3 Dime If I Know (8 page)

“I’m old but I’m not useless. If I don’t do my job, they’re gonna fire me, so hush up and follow me.”

I hushed.

Finally, she stopped and pointed to the door on the left with her cane. “That one.”

“Thank you.” I opened the door and slid inside before she ordered me around again.

In the room, two clumps of people gazed at a man in a shiny suit who extolled the power of Jesus to save sinners. He thumped his Bible and used sweeping arm gestures to emphasize his points.

I slid into the back row and tried to look inconspicuous. Did I know anyone? Quickly, I took an inventory of the occupants. Three gray-headed ladies. A bald guy with two squirming kids. A brunette about my age, and two Hispanic women.

Rafe wasn’t here.

I released the breath I’d been holding. The youngest kid stopped kicking the support under her chair long enough to look over her shoulder at me. I winked at her, and her eyebrows shot up as if this was some wonderful new game.

The service leader moved on to talk about when we all lived in heaven with Jesus. I found myself checking the time, wondering if the minister had ever known Starr. None of the remarks seemed personal.

Worse, none of these people looked like murderers.

The door snicked open and a barrel-chested man swaggered in. Oh, no. I sank down in my seat, but it was too late. He’d spotted me.

Detective Britt Radcliff sat down next to me. He placed his arm around my folding chair and leaned in close. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t swear in a funeral home.”

“Answer my question.”

It wasn’t so much his tone of voice as his stern face that prompted my whispered response. “I need to learn more about this woman. If she has ties to Rafe, I want to know what they are.”

“This is a police matter,” Britt growled in my ear. “You’re not the police.”

The preacher glared at us. I ignored the angry detective at my side and feigned interest in the service. Another ten minutes of fire and brimstone, and the man turned on a canned recording of a tinny piano beating out the notes to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.”

The people in the front rose. I stood, too. Britt caught my arm. “Do not make trouble. Pretend you’re with me.”

The brunette stood talking with the preacher, so we approached her first once the preacher moved on to shake other mourners’ hands.

I didn’t enjoy Britt telling me what to do. He could hang on to me all he liked, but I was free to say what I liked. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered.

The woman scrunched up her face. “I don’t know you. How do you know my sister?”

Britt offered his hand. “Britt Radcliff, ma’am, and this is my associate, Cleo Jones. My sympathies to you and your family. We drove over from the Frederick area for Starr’s service today.”

“You knew Starr?”

Britt nodded. “We recently became acquainted with her. We’re terribly sorry her life was cut short. She had so much to live for.”

“Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but if she was so stupid as to get herself killed, the least she could have done was to buy a life insurance policy to get me some money. Now I’ve got to raise her brat. Kids cost money. I can barely afford to feed myself, plus I had to pay for her cremation. Can’t afford to bury her, so I’ll take the ashes home with me. Just what I wanted, to keep Starr with me forever. It’s ghoulish, I tell you.”

The woman’s words didn’t ring true to me. “Do you need help clearing out her place?”

“Heck, no. I’m moving into that trailer of hers. Deer Pines Mobile Home Park over in Madeira is a sight better than the dump I’ve been living in. Her place is paid for, and it goes to Kylie and me anyway. Say, you want some punch and cookies? They’ve got both in the back.”

“No, thanks. We’ve got to get back home. We only wanted to say goodbye to Starr.” I started to turn away, but I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Kylie.”

“Kylie’s only five. Much too young to sit through a funeral.”

“Good point.”

Britt boxed me in at the Gray Beast. “You will cease and desist your investigation.”

“I won’t. You’re looking at Rafe for the murder. He didn’t do it, and I’m going to prove it. Someone else killed Starr Jeffries.”

“He had the means and the opportunity, Cleo. Your boyfriend isn’t the nice guy you think he is.”

“You’re wrong. He didn’t have any reason to kill her. He wasn’t involved with her. He told me so.”

“People lie, especially desperate people.”

“How do you know someone in that room didn’t kill her? The sister was hiding something. It could be her. She profited from Starr’s death.”

“I don’t have any eyewitness reports of her being at the scene.”

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. Any one of those people from the funeral could have been there. How will you eliminate them as suspects?”

“Legwork, but I don’t need to be tripping over you.”

“Don’t you get in my way either. I plan to have a future with Rafe Golden.”

“Not a good idea. I’d feel more comfortable if you stopped seeing him until this was over.”

“When’s the last time I did what you said?”

His face fell. “Never.”

Teeth clenched, I grabbed hold of a handful of dead zinnias and yanked them out of the ground. An explosion of rich dirt landed on my sleeves, my knees, my lap. I filled my lungs with the comforting smell, tossed the shriveled plants into my wheelbarrow, and reached for another cluster of brown stalks.

I’d been putting this chore off for days. Once I pulled out the annuals, it was an acknowledgment that fall was here and winter was breathing down my neck. I wasn’t ready for the seasons to change. In fact, I wanted to turn the clock back to the halcyon days of summer.

Those golden moments with Rafe where I found love and allowed myself to be loved.

I thought I’d hit solid gold with Rafe, but now I doubted my judgment and his integrity. Not good. October was off to such a rocky start. I couldn’t see my way clear to December; at least I wasn’t sure if Rafe would still be in the picture at Christmas. How could I even think of a near-term relationship with him while he was under suspicion of murder?

I still didn’t know what Starr Jeffries meant to Rafe. She wasn’t his former fiancée; that was a woman named Tiffany who currently dated Rafe’s brother. I’d learned Starr had a sister and a young child, and that both would live in Starr’s trailer home in Madeira. Other than that, I had nothing.

I hated having nothing.

Would Rafe even remember he’d promised to show up at Jonette’s mayoral fundraising party tonight?

I yanked and tugged my way across the front of my house, wishing I could remove the deadwood from my life so easily, that I could just be done with it and move into my happily ever after. I needed to take action to make it happen, but how?

“Mom!” Lexy stomped down the porch stairs. “I need you.”

“I’m right here.” I rocked back on my heels and watched her approach. Ever since she’d started middle school this year, Lexy had worn a pale blue bucket hat everywhere, and today was no exception. The collar-length ends of her dark hair flipped out beneath the hat. She scowled as she plopped down beside me.

“What’s on your mind?” I tugged off the leather gardening gloves and hoped it wasn’t the puppies. Or her sister. Or her wanting me to date the football coach. Or something her father had promised and then failed to deliver.

“John Paul Delong, that’s what.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t place John Paul Delong. “How can I help? What has he done to make you so unhappy?”

“He’s pushing me out, Mom. Mrs. Sellers loves his photographs. She never picks mine from the picture cache. His pictures are taking over the yearbook, and he’s a freshman like me. It isn’t fair. I want you to fix it. Call Mrs. Sellers. Tell her not to shut me out.”

Ah. The boy wonder photographer on the yearbook staff. Lexy’s competition. It was coming back to me. I identified with Lexy’s outrage. As her mom, I wanted to fix her problem. It would be so easy to call the school and burn into this Mrs. Sellers. But was that really the best thing for my daughter? No. As daily problems went, this one wasn’t major. With luck, it would be a confidence-boosting opportunity.

“I could do that, but this is a problem you can solve,” I said.

“I can’t. Didn’t you hear me?” Tears glistened in Lexy’s eyes. “Mrs. Sellers hates my pictures.”

I opened my arms to my daughter, and she nestled up close. She had a good cry, and I stroked her back, wishing I could wring Mrs. Sellers’ neck. When Lexy calmed, I lifted her chin. “Life is a bumpy road, sweetheart. This is high school, so you don’t want to call in your parents unless it’s a big deal.” She puffed up to speak, and I shushed her. “Wait, I’m not done. The reason I think you can handle this is because I saw firsthand how you dealt with Madonna’s puppy birthing. When there’s a challenge, you dig in and make it work. You can do the same thing with this kid. You can get your pictures in the yearbook.”

“Not as long as stupid Mrs. Sellers is our advisor.” Lexy toyed with a handful of brown grass she’d ripped from the ground. “She hates me and my pictures.”

“That’s emotion talking. You can do better than that. You’re my problem solver. I know you can rise above this. What’s your strength in this situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve taken wonderful candid shots of the puppies.”

“I had time to take a lot of pictures of them. They’re always around.”

“Take more pictures of yearbook material. The more pictures you take, the higher the odds are of snapping a really good one.”

“That’s true.” Lexy hugged me close. “Thanks, Mom.”

“And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll talk again. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She scampered off, and I resumed my weeding, wishing my problems were as easy to solve. A dark shadow fell over me, and my heart lurched into overdrive at the thought of someone walking up behind me unannounced. I turned, not knowing who was there. With the afternoon sun behind the person, I couldn’t make out a face.

Not good.

So not good.

I shrank from the intruder, scrambling away on hands and knees.

My ex caught my arm as I collapsed. “Easy, Clee. It’s me.”

Shrugging off his grip, I pressed a hand against my racing heart. I wanted to yell at him, knowing if I did I’d see his smug smile at having provoked a strong reaction out of me. Damn him. “Charlie, you scared the living snot out of me.”

“Sorry, love.” He nodded toward the house. “What was that all about?”

“Lexy is working through a problem at school.”

Charlie’s affable grin vanished. His affection for me may have wavered a few years back, but his daughters were the loves of his life. “Want me to step in?”

“No. I want her to handle it.”

“She’s a kid.”

“She’s a teenager, a hybrid between kid and adult. She needs the experience with conflict resolution, and she can take this guy.”

“A guy is giving Lexy trouble? Who is he? I’ll take care of him. It’s my God-given right. I’m Lexy’s father. You should’ve mentioned this before now.”

“He’s nobody, Charlie. Calm down. I only found out about the problem five minutes ago, so you’re in the loop.”

“I don’t like anyone messing with my kids.”

“Me neither, but this is the right call. If she can’t resolve it, we’ll both step in. Together. No head knocking and no threatening anybody, okay?”

“Together. I like that.” He stepped closer, his gaze softening. “I’d like us to do more things together. We could leave the kids with your mom and Bud and head up to Deep Creek Lake for a few days, like old times. What do you say?”

I loved Deep Creek Lake. Our summer vacations there had been a bright spot of our marriage. Trust Charlie to play the sentimental card when I was loaded down with worries about my boyfriend.

I retreated a few steps for good measure. “Did you forget I’m seeing someone else? There isn’t an us.”

“But there could be. I’ve been patient because our separation was my fault. I want there to be an
us.
I screwed up. Big time. I want my entire family back.”

His cologne washed over me, tangy and oh-so-familiar. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t get Rafe to talk to me, and I couldn’t make Charlie go away.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

I turned from him, blinking the tears back. “Nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

His hand rested on my shoulder. Heat and comfort radiated from his touch. “Want a hug?”

I stood my ground. “No. Please don’t do this. I’m not your wife.”

“You could be. I’ll remarry you today if that’s what you want.”

I shook my head. “You had your chance. I don’t trust you.”

“We’ll get past that.”

“Dad!” Charla slammed the front door behind her and bounced down the stairs, red curls flying. She hugged us both, her brown eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m ready for my driving lesson. Can we take your car?”

Charlie took a long look at me. “No, we’ll borrow your mother’s car. That’s the car she wants you to drive once you have your license. I want you to be comfortable driving it.”

My daughter’s face fell. “Can’t we take your car?”

“Nope. From now on, we take the Gray Beast.” He turned to me, handing me the warm keys from his pocket. “If you need transportation while we’re gone, feel free to use my car.”

I took the keys. Dazed, I watched them drive away. Temptation reared its ugly head. My relationship with Rafe was a certifiable mess. Charlie was right here, doing exactly what I expected him to do and more. He claimed to have turned over a new leaf.

It was wrong to trust him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

But I did.

Charla and Lexy had insisted Jonette decorate the Tavern with streamers and balloons for her mayoral fundraiser. Looking at the bright clusters of red, white, and blue in the crowded room, I realized they’d been absolutely right. The decorations helped the bar look more like a campaign headquarters and less like a lonely hearts gathering hole.