by Emma Ames
The tap on the door was a welcome distraction. “Come in. Rayann, get Bubba a beer.” Tizzy pointed to the back porch. “Ridge is out there. But I better warn you. If you join him, you’ll be forced to drink your beer from a teacup.”
“That’s okay.” Bubba palmed the bottle and left.
“Can I do anything to help?” Rayann asked.
“We’re almost ready to eat. You can get glasses for the tea.” Tizzy kept her eyes on Ridge.
Rayann sidled up to her. “Look at him. Man, if he isn’t good daddy material, I don’t know who is.”
Tizzy snapped from her trance. “Hush up.”
“No, I won’t. You like him. I don’t know why you won’t admit it.”
“I won’t deny there’s an attraction between us, but like me, he knows we can’t let it go anywhere.”
Gracie rushed in and went straight to the refrigerator. “I need more juice.”
“No, baby, you’ve had enough. We’re fixing to eat.”
Tizzy lowered her voice and leaned closer to her friend. “I’ll admit, I’d love to get between Trooper Cooper’s sheets—just once.”
Gracie twirled and sang, “Trooper Cooper, Trooper Cooper.”
Tizzy and Rayann laughed. “Gracie, tell Bubba and Trooper Cooper supper is ready.”
“Okay.” She scooted back outside, climbed into Ridge’s lap, squeezed his cheeks together, and kissed him.
Tizzy brought her hand to her chest. “You know he’s the first man she’s been around other than family, and she’s already crazy about him. What am I going to do?”
Rayann slid her arm across Tizzy’s shoulders. “He’s everything you want in a man, isn’t he? Strong. Sensitive. Likes Gracie. And on top of all that, he’s hot! Don’t you lie awake at night and think about him? That lawman swagger, the way he smells, the size of his—gun.” She bent over with laughter.
“Girl, you’re crazy.”
“No. I’m right. If anyone deserves some mattress dancing— it’s you.”
“No! I’ve never had a casual encounter, and I won’t start now. As soon as the case is over, he’ll be gone. Until then, we’ll be friends. Just friends. Nothing more.”
“I don’t buy it. I think you already have feelings for him.”
Before Tizzy argued the point, the back door opened. Gracie and the men came in and took their places at the table.
“You know what, Trooper Cooper?” Gracie asked.
“What?”
“Momma loves your sheets.”
Tizzy almost dropped the platter of chicken.
Rayann burst into laughter.
Ridge studied them both, then focused on Tizzy. “Does she now? “
“That’s enough, Gracie. Let me cut up your chicken for you.”
Rayann smiled at Bubba. “Tell Tizzy who you ran into today.”
He looked at her. “You’ll never guess.”
“Who?”
“Your old friend, Carla Ferguson.”
“She’s no friend of mine.” Tizzy passed the okra.
Ridge spooned some onto his plate. “Why is that?”
“No particular reason.”
Rayann fake coughed. “Oh, she has reasons, the main one being Boone. Carla was always after him. She’s a slut.”
“What’s a slut?” Gracie asked.
“A woman with a lot of boyfriends.” Tizzy spooned mashed potatoes onto Gracie’s plate.
“So this goes back to high school?” Ridge stabbed a crispy thigh for himself.
“Yeah.”
“She hasn’t changed much. She told me she'd be here all summer. Moved in with her parents a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you haven’t run into her. Pass the gravy, baby,” Bubba said to Rayann.
Tizzy forked a bite as if torturing it. “Just lucky, I guess. I hope our paths don’t cross.”
Ridge’s ears perked. “Let me get this straight. This Carla person returns right before the murder, and she was always after Boone? How did she feel about Marlene?
Chapter Twelve
Despite Ridge’s disappointment that last night’s dinner wasn’t a date, Tizzy wouldn’t have invited him unless she wanted to spend time together. That encouraged him, but her involvement in the case caused a problem. He needed to control his emotions, even if she was the first woman in a long while who affected him this way. He pushed her from his mind and concentrated on his next interview.
Appointments were important to hairdressers, so he’d made one with Norma Harkey.
A small bell tinkled when he entered the shop. Decorated with a French theme, Clippity-Do-Da looked more like a bordello than a salon. Black and white checkerboard tiles covered the floor, and pink blinds hung on the windows. A chandelier suspended above the counter, and a wallpaper border with the words ‘ooh-la-la’ circled the room at the ceiling.
A woman in a black smock glanced up. “Come in, Mr. Cooper.”
She was attractive, petite with delicate features. Her brown eyes twinkled, and her mouth curved up at the corners.
“Hello, Mrs. Harkey. For a second there, I didn’t recognize you.”
She bounced her hair with her palm. “Ah, the prerogative of a stylist. Today, Red Pulse, next week, Fun-to-go-Blonde. I think when we met at Marlene’s service, I was Warm Umber. I’ve changed my color so much, I don’t remember what my natural shade is anymore.” She chuckled. “Please take a seat. Now, what would you like to know about Marlene?” Her eyes misted as she pulled a tissue from her pocket.
“How long had you been friends?”
“All the way back to high school. She and I were cheerleaders, choir members, and attended the same church. I’ll miss her so much. I already do.”
“I guess she confided in you. Did she ever mention having problems with anybody?”
“Like someone threatening her?”
“Yeah, or with her husband or kids?”
“No. She never complained about anyone other than Tizzy. I heard through the grapevine Marlene’s jewelry and money were missing. If it was a robbery, it could have been anybody. Even someone passing through, right?”
Ridge ignored the question. “Describe her relationship with her husband.”
She looked away as if considering her answer, then focused on him again. “Normal, I guess.”
“Describe normal.”
“Carl wasn’t Marlene’s first choice.” Norma shook her head. “I’m not saying she didn’t love him. She grew to care for him, but she married him because Mommy and Daddy approved.”
Ridge leaned back in his chair. “Who was her first choice?”
“That’s what’s so funny. Her parents objected because they didn’t think he’d ever amount to much, but he turned out to be successful. His name is Kyle Richmond, and he lives in the Dallas area. In high school, he puttered with cars and trucks. A kind of shade-tree mechanic. After graduation, he went to work for a trucking company and ended up owning it.”
“What about Carl? Was Marlene his first choice?”
Norma stared into space. “Oh, I think so. His family is well respected. They don’t have money like Marlene’s, but Carl is a hard worker. He’s dedicated himself to make the bank more prosperous.”
Ridge jotted in his notebook. “What about affairs? Marlene ever confide in you she might suspect Carl of cheating?”
“Carl? Heavens no.” Norma scrunched up her face. “He’s not the type.”
“What type would that be?”
She laced her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap. “The kind who’d go to the trouble to plan and carry out a clandestine affair. He’s more apt to spend his free time building birdhouses.”
“And her? Would she have told you if she’d been seeing someone?”
Norma’s eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. “If she ever had an affair, or even thought of it, I didn’t know.”
“You remember the last time you saw her?”
“Yes, she had a standing appointment with me every Wednesday at f
our o’clock.”
Ridge leaned forward. “According to her cell phone records, the night of her death, she called you before her husband. What was that about?”
Norma averted her eyes. “She invited me to the movies over the weekend.”
Ridge scribbled the entry in his notebook. “You said Tizzy Donovan was the only one Marlene ever complained about. What kind of issues?”
“Work stuff. Tizzy stood up to Marlene and got a lot of pleasure in doing so. If Marlene said something was black, Tizzy said it was white, and enjoyed the misery she caused her.”
Ridge closed his notebook and clicked his pen. Norma was the first person to speak kindly of Marlene, but then again, they were best friends. “That’s all the questions for today.” He handed her his card. “Take this in case you think of anything else.”
He drove back to the station and found everyone gone except for Rita. She looked up with a mouthful of cream-filled sponge cake and wiped her lips. “Hello, Cooper. I’m afraid all the menfolk are out and about.”
“That’s okay. Do you have school yearbooks in the office?”
“We do.” She stood and motioned for him to follow her down the hall to the room marked records. “On the top shelf, there’s one for every year starting with the thirties. I guess you want the year Marlene graduated?”
“Yeah, it would be nineteen eighty-five.”
“I’ll leave you alone. They’re in order, so help yourself.”
He thumbed through the pages until he reached the graduating class and squinted at the pictures of Marlene, Norma, Carl, and Kyle Richmond. He tried to imagine how Kyle would look now, and if he’d been at Marlene’s service. If memory served him, he believed Richmond was one of the first to leave, which meant he would have been sitting at the back, as far from the family as possible. Interesting he didn’t choose to offer condolences to his former classmate.
He flipped to the athletic pages. Cheerleaders Marlene and Norma—football players Carl at guard and Kyle, quarterback. Handsome, tall and lean, with dark hair. Even though the picture was black and white, the blue eyes were obvious. Good looking and the team’s star. Every high school girl’s heartthrob. He closed the book, but did some quick math, then found the kindergarten section. Tizzy McAlister.
He carried the book to the front desk. “Hey Rita, can you make a copy of this page?” He handed it to her.
She laughed. “You want a copy of Tizzy’s kindergarten picture?”
He fumbled to get the book. “I…I…no, I need this page. Also, run all four of their driver’s licenses.”
“Sure.” She typed the names on her keyboard, and within a minute, all four appeared on her computer screen. While she printed them, she waddled to the copier and ran the yearbook pictures. “Would you put the book back for me? And Tizzy graduated in nineteen ninety-eight in case you want to see her senior picture.”
“Funny, Rita. Very funny.”
The door swung open and Bubba, out of breath, rushed in. “Hey, Cooper, Rita, what’s going on?”
“I just finished questioning Norma Harkey.”
Rita sat and rocked in her chair. “What are you up to, Bubba?”
“Not much. Old man Jones' cattle, got out on the highway, and I helped him get them back in. That’s the most excitement I’ve had so far.” He faced Ridge. “Isn’t this your day to go to Dallas?”
“I’ve postponed until Monday. Thanks to the hairdresser, I have a new person of interest to question.”
Chapter Thirteen
From the moment Ridge came in, Lauralee Rainey fixed her eyes on him, and Tizzy had her eyes on both of them.
Ridge wore Levi’s starched so stiff they could stand on their own, cowboy boots, a pink polo shirt, and no hat. He slid onto a stool at the bar and Lauralee plopped onto the one next to him. Tizzy admitted if the woman went a little lighter on the makeup and relaxed the big hair a tad, she’d be pretty. Low-rider jeans and a skimpy tank top did little to conceal her curves. Fingernails painted bright pink and detailed with a geometric design bounced the straw in her drink, and her lips looked as if she could suck a peach through it. A small butterfly tattoo peeked from her bulging right breast.
“Hi. I’m Lauralee.”
He extended his hand. “Ridge Cooper.”
Tizzy leaned across the counter. Wedged her body between them. “Evening, Trooper Cooper. What can I get you?”
“Hey, Tizzy. Let me have a Miller Lite.”
She unscrewed the lid and passed it to him. “Here you go.” She turned to Lauralee. “Can I get you another drink?”
“No, I’m good.” She answered without taking her gaze off Ridge. Drool pooled at the corners of her mouth.
Tizzy walked away, and her dad approached. “Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Saint McAlister.”
“Ridge Cooper. Good to meet you, sir.”
Tizzy came back. “Daddy, would you tell Troy or Freddy to get a case of Bud from the cooler?”
“Sure, baby. Later, Cooper.”
Within a few minutes, Freddy brought the beer and set it on the counter. She thanked him, then faced Ridge. “This is Freddy Holt.”
Ridge stood and shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Tizzy, you need anything else?” Freddy asked.
“Nope, that’s it for now. Thanks.”
He focused on Ridge. “How’s the investigation going?”
“It’s coming along.”
“I’d sure like to talk to you about becoming a ranger.”
“Sure. You think you want to go into law enforcement?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You can catch me down at the police station. Just call before you come.”
“Thanks. Will do.” Freddy strolled away.
Saint draped his arm around Tizzy’s shoulders. “Since you’re living right next door to my daughter, you’ll have to get her to cook for you. She’s pretty good in the kitchen.”
“Had dinner at her place the other night. You’re right. She’s a fantastic cook.”
Saint smiled down at Tizzy, then eyed Ridge. “Hmm—did you now?”
An hour later, Ridge looked miserable. As soon as Lauralee went to the jukebox, he motioned for Tizzy. “Help me out.”
She smirked and leaned in close. “Be sure to use protection.”
“Dammit Tizzy. That’s not the kind of help I need. Help me get rid of her.”
Tizzy lifted her brows. “Oh, so—you aren’t interested?”
“Stop playing with me. You know I’m not.”
She broke into a laugh. “No. I don’t. What do you expect me to do?”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know. Just do something.”
“Make a trip to the little boy’s room, and I’ll take care of it. But you’ll owe me. Big time.”
“It’ll be worth it.”
She watched him walk away. That swagger of his caused some of her parts to tingle. Even though he didn’t smile much, when he did, he was even more handsome. She liked him from the moment she’d met him, and under different circumstances, they might be more than friends. But she couldn’t let it go beyond that. Best decision for everyone.
Lauralee finished her conversation with Tizzy, then twisted to face Ridge as he reclaimed his stool. “Nice to meet you. See you later.” She swept off.
Ridge raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you. What did you do?”
Her lips thinned with a smile. “Nothing much. I told her she was wasting her time because you’re gay. She bought it, probably because of your pinkalicious shirt.”
Ridge took a long pull on his beer and flashed a slow, easy smile. “FYI, only real men wear pinkalicious shirts. It puts us in touch with our feminine side. Besides, those nails of hers could cause serious bodily injury.” He kept his smile and widened his eyes. “I like my women soft and cuddly.”
A warm sensation started in Tizzy’s belly and spread heat through her body. Her brain scrambled fo
r something to say. “Oh, Bubba proposed to Rayann last night.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. She called me at two o’clock this morning to announce the news. I’m happy for them.”
Ridge rolled the beer bottle between his hands. “That’s funny, for a while, I thought Bubba was in love with you.”
“With me? No way. I’ve known him all my life, and I’ll bet he can’t even tell you the color of my eyes.” She closed them and leaned forward. “How about you, Cooper? Do you know what color they are?”
Without a beat of hesitation, he moved close enough for his breath to drift across her cheek. “They’re like puddles of dark chocolate except when you get excited. Then they fade to warm honey brown.”
She fluttered her lashes. He was close enough to kiss. All she had to do was lean in —and she wanted to. Bad. So bad. But she pulled herself together. “That was a good answer.”
He closed his eyes. “Now, tell me the color of mine.”
She studied his face. Great complexion. She loved the thread-thin lines at the corner of his eyes. The beard stubble. The curve of his lips. “The simple answer would be blue.”
“What’s the not so simple answer?”
“They’re really the color of the ocean. But in the sunlight, I see tiny flecks of green, like newborn blades of grass when they first break the soil.” Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. Only inches away from him, she watched the vein below his ear throb. She kept her arms on the bar for fear of fainting. Why did I flirt with him and say that stupid stuff? “Forget the crap about the ocean and the grass. They’re blue. Just blue.”
He opened his eyes, sat back on his stool, laughed, and swallowed another drink of beer. “What are you Tizzy, the town temp? You work at the bank, bakery, bar, and now I find out you volunteer at the clinic. How many jobs do you have?”
She counted on her fingers as she repeated, “bank, bakery, bar, clinic. That’s all of them. What can I say? I’m a Jill of all trades.”
