1 In For A Penny (10 page)

For a split second, I wondered if I’d been had. Mama had been wanting to cook again, and the kids had wanted pizza for dinner. Both were getting exactly what they wanted, and it seemed entirely too coincidental to me.

At the sound of a car in the driveway, I turned toward the door. “There’s the delivery guy. Grab a stack of clean plates and I’ll bring in the pizzas in just a sec.”

I glanced at the nook where I normally kept my purse. It wasn’t there. Nor was it anywhere else in the kitchen.

All right, I could be flexible. I’d let the pizza guy in, then find my purse. I opened the door. Much to my surprise, my purse hung in mid-air right under my nose.

“Looking for this?” a deep sexy voice asked.

Here was another stress I didn’t need. I could see Rafe’s dark brown eyes smoldering sensually through the loop of my purse strap. A snap of recognition jolted through my system as I went on full golf pro alert.

“Thanks, I was just looking for my purse.”

I had to be careful here. Rafe could be using his sex appeal to find out if I suspected him of being a ruthless killer. Was I up to the challenge of playing it cool? If this were a poker game, I’d be holding my cards close to my chest.

“You left it at my shop this morning.” Rafe reached behind him as if he were going to retrieve his billfold from his back pocket.

Surely this long, lean man with gilded hair wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. My female instincts were shouting at me to kiss him before he got away, but my head said to keep my distance. These were dangerous times for Hogan’s Glen.

“Along with this.”

My broken shoe. He’d had it stuck in his pocket. That was rather intimate for our casual acquaintance. But. A storybook handsome man with a shoe standing at my door. Wasn’t this every woman’s fairy tale?

Who was I kidding? Fairy tales didn’t come true for thirty-five-year-old divorcees. I snatched my shoe without making direct contact with any part of his delectable body. “Thanks. Sorry I left my stuff behind.”

“Mom!” Charla bellowed as she walked in the kitchen. “Are you hogging all the pizza?”

A look of irritation flashed across Rafe’s face. Was he annoyed at the interruption? Did he plan to seduce my suspicions out of me? My pulse leapt wildly at the thought.

I accidentally put all my weight on my taped ankle as I turned to face Charla. Pain lanced through me lightning fast, and I clutched the counter to steady myself. “False alarm. It isn’t the pizza guy.”

Charla stopped at my side, her arms barred across her developing chest. She was cute and young and perky. All the things I left behind after her birth. “Charla, have you met Rafe Golden? Mr. Golden is the golf pro down at the course. Rafe, this is my oldest daughter, Charla Jones.”

“Hello.” Charla scowled at Rafe.

I didn’t understand her instant dislike, but maybe she wasn’t mad at Rafe. Maybe she was mad at me. I made an effort to soothe her pride. “Your salad looked lovely, Charla. I plan to have some as soon as the pizza gets here.”

Charla’s scowl stayed in place. “It’s all gone. I wish we’d taken a picture of it.”

I deposited my broken shoe on the counter and squeezed her shoulder. “You can always make it again when it’s just us.”

Processing what she’d said, I realized that Bitsy’s boys must be starving if all the salad was gone. “Take the chocolate pudding out and we’ll have the pizza for dessert.”

“Yes!” Charla pumped her fist in the air. She skipped away with the pudding.

I turned my attention back to Rafe. It was impossible to miss how completely his broad shoulders filled the doorframe. Against my will, liquid heat pooled in my lower abdomen.

I couldn’t believe he was here, at my house. Rafe Golden was standing here in my kitchen, looking at me like I was dinner. What was I going to do with him?

Even if there wasn’t a murderer on the loose, I had good reason to be careful. My female instincts had malfunctioned with Charlie and I had no reason to believe they were working now. For a moment I allowed myself to believe that Rafe’s interest in me was on the up and up.

What did Rafe expect from the women he pursued? Sultry voices and steamy nights under satin sheets? If so, he’d missed the boat with me. My sheets were clearance sale percale and the only time I’d ever had a sultry voice was when I had laryngitis. “Would you like to come in?”

He shook his head to indicate no. “I wanted to schedule your golf lesson.”

My golf lesson. Time with Rafe all by myself. Through the mixed brain messages of “be careful there’s a murderer on the loose” and the “hot dog what are you waiting for,” I managed to sound coherent. “When did you have in mind?”

With those words, a whole new world of terror opened up for me. Committing to a lesson meant that I would spend time alone with a man that seemed very interested in me.

What clothes would I wear? How would I style my hair? I had the distinct impression Rafe had a steady diet of buffed and polished women. Looking down, I saw my taped ankle and my ratty pink slippers. Buffed and polished wasn’t my natural state.

Rafe whipped a day planner from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure about your ankle,” he said, studying the entries in his planner. “I have an opening tomorrow afternoon or we could schedule something next week.”

The new and improved me wanted that golf lesson. I wanted to believe he wasn’t a murderer. “Tomorrow won’t work for me. I’ve got houseguests through the weekend and Dudley’s funeral on Saturday. What about next week?”

He flipped the page to Monday. Christine Strand had his one o’clock slot. Two o’clock was open. “Two o’clock works for me.”

While he penciled me in, I had a moment where my thoughts were my own. If I trusted my hormones that Rafe wasn’t a murderer, that still left his assistant with plenty of means and opportunity to kill Dudley.

What did Rafe know about Jasper and Dudley? Information could be right under my nose if I only had courage enough to ask him. I wanted to clear Jonette, so I needed to start asking questions about the murder.

I could be subtle. Rafe would never know I suspected a golf course employee of killing Dudley. “The other day I spoke with Jasper about Dudley. What’s your take on their relationship?”

His gaze narrowed shrewdly and I wondered if I had been subtle enough. “Seeing that Dudley is dead, they don’t have a relationship. Prior to that, Dudley was treated just the same as any other golf club member. It’s not our policy to discriminate against our members.”

His response didn’t net me any new information. I’d never clear Jonette at this rate. To heck with being subtle. I might as well state what I thought and see how Rafe reacted. “Jasper told me he didn’t like Dudley very much.”

Ra
fe shrugged. “Who did?”

Chapter 12

Lexy and I wore black to Dudley’s funeral. Charla had insisted her Uncle Dudley wouldn’t want her to be so inhibited. She opted for a confection of dark indigo swirled with lavender and plum. Mama wore one of her conservative church suits and her triple-stranded pearls.

To fit my foot in my black high heels, I’d foregone taping my ankle. A decision I had been regretting as I stood by Bitsy in the church foyer while the townspeople filed past. I prayed for a short-winded eulogy and the fastest liturgy on record.

Dudley’s parents were long dead and his estranged brother wasn’t coming up from Florida for the ceremony. Bitsy had insisted that we sit in the family pew with her, so we all proceeded together to the front row. In a church packed with perfumed mourners, I was exceedingly glad to have a reserved seat.

Why were all these people here if no one liked Dudley? I wanted to berate them for their ghoulish curiosity. Did they expect to see his unhappy banking customers egging his closed casket? Did they hope for a pew of his discarded mistresses to ogle? If so, they were wasting their time.

I had read somewhere that killers had a fascination with attending the funerals of their victims. Was the killer here? Was it someone I knew personally? I shuddered at the thought, but my brain locked onto that idea. I did a quick inventory of people I knew that might be suspects.

Jonette had purposefully stayed away. She topped the list of police suspects because she’d had run-ins with Dudley her entire life. I didn’t think much of their detecting ability if they thought Jonette did Dudley in.

Jasper was here, sitting next to Rafe. Both of them had unrestricted access to the golf course where Dudley was killed. Because of Dudley being involved in the teacher’s pension scandal, Jasper also had a motive to kill Dudley. There were no women sitting with Jasper and Rafe so I assumed Jasper’s mother wasn’t here. I needed to go question her on Monday.

Bitsy was here. She’d inherited a pile of money upon the death of her ex. She had ten million reasons for wanting Dudley dead.

Ed Monday was conspicuously absent. If Charlie was right about Ed being the killer, I was wasting my time checking out the assembled mourners.

Many of my accounting clients were present and they nodded back at me. Our mayor, Darnell Reynolds, looked especially florid. Perhaps the skinny man in the bad suit sitting next to him had something to do with that. Of all the people I had observed in the church, the mayor looked the most upset. I’d see if I could corner Darnell at the reception and find out what was wrong.

Detective Britt Radcliff stood in the back of the church. His gaze met mine, then moved on, as he scanned the packed church. Was he looking for potential suspects too?

The words of the funeral service rolled over me. Dudley had been a royal prick most of the time. In that I agreed with Jonette. But just because someone behaved badly was no reason to kill him. If that were true, spouses would kill each other when things went haywire and no one would need divorce lawyers.

This was the first time I’d been in church since my marriage ended. I mouthed the words of the service and hoped the roof didn’t fall in on me. Sitting in these old fashioned wooden pews and seeing the familiar scenes on the stained glass windows took me back to a time when I believed in God and my husband.

Now I mostly believed in myself.

It was impossible to miss the stage whisper and rustlings of papers of a very restless person in the pew directly behind me. My hearing automatically tuned in to the beacon of noise. I recognized that syrupy voice immediately. Denise. I strained to hear what she was saying to Charlie, but I couldn’t quite make out her words.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t care what she said to Charlie. She’d fought for him and taken him from me. Their discussions were none of my business, but still I wanted to know what had her so irritated. I know it was petty of me, but nothing would make me happier than to have their newfound bliss turn to sewage.

I fumbled with my program and glanced over my shoulder. Grim lines etched Charlie’s pale face. Either Dudley’s death had hit him very hard, or something else was going on, something very unpleasant between him and Denise.

A spark of triumph flashed through me and I glanced fearfully toward the arched ceiling. It wasn’t charitable of me to want his marriage to fail. But how fair was it for him to ruin my life and then ride off into the sunset with a younger, perkier woman?

I’d naively thought everything was great in my marriage and look what had happened. We’d been getting along fine, we’d had a synergistic partnership both in and out of bed, or so I thought. His infidelity had hurt all the more because I didn’t have a clue.

Denise knew he’d cheated on me. Wouldn’t she wonder every time he was late that he was out screwing someone else?

I would. Jonette had been right about that. I wasn’t the type to forgive and forget adultery. Charlie had burnt his bridges with me. It was up to me to rebuild my life.

My hormones were telling me to take a long look at the golf pro, but I wasn’t sure I could trust my hormones either. How stupid would I be if I trusted Rafe not to hurt me? Heck, he might even be a cold-blooded murderer. With my instincts so out of kilter I couldn’t be sure about anything.

I glanced at Rafe out of the corner of my eye and found him staring at me. Our gazes met and held. I felt myself growing warm. What was he thinking? Did he want to murder me or sleep with me? Was my overactive imagination seeing things where there was nothing to see? It was possible that the man flirted with women to build his golf lesson business.

I wished for a different reality. I wanted to believe that he found me as exciting as I found him. I wanted to believe that I wasn’t washed up at thirty-five.

I managed a little half smile, and his eyes warmed. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. How could I when looking at him made me feel so alive and desirable? And no harm had ever come from looking. My hormones did a little happy dance and I smiled the knowing smiles of women in the TV commercials for male potency.

“Mama!” Lexy scolded, sounding more like the parent than the child. “Pay attention.”

I broke eye contact with Rafe and faced the masses of flowers next to Dudley’s coffin. Lexy was understandably concerned about my interest in the golf pro. In her mind, her physical education teacher, Mark Hayes, and I were a match made in heaven. A match that would ensure she passed PE with flying colors.

After Rafe delivered my purse three days ago, Lexy grilled me about his intentions in a way that reminded me of Daddy way back when. With blazing green eyes, Lexy made it clear that she didn’t think a golf pro was the man for me. She was entitled to her opinion, but frankly Mark Hayes didn’t make my blood sing or my knees melt the way Rafe did.

We stood for the final hymn. Dudley lay before us, shrouded in lilies, in the best casket money could buy. Money could buy lots of things, but it hadn’t bought Dudley happiness.

Bitsy dabbed at her tear-filled eyes. Her sons stood like stoic soldiers in their dark suits. Did they remember coming to this church when they were boys? They’d moved away five years ago, practically a lifetime to a kid.

We filed out of the church and into the reception hall. I stood at Bitsy’s shoulder and helped her with people’s names. I continued with my silent detecting, but I came no closer to figuring out who killed Dudley.

When I had a chance, I crossed over to greet Darnell. He introduced me to Robert Joy, the skinny man that was still glued to Darnell’s side. I knew that name from somewhere.

It took me a few minutes of idle conversation to access the information in my brain. Robert Joy was the developer from Dudley’s White Rock housing development. The farm that wouldn’t perk. After a few more pleasantries about the large turnout and the tasty food, I decided I wasn’t good at subtle. My style was going directly at something.

“May I have a word with you privately, Darnell?” I asked.

Robert Joy left us alone.

Darnell mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Thanks. I was beginning to think I couldn’t shake him.”

“What’s wrong, Darnell? I’ve never seen you so agitated.”

“It’s that damn White Rock. Robert Joy won’t leave me alone. I wish I’d never run for mayor.”

Darnell was my mother’s age, and he’d gotten into mayoring because he couldn’t stand being retired. He was also my wealthiest client and the dirt wad who wanted to put Jonette in jail. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It can. Robert expects me to annex White Rock into the city.”

“Why?”

“So that he can build more houses on the property. Having city services changes the size of the lots.”

“And that’s bad because?”

“I can’t talk about it.” Darnell mopped his brow again. “I can’t believe Dudley stuck me with such a mess.”

“Dudley had a reputation for looking after the bottom line. You should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but he could talk the skin off a mule. I bought into his stories of a bigger and better Hogan’s Glen and now he’s not here to keep Robert Joy in line. I’m between a rock and a hard place here, Cleo.”

“Dudley had that effect on people.”

“He was also my friend. We pushed many projects through the town council over the five years we worked together. I owe it to his family to find out who killed him.”

My eyebrows shot up. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ve told the police force to leave no stone unturned. We’re moving decisively on this. I expect there to be an arrest in the next few days.”

“Sounds like you already know who did it.”

“We’re very close to making the arrest.”

I couldn’t take his smug attitude any longer. I wanted to squash Darnell for being such an insect. Instead, I stood up for my friend. “Jonette didn’t do it.”

“You are too close to her to be objective. I’m sure this was a personal situation that got out of hand.”

“You’re making a big mistake to focus on Jonette. I’m telling you she didn’t do it.”

“Cleo, I don’t tell you how to do my taxes. I’d appreciate it if you’d butt out and let me do my job.”

“Every time you come in my office, you tell me how to do your taxes. Take off your rose-colored glasses and face the facts. There’s a murderer loose in our town.”

“Not for long,” Darnell said.

Robert Joy returned with a plate of chicken wings and I moved on. There was nothing else I wanted to say to our pigheaded mayor.

An hour into the reception, I realized Bitsy’s color was way off. She was pale as a sheet. I sat her down in a quiet corner. “What’s wrong, Bitsy?” Other than being pregnant and burying your ex-husband, that is.

Pain clouded her sky-blue eyes and her shoulders sagged. “I don’t feel good. I’m worried something might be wrong with the baby.”

I held her hand and tried to be calm. I didn’t want her to lose the baby. Bitsy needed someone to take care of her.

I caught Lexy’s eye and waved her over. Now I just needed to remember if there were any health professionals here. Britt Radcliff was the closest thing we had to a doctor or paramedic in the room. “Bitsy’s not feeling good. Go get Detective Radcliff,” I instructed Lexy.

Moments later, Britt assisted Bitsy to a pew in the empty chapel in the church undercroft. “Lie back and put your feet up,” he said. “Bend your knees.”

Bitsy followed his suggestions and the tightness in her face subsided. Some color came back in her face.

Artie appeared in the doorway, concern adding years to his cherubic face. “What’s wrong with Mom?”

I motioned him forward. “Come on in, Artie. Your Mom needed to take a break.”

Britt inclined his head toward the door, indicating that he wished to speak with me privately. I touched Artie’s shoulder as he stood watch over his mother. “I’ll be right back, Artie.”

Outside in the hallway, I said, “Thanks, Britt. Bitsy is in a bit of a mess.”

Britt leveled his very direct, police officer, lie-detecting gaze at me. “She’s pregnant?”

I squirmed uneasily beneath the weight of his truth serum gaze and I had nothing to hide. Maybe this man was good at his job. Maybe he wouldn’t let the mayor railroad him into arresting Jonette.

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.”