A Dirty Shame (7 page)

My own problems disappeared and guilt bombarded me as I remembered that I should’ve been comforting him instead of the other way around. His lover had just died and I was standing here feeling sorry for myself. Then I realized what he was saying. It was easy to feel guilt when you survived. I knew that well enough.

I marched over to him and got in his face, deciding anger was a better emotion that the others that wanted to take control.

“Or you could be just as dead as he is. Don’t you blame yourself for this. You had nothing to do with what those monsters did to him. And I’m scared for you. It could’ve been you I stumbled across this morning.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Everybody knows who and what I am, Jaye. They’ve known for years, and they still patronize my business, and kids are still allowed to trick-or-treat at my house. I’m eccentric and my family is rooted here. You’ve got no reason to be scared for me.”

I raked my hand through my hair at his stubbornness. “You can’t know that for sure. They could be biding their time. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

The door buzzer sounded again just before I heard the key turn in the lock. I took a step toward the drawer where I’d stashed my gun before I remembered Jack had keys to everything. Vaughn squeezed my shoulder gently and moved back to his seat when I tensed under his grip.

Now that Jack was here, I pretty much wanted to be anywhere else. Vaughn’s words rang in my ears, and suddenly it was easy to see things I’d been missing all these years. I needed to focus on the dead. Not the living. The dead were much easier to deal with.

“Hey, man,” Jack said, slapping Vaughn on the shoulder before setting the various plastic bags he had down on the counter. “I guess you heard about the S’mores. It’s damned hard to keep a secret in this town.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Vaughn said.

Jack plunked a six-pack of beer on the table in front of us and then systematically put away all the groceries he’d picked up on the way, more at home in a kitchen than I could ever hope to be.

“You both look like you could use one of these. Jaye has her guilty face on. I must have missed a hell of a conversation.”

Vaughn laughed and I felt my hackles rise. “I don’t have a guilty face,” I protested.

“Sweetheart, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met,” Jack said. “It’s why you owe me eleven-thousand dollars in lost poker money.”

“I can’t possible owe you that much.”

“And seventy-seven cents,” he said with a wink.

I felt the blush heat my face and cursed Vaughn for his need to make me see things clearly.

Vaughn only laughed harder and reached for the beer. “I could use one of these.” He twisted off the top and then went to get a pilsner glass from the cabinet. Jack and I would just drink out of the bottle like heathens.

“Did you eat?” Jack asked me, pulling out sandwich fixings from the bag he’d brought in and making himself at home. I was contemplating whether or not I should lie when he said, “I’ll take your silence as a no.”

“I’ve been a little busy.” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, and I kicked lightly at the island before taking a sip of beer. “Why are you always trying to feed me? I’m not hungry. And if either one of you mentions again how my clothes don’t fit right I’m going to knock you in the teeth.”

Vaughn studied his fingernails and Jack
hmmed
and went about the business of finishing the sandwiches. By the time he set the plates down in front of us and added an open bag of chips, my mouth was watering. So maybe I was a little hungry after all. Jack took his place at the empty barstool and we all dug in.

I could feel the unease coming from Vaughn over what he had to do. The grief of Daniel Oglesby’s death was still raw and new, and I knew if I could feel the tension then Jack could too.

Jack crumpled up his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, looking at Vaughn.

Vaughn let out a deep breath and then told him without stopping about his relationship with Daniel, almost robotic in tone. Sometimes that was the easiest way. Just to get it out as precisely as possible while blocking off your emotions. Once the dam broke, it was sometimes hard to plug up again.

Jack laid his hand on Vaughn’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know the two of you were close.”

“We kept it quiet,” Vaughn said. “We had to.”

“Oglesby did a good job of staying out of the public eye all together,” Jack said. “I’d only seen him around town a couple of times myself. And I make it a point to try and know most everyone in Bloody Mary at least well enough to say hello in passing.”

Vaughn laughed a little and grabbed another beer. “I guess that says something about your church-going habits, considering the man had been there every Sunday for the past four months.”

“I go about as often as you. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s the excuse I like to use too,” Vaughn said. They both turned to look at me.

“I don’t need an excuse,” I said, grabbing a second beer for myself. “I just don’t like to go because I can nap at home without having to put on a dress.”

“Daniel actually felt the same way about the church, believe it or not,” Vaughn said. “He wanted to make some changes that would bring in the younger crowds. I guess attendance is down and so is the money from the offerings, considering most of the congregation lives on Social Security. But Reverend Thomas stonewalled him every time he had a new idea. And Lorna never liked him anyway, so she wasn’t exactly an ally.”

“Why didn’t Lorna like him?” Jack asked.

A flush of red heated Vaughn’s cheeks and he picked at the paper label on the bottle. “I think she knew. About Daniel, I mean. About us. He and I went to dinner one night in Richmond. We were feeling comfortable together. It was a good night,” he said reminiscently. “Daniel didn’t see her as we left the restaurant, but I did. And I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew we were together. I mean, like a couple.”

Jack and I shared a look. That would certainly explain why Lorna had been so nervous when we’d been questioning her and the Reverend that morning.

“The Reverend and Lorna never made Daniel feel like he belonged here. They saw a young guy with new ideas and a radical way of thinking and decided to ignore him before he’d been here a month. So Daniel took as many of the hospital and home visits as he could so he wouldn’t have to work inside the church office with the two of them. He spent a lot of time over at the youth center in King George too. Those kids really loved him.”

“Did anyone else besides Lorna know that Daniel was gay?” Jack asked.

Vaughn blew out a breath and his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’d say no, but if Lorna knew then everyone could know. Daniel was very careful to keep his private life private. I never stayed at his house overnight. We never met for dinner around here. And he wasn’t seeing anyone else before or after me.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Jack asked.

Vaughn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Saturday night. He stopped by here on his way home and we talked for a while.”

“Did he seem okay to you? Was anything bothering him?”

“Ha,” Vaughn said tiredly. “You mean other than what to do about me? He was a little flustered, I guess. He said a car had almost hit him while he was out running early that morning. He sometimes had a hard time seeing if he wasn’t wearing his glasses.”

“Did he say who it was?” Jack asked.

“No, and I didn’t ask. It was just conversation to fill the time, you know? He just said a big white Cadillac ran him off the road.”

“You know I won’t stop until I find the people responsible,” Jack said.

“I know. But that doesn’t bring him back.” Vaughn stood and tossed his empty bottles in the trash before shrugging on his coat. “I need to get going. I’ve got to open the store tomorrow. Thanks for the sandwich and the beer.”

We sat in silence after Vaughn left, and I could feel the awkwardness between us creeping in. I tried hard not to think of the things Vaughn had told me, and I tried even harder not to remember what that initial spark between Jack and I had felt like. It was getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You know I’ve got to put Vaughn on the short list of suspects,” Jack said. “I don’t think he was a part of this, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t follow up.”

“Sometimes our jobs suck.”

“There ya go,” he nodded. “Tell me about our victim.”

“You’ve got a thirty-six year old male who’s 6’5” and weighs 230 pounds. He’s in good shape. I found evidence of knee replacement surgery from several years ago, and Vaughn confirmed he was a runner, so that explains that. But he was taken down with a hypodermic needle filled with Diprivan. It would have rendered him unconscious in seconds, and he wouldn’t have been able to fight back. By the time he regained consciousness—somewhere between six and eight hours later considering the dosage—he would have been well restrained and too groggy to put up much of a struggle.”

Jack took out his notebook and started writing.

“The needle mark was on the right upper shoulder and slanted outward,” I said. “The trajectory makes the attacker right-handed. There was also considerable bruising to the muscle, so he jammed the needle in quick and hard.”

“I went to his house earlier,” Jack said. “No signs of a struggle or forced entry. Nothing out of place. He lived simply and frugally. The bed was made. Old coffee sat in the pot. There were two cups in the drain pan, both of them already washed. We found a few stray fingerprints, but I don’t think they’re going to belong to our suspects. Only sign of struggle was less than a thimbleful of blood in the dirt behind the house.”

“So what did you see that’s not on the surface?” I asked.

“I want to take another look at it anyway. Want to come along?”

“It beats the hell out of staying here.” I grabbed my coat and buttoned it up tight over my sweater and jeans. Jack didn’t say anything when I got my Beretta out of the drawer and slipped it in my pocket, but I knew he’d noticed. The man noticed every damned thing.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you before you changed your mind about staying here,” he said, putting his hand on my lower back to lead me out the door. I knew what he was doing. Little touches here and there to get me used to him. Like I was a stray dog or something. I hated to admit that it was working. The sickness didn’t come like it had with Vaughn, but I had something other than nausea to worry about now. I walked quickly to the passenger side of his cruiser and got in.

“I could live here if I really wanted to,” I said. “But the more I think about it, living in the funeral home doesn’t really fit my new image.”

“What new image?”

“My bad girl image.” I buckled my seatbelt and could practically feel Jack roll his eyes. “I’ve decided since everyone’s already made up their mind about me that I should live up to their expectations. Maybe I’ll dye my hair crazy colors and wear black lipstick.”

“Yes, I’m sure that will scandalize the whole town.”

“Well, I could come up with something. It might draw in some business.”

“So your goal is to shock people into keeling over with a heart attack? That doesn’t sound like a good business model to me.”

“Shut up,” I said, lips twitching.

“Why don’t you sell the cabin? The cash would give you some breathing room while you decided what to do.”

I’d already thought of that, but that was before I’d found one of my parents’ hidey-holes and the boxes of papers and records the FBI never discovered when they’d raided the property after my parents’ death. There was no way in hell I was going to sell a property that had a million dollars hidden somewhere on the premises. The only problem was I couldn’t find it. The clues had been vague at best.

“I’ve thought about it,” was all I said in response. “I think I might stay at the B&B for a couple of days. The heater isn’t working right at the funeral home,” I lied. “I’ll never get to sleep if I’m freezing to death.”

“You’ll also never get to sleep with the rats and that clingy scent of death that is soaked into the walls. Living at a funeral home is creepy. At least you’ve come to your senses. I wasn’t looking forward to it.”

“I thought you said the exterminator took care of the rats?”

“You know they never get them all. I say we let the rats have the third floor all to themselves. And since you’re in such a sensible mood, I’m sure you’ll be much more agreeable when I suggest you stay with me instead of paying for a room at the B&B. You know Wanda will snoop through your things while you’re gone. She has a duty to report the goings-on of the people she boards when she gets her hair rolled every Thursday at Betty’s Beauty Parlor.”

“Jack—” I said, shaking my head.

“Don’t argue, Jaye. I’m way more stubborn than you are. You’ll have practically the whole second floor to yourself. And before you say it, I don’t care that everyone in town will be talking. They’re talking anyway. I say let them.”

I hadn’t thought about gossip in that area. Me living with Jack, even on a temporary basis, would have tongues wagging. But he was right. They could talk if they wanted. Nothing I could do would stop them.

“Geez, Jack. I guess you feel pretty strongly about the whole thing. I guess I should just say thanks and be grateful.”

“You’re a perverse creature, Doctor Graves. I don’t know why I like you.”

“I can think of a million reasons. One is because I never told your mother when you got that tattoo. And another is because I never told Mandy Howe that you broke your date with her to watch game seven of the World Series with me.”

“It was a good game,” he said soberly. “And if you think you’re going to blackmail me by telling my mom about that tattoo then you can think again. I’m not scared of her.”

“Sure you’re not. And the tattoo is in such an interesting place,” I said, fluttering my lashes.

His hands tightened on the wheel as we wound our way through the mostly empty streets into King George Proper. “If you get me in trouble, just know I’m bringing you down with me. You’ll have to admit to my mom that you’ve seen me naked if you squeal about the tattoo. She’s probably going to have a lot of questions about that if I know her.”

Oh, boy
, had I seen Jack naked. It wasn’t something I was likely to forget. I’d officially lost this round since anything else I said would only get me deeper into trouble. The sexual tension in the car notched up to where I had to reach over and shut off the heater for the first time in as long as I could remember. I ignored Jack’s chuckle of triumph and tried to think about
anything
besides tattoos and nakedness.

Reverend Oglesby had lived in one of the older areas of King George Proper. It was a mish-mashed area where quarter-million dollar homes were interspersed with doublewides or run down frame houses. There was a good bit of privacy to be had, as the lots were large and there was good tree coverage. The roads were difficult to maneuver, especially now that it was dark, and we almost missed the turn into Oglesby’s place.