"Shhhh!" Charley cautioned. "I said the man was gone, I didn't say he was in the next county!"
On the positive side, Charley's annoying behavior focused her anger on him and kept her fear somewhat at bay.
Amanda made a mental note of the license plate number, then approached the car and peered through the driver's side window. Soda cans, cigarette packages and fast food wrappers littered the passenger seat and floor, but the item that caught Amanda's attention was the picture that lay on top of the mess in the seat…a picture of her on her recently-deceased motorcycle, a picture taken at least a couple of weeks ago. Where had Kimball got that picture? How long had he been stalking her?
Chapter Nineteen
As soon as breakfast was over the next morning, Amanda rushed upstairs and placed a phone call to Jake Daggett.
"Detective Daggett is not in the office at the moment. Can someone else help you?"
"No," Amanda said, leaning back in Charley's desk chair with a frustrated sigh, "but you can give him a message. This is Amanda Randolph, and I have the license plate number of the man who's stalking me." She repeated the number she'd memorized the previous night. "Please tell him…oh, just have him call me when he gets in."
She disconnected the call and looked at Charley where he perched casually on the windowsill as if basking in the sunshine. "He was there," Charley said smugly. "He's just ignoring you because he thinks you killed me and you're just trying to blow smoke up his…uh…ear."
"For once, I think you're probably right," she said dispiritedly, letting the hand holding the phone hang limply at her side. "He was there and didn't want to talk to me. I can see where he'd think I'm making all this up to divert suspicion from myself. Or maybe he thinks I'm nuts. Or both." She looked across the room, away from Charley. "He wants to arrest me. He wants to see me hang."
"
They don't hang people anymore
."
Amanda rolled her eyes, then lifted her cell phone again. "Daggett can stick it. I know somebody who can find that license plate." She
punched in a number
and put the phone to her ear. "Dawson, it's Amanda.
Can you find out who owns a car if I give you a license plate number?"
"Sure. That's an easy one."
She recited the number
.
"Hang on. This will only take a minute."
Amanda rummaged in
a
drawer
in
Charley's old desk
and came up with
a
pen and piece of paper.
True to his promise, Dawson
returned
to the phone in less than a minute. "Frank Sturgess, 259 Beale Street, Silver Creek, Texas. Do you want me to see what I can find out about him?"
Her fingers strangely numb, she scrawled the information on the paper. The man
was real. He
had a name. He lived in Silver Creek. He had her picture in his car. He followed her, spied on her, invaded her life. "Yes," she said, her voice surprisingly quiet considering the turmoil going on in her mind, "find out everything you can about him."
"
I will.
Amanda, are you all right? What's going on?
"
She started to give him
the standard,
I'm fine
, but Dawson was her friend. He deserved better than to have his concern
s
dismissed so casually.
"
Not really. Things are a little strange."
"
Strange in what way
?"
She
couldn't think of any reason not to tell Dawson the whole story. Well, the story minus Charley, of course. No need to let her assistant think she was nuts. "
The
license plate I asked you to look up,
a
man's been following me.
I think
it's somebody
Kimball
hired. He
killed Charley
, and I'm trying to prove it so I can stay out of prison
."
She waited for the expected incredulous response.
"What data do you have to back up your supposition?"
Dawson asked in his usual calm voice.
"I've found—uh—information indicating Charley might have been blackmailing Kimball for murdering Dianne Carter. Kimball stole my gun, thinking it was the gun he killed Dianne with, the one Charley was using to blackmail him."
"Can you take that to the police?"
"I
tried. That damned Daggett thinks I'm
mental
.
I suspect he's just trying to get proof I did it so he can close the case and be done with it.
"
"How about the gun, the one Kimball used to kill Dianne?"
"Charley never had the gun. He lied to Kimball about that."
"I see. This information you found, how sure are you that it's accurate?"
"I know, anything Charley's involved in is suspect. But
a few nights ago
I went out to the mayor's house to spy on him. He caught me, we talked, and he pretty much admitted that he killed Dianne and Charley. So I just need to prove it."
"You went to his house? Amanda,
that was very reckless. Y
ou could be in danger."
"Yeah, I think that's a given.
Can you do
one
more thing
for me?
I talked to Dianne's college roommate, and it sounds like somebody may have been hurt…killed…the night
Kimball and Dianne
broke up.
Can you
check on murders
in Austin
around that
time
, especially any in the vicinity of the college
?
It was her birthday their junior year.
I don't know the date, but I can probably find out.
"
"
No need.
I can find
her birthday. I'll
get back to you on the murders
."
Amanda ended the call and focused on the information Dawson had given her of
the
stalker's identity.
Frank Sturgess.
Charley peered at the words Amanda had written. "What is that? Freak Stings? Amanda, you have the worst handwriting in the world." Charley had a way of bringing her back to reality.
"Maybe you should give up on the vanity thing and get a pair of glasses. Anybody can see that says Frank Sturgess."
Charley frowned, shaking his head. "Don't know him. I thought I knew everybody in this town that would…uh…slide around the law."
"Oh, darn! You missed one. You could have been best buds with this guy. He could have taught you to be a peeping tom, and you could have taught him to be a scam artist. Doubled both your skills."
Charley rolled his eyes. "I just meant it must be somebody new here, somebody Kimball brought in from out of town."
Amanda drummed her fingers on the desk. "I bet your mother would know all about him. She seems to know about everybody who lives here."
"She does," Charley agreed. "Everybody in town is her friend."
Amanda looked at him and scowled. "So you admit your mother is a wonderful person. Your whole family is wonderful. Why on earth did you tell me those horrible stories about them?"
Charley's lips clenched shut, and he looked away.
Amanda threw her hands into the air. "Fine. I get it. You have no excuse for such despicable behavior. I'm going down to talk to your much-maligned mother about Frank Sturgess."
Amanda came down the stairs in time to see Paula and Penny heading out the front door. "Bye, Amanda," Penny said. "We're going to hang with friends. See you later!" They waved and darted out the door.
Amanda returned their wave
s
and continued on to find Irene and Herbert sitting at the kitchen table, heads together, making a grocery list.
"Cokes for Amanda," Irene said, writing on a note pad.
"There's our Coke lady now," Herbert said, greeting Amanda with a big grin.
Irene looked up, a warm smile on her face. "Hi, sweetheart. How does meatloaf sound for dinner tonight?"
Amanda felt a sudden surge of guilt. She'd accepted the hospitality of this family, and they'd given it so easily, she hadn't stopped to think about the imposition and extra cost she created. "If you're making it, I know it'll be wonderful. But why don't I go pick up some fried chicken or a pizza so you don't have to cook?"
Irene waved a negligent hand. "I love to cook for my family."
"And we love to eat her cooking." Herbert stood, then bent over and kissed his wife. "I'm going to the hardware store to pick up stuff to fix that toilet stool that won't quit running."
Herbert left, and Amanda took his seat beside Irene. "I'd like to go grocery shopping with you and pay for some of the groceries," she said. "I feel guilty staying here, eating your food, creating extra work for you and doing nothing to help."
Irene looked shocked. "My goodness, don't you dare think like that! You're not causing any extra work. You think after raising seven kids that one more is going to make even a ripple?" She laid a hand over Amanda's and squeezed. "And don't think you're not helping. Having you here is like having a little bit of Charley with us. You're helping all of us cope with losing him."
That made the guilt dig in its heels more deeply. If they only knew how much of Charley was there, and how unhappy Amanda was about it, Irene would probably feel very different about Amanda's presence there. Though she couldn't change
how she felt about Charley, Amanda
resolved to figure out something she could do to repay the Randolphs for their kindness.
In the meantime, she needed to do her best to stay alive.
"I have a question. You said you might be able to help me with that information I need to find."
"Of course. What's your question?"
"Do you know anything about Frank Sturgess?"
"Frank Sturgess," Irene mused, her brow wrinkling in thought. "I know that name. Just give me a minute." Her brow smoothed and she smiled. "Of course. Frank Sturgess. He's one of Sunny's success stories."
Amanda thought about the scum who'd been following her, spying on her, probably reporting back to Kimball so he could kill her.
I'd hate to see Sunny's failures.