A Memory Worth Dying For (28 page)

Once Marti explained everything about the stalker and the situation with Clara to Detective Simmons, he sat across the table from her with a grim look on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all this before, ma’am? We might have been able to stop him before Miss Watting had to die.”

“He’s never been this violent. He only threatened. He . . . he told me he’d kill anyone I told, but I really didn’t think he’d follow me here.”

“Are you sure you’re not just imagining this stalker of yours?”

Marti looked at him, appalled. “The police in Alabama didn’t believe me either until he vandalized my apartment, punctured all four of my car tires, and put a bullet hole through the windshield of my car.”

“Which city in Alabama?”

“Brettville.”

Brent Simmons took in a heavy breath. “I’ll call the Brettville police department and see what they found out. For now, go back to the ranch with Daniel. I’ll make sure he keeps his security system armed, and you can call me if you feel threatened again. I’ll let you know what we find out about your car. In the meantime, stay on the ranch until you hear from me. Don’t plan on leaving the state.”

His sing-song voice grated on Marti’s nerves.

He stood up and waved at Daniel who rose and entered the room.

“Brent?”

Detective Simmons nodded at Daniel and said, “I’m not sure what’s going on, Daniel, but you have a good security system on the ranch—keep it activated until you hear from me. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Daniel nodded. He glanced at his watch and turned to Marti.

“Come on, Marti. I need to pick up Veronica from the beauty shop.”

Marti withered. “Daniel, please, I can find another ride to the ranch.”

Daniel blew out a strained breath of air. “There is no other way back to the ranch, Marti. I’ll drop you off first. Veronica won’t care if you ride with us.”

Sure she won’t. Marti nodded with a pale face and walked to the truck. She slipped into the back seat of the supercab and stared unseeing at the floor. When Daniel slid into the seat, he turned around and put his hand on hers. “It’ll be okay, Marti. Brent’s good at what he does. He’ll get everything straightened out.”

Marti just nodded with a blank expression and rubbed her hand when he took his away. She turned toward the side of the truck and leaned her head against the side.
God, why is this happening?

Daniel pulled the truck into the parking lot at the beauty shop, and Marti watched Veronica swagger out the door. Her expression froze when she saw Marti in the back seat.

As soon as Veronica climbed into the truck, she turned toward Marti and smiled at Daniel but spoke to Marti. “Marti, what are you doing here?”

Daniel explained about the explosion, but it didn’t seem to affect Veronica at all. She
rotated around in the seat and turned toward Daniel.

“I thought you were getting a haircut today, darling. You know we don’t want it to look like you just got a haircut for our wedding next week.”

Marti was sure Veronica emphasized the words
darling
and
wedding
for Marti’s benefit.

“I had . . . uh . . . other things to do.”

“Oh really?”

Marti couldn’t mistake the fury in Veronica’s voice—no matter how she tried to hide it—and Marti couldn’t resist making it a little hotter.

“I’d be happy to cut it for you, Daniel. I worked at a beauty parlor for a year and probably cut more men’s hair than women’s.”

“Hey, that would be great! It would save me another trip to town.”

Veronica’s eyes thinned to tiny slits, and she turned to throw eye daggers at Marti.

When Daniel turned to look at Veronica, her lips turned up in a tight smile, and the outrage in her eyes turned to sugar.

Inside, Marti was rejoicing over the small victory, but she was sure Veronica wasn’t done yet. Almost assuredly, Veronica would give Daniel a good taste of guilt for even considering Marti’s help. He’d probably back out, and secretly, Marti hoped he would. She hadn’t thought what it would mean—cutting Daniel’s hair. Such a personal, physical service. Yep, she sure hoped he backed out.

FIFTY-TWO

DANIEL STROLLED INTO THE STUDIO
where Marti was cleaning her brushes. She had dipped them in pink soap and was squeezing them into shape. Daniel’s hands were behind his back.

“Did you mean what you said about cutting my hair?”

“Uh . . . sure, if you want me to. It’s the least I can do for making you miss out yesterday.”

“Well, I’d love to have it cut. It really is driving me crazy—just don’t tell Veronica.” He laughed and pulled a clipper box from behind him. When he held it up for her to see, he said, “Will this be okay?”

Marti’s heart thumped hard inside her chest. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s Stella’s. She was going to learn so she could cut hair for all the ranch hands and make some ‘mad money.’” Daniel laughed. “But, she couldn’t get up enough nerve. Her daughter gave her this for Christmas, hoping it would prod her along.”

Marti laughed. “That doesn’t sound like Stella at all.”

“What doesn’t? Her learning to cut men’s hair, her backing out, or her needing ‘mad money?’”

“All three.” Marti grinned.

He pulled a rolling chair over toward her. “Will this do?”

Marti’s throat tightened, so she nodded.

When he sat down in the chair and pulled a beach towel around his neck, he held out his hands in front of him. “Okay. My life is in your hands.”

“Why? Because I’m wielding a pair of scissors?”

“No, because if you do a bad job, Veronica will kill me.”

Marti faked a frown and lifted her hands. They froze over Daniel’s thick dark hair. Could she do this?

Before she could pump up her courage, Daniel’s cell phone rang.

“Hold on. Let me get this.”

He pulled his phone from the holder and answered. “This is Daniel.”

Marti moved away from the chair to give him privacy, but the room was not large enough to keep her from hearing his conversation.

“Sure enough? Are there any surveillance cameras around the area that might have captured someone under the car? Uh huh. Marti said she saw someone near the car, but only for a minute. I see. Okay, I’ll get her to call you. She’s . . . uh . . . kind of busy at the moment.” Daniel looked at Marti and winked.

They were talking about her. What was that he said about the car? Had they found out what caused the explosion?

Daniel finally said goodbye and hung up the phone. “That was Brent. He said they’re sure now that there was a bomb planted under your car, Marti, probably with a magnet. He also said it was possibly activated by a remote of some kind—most likely a cell phone. The person would have had to have been close and watching Clara get in the car in order to know when to activate the bomb.”

“If he waited until Clara got in the car, then it wasn’t me he was after. It was Clara.” A wave of relief coursed through her. “That means Zach might have been my stalker after all. But does he know what the motive for Clara’s murder was?”

“Brent said he had some other information that came to light about her activities, but he wouldn’t say over the phone. Anyway, Marti, you can stop worrying that the bomb was meant for you.”

She shuddered. “What a terrible way to die.” She sat down in the chair behind her. “I guess Zach was the one following me all this time. I just wish I knew why. I didn’t even know him.”

“There are crazy people in the world, Marti. You may never know why. Hey, are you ready to do this?”

Marti nodded slowly, dread filling her heart. She would pretend she was at the beauty parlor in Oklahoma and Daniel was just another customer. Yeah, right. That would never work. This wasn’t going to be fun. Hashtag: torture.

FIFTY-THREE

MARTI LAID A BRAND NEW
French easel—perfect for outdoor painting—in the trunk of the rental car Daniel had provided. Then she packed two canvases and a bucket full of paper towels, tubes of paint, and brushes around the easel.

Daniel walked out the door of the house. “Hey, Marti. Would you like some company?”

She raised up and looked at him with a frown. “Isn’t Veronica around today?”

“No, she had to take Chris to the doctor. He has some kind of stomach bug. She might not make it until the auction. I know she’d like to be there.”

I bet she would
. Guilt reared its ugly head until Marti realized it was
her
husband Veronica was after. She silenced the tiny voice of her conscience and savored the time she had with Daniel.

“You’re welcome to come if you like, but I’m going to be painting all day. Hashtag: boring.”

He laughed. “I’ll risk it. I’ve never seen a real artist at work. Hashtag: educational.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Outside the Chamber of Commerce, Marti turned her canvas over to the director so she could stamp the back with the date and time. Daniel stepped off to the side when Marti moved to stand with Cynthia and Skyler and listen to the lady in charge explain the rules of the paint-out:

Any building or garden in town could be painted.

Every canvas had to be turned in before four o’clock.

Each canvas had to be stamped, so no one was allowed to switch canvases during the day.

The painting had to be signed and temporarily framed before the beginning of the auction at four-thirty.

Marti was standing at the back of the crowd listening to questions and answers when she saw a car pull into the parking lot. The driver’s door of the gray Mercedes opened, and a woman in white slacks and a pink top stepped out. Marti eyes widened, and a smile lit her face. She waved at Alana and ran to meet her.

“Alana! Oh, it’s so good to see you again.” She gave Alana a hug.

“Marti, Sandra told me you were still here painting a portrait. How exciting to go to a horse competition in Vick and end up in Texas with a commission! I’m happy for you. What about this fundraiser? Isn’t it a small world? You’re painting to raise money for my orphanage, which is in another state with no connection whatsoever. How amazing is that?”

Marti laughed. “I know. Hashtag: coincidence.”

Alana laughed. “No, I say Hashtag: God’s planning.”

Marti smiled. “You’re right.”

The crowd began to disperse, and Marti touched Alana’s arm. “I better get going, or I won’t have anything to auction. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Marti, but I may not see you again. I’m probably leaving before the auction’s over. Yesterday, a couple decided they wanted to adopt one of our six-year-olds. That’s why Jaydn didn’t get to come today. He’s at home frantically trying to get all the paperwork ready. Today’s the only day the man could get off work long enough to sign all the papers. Since I’m one of the directors, I need to be there to sign papers too. I’m trying to get a seat on the earliest flight out.”

“Oh.” Mart felt deflated. She was looking forward to talking with Alana.

Alana leaned over for another hug. “I’ll see you back in Tennessee for the grand opening though, right?”

Marti sighed. “I’ll be there if I can get done with this . . . uh . . . project.”

Skyler and Cynthia approached, so Marti introduced them to Alana.

“We met last year at the last fundraiser. It’s nice to see you again, Alana.” Cynthia and Skyler gave Alana a hug.

“Okay, you three,” Alana said with a smile, “I’m expecting high bids on your paintings this year. Go to it, and have fun.”

Skyler giggled. “Okay, hon, but don’t be too disappointed. I don’t even know where to start.”

Cynthia picked up her easel and paint. “I know exactly which building I’m going to paint—the new church on Gowan Street. It’s modern, and the flower gardens are gorgeous. I’ll see you at lunchtime.” She waved and walked toward her car.

Skyler frowned. “How can I ever decide? I’m awful when it comes to picking a reference that’ll make a great painting.”

“Why don’t you come with me, Skyler?” said Marti. “I’ve already chosen a couple of beautiful houses on Watkins Avenue with dramatic lighting.”

“Marti, you always were sweet like that. That’s a lovely idea. Thanks.”

Alana gave Marti one last hug. “I’ll see you soon, my friend. Paint well, and take lots of pictures of your commissioned portrait. I want to see them when you get back to Tennessee.”

Skyler gathered her paints and canvas and saw Daniel leaning against his truck on the other side of the street with a phone up to his ear. “What’s he doing here?”

Marti smiled and said absentmindedly. “He’s getting educated.”

Skyler tilted her head. “What do you mean—he’s getting educated?”

“It’s a long story. Come on. I think I have the perfect house in mind.”

FIFTY-FOUR

DANIEL LEANED AGAINST MARTI’S RENTAL
car and watched Marti and Skyler paint. It was amazing to see two people paint with such different techniques. Skyler was all over the canvas, but Marti was tight and deliberate with her strokes. Several other artists were set up around the area painting various houses, but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The phone in his leather pouch vibrated.

“This is Daniel.”

“Hey, Daniel, this is Brent. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your hired man, Zach Parsons, was murdered.”

“What?” Daniel stiffened. “I thought it was a suicide.”

“The coroner said he had a gash the size of an egg in the back of his skull.”

“The backhoe fell on him, Brent. I imagine he had several good-sized gashes.”

“Yeah, but only one of them was caused by the wrench we found in the tool box.”

“The toolbox on the backhoe?”

“Yep. The coroner said there was DNA and hair on the end of the wrench, but the wrench was found in the toolbox—locked up tight. It was wiped clean, but there’s plenty of Zach’s DNA to prove it was his blood and hair.”

“So it wasn’t suicide like the note intimated.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “But why? Do you know what motive someone would have to kill Zach? He was new in the area, and as far as I know, he was a stranger to everyone around here.”