’re both ready, willing and able to act as surrogate grandparents for your boy.”
Jim released an emotional breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s mighty kind of you and your wife, but—”
R.B. squeezed Jim’s shoulder, then lowered his voice and said quietly, for Jim’s ears only, “The way I see it, one good turn deserves another.” R.B. scanned the room so quickly that Jim doubted anyone else even noticed. “You look out for my kid and I’ll look out for yours.”
“Do you mean Bernie?”
R.B. nodded. “It’s not that I don’t think she’s doing a bang-up job as sheriff. She’s smart and good as any man on the force. But she’s young, and well, son, she is a woman. And we both know that a woman thinks with her heart and not her head. Of course, my girl is better than most about using her common sense and seeing things the way we men do.”
“Are you concerned about something in particular?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, I’m concerned about this murder case,” R.B. told him. “This is a bad one, and we both know it. Unless y’all just get lucky, it may become an unsolved murder. Bernie’s not going to accept that easily. She’s got a lot to learn, and that’s where you come in. You have the experience she lacks. I want you to help her…guide her along through this case.”
Jim blew out a deeply inhaled breath. No beating around the bush for R.B. Granger. Bernie’s father said exactly what he thought. The only problem was that Jim wasn’t sure he could make that kind of a deal. “Bernie’s my boss. She’s the sheriff, I’m just the chief—”
“Dinner is served,” a feminine voice called from the doorway.
Taking this as an opportunity not to finish his conversation with R.B., Jim turned his attention to the owner of that syrupy sweet voice. The woman standing in the doorway, smiling, her long, curly black hair framing her beautiful face, all but took Jim’s breath away. Tall and willowy, with slender curves in all the right places, the lady was a real knockout.
“Y’all heard my little girl,” R.B. announced. “If I know my Brenda, we’ve got a feast waiting for us in the dining room.”
Jim allowed the others to go first, taking his time, bringing up the rear, so he was surprised that when he entered the hallway, R.B.’s “little girl” was still there. When he passed by, he glanced her way. She smiled at him, then reached out and slipped her arm through his.
“I’m Robyn,” she told him. “Bernie’s sister.”
“I’m—”
“Jimmy Norton. I know. I’ve heard all about you from Daddy and Bernie. I’ve been dying to meet you.”
“Have you?”
When she flashed that thousand-watt smile at him, his stomach muscles tightened. “I hear Mom and Dad are going to be looking after your son. I love kids and I’m a great babysitter. I’ll be happy to help out the folks with—What’s your son’s name?”
“Kevin.”
“And how old is Kevin?”
“Twelve.”
As they entered the dining room, Robyn whispered to him. “I’m supposed to sit next to Raymond and across from the new minister, but that’s Mama’s plan, not mine. She’s always matchmaking.”
Jim noted that the table sat eight, with R.B. and his wife—who was an older, shorter version of her beautiful younger daughter—residing at each end, Raymond and Helen on the left, and Matthew on the right.
Bernie placed a bread basket on the end of the table by her mother, then headed toward the other end with another basket. Just as she started to sit down beside the handsome, young minister, Robyn rushed forward, all but dragging Jim.
“Come on, Jimmy, you sit between me and Reverend Donaldson.” She looked at her sister and said, “You sit over there next to Raymond.”
Jim glanced at Bernie, whose facial expression didn’t alter in the slightest, but he noted something in her eyes. Just a hint of displeasure, so subtle that he felt certain no one else caught it. For a split second she looked right at him, then averted her gaze quickly and took her place at the table beside Raymond Long. Then Jim sat exactly where Robyn had told him to sit, between her and Matthew Donaldson.
During the course of the meal, Robyn didn’t pay much attention to the minister or anyone else; instead, she concentrated on Jim. The more she talked, the more he realized she wasn’t really saying anything. Her main topic of conversation was herself. Jim offered her an agreeable smile now and then and answered when she asked a question, nodding fairly often and replying yes or no. By the ti
me Mrs. Granger served Mississippi mud pie for dessert, Jim realized that Robyn reminded him of someone. She reminded him of Mary Lee. It wasn’t that they resembled each other, except they were both very pretty and had great figures. No, it was more a personality thing. Robyn seemed to be as self-centered and egotistical as his ex-wife. She wanted, probably needed, to be the center of attention. She knew she was pretty, that men found her attractive, and that fact fed her sizable ego.
It wasn’t that Jim didn’t like Robyn. He did. But he’d been badly burned by one extremely high-maintenance woman and tended to steer clear of others like her. Then again, he might make an exception where Robyn Granger was concerned.
Just as Jim took his first bite of scrumptious pie, Bernie’s cell phone rang.
“Oh dear, I wish you could turn that thing off at the dinner table.” Brenda sighed. “But I know you can’t, your being the sheriff and all. You’d think I’d be used to having my dinners interrupted by business calls.”
Bernie scooted back her chair, stood and walked out into the foyer. Jim glanced over his shoulder and watched her as she paced back and forth, doing more listening than talking.
Robyn said something to him, but he didn’t understand her because he was too busy keeping an eye on Bernie. “Huh?”
“I said why don’t we—”
“Jim, we’ve got to go,” Bernie called to him from the doorway.
When he turned to Robyn, she put on her best little-girl pout. “Business calls,” he told her, then laid his napkin on the table, shoved back his chair and stood. “Mrs. Granger, thank you for a wonderful dinner. I appreciate y’all being so hospitable.”
“You must come back again,” Brenda said. “We’d love to have you any old time.”
R.B. stood. “I’ll walk you and Bernie out.”
R.B. caught up with Jim just as he joined Bernie in the foyer. “So, what’s up?” he asked.
She looked from Jim to her father, then replied to her father’s question. “That was Charlie Patterson. They’ve found Richie Lowery.”
Close Enough to Kill Page 9
