Eye of the Tiger Lily

by Ann Yost

  Her eyes widened. “So Daisy might not be your biological daughter?”

  He shrugged. It was the first time he’d talked about this with anybody. He found it surprisingly easy with Sharon.

  “It turns out Daisy is my daughter. We had her DNA tested to provide more information for her down the road, not because it mattered to me whether or not we shared the same blood. In any case, she is likely to be the only child I will have and that’s never bothered me.”

  “It may bother you when you meet the right woman.”

  The words shocked him not least of all because he recognized the truth in them. He had entertained fantasies of another child—with Tiger Lily.

  ”I’m sorry,” Sharon said, her eyes stricken. “I didn’t mean to imply that your wife wasn’t the right woman. I meant a second time.”

  Cam knew he couldn’t tell her about Elise. He couldn’t tell anyone. He had a duty to protect the memory of Daisy’s mother.

  “No harm done. I’d better be going. Thanks again for these.” He lifted the book and stuffed animal and headed for the door. His ringing cell phone stopped him and he answered it automatically.

  “Yes?”

  “Cam?”

  It was only one syllable but it was enough to spike his temperature. The room that had, seconds before seemed chilly, blazed and Cam felt butterflies explode in his lower body. She spoke again but a haze of desire blocked his comprehension and he thought he’d misunderstood her.

  “What?”

  “I said, where’s Daisy?”

  “At home. With Asia. Why?”

  “Not with you?”

  “No. I’m at the Garden of Eden.”

  There was a brief pause. If it had been anyone else he’d have attributed it to taking a breath. Since it was Molly, he knew it was pain. He hardened his heart and resisted the impulse to explain.

  Chapter Ten

  He was at the Garden of Eden. With Sharon. Molly’s imagination immediately conjured up a cozy scene that involved a couple of brandy snifters, a blazing fire and a sofa.

  Or maybe a bed.

  She stood very still and stared at the living room wall she’d painted the color of Cam Outlaw’s eyes. She’d give herself a second.

  “Molly?”

  She struggled for words. “I’m here.”

  He paused and Molly felt the dense fog of despair gathering around her heart. He hadn’t ended his relationship with Sharon. Maybe he’d never intended to break it off. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her business.

  “You okay?”

  The question sounded reluctant. Like he was forcing himself to check up on a rodent he’d hit with his car. She had to suck it up. She couldn’t bear to let him see how much he could hurt her.

  “I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Shoot.”

  She considered her options. She’d prefer not to talk about this on the phone but, on the other hand, she didn’t really want him in her house and, anyway, he wasn’t offering to come to the rez. She glanced at her watch and realized it really was late. And he was at the inn. She closed her eyes, briefly. She reminded herself this wasn’t about her or Cam or even Sharon.

  It was about Daisy.

  “I’ve received a couple of threats that I’m pretty sure are related to the murder.”

  She told him about the M.Y.O.B. note on her bed but before she could continue, he exploded.

  “What the hell?”

  His voice zinged through the phone line like a rifle shot. Molly had to hold the little receiver away from her ear.

  “Hang on, Cam. I haven’t even told you the important part yet. Today, just now, I found a shoebox on my front step.”

  “Wait a minute. Get back to the note.”

  She could feel him sliding into his knight-in-shining armor mode just as he had at the resort and casino. Her heart twisted. She loved that about him but this time it would only get in the way.

  “Listen to me,” she infused her voice with a sense of urgency. “The threat isn’t to me.”

  ”I’m waiting.”

  “There was a dead raven in the shoebox,” she told him. “The bird was lying on top of a mangled flower.”

  “The raven’s a Native American symbol of death.”

  She was surprised that he knew. In the old days Penobscot customs were of less interest to him than the standing of the Eden Consolidated High’s chess club.

  “The flower, Cam. The flower was a daisy. That’s the threat.”

  “Daisy?” there was a world of danger in the way he said the word. Molly felt a twinge of jealousy. Cam Outlaw would kill anyone who touched a hair on his daughter’s head. She tried to imagine being loved like that.

  ”Hang on,” he said, in a calmer voice. “You’ve got to be mistaken about the meaning of the flower. I’m not even involved with the murder investigation. Not really.”

  “But I’m involved. Don’t you see? Someone has taken the trouble to look into the past. Our past.”

  “Shit.”

  Finally he was starting to get it.

  “I think it may be Sandra Tall Tree. She was the woman with Dwight Winston that night in Eddie DiMarco’s office. I think she’s involved in the murder unless Winston has put her up to this.”

  ”You recognized her voice that night.”

  She heard the mounting anger.

  “But you didn’t tell me. More importantly, you didn’t tell Jake. You were trying to protect the tribe, weren’t you?”

  His voice was hard and accusatory and she didn’t bother to answer. She didn’t need to.

  “Never mind all that. You just need to make sure Daisy’s okay.”

  “Listen, Molly. Nobody knows better than I how much you’re willing to sacrifice for the tribe. Who you’re willing to sacrifice. But if anything happens to my daughter I will make sure you spend the rest of your life paying for it.”

  “I want her to be safe, too, Cam. Please let me know that she’s all right.”

  “Kind of you to be concerned with my child especially since she doesn’t live on the rez. Just figure no news is good news.”

  The words felt like a sucker punch and Molly had to remind herself, again, that nothing had changed between them. They had never had a future together, not since the November thirteen years ago when she’d quietly married Daniel.

  She paced the wooden floor of her small kitchen and prayed that Cam’s daughter was safe. Twenty minutes later her phone rang and she snatched it up.

  “Daisy’s fine. She’s here at home in bed.”

  Relief surged through her weary body. “Thank you.”

  The news steadied her. Daisy was safe for now and it was up to Molly to make sure she stayed safe by getting this business resolved. She stepped into her bedroom and changed into black jeans, a turtleneck sweater and a gray slicker that Daniel had left in her closet. She scooped up a heavy-duty flashlight and headed for the Jeep.

  The pitch black of the evening had lightened slightly to charcoal due to a low cloud cover and a persistent drizzle. The drops were cold and, in spite of her clothing, Molly shivered as she drove to the sagama’s house. If Sandra had left her the note and/or the shoebox, it meant she was back on the rez, and if she was back on the rez she had to be holed up at Davey’s.

  She wondered if Winston had sent Sandra back specifically to check up on the investigation. She wondered how much Davey knew or suspected.

  Molly’s heart ached for the chief. He’d hate to lie to everyone about his wife’s presence but he’d do it for her. Davey was besotted for the first time in his life.

  She drove past the lone house on the dirt road. At first it appeared as a ghostly outline just slightly darker than the night sky. Molly drove a hundred yards then turned the Jeep and cruised past the house again. This time she drove more slowly and was able to glimpse a faint light burning behind the curtains in the living room window. She also noticed a vehicle in Davey’s graveled driveway. It wasn’t the sa
gama’s old pickup truck and it wasn’t the Porsche. She peered through the raindrops on her windshield. It looked big, like a boat. A Cadillac? A Lincoln? Whatever it was, it did not belong to the rez.

  Thankful that she’d had a new muffler installed by Ray Gray Squirrel just last winter, she parked along the shoulder under a stand of trees that hadn’t yet lost their leaves. It was a good hiding place.

  She turned off the engine and slipped the keys into her pocket. She had come to the Tall Trees with no clear plan but she didn’t question the instincts that led her to use stealth. She could always change her tactics if called for. She grabbed the flashlight, got out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind her, and started toward the house.

  Molly stopped dead as a tiny orange light flared. A cigarette.

  There was someone standing on Davey’s front stoop.

  Molly’s heart thumped against her ribs as she made her way through the long wet grass. Her sneakers were soaked but the rain hid any noise she might have made so she didn’t mind the trade off. She strained her eyes trying to make out the identity of whoever had just lit up. As far as she knew, neither Davey nor Sandra was a smoker.

  Davey’s front yard consisted of coarse grass, bald spots and a few overgrown bushes. The bushes provided islands of cover as she moved closer to the house. Halfway up the long yard, maybe twenty-five feet from the house, she heard a rumbling voice.

  The smoker was not alone.

  And then she was close enough to see that there were two people on the stoop. Sandra wore a jacket with a hood and Winston wore a long, dark trench coat with an old-fashioned fedora. They reminded Molly of Boris and Natasha.

  As she watched, Winston moved closer to Sandra and she drew back as if in fright. What was happening? Was he threatening her? Would he hit his lover?

  Hysteria nearly choked Molly. Good grief! Of course he’d hit her. He’d killed Big Eddie and Sandra knew it. He was probably planning to kill her, too.

  Molly had to stop him. She wished she’d called Jake or, failing that, that she’d told Cam she was coming out here. Davey had a gun, of course. Many folks on the rez had hunting weapons but until recently, Davey had been police chief. She wondered, suddenly, where he was. Had Sandra and her lover already bumped him off?

  Winston grabbed Sandra’s lapel and she let out a small cry. Suddenly Molly had no time left. She bolted toward the house, but the long, wet grass wrapped around her ankles slowing her down and the cold rain numbed her hands. She had to concentrate to maintain her grip on the flashlight. She felt helpless as she grew near enough to hear them but not close enough to prevent Winston from hurting her. She knew she was about to witness a terrible crime and she knew she couldn’t do anything to stop it. The odd thing was that the pair on the front stoop were so focused on one another neither heard her approach.

  “You’re hurting me, Dwight,” Sandra whimpered.

  “I’m asking you for the last time,” he half-whispered in a furious tone. “What the hell did you do with it?”

  “I already told you.” Molly noticed Sandra sounded more irritated than frightened. “I stored it in my makeup case.”

  “Don’t lie to me you redskin bitch. The case is empty. What did you do with the money?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know!”

  In the fury of the moment they’d forgotten to whisper. The words were intelligible now and there was no mistaking the desperation in Dwight’s voice.

  “I want that money and I want it now.” He grabbed her lapels and shook her. Molly, still wading through the sea of grass, expected to hear a shriek. Instead, Sandra laughed.

  A very cool cucumber, Molly thought, even as she tried to figure out how to save the woman. She was about ten feet away but the big car was between her and the couple. If she threw her flashlight it would hit the car. The distraction would probably save Sandra for another minute or two but not for long and then Molly, too, would be a target.

  The real question was, did Dwight Winston have a gun? And the answer seemed obvious when she remembered the gigantic body on the butterscotch sofa with the bullet in his head. Her heart jack-hammered.

  “You’ve got it, haven’t you, bitch? You and that buffoon you married. You saw what happened to Eddie and if you think I’m gonna go easy on you because of the blowjobs, you’re nuts. I’m getting the hell out of here tonight and I’m taking the damn money with me.”

  “You’re outta your tree, Dwight. Davey knows nothing about any of this and you and me are partners. If you go, I go with you.”

  He jammed a pistol at her midsection. Molly gasped and lifted her flashlight to fling it at the big car. A hand gripped her wrist and a quiet voice exploded in her ear.

  “Don’t.”

  Molly froze.

  “Did it ever occur to you,” Cam hissed, “to just call the damn police?”

  Molly thought she’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Even though she couldn’t actually see him and even though Sandra Tall Tree was still in danger.

  Cam was here.

  ”I’m afraid he’s got a gun,” she whispered.

  She could feel his tension in the way his fingers tightened around her wrist. He didn’t even have to say what he was undoubtedly thinking. If Winston’s got a gun he could have killed you, too.

  ”We’ve got to save Sandra.”

  “I know,” Cam whispered. His hands released her and she felt bereft. “You stay here.”

  “Do you have a weapon?”

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he moved soundlessly, easily toward the car and positioned himself only a few feet from the man in the fedora.

  Molly wanted to scream in frustration. He’d come to rescue her and now he was directly in the line of fire. She had to do something and there was only one thing she could do.

  It was critical that the timing be perfect.

  As Cam crouched behind the back end of the vehicle, Winston grabbed Sandra Tall Tree’s arm and wrenched it behind her back.

  “Get in the house, bitch and get me that money.”

  ”I told you, Dwight. I don’t have the money.” Understandably she was starting to sound a little more uneasy.

  “You goddam double-crosser, I want the money and I’ll give you three seconds to get it for me. One,” he counted off, like an irate preschool teacher, “two…”

  Molly saw Cam start forward, saw Winston notice him and jerk around, still holding onto Sandra and she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her ears were still ringing when she heard the pop of a pistol and saw the threesome, now a jumble of arms and legs, drop to the stoop and roll onto the wet grass. Sandra’s scream rivaled hers.

  Molly rushed forward. If Winston had shot Cam, she would personally pummel him to death with her flashlight. But when she reached the pile of humans, they’d separated and Cam was on his feet, his arm around a sobbing Sandra Tall Tree. The body of Dwight Winston lay on the ground as still as death.

  “Call the sheriff, Molly,” Cam said, only slightly out of breath.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Call the sheriff.”

  “But he had the gun.”

  “Listen to me, Tiger Lily. Call. The. Sheriff.”

  “Omigod,” Sandra moaned. “Omigod. You killed him, you son of a bitch.”

  Molly looked into Cam’s closed face. She hadn’t thought he had a gun.

  “He must have shot himself,” she murmured to the hysterical woman.

  Sandra shrieked and cried. A moment later Davey Tall Tree, disheveled in his terrycloth bathrobe, stepped out onto the stoop. He blinked like a sleepy owl.

  “Sandra, sweetheart,” he said, in his mild way, “are you all right?”

  She collapsed in a heap on the wet grass and Davey, good husband that he was, knelt down next to her and gathered her into his arms.

  “Molly,” Cam said, “I’ll call Jake. Take Davey and his wife inside.”

  “Come on,” she said to the sagama. “I’ll make
us all some hot chocolate.”

  It took a couple of hours of explanations and arguments but Jake decided not to bring charges against anyone. At least not then. The pistol belonged to Dwight Winston and there were only his finger prints on it. It seemed likely that he’d lost control of it when Cam jumped him and Molly had screamed. Sandra swore Dwight wouldn’t have shot her or anyone else but since he was the number one suspect in Big Eddie’s murder, no one really believed that.

  Jake agreed to Davey’s plea that he leave Sandra at home with her husband on the understanding that the chief would bring her down to the station in the morning for questioning.

  Molly and Cam walked out to their cars a short time later.

  “I hope Jake’s not making a mistake not to arrest Sandra,” she said.

  “He hasn’t got anything on her. No stolen money, no eyewitness account that she shot her boyfriend. He didn’t have much choice.”

  Molly felt sick. “If Dwight Winston did lose control of the weapon, it was probably because of either you or me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?”

  “It makes me feel like Winston was an idiot. If you’re gonna threaten someone with a gun you’d better know how to use it and how to prevent it being used against you.”

  “But he knew a lot about guns,” Molly protested. “He killed Big Eddie with one shot to the head.”

  “We don’t know for sure that he did it. It could have been Sandra. Or someone else.”

  Molly thought back to the scene she’d just witnessed, Davey with his arm around a dazed Sandra.

  “She didn’t do anything,” he said, over and over to Jake. “She’s not like that, is she Molly? She’s a good woman.”

  She sighed. Poor Davey.

  “Connie Black Squirrel wanted to marry him, you know. She’s a widow and close to his age but not bad looking. Got kind of a sharp tongue.”