Carla Cassidy

by Scene of the Crime Killer Cove

  “You and Shelly dated for about ten years or so. Why didn’t the two of you ever get married?”

  “I asked her three times after we’d finished college and Bo’s Place was up and running. Although she told me she was completely committed to me, she also told me each time that she wasn’t ready to take the final plunge.”

  “Do you know what held her back?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “She didn’t like her job at the Pirate’s Inn. She was trying to figure out what she wanted to do...to be, and I think until she settled that she just wasn’t ready to be my wife.”

  “They say on dark moonless nights her ghost walks along the edge of the lagoon.”

  Bo raised a brow. “Have you seen this ghost?”

  “Not personally, but I know people who swear they’ve seen her. And some nights there are swamp lights that they believe is her spirit.”

  “And you believe all this? In ghosts and spirit lights?” There was bemusement in his eyes now, making him all the more attractive.

  “I believe anything is possible,” she replied. “I believe in angels and aliens, ghosts and goblins, all in both human and otherworldly forms.”

  “I knew I’d thrown my cards in with a nut,” Bo teased.

  Claire laughed. “This is Mississippi and we are a superstitious bunch.”

  They finished up the pizza and by that time darkness had fallen outside and Bo prepared to leave. She walked him to the door. “I know you still have things you’re doing at your mother’s house. Why don’t we plan on me picking you up tomorrow right after lunch and we can start hunting down people and asking questions then?” she suggested.

  “Don’t you think it would be better if I just stayed home and you asked all the questions and then told me the answers?”

  Claire smiled at him, but shook her head negatively. “That’s not how partners work. Besides, I think it’s important that people see you around town and that they know you’re here to clear your name. You might be surprised to find out you still have friends here, people who never believed you were guilty.”

  “It definitely didn’t feel that way when I left town,” he replied.

  She placed a hand on his strong, muscled forearm. “It’s going to be different this time, Bo. We’re going to find out the truth.” She pulled her hand away, finding the feel of his warm skin far too pleasurable.

  He opened the door and with a wave of his hand disappeared into the darkness. The low, guttural growl of his motorcycle filled the air as she turned on her porch light just in time to see him pull away from her house.

  She automatically checked her porch, grateful to find no surprise gifts or notes, and then closed and locked her door and turned off her porch light.

  She returned to the table and began to transcribe the notes from the legal pad into appropriate tabs in the larger notebook. Behind the red tab she listed all the people they intended to question the next day.

  When that was finished, she moved to the sofa and thought about the conversation she and Bo had shared. It was obvious that the experience of being the number-one suspect in Shelly’s murder case had changed him.

  The old Bo had eyes that always held a wealth of openness, of warmth and welcome. The old Bo had believed that strangers were just friends he hadn’t met yet.

  This new Bo wore his wariness in the shadows that filled his eyes, in the defensive tension of his body, although she’d seen glimpses of the old Bo in his wry humor and his cautious and surprising trust in her.

  Angels and aliens, ghosts and goblins, she knew they weren’t looking for anything or anybody supernatural or otherworldly.

  She was looking for two men, hopefully one benign and one malevolent. She hoped to discover that her secret admirer was just some shy man in town who had yet to get up his courage to declare his interest in her. There was no reason for her to believe there was anything scary or threatening about flowers on her porch, she told herself.

  The other man they sought was a cold-blooded killer, a man who had throttled Shelly Sinclair to death and then had tossed her body into the swampy lagoon like a piece of trash.

  There was no question that she and Bo were about to shake things up. She only hoped they shook out the real killer and saw him behind bars. They had to do this before Bo got discouraged and decided to leave town once again with the burden of his presumed guilt still riding his shoulders like a heavy leather jacket.

  Chapter Four

  Bo carried a third box of clothing from his mother’s bedroom to the garage and tried to clear his mind of the dreams he’d entertained all night long.

  For a year following Shelly’s murder he’d suffered terrible nightmares, all of them with Shelly screaming his name, begging for him to help her, and him unable to stop her senseless death.

  During the past year or so his sleep had been dreamless, but last night it hadn’t been Shelly who had haunted his slumber, it had been Claire.

  Claire with her tousled golden curls and achingly blue eyes, he’d dreamed of her in his arms, her body warmth heating all the cold places that had filled his for what felt like forever.

  He dropped the box on the floor in the garage and told himself the dream had been driven by nothing more than the fact that Claire had offered him a friendly smile and a level of support he hadn’t had before. Surely that was the only reason he’d entertained the erotic dream.

  They were partners and nothing more, and would remain partners until he decided to leave town, and this time when he left he would never be back again. Oh, he’d still talk to Jimmy on a regular basis, not only because Jimmy was a lifelong friend, but also due to Bo’s silent ownership of Jimmy’s Place.

  “Need some help?” Jimmy poked his head out of the door that led from the kitchen to the garage.

  “No, I think that’s it for today.” Bo checked his watch. “That gives me time to eat some lunch before Claire comes by to pick me up around one.”

  He joined Jimmy in the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator to pull out cold cuts for the noon meal. Jimmy sank down at a chair at the table. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you and Claire to go off like the Lone Ranger and Tonto to crime solve?”

  Bo finished making his sandwich, knowing that Jimmy had eaten earlier. He sat down across from Jimmy before replying. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m the Lone Ranger or Tonto. Claire is running the show at this point. She has a touch of bossy in her, but at this point I’m willing to let her take the lead. I’ve been gone for two years and she’s been here. All I know is that it’s easy to get caught up in her optimism and there’s no question I want the real killer identified and justice served.”

  “And I want that, too. But it’s been so long. I can’t imagine what you two will manage to dig up after all this time,” Jimmy replied. “But it would be great if you could finally clear your name and get the real bad guy behind bars.”

  Justice for Shelly—hopefully if he and Claire could accomplish that then he would finally find some peace as he moved forward with his life. Shelly would always be a painful part of his past, but he knew that some of that pain could be released if her real killer were found.

  “I’ll say one thing, you’ve picked a good partner,” Jimmy said, interrupting Bo’s thoughts. “Claire is not only well liked, but she’s also got a reputation as being a straight shooter who doesn’t take any crap from anyone.”

  Bo couldn’t help the smile that attempted to take hold of his mouth. “She seems like a bit of a firecracker.”

  Jimmy laughed. “That’s Claire.”

  “I have a favor to ask you,” Bo said, thinking ahead. “I know you use Mom’s car. Could you park outside from now on? There’s plenty of room on the driveway for my motorcycle and the car, and that will give me space to stack all the boxes of Mom’s things.”

  “Not a problem,” Jimmy agreed.

  Minutes later Jimmy drifted back to his bedroom and Bo finished his
sandwich, trying not to think about the woman who had haunted his dreams, a woman he’d found himself drawn to since the moment she’d tossed him a to-go bag of burger and fries.

  He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t want to be attracted to anyone. Losing Shelly had been devastating, but the aftermath of her murder had been nearly as devastating as he’d watched close friends and good neighbors turn against him.

  His trust in people had been shattered and thick defenses had built up around his heart. He’d learned in the past two years that being alone wasn’t such a bad thing.

  He spent quite a bit of his time at Bo’s Place, overseeing the daily operation. In his spare time he often took long drives on his bike, allowing the wind in his face to blow out any thoughts of past, present or future.

  In the lonely hours of the night when he might have been making love to a woman, he often read books on business or history, or the occasional adventure novel.

  He’d grown comfortable...safe in his loneliness and he wasn’t about to let some curly-haired cutie under his skin. Still, at one o’clock when he slid into the passenger seat of her car, a nervous energy twisted in his stomach.

  He told himself it had nothing to do with the sky-blue blouse she wore that clung to her breasts and enhanced her eyes. It had nothing to do with the fresh, floral scent of her that filled the car. The jumpy tension was the result of what they were about to begin today...talking to people who believed he’d murdered his girlfriend.

  She frowned at him as he settled in. “I should have told you to wear something else.”

  He looked down at his black jeans and T-shirt and then gazed back at her. “I didn’t know there was a dress code for the day.”

  “A white or blue shirt might have been better. You look dark and brooding.”

  “Like a bad guy,” he replied.

  She flashed him a quick smile. “Ignore me, I’m probably overthinking things.”

  It was hard to ignore her when a vision of his dream from the night before flashed through his head. He consciously willed it away. “So, who’s first on your list to talk to?” he asked and noticed that her yellow legal pad was shoved down in the space next to her seat.

  “I thought we’d start with Sally Bernard.”

  Bo nodded and braced himself for a face-to-face meeting with the tall redhead who wasn’t shy about speaking her mind. He’d once considered Sally a friend of his as well as of Shelly’s, and Sally and her boyfriend had often come to Bo’s Place for their evening meal.

  Sally had been one of the first of Shelly’s friends to turn on him and he definitely wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again.

  They passed the street where Shelly had lived. “Are Craig and Margie still living in the same place?” he asked.

  “They left town about six months after Shelly’s death. I heard they moved someplace up north. Mac and Savannah stayed together in the house until about eight months ago when Mac got married and bought his own place.”

  Mac was Shelly’s older brother. He would be thirty-two years old now, and the last time Bo had seen him Mac had sworn if he got the chance he’d kill Bo.

  “Then Savannah lives in the home alone now?” he asked.

  Claire nodded. “She doesn’t date and pretty much keeps to herself. Of course, working the overnight shift at the Pirate’s Inn isn’t exactly conducive to dating.”

  “I always thought of her like a little sister.” A wave of sadness swept through him. “With her being just a year younger than Shelly, sometimes it was hard to get the two apart.” He looked at Claire. “She’s definitely somebody you should talk to alone. I don’t want to be there when you question her.”

  Claire turned into Sally’s driveway, cut the engine and took off her seat belt. “We’ll try to catch up with Sally, Valerie and Julie as soon as we can, then I’ll drop you back at your house and find Savannah and talk to her.”

  Bo released a small sigh of relief, grateful that she seemed to understand his reluctance to question Savannah. “And after you talk to her, you can head back to my place for dinner and tell me what she had to say,” he said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “Now, are you ready for this?”

  Bo unfastened his seat belt and looked at the small house where he and Shelly had visited occasionally for barbecues and card games. “She hasn’t gotten married?” he asked, knowing he was stalling for time.

  “Hasn’t even come close in the last couple of years. She dates occasionally, but nobody in particular.” Claire narrowed her eyes slightly. “Do you want to sit out here and discuss Sally’s love life or do you want to get out of the car and see what she might know about Shelly’s life before she was murdered?”

  Bo drew a deep breath and opened the door. “Let’s get this done,” he stated with a renewed burst of nervous energy.

  As they headed up the walkway that led to the front porch, Bo wondered if this all wasn’t a fool’s errand. He could finish packing up the last of his mother’s things in another day and be back on the road to Jackson. He could put all this behind him, but instead here he was, about to pick the scab off old wounds.

  As if she read his thoughts, Claire smiled at him, that crazy warm smile that shot heat through him. “You’re doing the right thing, Bo. You deserve the truth. We all do, and this is the first step in finding out that truth.” She knocked on the door.

  The tall, slender redhead answered with a bright smile that immediately fell into a scowl as her blue eyes gazed at Bo. “Claire, what are you doing on my doorstep with this murdering slimeball?”

  “Don’t worry, Sally. I left all my homicidal tendencies at home this morning,” Bo replied drily and then grunted as Claire delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs.

  *

  CLAIRE WANTED TO pinch off Bo’s ears. She wanted to give him a sobering slap. The last thing she needed from him was defensive sarcasm. “Bo and I would like to ask you some questions about Shelly.”

  “She’s dead. What’s to ask?” Sally made no effort to open her door wider to invite them inside.

  “Do you want to do this here on your front porch where all of your neighbors can see, or can we come inside? It’s important, Sally.”

  Sally hesitated a moment and then with a deep, audible sigh opened the door to allow them entry. She gestured them toward her sofa and then sat in a chair across from them, her gaze focused solely on Claire.

  “I know you believe that Bo is guilty of Shelly’s murder, but he’s not,” Claire began. “He and I are looking for any information that might point to the real killer.”

  “And why don’t you believe it’s not Bo? Because he told you so?” Sally asked with a touch of sarcasm.

  “He’s not in jail. There was never any real evidence to point to his guilt except for the fact that he and Shelly were a couple. There was never really an in-depth investigation into the murder. Bo was the focus and I don’t believe anyone in law enforcement looked anywhere else,” Claire replied.

  Sally crossed her arms, obviously in defensive mode. “So, what do you want from me?”

  “You and Shelly were good friends. Was there anyone bothering her or angry with her before her death that she might have mentioned to you?” Claire asked. Bo shifted positions next to her and leaned forward.

  “Not that I remember. The only person Shelly told me she ever argued with was Bo.”

  Claire fought her urge to look at the man seated next to her. Was there something he hadn’t told her about his relationship with Shelly? Had they not been the golden couple Claire had always thought them to be?

  “Are you sure there wasn’t anyone else who had issues with Shelly?”

  “Not that she ever mentioned to me.” Sally unfolded her arms. “But I’ll confess Shelly and I were social buddies, not necessarily heart-to-heart confidantes. You might talk to one of her other girlfriends, or Savannah. They might have known more about stuff that was going on in Shelly’s life than me.”

 
“Well, that was a waste,” Bo said moments later as they got into Claire’s car.

  “Not necessarily,” Claire countered. “She’s a name we can now cross off our list. Besides, she said it was possible some woman closer to Shelly might know more.”

  Claire backed out of the driveway and headed in the direction of their next stop. “What’s this about you and Shelly arguing?”

  Bo sighed and leaned his back against the headrest. “Shelly and I never had huge arguments, but we did have an ongoing difference of ideas that grew bigger over the last year before her death.” He sat up straighter and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Shelly wanted to leave Lost Lagoon and move to a bigger city. She wanted me to sell Bo’s Place and start all over someplace else. Business was booming, I felt like my mother needed me here, and I loved life in Lost Lagoon. I wasn’t willing to give it all up. I believed that if Shelly and I got married and had babies, she’d be happy here, and if she needed more than that, I encouraged her to get involved with the city council or to go back to school.”

  “Is that why she wouldn’t marry you?”

  “She never actually told me that, but yeah, I think that was the reason.” He gave a dry laugh. “It’s ironic that only after her death did she get her wish and I left everything behind to move to a bigger city.”

  It was ironic and it was tragic, Claire thought. “Did you and Shelly have a particularly public argument in the days before her murder?”

  “No, nothing like that. In fact, it didn’t come up that often. It wasn’t like we argued about it every day. It was more like a discussion we had every couple of months. Losing faith in me?”

  She cast him a quick glance. “Not at all, I’m just trying to understand all of the dynamics.”

  “The truth of the matter is I don’t think Shelly and I would have ever married,” he said, his voice softer. “I think eventually she would have left Lost Lagoon and me behind.”

  “You’re shattering the image I had of your romance with Shelly. During my teenage years I’d see you two together and then go home to my shanty where my father might or might not be there and I’d dream about finding a love like yours and Shelly’s. To be honest, that idea got me through a lot of difficult times.”