3 Dime If I Know (22 page)

Rafe had made it clear he wanted an affair. Nothing more.

Not much future in that.

Charlie would put a diamond ring on my finger today if I let him. He’d make a legal commitment in a heartbeat. Only he’d already shown by his past actions that being married and committed to one woman didn’t equate with faithfulness in his mind.

My passion for Rafe sparkled with lusty excitement. I didn’t feel an elemental connection when Charlie walked into a room. I’d never felt that way before I began having an affair with Rafe.

One of Mama’s cliched sayings flashed through my mind. If you play with fire, you will get burned. Rafe was fire all right, and my self-preservation instinct urged caution. I’d been burned before by a man, and I didn’t care to repeat the experience.

“Mrs. Burnside, you need a trust lawyer to set that up for you,” I stated loudly. Darby Burnside didn’t wear her hearing aids half the time, and I needed to make sure she understood. She’d been one of Daddy’s longtime clients, so when she called this afternoon and asked me to come over, I hadn’t hesitated. “Steve Saunders over in Frederick is who I recommend. He’s very competent, and he’s helped a lot of folks establish trust funds. He knows his stuff.”

“I know you must think poorly of me, dear,” Mrs. Burnside said from her deluxe motorized wheelchair. “But my Johnny would blow his inheritance in a week. I have to think of my grandchildren.”

“Steve can discuss the ins and outs of trusts for children.” I studied her pain-dulled eyes and saw a spark of the old Darby Burnside in there. “Are you certain you want to go this route? It will pit your grandchildren against their father.”

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

“All right. I’ll have Steve contact you. If you need anything else, call me.” A few sips of tea and a little polite conversation later, I was free to leave. My elderly client had a clear mind I envied. A clear mind. I used to love gazing off the overlook up here and staring into the valley. The fresh air and the elevated perspective helped me sort through my troubles time and again. Given the state of my love life, a little clarity would be much appreciated.

I listened to the radio as I drove across the ridge to Overlook Park. Traffic was picking up now that the sun was lower in the sky. Long wispy clouds floated overhead. The air blowing in my window brimmed with the rich aroma of fall leaves.

When I pulled in, only a Jetta and a Ford pickup were parked in the lot. I exulted when I passed two couples on the mulched footpath walking back to their cars. I would have the place to myself. It didn’t get any better than that.

I made my way to the point and stared out over the wide swath of valley. Twenty years ago the land had been neat rectangles of farm fields, but now the landscape resembled a chaotic sea of houses. Hogan’s Glen’s reputation for good schools and quiet neighborhoods had spawned a glut of housing choices.

I soaked in the sun’s rays and admired the play of light and shadows across the populated valley. The mountain ridge beyond beckoned my attention. Solid and awesome and firmly rooted.

Roots. I needed them. These days I felt like chaff in the wind, blowing every which way. Change was in the air, and I didn’t deal well with change. Mama was moving on with her life, the girls were growing up. Two men wanted me, and their interest made me feel desirable instead of washed up.

Daddy used to say that time healed all wounds, but time hadn’t healed the wound Charlie had inflicted on my heart. Time had eased my anger level. Had my ex-husband truly changed his stripes, or had this romantic pursuit been prompted because I’d told him flat-out no?

And my boyfriend. Rafe was walking around on borrowed time. Granted, there was no smoking gun in Starr’s homicide case, but the circumstantial evidence against Rafe looked bad. He’d been seen with Starr on the evening of her death. He’d routinely called her and given her money. He’d been involved in a fatal shooting accident years before. He was familiar with guns.

I shivered at the thought of Rafe pointing a gun at anyone. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t match his face with that action. It couldn’t be real. It didn’t seem probable, though it appeared to be possible.

When I looked at Rafe, I saw a man bewildered by all the fuss, a man who proclaimed his innocence.

In the three months I’d known him, he’d eaten Mama’s crazy dinners, dealt with squabbling teenagers, accepted my limited availability for recreation, and even delivered puppies. Any one of those things might drive a person to extreme measures, but he’d kept his cool under fire.

He’d given me a key to his house, and I’d given him my heart.

But the child.

I kept coming back to little Kylie, Starr’s daughter. Though Rafe claimed to be unaware of her existence, she was living proof of an intimate liaison. He swore Kylie wasn’t his daughter, but she looked like a Golden to me.

My temples ached. I massaged them, closing my eyes to clear my head.
Think, Cleo.
If Rafe was right, and I believed him, then Kylie had been fathered by another Golden. Possibly Rafe’s dad, brother, or uncle. They all patronized the country club where Starr had worked. They might have known her.

Did they
know
her in that other sense? And why would it matter now, years later? Was Kylie a motive? Did a Golden want custody of her? Or, worse, was Kylie in physical danger? Surely, no one would harm a child.

But another child had been hurt. Rafe’s baby sister. His brother and sister had been part of that death. Their parents had covered up the matter.

His family was up to their blue-blooded necks in this.

One of them could have poisoned Rafe with arsenic. Rafe claimed he’d thrown up a lot as a kid, leading both of us to think that the poisoning had been habitual.

Come on, Cleo. Put it together.

Rafe. If I shifted the focus from Starr to Rafe, what did I get?

Someone wanted to hurt Rafe.

He was the only financially solvent Golden.

Did the killer want him dead? Was this about his money?

His brother was broke, his sister heavily into risky ventures. His parents were over their heads in real estate debt.

But to kill your own flesh and blood? For financial gain? That was cold.

In the distance, a car backfired, startling a lone crow from nearby shrubs. The bird’s eerie squawking echoed down to the valley floor. I blinked against the strong sunlight and tried to rearrange the order of facts, hoping to make a new connection.

Starr died of a gunshot wound to the head. Her secret child might be a motive.

Rafe had been poisoned.

He was rich.

Starr and Rafe’s sister were shot to death.

Rafe’s poisoning wasn’t a single incident.

This rock was hard. I shifted my weight, bringing one leg up underneath me so I could sit on it. I kept coming back to Rafe and his family. What did I know about his blood kin?

I started with his parents, Amanda and Shep Golden. They’d kept a lid on their youngest child’s tragic death. They were land poor. Since they had a shooting range on their property and encouraged their children to shoot, I believed they knew how to handle guns. They had the means. They might have a hidden motive in protecting their family, but did they have the opportunity to kill Starr?

His older sister, Regina, knew how to shoot, and she’d staked her entire inheritance on a risky venture. How desperate for money was she? Would she and Hill inherit Rafe’s assets? She definitely had the intellect and the calculating personality to be a ruthless killer, but I didn’t know about her whereabouts the night Starr died.

Hill. The smooth-talking, fun-loving brother. What secrets lurked in those mischievious blue eyes? How had he blown his inheritance? His liquid assets included a sports car and a five-thousand-dollar monthly stipend from Golden Enterprises. He lived at home and was engaged to Rafe’s former fiancée. Was that by chance or choice? Had he gone after Starr when she was Rafe’s girl? Could Kylie be his child? Did Hill resent his brother? Or did he envy Rafe’s independence?

It galled me that I couldn’t answer those questions about his immediate family, but I hadn’t covered my entire suspect pool yet.

His cousin Ashley had been at the house when Rafe was poisoned. She had a daughter of her own who was the first official member of the next Golden generation. Her family’s estate adjoined the property where Rafe’s family lived, so she had ready access to Rafe and the household. What motive would she have to hurt Rafe? She’d decorated his place in Hogan’s Glen and kept his secrets. Gauging by her upscale business location, she wasn’t hurting for clients, but I didn’t know for sure. Even if she was a killer, I could see her going after another Golden for financial gain, but why kill Starr? It didn’t make any sense.

Mary and the housekeeper had been in the Golden house when Rafe was poisoned recently and in the past. Both women had handled the glassware for the drinks. One of them could have put something in Rafe’s diet soda glass. Except Mary and her mom depended on the Goldens for their income. If they brought the Goldens to the point of ruin, they’d hurt themselves and gain nothing. Another dead end of information.

Clearly, I didn’t have enough facts.

The only way to get them was to make a pest out of myself with Rafe. From previous conversations on this topic, I knew he valued his privacy. Would he hate me for putting his family under suspicion?

I couldn’t get answers sitting here on a rock. Time to go home and call Rafe.

But when I walked back to the car, my orderly thoughts once more dissolved into chaos. My Volvo sedan commanded the empty lot, but something had happened to it. Something bad.

I tried to speak. No words came out. Shuddering, I crouched to the ground and glanced around. Each tree seemed dark and threatening.

I knew two things.

Someone watched me now from the woodline.

My windshield had a bullet hole in it.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I fumbled for my purse strap on my shoulder, couldn’t manage the zipper to open it up. Should I run? Should I hide?

Was I the shooter’s next target?

I crouched beside the car. The shot must have originated from the direction of the path I’d trod. That was the only way the hole could go straight through the windshield and into the driver’s headrest.

I listened for rustling in the bushes, but I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in my ears. Finally, my fingers closed on my cell phone lifeline.

Detective Britt Radcliff’s voice came on the line. I cried out my need, “Help.”

I hugged the fuzzy blanket around my shoulders as the tow truck hauled my car down the mountain. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t warm the chill in my marrow. Someone shot my car. If I’d been sitting in the driver’s seat, the bullet would have gone right through my head.

Britt had confirmed the bullet was a .22, the same caliber that killed Starr. He’d collected the bullet from my car as evidence and stuffed me in a squad car.

“You didn’t see or hear anything?” he asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Nothing. Except for the car backfiring and the crow taking flight. That backfire was the gunshot, right?” At his nod, I shuddered. “I needed time to think about the case. Overlook Park seemed like the perfect place.”

“Thinking almost got you killed.”

The condemnation in his eyes caused my voice to hitch. “Ya think I don’t know that? I can’t stop thinking about where they shot my car.”

His thick brows arched. “You believe it was two shooters?”

“I don’t know anything.
They
was a slip of the tongue. But this incident was no slip up. They meant to shoot my Gray Beast. They were sending me a message.”

“It’s the same message I’ve been giving you since you started acting like you were a crime fighter. Stay out of this. Whoever this is, he or she plays for keeps.”

“I don’t understand why I’m a target. I don’t have much in the way of information.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Rafe didn’t do it. You know that, right? If Rafe had killed Starr, there’d be no reason for anyone to come after me.”

“Unless Rafe is the shooter.”

“You’re wrong. Rafe wouldn’t shoot anyone.” Too late I remembered the tragic shooting death of his baby sister, Brenna. “He wouldn’t shoot me.”

Britt’s stern visage didn’t relax. His silence weighed on me.

“Okay, okay.” I told him about the credit history search, the DNA test for paternity, about the arsenic discovered at the hospital, and my list of Rafe’s potential poisoners.

“Stay away from Rafe,” Britt said. “Stop poking around in his life. It’s full of scorpions.”

“I can’t.”

“Cleo.”

“I can’t. I believe he’s innocent. If he didn’t kill Starr, someone else did, and that someone else is scared because we’re getting close. Where were Rafe’s family members when Starr was killed? Do you know? Did you even check them out as potential suspects?”

“I can’t answer those questions.”

“You should. And you should be prepared to move forward on other persons of interest when the DNA test rules out Rafe as Kylie’s father. I don’t know what the motive for Starr’s murder was, but I’m guessing greed, since so many people in Rafe’s family need money.”

“You can’t guess about homicide. You need facts. I have no evidence leading to any of those people. The evidence points to Rafe. He’s also the only one with clear opportunity.”

My teeth clamped together at Britt’s insistence on Rafe as the killer. How could a police detective be so blind? “We don’t know that. Any of them could’ve had an opportunity. Starr kept her daughter a secret from the Goldens. Was she paid to keep quiet? Would a Golden born out of wedlock be worth killing for in this day of unwed mamas?”

“Jenny Kulp got custody of the child, not the Goldens. Kulp has an alibi. I checked her out.”

My chin jutted out at his pat answer. “If I were you, I’d double-check her alibi. Starr’s sister profited from her death. Whether it was Jenny who killed Starr, or a Golden or a stranger, Rafe’s been framed for the deed. I’m certain of that. He didn’t kill Starr, but someone went to a lot of trouble to make him appear guilty.”