by Lois Winston
Then I remembered something else. A few days ago he’d asked me if I was pregnant. “Is that all you think about? Pregnant women?”
The corners of his lips flexed briefly in a mock smile. “I’m not as stupid as I look. During the funeral, I noticed her scratching her stomach the way my wife used to when she was carrying. That plus the green undertones in her face clued me in that something was amiss. Am I right?”
I hesitated. Bitsy expected me to keep her secret, but the situation warranted an explanation of her behavior. I hoped she’d forgive me for breaking her confidence. “She’s pregnant, but she doesn’t want it getting out. Her boys don’t know.”
Britt’s piercing gaze never wavered from my face. “Who is the father of the baby?”
I swallowed thickly. “Dudley.”
“Ah.”
I could almost see wheels spinning in his head. What connection had he made? “Ah?”
He steepled his fingers under his chin. “She’s already put in for the life insurance money.”
My eyes opened wide. “You know about that?”
“It’s my business to know these things.”
I rushed to follow his logic. Bitsy had profited from Dudley’s death. Was Bitsy the person the mayor expected to be arrested in the next few days? “Is Bitsy a suspect?”
“Yes.”
My loyalty to Bitsy took offense at his conclusion, even though I’d drawn a similar one myself. Did he know about Dudley’s recent betrayal of Bitsy? “Bitsy doesn’t even live here anymore. I’m sure she has an alibi.”
Britt leaned close and lowered his voice. “An eye witness placed Bitsy at the bank earlier this week. Just because Bitsy doesn’t live here, doesn’t mean she couldn’t have done it. I’ll be checking her story, same as I will my other suspect, but with the pregnancy and the insurance settlement she had plenty of motive to do the man in.”
It was up to me to remind Britt that he’d known Jonette and Bitsy for years and that they were good people. “Don’t railroad my friends. You’re completely off base in your investigation. Bitsy would never kill the father of her unborn child for an insurance settlement. Bitsy would have much rather had Dudley, believe me. And, Jonette has been threatening to kill Dudley on a daily basis since they met in elementary school. If Jonette was going to kill him, she wouldn’t have waited this long to do it.”
“Stay out of this. A man was murdered.”
“You let Jonette go because of what I found out about Dudley’s last night. I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
“Jonette’s not in the clear. Her prints are in his house and in his car.”
I’d been expecting this bad news. “I’m sure there’s a very good reason for that. Did you ask her?”
Britt started to reply but stopped when he saw we were no longer alone.
“Aunt Cleo?” Artie tugged on my sleeve. He had loosened his tie and taken off his jacket.
“Yes?”
“Mom wants to go back to your place. Can you get someone to drive us? I’m not old enough to drive.”
Poor Bitsy. My heart swelled with compassion. She was overwhelmed by events. Having to deal with the start and end of life all at the same time was too much to bear. To top that off, she’d just lost the man she loved.
My thoughts veered into crisis management mode. If I took Bitsy home, who would stay here to represent Dudley’s family? Only one name came to mind. Charlie. He was Dudley’s best friend. He’d have to do.
I placed my hand on Artie’s shoulder. He was trying so hard to be grown up, but I could feel him shaking under my hand. “I’ll take Bitsy home. Give me a minute to bring my car around.”
Artie nodded and went back to wait in the chapel with his Mom. Britt walked me back upstairs to the reception hall. “You don’t have to do this,” Britt said. “I can drive Mrs. Davis to your place.”
He’d probably grill her all the way there, and she’d end up more upset than when she left here. No way would I put Bitsy through that today. Good thing I had a ready-made excuse. I pointed to my fat, throbbing ankle. “I don’t mind. My ankle is bothering me with all this standing. I twisted it the other day and it’s not right yet.”
As luck would have it, Grant and Lexy stood with Charlie by the dessert table in the reception hall. It was a bittersweet triumph to see that I stood a good three inches taller than my ex. I explained the situation to him. “Bitsy is worn out and needs to rest. I’m taking her home. You’re going to have to stay and represent Dudley’s family, Charlie.”
Charlie nodded in tight-lipped silence.
I exhaled slowly. I’d been bracing for resistance, but he didn’t seem to mind being told what to do by a towering Amazon. What would have happened in our marriage if I had changed tactics with him years ago and done as I pleased?
I turned to Lexy. “Would you and Charla stay and help Mama with the cleanup? The church ladies are here, but I’d feel better if Mama had someone with her that wouldn’t let her get too riled up.”
Lexy nodded. Last week’s fight with Erica Hodges over how the coffeepot was supposed to be cleaned out was still fresh in our minds. Mama had very strong ideas about cleanliness in the kitchen. “No problem.”
“Grant, do you want to stay here with your Uncle Charlie or to come with me?”
“Mom’s all right?” Grant asked.
I managed a thin smile. Now that I had acknowledged my twisted ankle, it had begun to throb. “She’ll be fine with a little rest.” Please, God, don’t strike me down for that white lie. Bitsy wouldn’t be okay for about another six or so months, but it wasn’t my call to tell her children about her pregnancy.
“In that case, I’ll stay here,” Grant said. “Artie will keep Mom company.”
I started towards the exit. An electric charge jolted through me as someone touched my shoulder. Recognition flashed in the aftermath of that stimulus. Only one man had the power to turn my bones to mush with a mere touch. I turned toward him. “Yes?”
Concern ringed Rafe’s eyes. “All this walking around isn’t good for that ankle of yours.”
No kidding. My ankle was now twice the size it had been when I dressed this morning, and it throbbed incessantly. Rafe’s concern was admirable, but completely unnecessary. “I’ll be fine. I’m on my way home now.”
“Let me help you.” He slipped an arm around my waist and walked us towards the door.
I should have said no, but he moved too fast for me. Besides, his added support took weight off of my ankle. My arm slipped around his waist to further secure the connection and my hormones soared like Roman candles.
We moved as a three-legged creature, only I felt as if I were floating on air. I could definitely get used to this. Would my attraction to this man place me in danger? I hoped not.
After locating my car in the parking lot, I fumbled in my purse for the keys. Between the throbbing of my ankle and the dancing hormones flooding my bloodstream, it was difficult to think clearly.
“May I?” he asked.
He could. In fact, he could do just about anything and I wouldn’t protest too much. I handed him my keys and allowed him to drive the Gray Beast up to the side door of the rectory. I went to unbuckle my seat belt. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”
He caught my hand before it reached the buckle. “Stay put. I’ll get Mrs. Davis and drive you both home.”
I tried to pull my hand free, but he held fast. “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “We can manage.”
“I want to help. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
Didn’t men think women could do anything? What did they think we did all the time when they weren’t around? My protest was halfhearted and I knew it. Rafe was being helpful. And he must be interested in me because he kept seeking me out.
My spirits perked up a bit. It was flattering having a handsome man pursuing me. Darn flattering.
As long as he wasn’t the murderer, that is. It wouldn’t do me any good to slide further dow
n the food chain of Mr. Wrongs.
Rafe carried Bitsy out, and my hands clenched in fists. My hormones screamed foul. If this was a football game and I was the referee, I would have thrown a yellow flag on the ground and stomped on it.
Darn it.
I couldn’t have it both ways. Either I was attracted to the man or I thought he was a murderer. If I didn’t make up my mind, I would go crazy.
I wanted my life to have zing in it again. Even if I tabled the suspicion stuff, there was still the matter of his flirting with other women.
Was he even a good catch? He always seemed to have a woman in his arms. Didn’t the man have any self-control?
THIRTEEN
I limped to my front door and unlocked it. My plan was to stand there like the grand lady of the manor while Rafe did his Masters of the Universe impression and carried Bitsy to her room, but one look at the utter destruction in my living room and I felt like I’d been sucker punched.
Spots swam before my eyes. Not now. I didn’t need to feel lightheaded now. I held onto the hutch with both hands until my vision cleared. I willed air back in my lungs and glanced fearfully around my house.
Lamps were on the floor. Pillows were shredded. Grandmother’s wingback chair upended. Magazines strewn across the floor. Mama’s special cobalt-blue vase smashed, the bright yellow daffodils mangled.
My knees trembled from the exertion of standing here and not collapsing into a puddle on the floor. I felt violated. And scared. Was there a burglar in the house? I heard a crunching of paper and rustling of fine fabrics. Adrenaline surged and I tensed to flee.
First one drooling dog head appeared over the back of the sofa and then the other.
No burglars. Giant dogs.
The grinning pooches eased off the splattered sofa and padded over to greet me. As if I’d let them live after they’d trashed my house. I yelled at them, but no sound came past my lips.
If my kids had done something like this, I would not have any trouble screaming my head off. I’d make the kids clean up the mess and I’d yell some more. Maybe even stomp around a bit. All that irate body language would be lost on these sexually replete dogs.
I sank down on the wooden bench in the foyer. This bench was usually a last stop on the way out of the house, a place where I put things I didn’t want to forget to take with me. I’d never once used the bench as a way station to get into the house.
I just couldn’t go any farther. I reminded myself this dog situation was temporary. Bitsy would take the dogs and go home tomorrow. Then I’d have my life and my house back.
Rafe carried Bitsy in. I heard Artie’s sharp intake of breath. Catching his eye, I shook my head in warning. I didn’t want Bitsy to know. She had enough on her mind right now with the funeral and her pregnancy.
Luck wasn’t with me. Bitsy’s eyes were fully operational. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Put me down. Right this minute.”
I staggered to my feet and issued a terse command to Rafe. “Take her upstairs. I’ll clean this up.” If there was any mercy in this world, he would listen to me and get Bitsy upstairs.
“You’ll do no such thing, Cleopatra Jones. This mess will take you all night to clean up.” Bitsy squirmed out of Rafe’s arms like a cat stuck in a large pickle jar and landed on her feet. “This is all Dudley’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on the biggest dogs in the world, we wouldn’t be living with such giant berserkers.”
I hitched an arm around Bitsy’s shoulders. “You have enough to worry about right now. I’ll deal with this. Maybe you should think about some sort of dog-proof interior gates when you get them both home.”
“What?” Bitsy stared up at me, white-faced.
I prayed she didn’t throw up in here, although it wouldn’t make that much difference. What was one more pile of goo in the aftermath of a dog orgy?
I pushed that thought from my mind. “Gates. You know, like when the kids were little and we wanted them to stay out of the living room so we’d have at least one room in the house that wasn’t littered with toys.”
Bitsy ignored my comment about gates. “I’m not taking either dog home. I hoped to leave Mo here with you.”
My heart stopped. I heard a rushing of wind and saw a very bright light. The carnage of my living room swirled through my head. I couldn’t face this level of disaster on a routine basis. “I thought you knew I was dog-sitting Madonna until you took her home with you.”
“My mother hates dogs,” Bitsy said. “If I even take Mo back with me, she’s going to have a fit.”
Mothers are supposed to drive us crazy. That’s their permanent job description. It amazed me that Bitsy hadn’t grasped that elementary concept. “Move out.”
Bitsy cast another quick glance at Artie. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
With the baby on the way, she would need more space, a place where both dogs could run and be happy. And with her insurance windfall she could afford to live anywhere.
Surely if Bitsy had time to think things over, she’d keep the dogs. I’d just have to let Bitsy get accustomed to the idea. “You need your own space.”
Bitsy swayed against me. Tears pooled in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t handle the dogs, not with everything else.”
I felt like crying myself. Bitsy wasn’t the only one facing major life changes. Thanks to Charlie, I was stuck with Dudley’s dog.
There definitely wasn’t room in my bed for two of these huge dogs. Mozart would have to find another home. That was all there was to it. “We’ll think of something.”
When Bitsy had started crying, Rafe and Artie herded the dogs outside. Their return spurred me into action. I leaned over and picked up a broken lamp off the floor. Aunt Ida’s lamp. Wet spots that I earnestly hoped were doggie drool dotted my sofa.
Bits and pieces of something unidentifiable lay among the wreckage. I hoped it wasn’t something one of the girls had treasured. They’d bitch and moan for years.
It wasn’t until I found a larger piece that I recognized what it had been. “My slippers! They ate my slippers. That’s it. I’m taking both dogs to the pound right now.”
Bitsy slumped into Grandmother’s chair, relieved that a decision had been made. All I needed were my purse and my car keys and both dogs were history.
Rafe caught my arm as I tried to stomp out of the room on one foot. “What?” I shouted in his face.
His wonderfully sculpted lips quirked. “You do fireworks real nice, hon. But it’s Saturday afternoon. The pound is closed. Why not keep the dogs separated tonight and regroup in the morning?”
I wasn’t ready to be placated, especially not by someone that might be a murderer. And I darned sure couldn’t handle the sexual tension thing that happened every time this man touched me. I tried to put on a pleasant face but from the way Rafe leaped back, the Antichrist look was back. “Go away.”
He caught my head in his hand, tipping my chin up until I met his gaze. “Cleo, don’t be angry with me. I want to help.”
Banked embers smoldered behind his expression and a heat wave swept through my body again. How could someone show such concern for another person’s welfare and be a murderer? I was so confused. My brain wanted to trust this man. My hormones already did.
“Why don’t I take Mozart home with me for the night?” Rafe asked. “I’ll bring him back tomorrow when things are calmer.”
Getting Mozart out of the house would be a big help. Stepping away from Rafe, I glanced over at Bitsy for approval. She nodded her agreement. “Do you need to check with the boys?” I asked.
“Not for this. But I should talk to them soon. About a lot of things.”
No kidding. The issue of what to do with the dogs would be the perfect lead into the topic of the baby. “They should know, Bitsy. The sooner, the better.”
Rafe and Artie packed up Mozart’s dish and dog food for his sleepover. Rafe slipped his arms through the handles of the book bag holding all the dog gear. Mozart pranced at t
he end of his leash. “I’ll bring Mozart back tomorrow,” Rafe said. “That should give you ladies plenty of time to figure out what to do.”
Now that he was standing across the room from me, my brain finally started working again. He’d driven my car here from church. How would he get back there? “Do you want my keys?” I offered, thinking I wasn’t going anywhere until he brought the dog back.
“No thanks.” He shook his head in denial. “Mo and I are up for a long walk.”
Rafe was leaving. He had been a big help. Was I just going to stand here like a bump on a log? I should thank him. “Wait.” Operating on instinct, I limped across the room to kiss him on the cheek.
Only, he tricked me by turning his head and catching my kiss full on the lips. The piece of gummed up slipper sole I’d been holding dropped out of my hands. His lips touched me hesitantly at first, as if asking for permission.
A whisper soft sigh escaped my mouth. My brain tried to reason with my hormones without success. This elation I was feeling wasn’t supposed to be happening.
My body responded to him as if it had all the answers it needed. My hands fisted in his shirt and I instinctively nestled into his heat. If the house had been on fire, I’d have burned to a crisp because all I could think about was kissing Rafe. Hunger seared my every thought as I yielded to him.
His hand stroked the back of my neck and all I could think of was how much I wanted this. I’d been dreaming of this kiss for days. Maybe years.
I heard a soft cooing sound and was horrified to realize that it welled up out of my throat. Rafe pulled away. All my senses screamed, “Don’t stop,” but it was too late. I’d awakened us from the sensual spell.
His hand moved from my neck to my face and he caressed my cheek with his thumb, all the while smiling at me with those big brown lady-killer eyes of his. I struggled to pull air in my lungs.
I wanted to say something profound, but I was speechless. After a moment, I found my voice. “Dang.”
His wonderful smile reached all the way to his twinkling eyes. “I don’t often get that response. What does it mean?”
