Down Home and Deadly

by Christine Lynxwiler

  “Does this mean you’re going to be too busy for all those questions?” Seth asked.

  Ricky cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “We need to go, man.”

  “Aw, don’t be shy around Jenna. In between her amateur investigating, she’s been real curious about you, too.”

  My face grew hot. Seth and his jealousy. He thought I’d been asking about Ricky because I was interested in him romantically. Amelia was going to kill me. So much for being subtle.

  “I—”

  Ricky flashed me an easy smile and slapped Seth on his shoulder. “Your jealousy is showing, man. But I’m pretty sure she’s taken, and so am I. So let’s get going.”

  Seth followed him out, and I turned to Gail with a grimace. “What is it about men? Once you’re attached, they suddenly find you irresistible.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she muttered.

  I frowned.

  Her face reddened. “Sorry.”

  “Marco?”

  She nodded. “Not that he knows I’m alive. As anything other than a good friend.”

  “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” But he would pretty soon if I had anything to say about it.

  She gave me a wry grin. “Who needs men? I think I’m going to go get some New York Super Fudge Chunk and drown my miseries in ice cream.”

  “Good idea. I’m going to go see if the office looks any different now that it’s really mine.”

  In the office, I glared up at the wall. Lisa had once again replaced my beach scenes with modern art pictures. I sighed. At least I knew where to find them this time. She’d done the same thing when I was away in Branson, and I’d had to search the whole place before I finally found them in the janitor’s closet next to the pool.

  As I jogged down the well-lit, but deserted, hallway, I slipped my cell phone from my pocket and into my hand. The emptiness of the huge building creeped me out. It was the same way when I was at the newspaper office late at night. So many tiny unexplained noises punctuated the quietness.

  When I opened the door to the pool area, shadows from the underwater lights rippled across the surface of the Olympic-size swimming pool. The familiar sound of the pumping system soothed my nerves. Maybe some people would consider that creepy, but my mood lightened, and I slowed to a walk, smiling at the blue octagon of water. This was one place that I didn’t need other people around—this was my safe place. Suddenly, the realization that I actually owned the pool surged through me. I fought the urge to run to the locker room, get into my swimsuit, and dive into the deep end. There’d be time for that after I retrieved my pictures.

  I unlocked the janitor’s closet and pulled the string to turn on the lone lightbulb. Without wasting any time, I squatted down to look behind the shelves. Sure enough, there were my pictures. Same as before. But never again. Unless I decided to retire them and redecorate. And even then, I wouldn’t put them in the chlorine-saturated air of the pool closet, something Lisa had no doubt done on purpose.

  Still squatting, I put my cell phone on the floor behind me and gently slid the wooden frames from their hiding place. A manila envelope tumbled out with them. I propped the pictures against the wall and sank down cross-legged in the open doorway. With Lisa’s penchant for hiding things here, there was no telling what the envelope contained. And with my penchant for being curious, there was no chance I wouldn’t open it.

  When I turned the envelope up, two newspaper clippings fluttered into my lap. I caught the first one and held it up to the light. It was from a Memphis newspaper, The Commercial Appeal.

  Foul Play Suspected in Death of Cop’s Wife, blared the headline. I scanned the article. Judy Richardson had been found dead at the bottom of a stairwell in the apartment building where she and her husband, detective Eric Richardson, resided. Bruises on her shoulders and back indicated that she had possibly been pushed. Although not officially a suspect, Mr. Richardson was listed as a person of interest. Investigation was ongoing.

  I squinted at the photo of the young cop. He looked so familiar. My eyes went to the date of the article. Five years ago. I glanced at the photo again. Suddenly, my heart jumped. Even though I’d never heard that name, I knew Eric Richardson.

  I didn’t know why these clippings were here, but I did know one thing. I’d promised Amelia I’d let her know if I found out anything about her future son-in-law. And that lopsided grin definitely belonged to Ricky Richards.

  I reached behind me for my phone; then my hand froze as the second headline caught my eye: Local Detective Exonerated in Wife’s Murder. Police detective Eric Richardson had an airtight alibi for the time of his wife’s murder. He and a local businessman were fishing at Tunica Lake during the time of the murder. “I will cooperate with the police in every way to find the murderer of my beloved wife, Judy.”

  I pulled my hand back. What purpose would be served by calling Amelia? He’d been through so much. No wonder he’d changed his name. And if the presence of these clippings were any indication, exonerated or not, his past had followed him to Lake View. Had someone been blackmailing him? Even though he’d been cleared, Amelia probably wouldn’t take it very well that he’d been suspected of killing his wife.

  I skimmed down the rest of the article. Police had been about to arrest Richardson when local businessman, J.D. Finley, came forward with his alibi. I sucked in my breath. Someone had been blackmailing him all right.

  But he’d apparently gotten tired of it.

  I reached for my phone again. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  A searing pain shot through my hand. I jerked around and tried to get to my feet but stumbled onto my knees. A tall shadow loomed over me, a big black boot firmly planted on my hand.

  “Too smart for your own good if you ask me,” Ricky snarled. I stared up into the barrel of a gun, complete with silencer. “Asking questions about me was a big mistake.”

  “My hand,” I breathed. He ground his boot like he was stomping a bug. I bit my lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out, but I couldn’t hold back a whimper. Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks.

  “Stand up nice and slow,” he ordered, all trace of ‘good ol’ boy’ gone from his voice.

  I cradled my hand against my stomach and pushed to my feet.

  “If you’d have kept your nose out of things, this would have all been over.”

  “Is that what your wife did?” I asked, blinking the tears away. “Asked too many questions?”

  He jerked my arm, and I winced. “Judy’s death was an accident! I lost my temper and pushed her. I didn’t mean for her to die.”

  “Was J.D.’s death an accident, too?” I croaked out.

  He laughed, and my blood ran cold. “I planned J.D.’s killing down to the last detail.”

  “So he was blackmailing you?”

  “J.D. did a job and got paid. But he made the mistake of thinking he held all the cards when he found me again. At first I went along with him. I paid him what I had left of Judy’s insurance money, but he got greedy.”

  He shoved the gun barrel into my ribs. “Too bad Bob’s no-good daughter is in jail. I could set her up for killing you, too. Guess you’ll have to have an unfortunate accident instead. I’m sure she hid some of your stuff up in the attic, and that staircase is so narrow. . .” He nudged me forward.

  I dragged my feet, my brain racing. If I struggled, he’d shoot me, but as we neared the pool, a memory flashed into my mind. Seth had said Ricky told him, “If God intended us to swim, he’d have given us fins.”

  We walked by the ten-foot marker, and I stumbled. He instinctively reached toward me. I slammed my body hard into his, grateful to see the gun go spiraling through the air just before we hit the water. A second later, my bright idea didn’t seem so bright. He couldn’t swim, but he had a death grip on me. Literally.

  In every lifesaving class I’d ever taken, we’d learned how to keep someone from drowning you while you were trying to save them. But we’d
learned nothing about how to let them drown and save yourself. Not that I wanted him to drown. I just needed him unconscious. Right now, our futures were joined and looking pretty dismal. He pulled my head under again.

  Suddenly, I felt and heard another splash. As my lungs burned for air, I groaned inside. Had he brought an ally with him? A lookout who’d come to rescue him and finish me off? I struggled to the surface and saw that the third person in the water was Seth, who did indeed seem to be trying to rescue Ricky. Panicked, Ricky continued to claw and fight. Seth drew back his fist and clipped Ricky on the jaw.

  Ricky’s grip on me immediately relaxed, and I scrambled away from the men and over to the ladder. I climbed out of the water and was debating running when I spotted the gun at my feet. Just as Seth came out of the water dragging Ricky, I snatched it up and pointed it toward the two men.

  Seth’s eyes grew wide. “Jenna Stafford, have you lost your mind? I had no choice but to knock him out. He was drowning me. And you, too, for that matter.”

  My slippery grip wavered, but I forced myself to hold steady. “Put him down.”

  He obeyed me and backed up a step with his hands up. “What did I do?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Uh. I saw Ricky’s car in the parking lot and yours. And I. . .I. . .Doggone it, Jenna. I wanted to see if my partner had gone after the girl he knew I—” He dropped his hands. “I wasn’t breaking in or anything. And what about you? Why did you two decide to go for a swim with your clothes on?”

  Ricky groaned, and I trained the gun on him. I could see the truth all over Seth’s face. All Seth was guilty of was jealousy. Ricky was definitely in it alone. “It’s a long story.” I motioned with the gun toward the newspaper clippings still lying on the floor in the closet doorway.

  With a wary look at me, Seth walked over and picked them up. I kept one eye on the still unconscious Ricky as I watched Seth read the articles. A gamut of emotions flitted across his face. When he finished, his cheeks were red with anger. “He’s the killer?”

  I nodded. He picked up his cell phone from the side of the pool and called for backup. Within minutes, sirens wailed through the quiet night.

  *****

  “Jenna!” Carly waved a paper at me as she and Elliott walked up to the basketball court. “I meant to tell you, this came to the diner yesterday.” She handed me a postcard.

  I looked down at the picture, a cartoon of a red mustang and a leggy blond.

  “I don’t believe it.” I grinned. “Listen to this. ‘Hey, chickie, I finally planted my roots practically in my granny’s backyard. And the next-door neighbor is a really nice fellow. A preacher, no less. Did I mention he’s single? Wink, wink. Thanks for hanging with me when I was in need of a pal. Jolene.’ ”

  “A preacher?” Carly shook her head. “That man won’t know what hit him.”

  Zac dribbled his basketball up to us. “Y’all ready to choose teams? I got Elliott.”

  Elliott held out his hands, and Zac threw him the ball. He passed it to Alex who made a jump shot.

  When they were gone, Carly turned back to me. “Alice called yesterday. She and Harvey are settling down in Florida. She told me they’d found a little diner for sale, so she keeps having to remind Harvey what the word retired means.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like they’re happy. Bob came to the club yesterday. First time he’s been there since we signed the papers three weeks ago. He didn’t come right out and say it, but he hinted that Lisa’s in a twelve-step program for her gambling problem. He said something like, ‘It’ll take a lot of work, but Lisa’s got a good man behind her,’ so I assume she and Larry are working things out. Oh, I almost forgot. He also said that Lisa had asked J.D. to take my pictures to the pool closet. Apparently he decided to stash his blackmail stuff there, as well.”

  “Well, look who’s here.” Alex walked over from the court to stand beside me as Seth sauntered toward us. He relaxed slightly as Tiffany emerged from the other side of the truck and jogged in Seth’s wake. “Hey, y’all, ready to play?”

  Tiffany appeared to have lost weight since Ricky’s arrest, but she wore a smile along with her fitted jeans and cute T-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a casual ponytail, but she looked good. And happy.

  Seth stepped back to let her go first, and I suddenly remembered him being so defensive with me when he thought I was trying to steal Tiffany’s man. What had he said? That she was a ‘real sweet girl’? Tiffany might get her happy ending after all.

  “Hey, Seth. John too scared of gettin’ whupped to show up?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, didn’t you hear? Denise went into labor right after Sunday school.”

  Carly glanced at me. “Do you think we should go over to the hospital and check on her?”

  Seth shrugged. “You can if you want to, but she had the baby about an hour ago, and everything’s fine.”

  “Wow. That was fast,” I said.

  “Yeah. It’s a girl.” Tiffany winked at me. “John said that since she was so curious and impatient, he and Denise were thinking of changing their mind about what to name her.”

  Alex grinned and put his arm around my shoulders. “Let me guess. . .”

  Seth nodded. “Yep, but then they decided Lake View only had room for one Jenna.”

  We all laughed, and Seth and Tiffany walked on over to the basketball court.

  Alex pulled me close and brushed a stray curl back from my face. “I sure am glad Lake View has you. I can’t imagine our lives if we hadn’t found each other again.”

  I stared into his blue eyes, and in that moment my whole life seemed to click into place, as if I were seeing the big picture for the very first time. Alex’s mother’s words echoed in my head. All the disappointments and trials in my life—not winning the Olympics, losing a student, and even not buying the health club right away—had just been part of my path. But God had taken that path and used it to bring me to where I stood today. In Alex’s arms.

  I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

  Sisters Christine Pearle Lynxwiler, Jan Pearle Reynolds, and Sandy Pearle Gaskin are usually on the same page. And it’s most often a page from their favorite mystery. So when the idea for a Christian cozy mystery series came up during Sunday dinner at Mama’s, they determined to take their dream further than just table talk. Thus the Sleuthing Sisters mystery series was born.

  Christine writes full-time. She and her husband, Kevin, live with their two children in the beautiful Ozark Mountains and enjoy kayaking on the nearby Spring River. Jan, part-time writer and full-time office manager, and her husband, Steve, love to spend time with their two adult children and their granddogs on the lake or just relaxing at home. Sandy, part-time writer and retired teacher, works with her husband, Bart, managing their manufacturing business. With their daughter off to college, she hopes to devote more time to writing. The three sisters love to hear from readers by e-mail at SleuthingSisters@yahoo.com.

  You may correspond with these authors by writing:

  Christine Lynxwiler, Sandy Gaskin, Jan Reynolds

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