Thirty-Four and a Half Predicaments: Rose Gardner Mystery #7 (34 page)

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. But then I need to know why you were questioning Picklebie and what it has to do with J.R. Simmons.”

I had no good reason to keep any of it from him, and I suspected he really could help me. If nothing else, it might be good to get the opinion of someone who understood the criminal mind. “I need full disclosure from you too,” I said, still in disbelief that we were coming to this understanding.

“I’ll tell you what I think is helpful to you and will protect you.” When I started to protest, he held up his hands. “For your own protection, you don’t want to know everything. Then you can’t be arrested as an accomplice. But I’ll tell you more than I would have ordinarily.”

That meant I had to trust him, and surprisingly, I did. “Okay.”

“So you’re agreeing to my partnership?”

I studied him for a moment. “I guess I am.”

He moved closer, his mouth pressing into a line as his eyes took on a serious expression. Usually there was a hint of threat in his gaze, but tonight I sensed a certain vulnerability there. He held out his hand. “Rose Gardner, I offer you assistance, guidance, and protection.”

I shook his hand. “And I offer you the same.”

A twinkle sparked in his eyes. “You think
you
can protect
me?
”

My eyes rose in defiance. “Don’t I already?”

He laughed and dropped my hand. “Why do I think this has bad idea written all over it?”

I winked. “Because it probably does.” And yet I knew it was one of the best decisions of my life.

“Then let’s get to work.”

Skeeter turned off his car and I grabbed a blanket to set on the bed of my truck. We sat on the tailgate, listening to the silence.

“Why were you questioning Dirk Picklebie?” Skeeter’s voice held a gentleness I wasn’t used to from him.

“That’s kind of a long story.”

“Good thing I’ve got time,” he said, pulling a flask from his coat pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit inside?” He motioned toward his car with his thumb.

“Nah, I like it out here.” I turned to him. “Where do your guys think you are?”

“Probably with a woman.” He winked. “And they were right.” After taking a swig from the flask, he handed it to me.

I hesitantly took it and lifted it to my nose.

“It’s my damn twenty-five-year-old whiskey you keep dolin’ out to the deviants of Fenton County. Just take a damned drink.” His tone was hard, but I knew he was teasing.

I took a swig and handed back to him, surprised that the warmness in my belly held off the bite of the cold air. “Now I see why they have those little whiskey barrels attached to those St. Bernard dogs in the Alps.”

He laughed and took another drink. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be givin’ my whiskey to your ugly ass dog next.”

I turned to him, my mouth open.

He grinned. “Hell, yeah. I know about your dog. I know about your sister and your best friend. I even know about your boyfriend. Both of ’em.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I suspect I might know a thing or two more about them than
you
do.”

He was probably right, but I wasn’t ready to start digging into either of their pasts. Decoding my own history was too much on the forefront of my mind. And I wasn’t surprised or even offended Skeeter had researched me. I knew Jed had conducted his own investigation of me in the name of protecting Skeeter.

“My dog’s not ugly.”

“Okay,” he snickered. “If you say so.”

“She has her own special…charm.”

He just grinned at me.

“You think you’re so smart, Skeeter Malcolm,” I said, giving him a smug glare. “Tell me what you know about me.”

He rattled off a bunch of facts, including my birthdate, Momma and Daddy’s names, my work history. It made me realize what a wonderful resource he could turn out to be. When he finished, I grabbed his flask out of his pocket. He gave me an amused look as I took a drink.

“You got part of it wrong.” Surprise wrinkled his forehead, making me laugh. “My parentage.”

“How did I get it wrong?”

“Well.” I took another sip of the whiskey. “What I’m about to tell you is one of my deepest darkest secrets. You can’t tell a soul.”

He held up his fingers in a boy scout pledge and I burst out into laughter. “Who are you trying to fool, Skeeter Malcolm? You already told me you weren’t a boy scout.”

“I said I’m not a boy scout
now
. You think I was always gunnin’ to run the organized crime world of Fenton County?”

“I bet you were placin’ bets in elementary school over who brought pudding in their lunch.”

He laughed again. “You aren’t far off. Now tell me this deep dark secret of yours.”

“My momma wasn’t my birth mother.” And with that, I told him the whole sordid tale, and I was surprised by how relieved I was to share it with him. He listened to it all, showing interest but keeping quiet. It occurred to me that this was how a man like him found out things. By paying attention. He continued to drink from his flask, offering me sips until it was gone and I was fuzzy-headed.

When I finally finished talking, I waited for his reaction. It took him a full five seconds to say, “Damn.”

I sighed. “Dora died in a car accident and the police investigated and said it was an accident. But there were rumors her brake lines had been cut, and my Aunt Bessie said her death was suspicious. Joe didn’t think much of it, though, and Mason’s been too busy with other projects to do much.”

“So you decided to your own digging.”

“Only after I found out Dora used to work for Atchison Manufacturing. The factory was never reopened after it burned down in a fire, and there might have been an extortion case tied up in the whole mess of it closing.”

“So you were trying to clear your mother of a crime that happened twenty-five years ago, one that nobody gives a shit about anymore?”

“No.” I took a breath and looked him in the eye. “I’m trying to find out the truth about my mother. Only the deeper I dig, the more complicated it gets,” I said, smoothing back stray hairs the wind blew into my face.

“How does J.R. Simmons come into play?”

“Dirk told me he was the investor who gave them money to switch the product line at the factory. He also says Dora was the one to introduce her boss, Henry Buchanan, to J.R.” I told him about the parts and how they were faulty. About the suspicious coincidence of the fire breaking out the night before the parts were to be shipped, followed by the death of the police chief, my mother’s accident, and Henry Buchanan’s suicide. I even considered telling him about my new uncertainty about my birth father, but he didn’t need to know that part. “Dirk had some part in it all. I forced a vision before he left the pool hall, and I saw him calling a woman named Beverly after. He admitted to having taken a bribe to keep quiet and he told her about sharing his story with me and Neely Kate. He’s scared that I’m digging. Now I need to find out who this Beverly is.”

“What if Dora or your father really did start the fire? How’s it gonna help for you to know? Maybe you should just let sleepin’ dogs lie.”

I shook my head. “I’ve gotten this far. I want to keep goin’.”

“Okay,” he said, scratching his chin. “Your call. I’ll have Jed check into Picklebie and see if he can identify Beverly.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded.

“So what’s
your
interest in J.R. Simmons?” I asked.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Apparently, Old Man Simmons has it out for me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m on his most expendable list.”

“He wants you
dead?
”

“So your boyfriend says.”

I blinked. “
Mason?
”

“He called me the day after Christmas and offered me full immunity if I dished on why J.R. wanted me dead. To make me a deal like that, he has to be desperate to take the guy down.”

My mouth dropped open. Mason had an early morning meeting the day after Christmas that he kept top-secret from me and had instigated a huge fight between us. Had he found out something while he was in Little Rock the week before? “He was desperate...is desperate.” I looked into his face. “He’s trying to save
me
.”

“
You?
”

I gasped. “What if J.R. Simmons is the man behind the list? What if he’s telling Gentry what to do?”

“Why would Simmons want your boyfriend dead? And what is Deveraux trying to save you
from?
”

“J.R. Simmons has falsified evidence suggesting I hired Daniel Crocker to kill Momma. He used it to blackmail Joe into running for the Arkansas Senate. Joe ran and lost, but Mason is terrified J.R.’s going to hand over the evidence on a whim. He’s determined to do everything in his power to bring J.R. down.”

Skeeter stared at me, a hard glint in his eyes. “You won’t have to worry about Simmons for long.”

“Why not?” Fear clenched my stomach. “What are you doin’?”

He leaned close and patted my cheek. “This is one of those instances where the less you know, the better.” He hopped off the truck bed. “I’ve been gone too long. I need to get back.”

I followed after him. “Skeeter!”

He turned back to look at me. “I set this into motion before I knew about the connection between you and J.R., so I’m not doing it for you. But knowing he’s trying to hurt you only makes me more determined.” He opened my truck door. “Are you safe to drive?”

I waved him off. Maybe I was becoming more tolerant to his whiskey or maybe it was our serious conversation, but I no longer had a buzz. “Skeeter, please don’t do anything stupid.”

He grinned. “I could say the same to you. If you think you’re heading into something dangerous, call Jed.” His eyebrows rose. “And let me know if you get any more information.”

“Okay.”

I drove home, surprised it was already almost eight o’clock. I called Deputy Miller on the way. He was in the northern part of the county, so he pulled into my driveway a minute after I did.

He checked the house inside and out and then walked me to the front porch after Muffy did her business outside. “We’re short-handed with the double murder investigation south of town. I can’t stick around tonight.”

I gave him a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Mr. Deveraux said to be sure you turn on your alarm.”

I laughed. “He knows I hate that thing, but I made him a promise. Any idea when Mason will be done?”

“No.” He looked grim. “It’s a gruesome crime scene.”

I sure didn’t want any details. “You be careful, Deputy Miller.”

He grinned. “Will do.”

After I turned on the alarm, I heated up some of the leftover noodles from a couple of nights ago and watched TV with Muffy. I considered texting Neely Kate about my heart-to-heart meeting with Skeeter, but I knew she was with Ronnie. I hoped they’d be able to have a real talk about what happened and their feelings about it.

Around ten o’clock Mason called and said he was going to be another hour.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you feel safe?”

I smiled. “I’m
fine.
Deputy Miller checked the house and I set the alarm. I just need to take Muffy out.”

“Wait until I come home and I’ll take her out.”

That seemed counterproductive considering someone wanted Mason dead—not me—but I wasn’t going to argue the point. “Come home to me safe, Mason.”

“I will.” His voice lowered. “This afternoon I found out I have a meeting I can’t miss late tomorrow. I’m not sure if going to my uncle’s cabin this weekend is going to work out.”

He would be even less likely to want to leave town once I told him everything I’d discovered. But I didn’t want to get into any of it on the phone. “We can talk about it later. Okay?”

“Sounds good. See you in a bit.”

I checked the alarm and made a cup of tea. I figured I could read in bed while I waited for Mason. But I soon dozed off.

I woke up to Mason snuggling against my back, his arm wrapped around my stomach as he nuzzled my neck.

“You’re home,” I murmured, trying to rouse myself awake.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my cheek.

I rolled over and wrapped my arm around his neck, my mouth finding his in the dark.

“I’m exhausted,” he murmured against my lips. “But if you continue to kiss me like that, I’m bound to make a recovery.”

I could feel the proof of his recovery against my leg. “I
do
love a challenge.”