The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past

by Sally Berneathy

  “This man bothering you, Amanda?” the bartender asked.

  He was, but not in the way the bartender meant. “No, he’s...a friend.”

  The bartender nodded. “What can I get you to drink, buddy?”

  Jake eyed the beer in front of Amanda. “I’ll have what the lady’s having.”

  The bartender moved away briefly then came back and set a cold can in front of Jake.

  He paid and turned to Amanda. His eyes were dark, his lips tight. Was this the expression he wore when he questioned suspects? “I thought you didn’t like beer.”

  She knew how those suspects felt. Her mouth dried up like a shallow pond in west Texas in August. “I don’t,” she squeaked.

  “But you ordered one.”

  “Not really.”

  Jake The Cop studied her silently for two hours. Maybe it was more like two seconds, but it felt like two hours. “I see.”

  He didn’t see. Amanda needed to explain the situation to him.

  As soon as she figured out what the situation was.

  “The bartender knows your name,” Jake said.

  “Yes, he does.” Amanda stared at the warming beer in front of her, willing it to turn into wine or Coke or even tepid tap water. Anything to put moisture back in her mouth. “I don’t know his name.”

  “Ask him.”

  Easy for him to say.

  Amanda shifted on the stool and almost fell.

  Jake caught her arm and righted her. “You okay? How many beers have you had?”

  Amanda jerked her arm away. Righteous anger roiled through her, moistening her throat and returning her power of speech. “Do you want to give me a breathalyzer test and see if I’m sober enough to walk home?”

  Jake arched an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone.

  “The barstool is loose. I’m quite sober.”

  “Okay. Good.” Jake took a drink of his beer.

  Amanda looked around the room. Several people had left. More were leaving.

  Nobody was looking at her.

  Nobody was talking.

  They all knew a cop was sitting at the bar.

  Any chance she had of getting information was gone. Went out the door when Jake came in. Nobody was going to talk to a woman who drank beer with a cop.

  “I’m going now.” She stood.

  Jake laid a dollar tip on the bar and joined her. “Good idea.”

  “You talk to a cop,” Charley said, “and now you’re leaving the bar with him. You do understand you ruined any chance you had that these people will talk to you.”

  Charley had insight into criminal thinking.

  Amanda turned to Jake. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  She held up her wrists. “Take me out of here in handcuffs.”

  The confused look on his face told her he didn’t like her idea.

  “Should have known he wouldn’t help you,” Charley said.

  “Never mind.” She straightened her shoulders and walked away.

  Jake followed.

  She walked faster. Maybe the bartender and the few patrons remaining would think he was chasing her and she was trying to escape.

  She pushed through the door and into the rain that the sky had threatened earlier.

  “Come on!” Jake took her hand and tugged her toward his car.

  This could work to her advantage. Anyone watching might think she was being forced into the cop car, arrested.

  She slid inside. Jake closed the door behind her then ran through the rain to the driver’s side.

  Charley did not join them.

  She had a few moments alone with Jake.

  She gazed across the car at his profile as he drove down the street. Two nights ago she’d stared at that profile in this same car after they’d spent a wonderful vacation together.

  Tonight he looked stern instead of relaxed and happy.

  Tonight she felt confused and angry instead of relaxed and happy.

  He pulled up close to her stairs and stopped.

  She reached for the door handle.

  “Hang on,” he said. “I have an umbrella in the trunk.”

  She lifted a damp hand to her rain-frizzed hair. “I think it’s a little late for that. Anyway, I won’t melt. I stuck my backside out in the rain once, and not an ounce melted off.”

  Jake chuckled softly. “I’m glad. I like your backside just the way it is.”

  The level of tension in the car dropped by at least fifty percent.

  “Before we go in...” Before we go outside where Charley is waiting to join us. “Let’s talk about that bar and the murder and all that.”

  Jake’s posture stiffened.

  The level of tension in the car rose by at least sixty percent.

  “Okay,” the cop said.

  Amanda drew in a deep breath. “I went there tonight to get information.” The words she’d been holding back rushed out as she told him about Bert and his claim that he’d met her in the bar, that she’d agreed to repair his bike in exchange for drugs, that the bartender and Hitch knew her name. She omitted Hitch’s claim that she’d left the bar with Lenny. He was a detective. Leave a few things for him to figure out.

  The torrent of words stopped as rapidly as it had begun. She’d told him everything. Well, everything he needed to know.

  Silence filled the car.

  She expected relief to wash over her now that she’d verbalized the insanity going on in her life, shared it with Jake.

  Jake’s unreadable expression stopped that feeling in its tracks. “You’re sure you’ve never been to that bar before tonight?”

  The expected relief was morphing into anger. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “It’s practically in your back yard. It would make sense if you dropped in there once in a while.”

  Amanda’s fists clenched. “I did not drop in there. Not once in a while. Not once ever until tonight.” She didn’t really care if Charley doubted her, but Jake’s lack of trust hurt.

  “What about these people who think they know you, think they saw you there?”

  “Mistaken identity?” She stared at the raindrops sliding down the window. She’d already discounted that possibility.

  Jake’s silence told her he had too.

  “A woman pretending to be me?” She turned toward him, excitement rising. “I said that to be funny. Well, not funny ha-ha. Funny ridiculous. Absurd. But it makes sense. Somebody is pretending to be me.”

  “Why would someone do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought you could help me figure it out since that’s what you do...solve crimes, detect mysteries.”

  Jake didn’t look excited. He looked stoic.

  “You’re trying to solve the murder that happened in my parking lot,” she continued when he failed to jump enthusiastically on her idea, “the murder of a guy who hung out in that bar. Don’t you think it’s a huge coincidence that a man is murdered in my parking lot, and somebody is impersonating me in the bar where he hung out?”

  Jake’s gaze slid from hers to the dark, rain-splattered windshield.

  Charley came through the window beside her. “What’s taking you so long? I’m tired of standing in the rain.”

  “Amanda.” Her name coming from Jake’s lips did not sound the way it had when they’d been on Padre Island, when he’d spoken her name with love and desire. Tonight he sounded grim.

  “Amanda.” Charley sounded impatient.

  Jake drew in a deep breath and returned his gaze to hers. “I’m not working that murder anymore. That’s what I came by tonight to tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I recused myself. They’re assigning the case to somebody else because of my involvement with you.”

  “Because the body was found on my property? That seems a little extreme.”

  “Because DNA in strands of hair Ross found on the victim matches yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  For the second time that e
vening, Amanda blinked and replayed the words in her head, certain she had not heard them right.

  Her hairs had been found on the victim. That find must have been what changed Ross’ attitude from friendly to guarded the morning he’d been gathering evidence. That was why she’d had to go in and give her DNA...strands of her hair.

  “How did your hairs get on Lenny?” Charley asked. “Geez, Amanda! You were cheating on me and this damned detective too.”

  Amanda swallowed hard. “Where? Where did you find my hairs? On his jacket? On his clothes?” Please, not clutched in his hands!

  “I can’t talk about the case,” Jake said. “I shouldn’t have told you that much.”

  “It’s easy to explain. I shed a lot. Ross said so. Lenny was in my parking lot. My hairs blew over there.” She lifted her hands to her face. “Why am I defending myself? You know I didn’t kill that man! Some red-headed woman is running around here, pretending to be me. She’s trying to get me blamed for killing Lenny.”

  “Some red-headed woman is running around, pretending to be you and killing people?” Charley said. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

  Jake didn’t repeat Charley’s accusation, but his expression said he might be thinking it.

  “I’m not crazy!”

  Jake took both her hands in his.

  Was he being affectionate or attempting to stop her from hitting him?

  “Nobody said you’re crazy.” His tone was that of a doctor trying to reason with a disturbed patient.

  “He thinks you’re crazy,” Charley said.

  Amanda drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to relax, to speak calmly and express only rational ideas. “I know this sounds a little strange. It sounds strange to me too. People I’ve never met before recognize me. One came to my shop and offered me drugs. One served me a beer, which, as you know, is a beverage I never drink. Somebody is pretending to be me, trying to frame me for Lenny’s murder.”

  Again with the silence.

  “Can you think of anyone who would do something like that?” Jake finally asked.

  “Stop that!”

  “What?”

  “Questioning me like I’m a suspect.”

  “I’m not.”

  “He is,” Charley said. “He flinched when you said that. I saw it.”

  “You flinched.”

  Jake released her hands and leaned back in the seat. “Okay, maybe I’m using my skills as an interrogator to help figure out what’s going on. It’s what I do. I’m trying to help.”

  Jake was being reasonable. She should respond in kind...even if she wasn’t feeling reasonable. “I understand.”

  “I don’t,” Charley said.

  Amanda didn’t either, but she was trying to see things from Jake’s perspective. He had a job to do. Right now that job put them in conflict.

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” Jake said.

  “What? Eat?”

  “We could try out that new barbecue place down the street.”

  “He wants to eat at a time like this?” Charley said. “He’s trying to distract you. Make you feel comfortable so you’ll slip up and confess.”

  Amanda clenched her lips and shot Charley a glare.

  “One piece of pecan pie was all it took to get me talking about that time I...” Charley stopped and averted his gaze. “Take my word, don’t go with him.”

  Amanda’s stomach was in knots. She wasn’t sure she could force even a bite of food into it. But Charley’s order not to go with Jake made her decision. “Barbecue sounds great.”

  ***

  When they returned home, the rain had stopped and the temperature had fallen. A chill north wind battered them as Jake walked her up the stairs and into her apartment.

  Jake closed the door against the wind, pulled her into his arms, and held her close. “I don’t want this to cause problems with us.”

  Yeah, sure, thinking she murdered somebody wasn’t going to cause any problems between them.

  “Does that mean he’ll hold your hand as he drags you off to jail?” Charley asked.

  “It’ll be all right.” Amanda pressed herself more tightly against Jake as if the action could force out the doubt between them, make her words true.

  “It will,” he promised. He handed her the bag of leftover ribs. “I could spend the night.”

  “You could, but you shouldn’t. Go home before it starts snowing.”

  “Snow in Dallas in October?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Like tonight...going to dinner with my lover and my ex-husband’s ghost.

  “Promise to call me if you see or hear anything strange or unusual.”

  Seeing and hearing Charley was strange, but it wasn’t unusual. Happened all the time. “I promise.”

  Jake left and she locked the door behind him.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” Charley said. “Now we can talk about how we’re going to get you out of this trouble you’re in.”

  Amanda strode past him, into the kitchen.

  Charley followed. “You need my help getting out of this mess with the dead guy.”

  Amanda put the container of ribs in the refrigerator and slammed the door. “I need you to stay out of my life.” She went past him again. “And I need you to stay in here while I go into my bedroom and change clothes.”

  He could follow her. He could watch as she undressed. The possibility that her ex-husband’s ghost might see her in her underwear was way down on her list of things to worry about at the moment.

  She put on her red flannel night shirt and slid into bed. The sheets were cold. The room was cold. The walls were thin and uninsulated. Her antiquated heating system couldn’t keep up when the wind blew this hard. It would have been nice to have Jake’s warm body beside her.

  He’d offered to stay, but Charley’s cold non-body would be close by, watching and nagging.

  As if conjured from her thoughts, Charley appeared at the foot of her bed, a faint, annoying luminescence in the dark. “Well, that was an interesting evening.”

  “Interesting isn’t really the word I’d use to describe having dinner with a male friend while my ex-husband sits across the table making snide remarks.”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “Help? You think you’re helping me? This is what happens when you drop out of grade school. Help is not a synonym for infuriate.”

  Charley lifted his chin indignantly. “Fine. If you don’t want my help, go ahead and let your lover put you in prison for the rest of your life.”

  Amanda cringed. “You think I’m going to prison for killing that creep? Just remember, wherever I go, whatever I do, Charley Randolph will be right there with me.”

  Charley groaned and sank onto the bed, several inches into the mattress. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be there with you if you go to prison for killing Lenny.”

  “We’ll be sharing a prison cell, having dinner together in the mess hall. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

  “I hate it when you get sarcastic, Amanda. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be stuck behind bars the rest of my life.”

  “The rest of your life?” What was the average life expectancy of a ghost? Probably longer than hers. “I don’t want to be stuck behind bars the rest of my life either!” Especially not if Charley was going to be there with her.

  “Lenny was a jerk. He deserved to die. You can tell me the truth. I won’t judge you.”

  Amanda pulled the covers tighter. “What are you saying? You think I killed Lenny?”

  “He stiffed you. He made you mad. You threatened him with a hammer.”

  “So I threatened him with a hammer. Big deal. How many times did I threaten you? I never killed you.”

  Charley sighed. “Roland Kimball did that. I wish he hadn’t.”

  “Yeah, I wish Kimball hadn’t killed you.” They would surely be divorced by now even with all his delay tactics. And she wouldn’t be trapped with him.

&
nbsp; Charley drifted closer and smiled. “That’s sweet, Amanda. I wish I was still alive and we were still married. I know we’d get it right this time.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant.” Amanda bit back the urge to lash out at him and tell him what she really meant. Charley sounded pitiful and sad.

  Was she feeling sympathy for him?

  No.

  Of course not.

  She turned on her side. “Go away. I need to sleep.”

  “Where’s your gun?”

  “My gun is still in my jacket.”

  “And your jacket is in the closet. If you didn’t kill Lenny, somebody else did, and that somebody is still out there. If he breaks in here and tries to kill you, you can’t tell him to wait while you call 911 or go to the closet to find your gun.”

  A chill crawled up Amanda’s spine. She thought of the night she’d returned from Padre with Jake, of the feeling that someone was watching.

  The killer could have been watching then.

  The killer could be watching now.

  But why would he...or she...watch her?

  Charley was being melodramatic.

  Nevertheless, she crawled out of bed into the cold, took her .38 from her jacket pocket, and set the revolver on her nightstand. “My gun is within reach if I have to shoot somebody tonight. Do you feel better now?”

  “Yes.”

  Amanda closed her eyes.

  “Too bad Jake interrupted your visit to the bar. You might have been able to get some information from Lenny’s bar buddies after they’d had a few more drinks.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. Jake came in at a very bad time. They’ll all remember me as the woman who talked to a cop then left the bar with him.”

  “I knew that damned detective was nothing but trouble. I tried to tell you, but you never listen to me.”

  Amanda sighed. “Oh, Charley, how can I not listen to you? You’re always here. You were never around when you were alive, but now that you’re dead, we’re always together.”

  “Except when you stick me at Teresa’s so you can run off—”

  “Charley! That’s enough. I’m going to sleep.” If he would shut up.

  “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you get a blond wig and pretend to be somebody else? That way the people in the bar will talk to you. They won’t know you were the woman who drank beer with a cop. I’ll go with you because I speak their language.”