“The diamonds.”
He raised a hand and made little circles in the air with it. “I don’t understand. Enlighten me.”
“Didn’t Matt Rameros explain?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to Matt in days.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Mrs. Otis had the presence of mind to leave a note on my desk. The desk in the office that I found closed and locked in the middle of the afternoon.”
Oh.
“Well, go on. Let’s hear it.” His voice was cold, so cold, and his eyes ….
“Earl accused me of stealing those uncut stones. He was threatening to sue. So I had to find them.”
“Did it not occur to you to ask me to go with you? Or the sheriff?” His eyes were spitting fire. “You know Earl Norton’s shady reputation around town. A beautiful girl like you putting yourself in harm’s way, coming out here to deal with that creep …. His aunt was murdered here. Who knows? Maybe he was involved. I don’t get it, Honey. You’re intelligent as well as beautiful. A dumb move like this doesn’t add up.”
That he was beyond vexed was painfully clear, but all I really heard was “beautiful.” Imagine. And “intelligent.” Then he said something I couldn’t ignore.
“Earl would have lied, you know. Kept on pretending you were a thief.”
Oh Lord, that was right. How could I not have figured that out ahead of time? Embarrassed, I tried to slump into the cushions, not easy when you were perched on the finest Italian leather.
All the starch washed out of me. I sat there like a scolded child, hardly daring to move. Finally, I did risk looking up from my hands and across the seat at him. “Thank you, Sam. I’m beholden to you.”
He leaned over to pat my hand, but he didn’t smile.
“We’ve discussed this subject before,” he said, “but understand, this is the last time. From here on in you only handle listings in town. Got that?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Good. Because that’s an order.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
What Sam left unsaid was that I’d better follow his order to the letter or he’d fire me. Though he didn’t know it, my days at Ridley’s Real Estate were numbered anyway. That pat on the hand had made up my mind once and for all. I wasn’t the kind of girl a man could pat like a puppy and then get in his car and drive away. Next thing you knew, he’d be patting me on the top of the head.
If I’d been wishy-washy about leaving Eureka Falls, I no longer was. No question, I’d hightail it out of here by the time Sam married Lila. Not just because I couldn’t stand to lose him, but for another reason. He’d saved me today, but I couldn’t save him. Not without trashing his dream and his love. Something I couldn’t bring myself to do.
Since I was leaving anyway, I should have grabbed him while I had the chance, thrown my arms around him and kissed the blue right out of those eyes. Stunned them purple. Made that mouth soften up and open wide, made ….
I banged the wheel. Damn. I’d been too wimpy to do a single one of those things. Earlier, I hadn’t even had the guts to tell Lila to quit two-timing Sam, hadn’t made Saxby admit IP was up to no good, hadn’t even asked Trey why all of a sudden he had to have his own Eureka Falls pad. None of that was strictly my business, but still, why hadn’t I? What did I have to lose? Nothing, now that I’d made up my mind to leave. On the other hand, by pushing back, I might get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on around here. Maybe even get myself off the Arkansas State Police radar screen. Who knew? I might even find out who killed those two women.
As Sam’s rear lights turned into red dots on the horizon, I put the Linc in gear. Doing ten over the speed limit all the way back to town, I drove Mrs. Otis to the office to pick up her car then headed directly to Winthrop Realty’s parking lot, hoping Saxby hadn’t left for the day.
Good, he hasn’t.
His Cadillac—real estate rule number one: impress the clients with major wheels—occupied pride of place in the sacred slot signed, RESERVED FOR PRESIDENT. Another man with leadership ideas.
I eased into one of the customer parking spaces and marched up to the rear entrance. At least I wouldn’t have to break in this time.
Mindy of the long black hair and the long white legs sat at a computer filing her nails. She glanced up when I yanked the door open, surprise flaring in her eyes. Away from the Inn’s flattering candlelight, she looked older than I remembered. A good thing. Saxby didn’t need to toy with somebody’s kid sister.
“I’m here to see your boss.” Without waiting for permission, I barged past her and strutted right in to Saxby’s private office.
At the sight of me, he half rose out of his chair. “What are you doing here?” He slumped back on his fanny. “The enemy camp, so to speak.”
“Thanking you for breakfast.” I sat in the leatherette chair facing his desk. “Also looking for some answers, for old times’ sake.”
At a soft rap on the door, he barked, “Come in.”
I glanced over a shoulder.
One hand on the door, Mindy poked her head in. “She slipped past me without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“It’s all right. Go back to your desk.”
The door closed on silent hinges.
“You have her well trained.”
Sighing, he cradled his belly in his hands. “ ’Fraid so. No challenge there. Too bad, a man likes a challenge.”
I leaned forward. “Good. Here’s one for you. Who’s buying up all that property off Pea Pike?”
His eyes flared wide, well, as wide as his puffy cheeks would allow. “You know I can’t say.”
“Yes, you can. If you choose to. Let’s face it, Saxby. You’ve already let the horse out of the barn. I know International Properties is in on it. What I want to know is why. What’s their game?”
For an answer, he opened a lower desk drawer and hauled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses. “It’s almost closin’ time. Care to join me?”
“No thanks.”
He poured himself a stiff one, raised his glass in a silent salute and down went the Jack.
“That the same bottle I remember?”
“Very funny. That’s what I always liked about you, Honey, the challenge.”
He poured another and cocked an eyebrow.
I shook my head. Good bourbon, and bad, always mellowed him. I remembered that only too well. So I waited, engaging him in small talk, flirting, flattering, biding my time, in hopes that he would spill what he knew between drink number two and drink number three. After that, he’d turn nasty, and his mouth would get mean. I raised you out of the gutter, Missy, and don’t you go forgettin’ it.
“The problem, Saxby, is that families who paid taxes on that land for years are making mighty little on those sales, and that’s wrong. Very wrong. Cobbled together, worthless farmland can be worth a fortune. So, say some conglomerate is coming in with big plans. They have almost half a mile of open land to build on. Isn’t that right?”
His eyes got smaller and narrower. The bourbon or me? He slammed the empty shot glass on his desktop.
“Pumpin’ me for information, are you? While I’m philosophically opposed to such doin’s, you may be in luck.” He leaned back, a man at ease, just doing a little light swiveling. “I sold me another parcel up there on that ridge. The one I told you about this mornin’. So tote ’em up. Three for me and one for you and that current boss of yours. Yeah, IP is the buyer of the whole damn shebang.” He brought the chair to a halt. “Now hear me good. Nobody’s getting screwed.” He tried for a smile but failed. “That land’s not worth a plug nickel. Can’t hardly grow an ear of corn on it. I sold my three parcels for what the market would bear. Fair and square. And the sellers were grateful to unload them. You heard me, missy, grateful. No conspiracy theories. Just sales.”
He poured a third. About to raise it to his lips, he paused. “You tryin’ to make trouble, Miss Honey? Do me ou
t of my hard-won prize? Well, don’t bother. My momma didn’t raise no fools.”
Hoping my momma hadn’t either, but not at all sure about that, I left him swiveling and drinking away. So, from the lion’s mouth, I’d heard what I suspected all along, though the knowing didn’t make me feel a single bit better.
On my way past Mindy, I stopped at her computer station.
“He’s going to need a ride home,” I told her.
“I can drive,” she said with a sniff.
“ ’Course you can.” I rummaged in my tote for a business card. “Me too. Been on that drive, but I got off.” I dropped a card beside her keyboard. “Take care of yourself, ’cause if you don’t, nobody else will. Should you ever need help, feel free to contact me. Any time.”
What I didn’t mention was she had a six-month window of opportunity to take me up on my offer.
“I’m beholden to you,” she called as I reached the rear door.
I waved and hurried outside.
Phew, what a day. I’d made a sale, squelched a lawsuit, almost got raped, and had nearly been fired. Enough. I needed to shop for groceries then go home, toss on my chenille robe, and collapse with a cold one.
In the morning I had a little social call to make. Depending on how fruitful it turned out, a second call might also be in order. Whatever it took, until I got some solid answers, I’d follow every lead, every question, no matter who I offended, no matter whose toes I stepped on. That was one great thing about burning your bridges. You had nothing to lose.
Or did you?
Chapter Twenty-Six
The apartment house I lived in was a fair to middling place. The janitor kept the grass cut in summer, the snow shoveled in winter, and put the trash out for pickup as regular as sunrise. Its units rented mostly by working singles and a few middle-aged couples I seldom laid eyes on, the building was quiet as a graveyard, which suited me just fine.
Best of all, it was affordable. As a bonus, my first-floor apartment boasted a bedroom patio that faced a small stand of evergreens, a perfect spot for morning coffee on days I didn’t have to hurry off to work.
I parked out front in my assigned slot, grabbed the groceries from the backseat, and keyed my way in. Dusk’s soft, gray veil had settled over the rooms, so I snapped on the living room lights and carried my bundles out to the kitchen. That was when I felt it. The warm, humid air of summer, strong enough to riffle the pages of the morning Star left out on the kitchen table. Where could that draft be coming from? Before going to work, I’d turned on the AC and closed the windows.
Oh, no, I hadn’t. The bedroom sliders were open. I dropped the groceries and my purse on a countertop and went to close the sliders. One foot in the bedroom was as far as I got. Quick as a lightning flash, before I could scream or turn around, something heavy struck a blow to my head and the world disappeared.
Dusk had deepened when I came to, awakened by the throbbing on my scalp. Chill, damp air flooded in through the sliders. I shivered and opened an eye. Why was I on the bedroom floor, my cheek pressed to the carpeting? Oh.
Someone moaned. That couldn’t be me, could it? I raised my head an inch or so and glanced around. Everywhere I looked, to the left, to the right, clothes and underwear littered the room. How strange. A rainy gust of air set my teeth chattering. I had to move. Get up. Call for help.
On hands and knees, I hovered until the room stopped spinning then crawled across the carpet to the side of the bed. With no strength to pull myself onto the mattress and reach across for the house phone, I laid my head on the comforter and waited a while. After a time, my eyes opened, but the room kept on spinning.
On my knees, I inched over to the nightstand and fumbled for the phone, in my panic knocking the receiver off the cradle. Oh, God, had it rolled under the mattress? My fingers groped around in a circle. There. I grasped the phone and punched in 911.
Matt turned up first. He found me on the floor beside the bed. I remember blinking as the lights flared on. He knelt beside me, taking one of my hands in his, rubbing it, murmuring words I couldn’t seem to understand. Then, in no time at all, he leaped to his feet, shouting, “In here. She’s in here!”
A faint pink colored the sky when I woke in a strange room. A hospital room. A blanket covered the sheet on my narrow bed. Warm and safe, I was about to drop back to sleep when I spotted Matt slumped in an armchair. Legs wide apart, eyes closed, he looked dead to the world. What on earth was he doing here? I must have stirred, for his eyes snapped open.
He jumped up and hurried over to me. “You’re awake.”
I nodded and regretted it. “Where am I?”
“Yarborough County Hospital. How are you feeling?”
“The way I must look.”
“You look fine as always. A little pale maybe.”
“How long have you been here?”
He hesitated.
“All night?”
“Yeah. In case you got scared or needed something, or … hell, I just wanted to be near you.”
“I didn’t see it coming, Matt.” My voice was all trembly.
“No. Looks like you caught the creep by surprise.” His jaw tensed. “But don’t worry. We’ll find who did it.”
Careful to avoid the bump on my forehead, he leaned over to give me a hug, and his comforting didn’t stop there. Before I knew it, he had slipped off his shoes and slid under the blanket beside me. Taking me in his arms, he cuddled me against him. His solid strength felt so wonderful, my whole body curved into his, and I would have breathed a sigh of content but for one thing, “I thought you didn’t like one-night stands?”
“I don’t. It’s morning.”
“Oh. You packing?”
He laughed and pulled me closer. “Go to sleep, Honey.”
And I did.
He must have too, or else he lay still as a stone, for the next thing I knew, a nurse came bustling into the room. “My, my,” she said, “look at you two.”
“Just keeping the patient warm.” Matt eased out from under the covers.
“So you’ll know in future, sir, we keep blankets for that purpose.”
“Won’t happen again, ma’am.” Matt slid on his loafers. “Crisis is over.”
“Would you mind stepping out for a few minutes?” The nurse’s tone was as full of starch as her green scrubs.
He winked at me. “Not at all. I’ll be right outside.”
When she finished taking my blood pressure and other vitals, she checked the bump on my head. “You have a concussion, but you responded well to your overnight wakeups. So you should be released today. Normally we wouldn’t have kept you overnight, but according to your chart, the police officer who found you insisted. Said you lived alone and would be at risk. Offered to pay for your stay. Wasn’t that considerate of him?” She helped me to the bathroom. “You don’t find many cops like that. By the way, who’s your boyfriend? He’s real cute.”
“I guess you’ve never gotten a speeding ticket.” I closed the bathroom door on the question springing to her lips. “I’ll be fine alone.”
A pasty-looking image stared at me in the bathroom mirror. I rinsed my face, scrubbed my teeth with a toothbrush I found in a small basket of grooming supplies, and raked a hand through my hair, careful not to touch the throbbing spot above my left ear.
Finished, I let the nurse guide me back to bed, though I didn’t need to be helped.
She arranged the covers. “Want your boyfriend to come back in?”
I nodded. Uh-oh. I’d have to remember not to do that for a while.
Wide awake now, I could see how tired and weary-eyed Matt was. “You have a bad night?”
“Not one of my best, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“Thanks, Matt, for everything. I owe you.”
He grinned. “That’s a subject for another day. For now,” he pulled a chair over to the side of the bed, “if you’re up to it, I’d like to talk about what happened.”
“I’m up
to it, but I don’t have much to tell.”
“Whatever you can recall.”
After I went over the ugly little scene, he asked, “What was the rest of your day like yesterday? Tell me everything from early morning until the time of the assault.”
When my story ended, he said, “That’s it? Nothing more?”
“Only a question. Think whoever killed Tallulah and Violet wanted to kill me?”
He shrugged. “First of all, we haven’t established that the same person killed both women. Though it’s highly likely. Second, if the intent was to kill you, you wouldn’t be here now. The signs point to a scare tactic. You’ve been asking questions, probing wounds. Somebody doesn’t like that. I’m reading the assault as a warning to cool it. Also, we can’t discount the possibility of a random break-in.”
“You don’t believe that, though, do you?”
“No. My cop’s gut says otherwise. Your clothes scattered all over the room sent a message. ‘You mess up my life, I’ll mess up yours.’ If I had to guess, I’d say someone wants you to stop asking questions about Pea Pike.”
“Then there is a connection between those sneaky real estate deals and the murders.”
He shook his head. “That’s a conclusion you can’t jump to. So, take the warning seriously and let the police do their work.”
“But they’re not making any progress.”
“You don’t know that. A certain amount of secrecy is the name of the procedural beast. Also,” he paused, “I’ve been in touch with Mrs. Otis. We agreed that you should stay at her place for a while.”
I bolted upright. A bad move. It sent my head reeling. I eased back against the pillows, vexed with the way I felt, with life in general, and with Matt Rameros in particular. “Shouldn’t I have been asked first?”
“No, you shouldn’t. I didn’t want to risk your refusal.”
“You didn’t? Since when—”
He threw his hands in the air, palms out. “Whoa, girl. It’s temporary. Only until your landlord can install an alarm system in your apartment. Mrs. Otis is pretty excited.” The suspicion of a smile quirked up his lips. “She’s putting you in her pink bedroom, the one with all her granddaughter’s teddy bears.”
Murder on Pea Pike Page 14
