“Did Alice share some of her father’s medication with you, or something?”
“Nope. I’m just happy. Can’t I be happy?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or should I be getting into character for tomorrow’s interrogations?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said we would go down the list and interrogate our suspects. I can definitely play a tough-as-nails detective. I’ve watched you enough to know just what to do.”
“You’re crazy. This isn’t some scene in a play, babe, and these people aren’t suspects. Maybe persons of interest, but that’s even stretching it. They’re just connected in some way to Clara, which means they may have information we need. We don’t know enough yet to even have a legitimate suspect.”
“That’s not true. Mr. Jones is on the top of my list.”
“You don’t have a list.” He grinned and set the notebook aside. “When it comes to investigating murder, I’m in charge.”
“Fine. But don’t blame me if you don’t get the right answers. Sometimes the way you deliver the lines is so blunt, it puts people off.”
He shook his head.
She slipped into the bathroom and right back out again. “Where’s my bath?” she asked, with all the wide-eyed innocence of a small child.
“I didn’t know how long you’d be. Did you and Alice get Tucker’s love life all straightened out?”
“Don’t be like that. Alice and Tucker both need a push in the right direction. As their best friends, we are the ones to do it.”
“You just met Alice.” He rolled off the bed to pull the curtains closed on the windows. The moon was bright tonight and he had enough trouble sleeping when there was a case to solve. “And I haven’t seen Tucker for thirteen years. Who says they want to be our best friends?”
“Fate has already decided that,” she said, and closed the bathroom door.
He heard the water pipes clunk as she turned the faucet on and began filling the tub. Then she was singing in a smooth, happy soprano, I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair and send him on his way.
Chapter Ten
As Alice had told them when they first checked in, breakfast on Sunday was half an hour earlier than the other days of the week. The reason for this was so that Alice would have time to get ready for church services. When Blake and Shelby trudged down the stairs, still rubbing sleep out of their eyes and instinctively moving toward the dining room and the enticing aroma of fresh coffee, church bells were pealing in the distance.
Shelby glanced at Blake, suddenly wide-eyed and eager. “Sounds like an invitation.”
“The service starts at ten if you’re interested,” Alice volunteered, hurrying through the kitchen door with a platter of bacon and scrambled eggs, and a smaller plate with half a dozen slices of hot, buttered toast. She plunked them down, and gestured toward the chairs. “Sit. Eat. My father and I won’t be joining you today. I already had something, and Dad is getting some healthy oatmeal when he wakes up.”
“Smells great,” Blake said. He pulled out a chair for Shelby and then took the one across from her.
Alice hurried back to the kitchen and returned with the coffee pot in hand. She poured them each a cup. “So?”
“We’d love to go,” she said. Blake frowned, and Shelby kicked his foot under the table. “You can ride with us. Sounds like the perfect chance to meet everyone.”
“Most folks around here show up. There’s not much else to do on a Sunday morning. Stores are closed. Luanne doesn’t even open the café until one o’clock, so you better fill up now.”
“Who’s staying with your father?”
“Dr. Morgan.” Alice refused to meet Shelby’s eyes, instead focusing on wiping up a few drops of spilled coffee. “He said he wanted to check on him today anyway, and he didn’t have any other plans.”
“How convenient,” Shelby managed to say without a hint of sarcasm.
When Alice left the room to check on her father, Blake groaned. “It’s Sunday, Shel. Do we have to go to church?”
“That’s what Sunday’s for, babe. Haven’t you heard? Besides, what better place to interrogate suspects? They have to tell the truth at church, right?”
<<>>
The small parking area beside Superior Christian Church was already full. They pulled into a parking space on the street behind an old gray pickup with rusted side panels and a missing tailgate. Strangely enough, the pickup’s vanity plate said, DEER KLR.
Alice unbuckled and leaned forward between the front seats, her hair, long and loose this morning, flowing over her shoulders like molten lava. She eyed the car ahead of them with something akin to repulsion. “It’s your lucky day. Mrs. Davies had her son bring her this morning. Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet them both.”
When Alice climbed out of the Bronco, Blake looked at Shelby and grinned. “Ready to get some church up in here?” he said in his best rapper voice.
She shook her head and opened the door. “Alice, wait for me!” she called after her new best friend. Blake slowly followed.
Inside the sanctuary, organ music played softly as stragglers made their way to empty seats. Two-thirds of the hardwood pews were already filled with parishioners sitting quietly as they waited for the service to begin. Shelby spotted Farley Jones’ poof of hair in the crowd. He was sitting close to the front, head bowed prayerfully. Or maybe he was already asleep. She wasn’t sure. Beside him was a woman with steel gray hair, parted down the middle, and pulled back into a tight bun on each side of her head.
“Buns of steel,” she murmured, forgetting that sound carried in high ceilinged buildings. Two heads turned her way as she walked hand in hand with Blake, following Alice to an empty pew.
Blake let her slip in beside Alice and took the seat next to the aisle. He leaned down and whispered. “This is not an appropriate time to be thinking about my awesome physical attributes.”
“You wish.”
The service lasted about forty minutes and then there was a concerted effort to get out the door. They sat there and watched for a few seconds, nodding and smiling as familiar faces and strangers moved past. Finally, they joined the flow of traffic and exited the building like everyone else. Shelby felt like the last passenger on a sinking ship.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly; fiercely warring against a stiff wind that whipped hair into faces and made men’s shirts and women’s dresses billow like sails. Shelby caught sight of Mrs. Davies talking to the young pastor on the bottom step, a finger wagging in his face like she was reprimanding a child from one of her classes.
She nudged Blake and nodded toward the woman. “Looks like she took the sermon to heart, hmm?”
“Absolutely. If Mrs. Davies is anything, she’s merciful and kind.” His caustic tone suddenly turned all smooth and creamy when a blonde, shivering in a pale blue sundress, stopped and placed a long-nailed hand on his arm.
“Blake?”
“Cynthia?” he said, turning toward her, a slow smile lifting his lips. “Wow! You look great! How are you?”
She pulled him in for a hug, her eyes meeting Shelby’s over his shoulder. There was a spark of audacity in that wide blue-eyed gaze. She pulled slightly back, just enough to look into his face without actually leaving the crook of his arms. “Look at you. How long has it been?”
“Thirteen years.”
“You haven’t changed a bit. Still as handsome and fit as I remember.” She ran her fingers slowly down his arms and clasped his hands. “What took you so long to come home to us?” she asked, her voice a purr of teasing intimacy.
Shelby couldn’t take anymore. She moved in close and put out her hand, so the blonde vamp had to take it or appear rude. “Hello. I’m Blake’s wife, Shelby. But you can call me Mrs. Gunner.”
At that moment she saw Tucker hurrying over, with Alice trailing a step behind. He slowed slightly when he saw who was wedged between them, but his face remained neutral. “Hello, Cynthia,” he said, and quickly
dismissed her from the conversation with a hand on Blake’s back. “I need to talk to you.”
Blake, knowing he had just been saved from the jaws of death, moved off with Tucker toward the parking lot. Their heads were close together as though sharing a secret. Shelby turned back toward the woman and found that Cynthia had already moved on to greener pastures. She was chatting up a middle-aged gentleman casually attired in black slacks and an open collar blue dress shirt. He had the dark tan and slanting eyes of a man spending his retirement years sailing and playing golf. The watch on his arm had a wide gold band and a diamond encrusted face, and he wore a little diamond stud earring to match. How cute.
“That was close,” Alice said, hiding a grin. “When Tucker and I saw the look on your face, I didn’t know if we’d make it over here quickly enough.”
“What are you doing with Tucker? I thought your timing was way off and there was no chance for you two. Here you are doing synchronized saves.” She gave her a side hug. “Thanks, by the way. I’d hate to be known as the crazy lady who got in a cat fight in the church parking lot.”
Mrs. Davies and the creepy fisherman from the diner were headed their way. He was dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved black crewneck shirt today, but the smirk on his face looked about the same as the last time she’d seen him. She didn’t have time to ask Alice about him before they were stopping to meet and greet.
“You must be Blake Gunner’s wife,” Mrs. Davies said, her voice overly loud and as nasal as ever. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Those words should have perhaps sent a chill down her spine, but Shelby was the queen of theatre. “I may have heard even more about you,” she said smoothly and when the woman’s face began to cloud as though building up for a sudden storm, she clarified, “Blake told me you were his sixth grade teacher, and that you taught him so much.”
Mrs. Davies cleared her throat, all bluster pushed right out of her lungs with the hint of a compliment. “Well, I had a lot of boys go through my class, but Blake was definitely memorable.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Mom?” the man beside her asked. The way he watched Shelby through half closed lids while licking his lips reminded her of a wolf about to attack. He reached out and grasped her hand, then used his other one to secure his connection by gripping her elbow. She couldn’t very well yank away without causing a scene. “I’m Ted. Ted Davies. I saw you Friday at the café. Remember?”
Mrs. Davies was watching their exchange with extreme prejudice. Her lips pursed and she huffed. “Well, I think we should be on our way, Teddy.”
Shelby wrenched her arm away with the least amount of drama she could muster, and faked a bright smile. “Oh, but Mrs. Davies, I had a couple of questions for you. After all, I heard you were the one to ask about any and all important happenings in Port Scuttlebutt.”
Ted’s smirk was back on his thin lips. “I’ll go start the truck,” he said, walking away.
“Thank you, Teddy,” his mother called, as though getting that bucket of bolts to start was a major accomplishment. She folded her arms over an ample chest and put on her serious teacher face. “Now what did you need to ask me, young lady?”
Alice had made herself scarce as soon as the Davies’ edged close, and Shelby saw her out of the corner of her eye moving toward a very tall, thin black man on the edge of the crowd. He wore a red bowtie with his dress shirt and kept tugging at it as though it was the cause of much discomfort. When he glanced up and saw Alice, his smile shone wide and white as the steps on the capitol.
Shelby pulled her attention back to the woman before her. “As you probably know, my husband and I are thinking about buying the B&B. We’re both excited to settle into a small town environment. I was curious though. I hear the Booths have owned the place for decades. You’re sort of a family friend, aren’t you? Why do you think they’re selling?” she asked, hoping the question would lead to the mystery of Clara’s death.
At the nudge toward doing what she did best – gossiping – Mrs. Davies looked excited enough to pee her pants. Her eyes bulged out and she leaned close, tilting her face nearer to Shelby’s ear. As bad luck would have it, she was obviously a woman who relied heavily on garlic to keep away those pesky spring colds. “Heaven knows, since Clara was run down and killed, I’ve tried to help wherever I could. Not that Oliver or Alice appreciate a thing I’ve done. In fact, Oliver Booth is one of the most stubborn men ever born to this town.” She paused, glancing around as though afraid someone else was listening. “Sadly, Alice takes after her mother. She’s as plain and simple as a copper penny and just as worthless. I don’t know what she’ll do once they sell. She has no skills other than cooking and cleaning and taking care of that grumpy old man. Lord alone knows why he took Clara before her time, but he sure did leave Alice in a quandary. My Teddy tried to help out after Clara’s accident. He even offered to buy the place himself, but those Booths would hear none of it. Now I guess they’re in deep financial straits, and it serves them right. Pride goeth before a fall, the good book says.”
Shelby tried to keep her temper in check, managing to maintain a polite smile on her face by bringing to mind a line from The Merchant of Venice. An evil soul producing holy witness is like a villain with a smiling cheek. Mrs. Davies could quote scripture until the cows came home, but she would only ever be a serpent.
She continued, barely taking a breath. “Clara was a good woman but she made a huge mistake marrying Oliver Booth. All she ever did was work like a dog to keep that place up while he was gone for days and weeks at a time. Who knows what he was really up to? My son is a fisherman and he’s home where he belongs, each and every night,” she said, with a proud lift of her shoulders.
A horn blared on the street. Her pride and joy, Teddy, gestured for her to hurry up. Shelby knew her time was running out. She put a hand out to slow the woman’s retreat. Mrs. Davies took it and they shook cordially.
“Thank you so much for speaking with me, Mrs. Davies. I didn’t know who else to ask. I heard about Clara Booth’s terrible accident and…”
The woman put her lips nearly on Shelby’s ear this time, sending a creeping shiver down her spine as moist, warm breath wafted over her cheek. “Honestly, I don’t think it was an accident. If you ask me, Clara Booth was murdered.”
Teddy laid on the horn again, and Mrs. Davies said goodbye and hurried to climb into the old pickup. As soon as the door was slammed shut, he pulled away from the curb and drove off, his tailpipe chugging out plumes of noxious blue smoke. He made a U-turn at the end of the street, and headed toward the south side of town.
Shelby stared at the truck as they drove by again. She’d only noticed the back end before with the vanity license plate, but now she saw why he’d named it DEER KLR. A metal bumper contraption had been attached to the front end. It looked solid and definitely strong enough to shove a stray deer into the ditch, while avoiding further damage to the vehicle. Teddy turned and stared right back at her, a cruel looking smirk curving his lips. She quickly turned away, feeling slightly defiled. The man made her skin crawl.
The crowd had thinned, and cars were pulling out of the parking lot, making their way home for Sunday dinner. She searched for Blake and spotted him talking to a group of guys about his age. Probably old teammates from his high school years. She caught his eye and smiled. He smiled back but kept on talking.
She saw Alice leaning against the Bronco chatting with Tucker. She was going to join them, but she hesitated. They looked like they might be in a serious conversation. The wind was whipping Alice’s hair around and across her face when Tucker leaned in and smoothed it back, tucking it behind her ear. A warm smile played over his lips and Shelby thought he was going to kiss her, but the moment was broken when Blake suddenly charged over and slapped his friend on the back.
“Hey, Skeleton. You want to go to the Port Café with us for lunch? Some of the guys are going to be there later.”
Shelby shook her head and sig
hed. One step forward, two steps back. She really needed to have a word with her husband about his observation skills. They seemed to be less than one hundred percent these days.
Blake waved her over. “Shel. Lunch at Luanne’s. What do you say?”
“Could you take me home first?” Alice asked. She shot Tucker an uneasy glance, obviously worried what he might say about the good doctor babysitting her father while she was out. “I didn’t expect to be gone longer than the length of the church service. I should relieve Dr. Morgan so he can go home.”
“I’ll take you.” Tucker hooked his thumb toward the parking lot. “My ride’s over there.”
“Thanks, Tucker,” Shelby said quickly before Alice could find an excuse not to ride with him. “That’s really thoughtful. Especially since Blake seems so gung-ho to relive his past with a bunch of over-the-hill teammates. We wouldn’t want to deprive him of that joy.”
“At least it’s not a bunch of your classmates from drama club,” Blake said, pulling her into the crook of his arm.
“We’ll see you later then.” Tucker took Alice’s hand and walked away.
Shelby stared after them, a smile spreading over her face. Maybe Blake hadn’t screwed it up royally, after all.
Blake nudged her shoulder. “What? I suppose you think you managed to send them off together all by yourself.”
“Didn’t I?”
He chuckled, opened the door of the Bronco, and gave her a hand up. When he came back around to his side and slid behind the wheel, he slanted her a grin. “Who do you think told him to quit dragging his pride around in the dirt and talk to her?” The engine roared to life with a twist of the key. “Me, that’s who. Just call me Cupid.”
“Valentine’s Day will never be the same for me again.”
<<>>
While Blake was busy taking a trip down memory lane in a booth with three of his old football teammates, Shelby wandered over to the café counter and sat on a bar stool beside an elderly gentleman with the longest earlobes she’d ever seen. It may have been caused by the weight of his giant hearing aides, but she doubted it. He smiled at her and nodded, slurping at his soup with gusto. She smiled back.
Roadkill (Double Barrel Mysteries Book 1) Page 11
