by Robin Caroll
“Nope. Ms. LouAnn and Ms. Roberta finished their coffee and headed over this way.” Tonna took in a deep breath. “What do you think of all that, Gab? Could Mr. Sam have something to do with Howard’s murder?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll look into it.” Gabby ran a hand through her wet and matted hair. Everything about the situation was getting curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say.
“I gotta go. My next client is here.”
“Thanks, Tonna.”
Gabby rolled over the conversation in her mind. Ms. LouAnn and Ms. Roberta might have misheard some of that conversation, but probably not much. Well into their late sixties, neither of them was hard of hearing, nor were there any black holes bumping around in their brains. So why did Sam Wood have such a beef with Robert?
More importantly, did it have anything to do with Howard’s murder?
She rushed through putting on makeup and getting dressed, still pondering what Tonna had told her. Nothing made sense. Gabby struggled to secure her long hair back with pins, just as the doorbell buzzed. Her hair won the battle.
Her heart went aflutter as she grabbed her purse. This was silly, to be such a nervous ninny. She’d had plenty of dates and none of them caused her to spin into such a dither. Then again, none of them had been with Clark McKay.
She tossed a glance in the mirror. Not too bad. The purple sundress was not only flattering to her coloring and shape, but wore quite comfortably. She needed to be at ease in her clothes.
Buzz!
“Just a minute,” she hollered into the hall as she jerked up a tube and spread the color shine across her lips. She blotted twice, dabbed the edges, then rushed to the front door. Gabby stopped with her hand on the knob, took in a deep breath and then pulled the door open.
Her heart did a triple backflip. She fought for air.
Clark McKay was a vision of suaveness, pure and simple. His dark hair with gray strands just beginning to streak out at the temples was cut short enough that the evening breeze didn’t muss his style. He wore a loose pair of khaki pants and a plain button-down cream shirt, which just enhanced his strong build. And then there were his eyes—those intense, gold-flecked eyes, lined with such lush lashes that all the girls had probably hated him growing up—even now, a stab of jealousy ripped through Gabby over the feature. He peered down at her with such intensity, heat spread up the back of her neck.
“You look lovely,” he breathed against her as he leaned forward and planted a soft, feathery kiss on her temple.
Funny how her headache evaporated in a snap as his lips teased her forehead.
Her heart went pitter-patter, pitter-patter before she gave herself a mental shake. “Thank you.” She lifted her gaze to his and grabbed her purse from the foyer table. “You look downright dashing yourself.” She reined in her traitorous heart.
“This is for you.” He handed her a rose in green paper. A single red rose. A Confederate rose.
She took it, holding it to her nose and inhaling deeply. My, but the man sure had a way about him. A way of washing in under her defenses. “Thank you.” She pulled it from its wrapping and stuck it in the middle of the arrangement of white roses on the dinette table. Right in the center. It looked perfect.
He glanced around. “You have a nice place here.”
“Thank you.” But the knot in her stomach tightened. Not as nice as her house. The one he’d bought. No, it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. But the little imp sitting on her shoulder asked if he had known, would it have made any difference?
“Shouldn’t we be going?” Gabby asked, slipping her purse’s strap over her shoulder and striding toward the door.
His light touch at her elbow sent sparklers off inside her. She smiled as she pulled the door closed and let him lead her down the stairs to his car.
What a car. It wasn’t merely an automobile, it was…an entity. A pristine, cherry-red convertible Mercedes-Benz. The old style SL600, not those new little coupe numbers. Wow, what a ride. How’d she miss noticing when he’d driven her home?
“Where’d you get this?”
“This is my pride and joy.” Clark hesitated. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? What’s not to like? I love it.” She rushed forward, inspecting the beauty and running her hand lovingly down the hood. The metal was still warm from Clark’s drive over. “Sweet.”
His deep chuckle caused her to stare at him. “What?”
He shook his head. “I’ve just never known a woman who appreciates cars as much as you obviously do.”
Heat fanned up the back of her neck and marched across her face. She ducked her head and mumbled, “My older brother’s into cars.”
Clark laid his arm across her shoulders. The warmth seeped through the cotton material of his shirt, making her nerves tingle. She glanced at him, the butterflies doing aerobics in her midsection.
“I like a woman who can appreciate a fine vehicle.” Those tawny specks sparkled in his eyes, and the air froze in her lungs.
“Shall we go?”
Gabby nodded. Her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth all of a sudden. She slipped into the warm leather seat, then locked her seat belt after he shut the door with a gentle thump. When he turned over the engine, a blast of cool air splayed across her face. She leaned toward the vents, praying the coolness would equalize her fair and telling complexion. The fresh scent of leather and coolant tickled her senses.
“How was your day?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together. How was her day? At least it wasn’t as bad as discussing the weather. “It was just a normal day.” Well, normal except for Tonna’s tidbit about Sam Wood. She filled him in.
“I don’t know him. Maybe I can ask Aunt Beulah if she knows anything.”
“That’d be helpful. I just can’t figure out what’s happening here.”
He smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Anything interesting happen with you?”
“Nothing.” Clark cleared his throat. “Nice weather today, huh?”
The abrupt shift of topic caught her off guard. She burst out laughing. He obviously was desperate for topics of conversation.
His eyes darted from the road to her face. “What?” He looked like some poor little puppy left abandoned on the side of the road.
The giggles kept coming. The confusion swimming in his eyes was her final undoing. Her giggles made way for the fit of laughter bubbling in her chest. Gabby held her stomach and bent over, but it was a losing battle—she laughed so hard tears spilled from her eyes and she cackled.
“Gabby, are you okay?”
She held up a hand and fought to compose herself. The nervousness worked its way into the giggle fit, and it took all of her self-control to stop her outburst. Just when she thought she had her chuckles aptly managed, she glanced at him. At the sight of his sincere, concerned expression, she lost her tenuous hold on her control again, doubling over and shaking with laughter.
“Gabby?”
“Oh, C-Clark.” She straightened and bit down on her bottom lip as she faced him. “Th-th-the…w-weather?”
The corners of his mouth shot up, then the car filled with his booming laughter. The two of them chuckled until he whipped the little sports car into the lot of Sam’s Steakhouse and parked.
“Milady,” he said as he opened her car door and bent into a low bow.
“Thank you kindly, sir.” She curtseyed and laughed again. Oh, it was so nice to be with a man and just laugh at life, revel in the silliness. Blake had never laughed with her—at her, maybe, but never with her and certainly never at his own expense.
Once seated at a window table, they perused the menus the waiter placed in their hands before whipping away to fetch their drinks. The restaurant had small round tables covered in white linen cloths. Each setting boasted a single candle in the center of the table, surrounded by greenery. The candlelight cast a romantic ambience over the room.
Clark’s gaze me
t hers over the leather-bound menu. “What’s good here?”
“The steak, of course.” She let her eyes scan down the menu. “The fried shrimp is good, too. Oh, and the jambalaya is to die for.” Gabby let out a soft sigh and closed the menu, already tasting the spicy rice and chicken entrée. “That’s what I’m going to have.”
“If it’s that good, then I’ll have it, as well.” He laid his menu down atop hers, and took her hand in his. “Now, tell me everything there is to know about Gabby Rogillio.”
How could she think when his thumb caressed her knuckles? She licked her lips. “Um, I thought we’d already covered all these bases.”
“There’s more to you than just those facts.” He leaned forward, his eyes hypnotizing her. “Tell me why you love cars.”
Good. Safe subject. “My brother, Antonio, loves refurbishing classics.” She shrugged. “Growing up, he always had a heap of junk, as Mama called them, parked in the yard. Always planning on fixing them up and selling them.” Her lips curled up at the memories. “I guess it rubbed off on me a little.”
The waiter appeared with a basket of bread and their drinks. Gabby pulled her hand back into her lap as Clark gave their orders. She reached for a piece of bread and lifted the butter knife. “What about you?”
He slipped her an easy smile. “What about me?”
“Tell me about your life before Mystique.” She took a bite of the warm bread, savoring the yeasty taste.
Clark blinked, then his eyes stayed in a wide, caught-in-headlights kind of look. “Not much to tell.”
Why the panic flashing across his face like a neon sign? He stared into her eyes. “I think I’m going to love being in Mystique, though.”
The bread felt like lead in her stomach. “How do you like your new house?” The words nearly choked her. She should tell him it was her dream house. She should, but it was too close to her heart. Too personal. How could she share with him when he wouldn’t open up with her? She took a deep breath and remembered her talk with Immy. Maybe he just needed more time.
“The place needs some minor repairs and updating, but I’m looking forward to the work.”
“It’s a beautiful place.” She blinked back the stinging tears.
“I’d love for you to see what I’m doing with it. I want to restore it to its full, original glory.”
Words wouldn’t form. She shoved another piece of bread into her mouth and nodded.
Didn’t he see this was ripping her heart out? “Sure.” Was she stupid?
The waiter stopped by their table, took their order, refilled their drink glasses, then faded into the background.
“Are you and your brother close?”
She took a sip. “We are. I love Antonio, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to be out from under his watchful eyes.”
“A bit overprotective?”
Gabby laughed. “He’s an Italian big brother—what do you think?”
“So, it might be a good thing he’s not here. Now.” His eyes turned serious.
If she didn’t blink, she’d swear she could see her future in his shiny orbs. She swallowed, then reached for her glass. Frissons of fear mingled with excitement spidered up her spine.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” His voice hitched.
No, but he did. Only because her emotions were as traitorous as Benedict Arnold.
Before Clark could say any more, Sheriff McGruder ambled up alongside their table. Gabby let out a silent sigh. Couldn’t she just enjoy a nice evening with a gentleman without someone intruding?
“Gabby. Mr. McKay,” the sheriff interrupted with a nod to each of them. “Sorry to disturb you.”
Clark made a movement of pushing back his chair.
“Don’t bother to get up, Mr. McKay,” Sheriff McGruder said in his gruff voice as he gestured for Clark to remain seated. “I just had a question I needed to ask you.”
Leaning back into his chair, Clark ran a hand over his chin. “Okay.”
The sheriff jammed his thumb through his belt loop. “When we uncovered the note yesterday threatening you and—” he looked over at Gabby “—someone else, why didn’t you tell me about the threats made on your life back in Philadelphia? That you were told they’d get you—no matter where you ran.”
Gabby’s throat tightened. Someone had threatened him and her? Why hadn’t he said anything? Surely he wouldn’t keep something like that from her. McGruder had to be mistaken.
There was no mistake. Clark’s expression, with hooded eyes and guilty flushing, told her there wasn’t any mistake. He looked like…like…Blake. Her heart slithered to her toes as she pushed to her feet. Her chair tilted precariously for a moment, then toppled backward to the plush burgundy carpeting.
Clark shoved to his feet, as well.
“Don’t bother,” she snapped with all the iciness she could muster into her voice. With knees that threatened to give way, Gabby turned and stomped determinedly out the door of the restaurant.
The salt-filled breeze kissed her face, but she ignored it. This could be the key to finding the killer, yet all Gabby could think of was that Clark hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Something fishy was going on here, and it had nothing to do with the Gulf nestled several hundred yards away.
Gabby didn’t know exactly what was going on, but as long as there was breath left in her body, she intended to find out.
If only her heart didn’t shatter at the realization that another man she’d started to care for had betrayed her trust.
Just like Blake.
TWELVE
The dagger of betrayal Gabby’s eyes had shoved into Clark’s heart twisted as she rushed away. He moved to follow her, but the sheriff laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Best let her cool off a bit.”
Clark slumped into his chair and raked his hand across his face. What must Gabby think of him now? The date had been going so well, too. Disappointment coiled in the pit of his stomach.
“So, you gonna answer my question?”
“What?” He jerked his head up and focused on the arrogant lawman still hovering beside the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the threats?”
“The police in Philly found them to be without intent. Nothing ever happened, so the threats must’ve been just that—threats.” Clark shrugged. “But I’m guessing you’ve already talked to the police and already know all this.”
“Uh-huh.” Sheriff McGruder shifted his weight, his battered cowboy boots scuffing the polished floor. “But didn’t you think you should’ve mentioned it?”
“I guess. Honestly, I didn’t see a connection.”
“Even after your brakes were cut? Your house trashed? Don’t make a lick of sense to me.”
“I’m not you,” Clark ground out, then pressed his lips together. No reason to alienate the local authorities, even if the sheriff did reek of small-town inadequacies. “Look, to be honest, I didn’t even think about the threats. They were in reaction to a controversial story my paper covered, trying to scare me off. It didn’t work. Why would the people who threatened me then choose to act now when they didn’t follow through on their threats at the time?”
“Those threats the reason you ran away from the big city?”
Nosy, that’s what the man was. Yet, Clark couldn’t afford to not be open and honest. Already his lack of being forthright had turned Gabby against him. “Not exactly.” How could he explain the betrayal he felt? “After I ran a controversial story, some people turned against me, tried to destroy my credibility. I eventually cleared my name and the reputation of my paper. But some of the people who smeared me were supposedly my friends, my supporters…well, when they jumped on the bandwagon against me, I—”
“Ah.” Sheriff McGruder gave a knowing nod. “Yep, that’ll make you hightail it for parts unknown for sure.” He clapped Clark on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yes.” Great, so the sheriff understood. But
how could he explain things to Gabby? His breath hitched.
God, what can I do to make this right?
I’m just eat up with stupidity.
Gabby stumbled from the restaurant parking lot, blinking back angry tears. Why hadn’t she trusted her gut instincts to be leery of Clark? A Yankee up and moving to Mystique should have made her keep her distance. Her intuition had all but written in the sky that Clark was just like Blake. Had she just wanted to be deceived? Had she played right into Clark’s hand?
Gravel in the parking lot crunched as her steps punctuated her emotions. She turned onto Sea Swept Lane, marching toward her apartment complex. One of the best things about living in such a small town was that nearly everything existed in walking distance.
A gentle breeze danced along the street, the thick aroma of the Gulf wafting through town. The tears wouldn’t be denied any longer, springing from her eyes and streaking down her face. The wind dried them on her cheek.
How could she have been so blind, so led astray by a handsome stranger’s charm? She’d allowed herself to be swayed by Clark’s intense eyes and crooked dimples. Plain stupid, that’s what she’d been. Gabby stomped her foot a bit harder, the loose rocks from the edge of the road bumpy under her flats. She’d let her head be turned, just as she had with Blake, but she wouldn’t any longer.
Gabby plodded up the stairs to her apartment. She dug out her key from her purse and unlocked the door. She jerked off the sundress and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt.
God, why can’t I come out ahead, just once?
Flicking the tears away, Gabby shoved off the pity-party mentality. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all her.
She mulled things over. So, there had been threats. And the sheriff found out about them. And what was the connection to her?
Gabby jumped into her rental and headed into work. Within minutes, she headed west on Shannon Street. As she passed Sam’s Steakhouse, she couldn’t resist checking the parking lot for Clark’s car. Sure enough, parked in the same space as before, the red Mercedes sparkled under the restaurant’s security lights.
