3 Dime If I Know (17 page)

“I can drive,” I said.

“Thanks, but I need to prove to my family that I’m not weak. I can stand on my own two feet without them.”

Hill helped me get him settled, and Rafe’s eyes closed tight. I followed Hill out of the room, hugging my arms to my chest. “Thanks for the help. Poor Rafe. He’s had a crappy day. I wonder if he picked up the flu or something from the police station.”

Rafe’s brother waved a hand dismisively. “He’ll be fine.”

“Oh?”

“He’s had a weak stomach his entire life.”

Weak stomach?

That was news to me, but I mopped Rafe’s brow and watched as the man I loved emptied the contents of his stomach over and over again. How did I miss this before? Rafe had eaten colorful and spicy foods at my house without any tummy aches.

Purple pork chops. Blue ricotta cheese. Spaghetti sauce.

My knowledge of Rafe’s eating preferences was at odds with Hill’s statement.

The sun set, and my concern for Rafe rose with each tick of the clock. He was still in the grip of a powerful bout of nausea and vomiting. His clammy skin and lethargy worried me. Other than Hill helping us to Rafe’s room, the rest of the family had vanished. Mary brought some ice cubes and a wet cloth for his head, but that was it.

We were on our own in this well-appointed but impersonal room. Worse, I felt responsible for getting us in this mess. I’d insisted we come and mend fences with his family. I’d meddled, and I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I wiped his brow and then reached for his wrists to gently bathe them with the cool cloth. When I griped his arm, the skin stayed pinched together.

Uh-oh. He was dehydrating. I offered him ice chips. “They’ll come back up,” he said with a miserable moan. “My throat burns. My hands and feet keep falling asleep. If I could fall asleep, I’d feel better.”

Each time he vomited, he seemed weaker and dizzier. With his condition worsening, I needed to take action. He was too heavy for me to carry to the car. I didn’t dare wander the halls of this place and leave Rafe alone for a minute with his heartless family. He needed medical attention. Intravenous fluids. Anti-nausea drugs. If I couldn’t get him to the hospital, I could call an ambulance to come get him.

I called.

And loosened a shitstorm of Golden fury as I directed the rescue squad to Rafe’s bedroom. “Good thing you called, ma’am. He needs fluids,” the efficient Hispanic man said as Rafe was loaded onto a bright yellow transport.

“Thank you. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“He doesn’t need medical treatment,” Amanda said. “My son needs rest. I insist you leave him here.”

The technicians looked at me for direction. Without sparing a glance at anyone, I nodded toward the door. “Hospital.” To my relief, they rolled him out and drove away.

“We don’t do this,” Amanda said, as I shouldered my purse.

I held her level gaze. So what if fire burned in her eyes? It burned in mine, too. “Rafe is seriously ill. He needs medical attention.”

“Everyone will know the ambulance came here. They’ll know we had those people in our house. Our personal physician makes house calls, but there’s no need in this case. Rafe will be fine in the morning. He’s done this before.”

I’d been sick with worry over Rafe for hours. I didn’t have the patience to deal with a woman with no maternal instinct. “Excuse me. I have to get to the hospital.”

She stepped closer and scowled. “He won’t marry you.”

Ah. A direct attack this time. “Whether he asks or doesn’t ask is up to him. Maybe I don’t want to marry into this family. Did you ever think of that?”

She shook her head at me. “Are you implying something is wrong with us?”

“I’m implying that who I marry, for whatever reason, is my decision.”

“Forget about the money. Shep won’t let him lose control of his inheritance. You’ll have to sign a pre-nup.”

Money. I huffed out a breath of disgust. “Is that what’s bugging you? I don’t want Rafe’s money. Until this afternoon, I didn’t know he had a trust fund. I care about Rafe for who he is. He cares about me, too.”

She held onto each side of the door frame, blocking my egress. “I can make sure he never sees you again.”

“No wonder he doesn’t want to move back home. This family is worse than a concentration camp. If the kids don’t toe the Golden line, they lose their inheritance. You can control Hill and Regina that way, but Rafe has seen the light. He’s his own man, and you can’t stand that.”

“Get out. You’re no longer welcome in my house.”

I half-laughed. “Was I ever welcome here? Charity begins at home, Ms. Woman of the Year, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve shown darned little charity to your son.”

With that, I left. Not quite a grand exit, but it worked for me. Using the GPS system in Rafe’s car, I found the hospital and Rafe. He was hooked up to an intravenous drip and resting when I arrived.

“How is he?” I asked the male doctor monitoring his vitals.

“His blood pressure is better now. He’ll be good as new come daybreak. Can you describe how his illness progressed?”

“He seemed fine during the day, but late this afternoon he seemed restless and on edge with a headache. Then the nausea and dizziness set in. He couldn’t stop vomiting after that.” I recounted all of Rafe’s symptoms. “Is a virus going around?”

“Could be.”

The man’s sharp tone and guarded posture put me on edge.

“Is there something else I should know?”

He studied me as if he were measuring his words. “I’m running tests on him.”

“What kinds of tests?”

“Non-standard tests.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It could be nothing. Or it might be something.”

“You’re scaring me. What do you suspect?”

“You say he was fine earlier in the day?”

“Yes. No vomiting. No signs of illness.”

“Like I said. It could be a virus. But it might be something else. Either way, we’ll know for sure when the test results come back.”

Hours passed. I sat beside the hospital bed, holding Rafe’s hand. He dozed. I dozed. Then the nurse would come in, check his vitals, and I’d awaken. Rafe slept through several of these cycles, and I was glad he rested undisturbed. After two bags of fluids were administered, the hospital staff cleared us to leave.

The sun was shining when we left the hospital early Wednesday morning. I drove home on autopilot, grateful that the bulk of the traffic on I-270 was headed toward D.C. and not northbound in my direction.

The girls were in school by the time Rafe and I took the Hogan’s Glen exit off the interstate. Mama and Bud should be at home still. Though Bud might have slept in my bed, my guess was that he was in Mama’s room now.

“Take me home,” Rafe said as we approached the turnoff for Manor Run Road.

I kept straight on Main Street. “Not a chance. Until you’re back at full strength, I’m keeping an eye on you, at my house.” I couldn’t wait to get home. I might even kiss the ground of my driveway.

“I’m sorry about my buzz saw of a family,” Rafe said, his eyes slitted against the daylight. “I can’t say they mean well because I don’t believe they do. They’re set in their ways.”

“In my business, I learned how to get along with many different kinds of people, but I found yesterday beyond strange. Your family never gave either one of us a chance. Your dad seemed to be the only one with an interest in you, and even that seemed conditional upon your returning to the family business.”

“He thinks he’s protecting me.”

“From what?” My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “From me?”

“Not from you. The world. He thinks he’s protecting me from the world.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain it better, but later, okay? I’m not up to a long, drawn-out conversation about my folks. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“That’s exactly what you need to do. Sleep the day away.”

“I’ve got work.”

“After the night you’ve had, you shouldn’t go to work either. I’ll call Jasper and let him know you won’t be in today.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” He paused for a moment. “Will the board fire me?”

“Because you’re out sick for one day? I should hope not.”

“No. The other. Being questioned for murder.”

“Now you’re worried? Because of your job?”

He nodded, eyes wary.

I took a deep breath, aware that it would be easy to spin back up into super-Cleo mode. I looked at his tired face. He was barely hanging on, for goodness sake. This was no time to jump on him for being laid back.

I patted his arm. “That would be extreme, but you know what? Even if they act stupid about this, the world won’t end. You can get another job in a heartbeat. You’re that good.”

“You’re sweet,” he said. “I don’t deserve someone as nice as you.”

“Yes, you do.” I signaled for the left into my drive and made the turn. Bud’s car slumbered behind Mama’s Olds. I parked Rafe’s car behind my Volvo. “But first you deserve an uninterrupted rest after the last twenty-four hours you’ve had.”

“What will your family think?”

“They’ll think I’m taking care of you. Come on.”

He didn’t move. “Can you figure out who killed Starr?”

“I will do my damnedest to find her killer.”

“I changed my mind. I want you to dig. You’re good at solving mysteries. After tonight, I’m sure you could do anything.”

“I’m highly motivated to learn the truth. That’s the real secret to my prior successes.”

“I have a secret.”

“I’m sure you do. I have several myself.”

“Kiss and tell?”

“Not this morning. You need sleep, a shower, and mouthwash before you’re getting near me.”

“But I get to sleep in your bed?”

“You do. That’s the safest place for you right now.”

He shook his head. “I can’t go in. Detective Radcliff will see my car parked out front. He told me to stay away from you.”

“Britt will have to get over himself. He doesn’t control whom I date. I don’t mind people seeing your car at my house. Unless it’s a problem for you. Will it ruin your reputation as a single golf pro to have your car here in plain sight of God and everybody?”

Rafe summoned a crooked smile. “Might enhance my rep. Let’s go for it.”

With that, we went inside, and I got him settled. He fell asleep before he hit the pillow. I shooed Madonna and her pups out of my bedroom, closed the door, and tiptoed down the hall to Mama’s room, but it was quiet inside. I had enough walking-around sense left to leave the lovebirds alone.

I headed downstairs with my dog pack to make calls. Rafe’s assistant was surprised about Rafe’s sudden illness, but he said he could handle the Ladies’ League on his own.

The Ladies’ League? It was Wednesday, and I hadn’t thought once about golf? Yikes. “Cancel me for the league today, Jasper. I won’t be there.”

“Jonette already took you off the list when she called to cancel first thing this morning,” he said. “She said you two had too much going on to golf today.”

No Jonette either? What would the league do without the two of us old faithfuls there? Probably dance the watusi.

The dishes were done. The house was tidy. Whatever Mama and Bud had done to take care of the kids hadn’t left a mess. Good. I yawned big. I was too tired to deal with anything right now.

I curled up on the couch, Madonna flopped down on the floor beside me, and puppy Moses nestled in my arms. The other pups curled up next to their mom. I drifted off to sleep with the word
secrets
on the brain. Rafe had a secret. What was it?

“Wake up,” Mama said, shaking my shoulder. “There’s a man in your bed.”

I started awake, heart racing. Sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains. The room looked familiar. The smell was familiar. I was home and safe. I blinked away the mental cobwebs. “I put him there. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. The man was questioned for murder. I understand you wanting to help your boyfriend. I even understand your offering to use our house for his bail money. What I don’t understand is you bringing him beneath our roof. Impressionable young girls live here.”

“Tell her, Bud,” Mama prompted.

Bud shot me a desperate look. His face flushed. “Your mother worries your judgment may be clouded by your personal relationship with Rafe.”

“Of course it’s clouded. I wouldn’t bring home every suspected murderer out there. Only the ones I’m in love with. What’s going on here? Why the inquisition?”

Bud fanned the newspaper my way. Big headline on page one, above the fold no less: “Golf pro questioned for murder.”

I scanned the newspaper article. “Of course he was unavailable for a comment at press time. He was at the cop shop, his parents’ house, and the hospital. Did they even try to call him? Nothing came in on his cell phone. I would have heard it ring. I ought to drive over to that newspaper and give Jack Graham a piece of my mind. This was biased reporting. He ought to be excommunicated or something.”

“They don’t do that.” Bud settled into the rocking chair across from the sofa where I sat. “In fact, the more outrageous his story is, the more people buy papers, until he steps too far over the line and gets fired.”

I smacked the folded paper against my knee. “Can’t we sue him for libel?”

“He quoted from the police report. He didn’t print anything libelous.”

“If he was a local boy, I could call his mama and get him in big trouble,” Mama said, sitting down where my feet were. “That’s the trouble with these outsiders moving in here. People want progress but they don’t know their neighbors when that happens. Accountability goes all to hell.”

I dragged my feet out of the way in the nick of time. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and tried to think straight. “What can we do?”

“What do you want to do?” Bud asked.

“We can figure out who really killed Starr, and then write our own newspaper story,” Mama said. “I want to help. I’ve seen plenty of detective shows on TV, so I’ll more than carry my weight. Who do you like for it?”

The mental fog wasn’t lifting. I shook my head fast to clear it. “I don’t have a solid feel yet, but that’s how I work. I keep asking people questions until I can piece the information together, and right now I need to question Rafe.”