“I couldn’t understand how my mother could just leave and start a new life somewhere and not take me with her. It took me almost a year to realize and accept that she was gone and she wasn’t coming back and I was strong enough to be happy despite my circumstances.”
Bo squeezed her hand and then released it. Even though she appeared to have gotten past her childhood, he knew there had to be some scars left behind.
It was after they’d finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen that the conversation turned back to the investigation.
“I think tomorrow we should head over to the Pirate’s Inn and talk to Donnie Albright,” Claire said.
Bo knew Donnie was the owner of the Pirate’s Inn. With a long beard and wiry thick gray-and-white eyebrows, he looked like one of the pirates who purportedly haunted the hotel.
“After that we’ll try to find more of Shelly’s friends out and about and talk to them, and then we’ll end up at the diner for dinner where Valerie is working and we can speak with her,” Claire said.
The task ahead of them felt daunting. “I should have stayed,” Bo said and slapped his palms down on the table in frustration. “I should have stayed here after Shelly’s murder instead of running away. I should have forced Trey Walker and his men to do a real investigation. Dammit, I should have never left town with my tail between my legs.”
Regret and more than a little self-disgust swept through him. It would have been so much easier to find out the truth two years ago.
“If I remember right, you didn’t have much of a choice except to leave town. Your business was virtually boycotted, cutting off your financial support, and you also had no emotional support except from your mother and Jimmy,” Claire reminded him.
“Mom was most of the reason I did leave. She encouraged me to get out of town and hoped that eventually the true killer would be found. I finally agreed to leave because I thought life would be easier on her if I wasn’t here. I thought maybe she’d be able to continue to live a normal life, that people would support her, but you saw at her funeral that she was obviously ostracized anyway.”
He swallowed his bitterness and glanced toward the window, surprised to discover that darkness had fallen. “You’d better get home before it gets any later,” he said.
Claire glanced toward the window and frowned, then turned back to look at him. “Would you mind taking me home? I walked here and I really don’t feel comfortable walking home alone in the dark.”
“Of course I’ll take you home,” he replied. “I don’t want you walking home alone at night. I’ve got an extra helmet in the garage. Let me grab it and we’ll head out.”
Minutes later they were on the Harley, Claire’s arms wrapped tight around his waist and her thighs pressing intimately against his.
Desire for her heated his blood, a desire he’d had to tamp down every minute he spent with her. He had a feeling she felt the physical chemistry between them, as well.
But he had no intention of pursuing anything romantic or sexual with her. There was no point. He was on a mission to seek a killer, and once that mission was accomplished he would return to Jackson alone.
He was almost sorry when they reached Claire’s house and she climbed off the back of the bike. She handed him the helmet and he hung it on a clip near the back of the bike.
“Why don’t we plan on me picking you up around ten in the morning?” she suggested.
He nodded, and then noticed a white piece of paper that appeared to be taped to her porch railing. “Looks like you got another note from your secret admirer.” He pulled off his helmet and got off the bike. He followed behind her and watched as she pulled the note off the railing, read it and then handed it to him.
In the bright moonlight overhead it was easy to read the bold black block letters. STAY AWAY FROM BO MCBRIDE. “Is it the same writing as your secret admirer?” he asked.
She took the paper back from him with a shrug. “Hard to tell. It could just be from somebody who doesn’t like the fact that we’re asking questions.” She wadded it up and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.”
He waited until she disappeared into her house before getting back on his bike and taking off. Restless energy filled him, an energy that made the idea of going back home unpleasant. On impulse he headed for Jimmy’s Place. The dinner crowd would have moved out by now, leaving the place to the social drinkers and partiers.
It was Saturday night and the place was packed. Bo pulled around to the back of the building and parked. He wasn’t looking for trouble, he just had a desire to sit and drink a beer in the place he owned.
He went in through the back door, which led him to a storage area that held a set of stairs and metal rows of shelving. He went through to the kitchen where two cooks worked, but neither of them spoke or stopped him as he walked on. He passed down the hall with the restrooms and then into the main area.
The long polished bar was just to his right and a single bar stool sat empty at the edge. It was rarely used as it was separated from the main row of bar stools that lined the front of the bar. The only person who had sat there regularly had been Shelly on nights she came in before work and Bo was behind the bar.
He slid onto that stool now, grateful that, for at least the moment, nobody had noticed his arrival. The bartender, an older man he didn’t recognize, worked the opposite end of the bar where a couple of young women sat.
When he’d finished serving them he scanned the bar area and noticed Bo. Bo ordered a beer and once it had been served, he swiveled slightly in his chair to look around.
Jimmy stood at a table where four people were seated, obviously playing goodwill ambassador as he smiled and clapped one of the men on his back.
It should be me, Bo thought. I should be the one greeting people and thanking them for coming in. He turned back around and took another drink of the cold brew.
There was no going back in time. He’d made his decision to leave and put Jimmy in control so that the place would continue to survive. Certainly his ownership allowed him to reap financial benefits, but he mourned the position in his community that he’d lost in the process.
Bo was almost finished with his beer when Eric Baptiste walked by him, apparently headed for the restrooms. He took several steps down the hallway and then turned back and stepped up close to Bo.
Eric was two years older than Bo and while the two had never had any problems, they had not been close friends. Eric leaned a muscular arm on the bar next to Bo and gazed at him with flat black eyes.
“About Claire,” he said softly.
“What about her?” Bo asked.
“If you hurt her in any way, I’ll kill you.” Eric didn’t wait for a reply, but turned on his heels and disappeared down the hallway.
Bo drained the last of his beer and threw enough money on the bar to cover it, then got up and left the way he had come. As he drove home he wondered if perhaps Eric was Claire’s secret admirer?
All he knew for sure was that he’d felt a malevolence wafting off the muscular dark-haired man. Was his warning really about Claire or did Eric Baptiste have something deeper to hide...something like murder?
Chapter Six
Claire knew the last place Bo wanted to be on a Sunday night was in the diner where the crowd was thick and they had to wait for a table to be cleared in Valerie Frank’s area.
When they were finally seated, she knew he couldn’t help but notice the people at most of the tables around them whispering and pointing in their direction.
She was proud of the straight set in Bo’s broad shoulders, in the way he carried himself as if he had as much right to be in this town, in this diner, as anyone...which he did.
“I’m starving,” Claire said as she picked up the menu on the table in front of her.
“That’s the gnaw of frustration you’re feeling,” Bo replied drily.
It had been a day of frustration. They’d started by visiting with Donnie Albri
ght at the Pirate’s Inn. Donnie hadn’t been able to shed any light on what was going on in Shelly’s life before her murder, nor had anyone else they’d spoken to throughout the afternoon.
“Tomorrow is another day,” she replied optimistically. “Right now all I can think about is a big plate of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and a hot buttered roll.”
“All I can think about is that treasure chest in the Pirate’s Inn lobby that Donnie was painting that tacky gold,” Bo replied.
She laughed. “Upgrades for the crowd of tourists he’s hoping the new amusement park will eventually bring to town, and he’s not the only person who is making changes and updates to their businesses.”
“I can’t imagine Lost Lagoon being filled with tourists.” Bo closed his mouth as Valerie approached their booth, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him.
“Hi, Valerie, how’s it going?” Claire said lightly, as if it were ordinary for her to show up for dinner with the local bad-boy suspected murderer.
“Okay.” Her brown eyes slid a quick glance at Bo. “I heard you were back in town.”
“Valerie, I didn’t kill Shelly and I decided it was finally time for me to come back to find the real killer. Claire has been helping me do the investigation that the cops never did two years ago.” Bo held her gaze. “We wondered if you knew about anything or anyone that was bothering Shelly before her murder?”
“Or maybe why she went to the lagoon that night when she knew Bo wasn’t meeting her there,” Claire added.
“I don’t know why she was at the lagoon,” Valerie said. She glanced around, as if worried she was spending too much time at their table. “She seemed preoccupied in the days before that night, but when I asked her if something was bothering her, she told me it was something she had to work through on her own. Look, I need to get to my other tables and that’s really all I can tell you. So, what would you like to drink?”
After taking their drink orders, she hurried away from the booth. “I wonder if the sticky situation was me,” Bo said. “Maybe she had finally made the decision to leave me and head out of town and was just waiting for the right moment to tell me.”
“That possibility doesn’t upset you?” Claire asked.
He smiled and warmth shot through her. He had a beautiful smile and she wished she’d see it more often. “During the last six months of our relationship I began to accept the fact that Shelly and I probably weren’t going to have a happily-ever-after together. Although we both pretended things were fine, there was a bit of a strain between us, and I knew it was because Shelly wasn’t happy here.”
“But we can’t know for sure that you were her sticky situation. That’s just speculation and we can’t take it as fact,” she replied.
Valerie returned with their sodas, took their meal orders and then disappeared once again from their booth. Claire sipped her soda and tried not to focus on how utterly hot Bo looked.
Riding on the back of his motorcycle last night had filled her with a sexual charge. She’d molded her legs against his muscular ones, wrapping her arms around his taut middle and pressing herself so close to his back, and it had stirred up a desire to yank him off the bike and take him into her bedroom and make love.
Unfortunately, the note that had awaited her had stanched any feelings of lust. Although she’d made light of it in front of Bo, the note had kept her sleepless for half the night.
Had it been from her secret admirer? Was it a warning of some kind? Or had it simply been a concerned friend or neighbor who didn’t want her putting herself at risk by hanging out with a “murderer?”
“So, what’s our next move?” Bo asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“It would be nice if we could get the murder book from the sheriff to see exactly what kind of investigation was done before.”
Bo laughed, the sound rich and bold and once again stirring a heat inside her. “There is no way Sheriff Trey Walker would even let us get close enough to spit on the files of Shelly’s case. Remember, officially it’s still an open case.”
“Was there anyone working the case who didn’t seem to be completely closed-minded about looking at other suspects?”
Bo frowned thoughtfully. “At the time it certainly felt like every deputy on the force was determined to find evidence to put me away, but now that I think about it there were two deputies who seemed open to other possibilities.”
“Are they still in town working as deputies?”
“I know one of them is—I saw him in a patrol car yesterday, Deputy Josh Griffin. The other deputy was Daniel Carson. I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back so I don’t know if he’s still around or not. The little interaction with them that I had was definitely less confrontational, and they appeared to be more open to other alternatives of the crime.”
“Then we need to talk to them,” Claire replied. The conversation halted as Valerie returned with their dinners.
“I don’t think they’ll talk to us.” Bo picked up the conversation as Valerie once again left them alone. “Sheriff Walker is a tough bully with his favorite sidekick of Ray McClure. I’m sure both Griffin and Carson would be concerned about their jobs if they were to speak to us about the case.”
“Enough shop talk,” Claire said as she picked up her fork. “Let’s talk about something else while I wallow in this mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.”
Bo grinned. “Definitely a meat-and-potatoes kind of girl?”
“You’ve got that right. Leave the rabbit food to the bunnies.”
“Shelly ate rabbit food,” Bo said as he cut into the chicken-fried steak he’d ordered. “She always ordered salads when we went out and complained if I encouraged her to eat other food or have dessert. I thought all women worried about their weight like she did.”
“Not me,” Claire replied. “I guess I have a good metabolism and I’ve never had to worry about gaining too much weight.” She spooned a bite full of creamy potatoes into her mouth, swallowed and then continued, “To be honest, I remember far too many nights going to bed hungry, so I enjoy food now whenever I get the chance.”
Bo’s gaze was soft as he looked at her from across the table. “I hate the thought of your childhood. It breaks my heart that you went to bed hungry and were so alone.”
“There were lots of us swamp kids who didn’t have the perfect life, but we managed to survive,” she replied. “You mentioned to me that Jimmy had a pretty rotten start to life.”
“True, but he had me and my family to help him. I gave him clothes and shoes and we fed him when he was hungry and my mother tried to comfort him when he was scared.” Bo smiled. “From third grade until now, Jimmy has always been my brother from another mother.”
“I hope Jimmy knows how lucky he was,” Claire said.
“I consider myself just as lucky. He’s been the best friend I could ever have.”
They quieted for a few minutes, each focused on their food. Claire glanced around the diner, grateful that the initial stir that had occurred when they’d walked in had died down and nobody seemed to be paying them any attention.
Meanwhile she found herself far too focused on Bo. Despite the savory fragrances that floated in the air, she could also smell the scent of Bo’s woodsy cologne.
She knew better than to get emotionally or sexually involved with him. They were partners and had become friends while working on a crime, but it would be foolish to cross over a line into anything more intense.
Her life was here in Lost Lagoon, and she had no idea how long he’d commit to being here. His life was now in Jackson with the new Bo’s Place, and there was really nothing to keep him here long-term. She wasn’t even sure he’d stay long enough to get the answers to clear his name, although he appeared fairly committed at the moment.
They were halfway through the meal when Neil Sampson walked in with Mayor Jim Burns. The mayor headed for the counter where apparently a take-out order awaited him while Neil stopped at their booth.
/> “Claire,” he said, completely ignoring Bo’s presence. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”
And you’re looking stuffy and pretentious. Thankfully the words flew only in her head and not out of her mouth. “Thanks,” she replied. “Have you met Bo?” she asked.
Neil’s gaze never left hers. “No, and I don’t have any desire to. I just wanted to stop and say hello to you. I often think of our time together.”
“I would think you’d have a lot more important things to think about,” she replied, irritated by his rudeness with Bo.
He stepped back. “I just wanted to say hello.”
“And so you have,” Claire replied.
Thankfully by that time the mayor motioned to him from the door and with a final nod of his head, Neil hurried toward the exit.
“I’m assuming that was your ex. He seems like a nice guy,” Bo said drily.
“He’s an ass. He wasn’t as bad before he became Mayor Burns’s number-one lackey, but power and position have definitely transformed him, and not in a good way.”
“It sounds like he still cares about you. Maybe he’s your secret admirer,” Bo suggested.
“Doubtful. That’s not really his style, but who knows.” She shook her head to rid it of thoughts of her secret admirer. She didn’t want to think about that mystery right now. She still believed eventually her admirer would come out of the woodwork and confess his feelings for her.
By the time they finished their meal and lingered over coffee, dusk had fallen outside. “Why don’t you go and start the car and get the air-conditioning running while I pay the bill,” Bo suggested.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” she agreed. Even though the June sun had gone down, it would still be hot and sticky outside.
She stepped out into the thick humidity and pulled her keys from her purse as she focused on her car parked across the street.
She stepped off the curb and had only taken a couple of steps into the street when she heard the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires against hot pavement.
She was halfway across the street when bright headlights flashed on from a car careening toward her. She froze, her mind unable to comprehend that she stood directly in the path of death.
Carla Cassidy Page 7
