Between a Book and a Hard Place (14 page)

“Well . . .” She clutched her sweater. “I'm not really prepared for company.”

“This will only take a few minutes.” I stepped over the threshold, forcing her to either bodily block me or move out of the way.

Nadine prudently chose the latter. I had a good thirty pounds on her. Maybe more, since she appeared skinnier than ever. She truly adhered to the obnoxious saying, “You can never be too rich or too thin.”

“I can't imagine what's so important that you couldn't call before coming over.” Nadine may have been a beauty at one time, but years of sun and spitefulness had taken their toll, and the furrows around her mouth became even more noticeable when she scowled.

“We were running other errands in the area.” I
motioned Jake to follow me inside. “It seemed easier to clear things up right away.”

Nadine allowed me to edge us farther into the impressive foyer. Then she glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch and said, “I have an important engagement at seven. I can only give you fifteen minutes.”

“That's fine.” I shot Jake a knowing look.
Dancing with the Stars
came on at seven. “Perhaps you'd be more comfortable seated.”

“You mean you would be.” Nadine sighed and said, “This way.”

She led us into a formal parlor. The graceful lines and perfect proportions of the impeccably preserved antique furniture were spectacular. Nadine seated herself on a cross-stitched Victorian floral upholstered Sheraton chair, then motioned for Jake and me to take the divan facing her across the marble-topped mahogany coffee table.

“What's so vital that you had to interrupt my evening?” The pleats of skin on her face rearranged themselves as she talked.

Jake leaned forward and said, “You were overheard remarking that Jett Benedict was poking his nose in places that it didn't belong.”

“If you say so.” Her voice oozed condescension. “I don't recall.”

“Then the rumors that your memory is becoming problematic are true?” I raised my right eyebrow, a trick I had mastered in graduate school and had put to good use in my prior career, but which I hadn't felt compelled to employ as much lately as the proprietor of a dime store.

“That is completely false,” Nadine snapped. “My mind is as sharp as ever.”

“Then you do remember saying that about my stepfather.” I gave her my most maddening grin. “So what exactly did you mean by it?”

Nadine ignored me and pouted at Jake. “Young women nowadays are so disrespectful.”

“I've heard many ladies of a certain age feel that way. My mother would undoubtedly agree.” His contrite smile was insincere. “But we do need to know what you were referring to when you mentioned Mr. Benedict. As I'm sure you're aware, the man's been murdered.”

“Of course I heard about his unfortunate demise. Poor Yvette doesn't seem to be very lucky with her choice of husbands.” Nadine's expression brightened, clearly cheered at the thought.

“My father was proven innocent of the embezzlement charge, and he certainly can't be blamed for the car accident, since he was roofied,” I reminded her. “I'm certain you would agree that having her husband murdered isn't something my mother could have predicted.”

“And yet he's dead.” Nadine's tone oozed condescension. “Surely you can't ignore that, since I understand
you
were with Yvette when she found the body.”

“Which is why Jake and I are trying to figure out who could have wanted Jett gone.” I clenched my jaw but managed to keep my tone civil.

“Perhaps his wife found out that he was a fraud and wanted to be free to pursue greener pastures.” Nadine's eyes sparkled with malice. “Yvette was always looking for a way up the social ladder.”

“What do you mean by ‘fraud'?” I put a steel edge in my voice, daring her not to answer. “How would you know something like that?”

“Observation.” Nadine crossed her legs and stretched her arm along the back of the chair. “No matter how expensive his clothes were or what kind of car he drove, he was nothing but an upstart.”

“What makes you think that?” I was beginning to think the same thing myself, but I was curious how Nadine had come to that conclusion.

“Because unlike the rest of this town”—Nadine gave an elegant snort—“I am able to tell the genuine article from the imitations.” Her voice was thick with disgust. “Benedict claimed to be from old oil money, but he was too eager to flaunt his wealth. He asked too many questions and had no respect for privacy.”

I winced at hearing the dead man being maligned. I hadn't known Jett very well, and even if, as I suspected, he wasn't who he'd alleged to be, he
had
been my stepfather. For Nadine to dismiss him with a wave of her perfectly manicured fingers was annoying.

Nadine must have taken my silence as a sign of weakness, one she was quick to exploit. “On the other hand”—her smile was like an ice pick—“the new physician who's joined Noah in his practice is the genuine article. Dear Elexus's ancestors were Spanish royalty
and
she's exquisite. A dead ringer for Vanessa Lorenzo.”

I hadn't met Dr. Rodriquez yet, and no one had mentioned that she looked like a supermodel.

Refusing to take Nadine's bait, I thrust away the flicker of jealousy and drawled, “Any other reason you were suspicious of Jett?” I saw her countenance
darken when I didn't fall apart at her innuendo that Noah had hired Elexus for her beauty and used Nadine's displeasure to my advantage. “Like perhaps what you were referring to when you said my stepfather was sticking his nose where it didn't belong.”

“I don't owe you any explanation.” Her eyes flashed in outrage.

“Then I suppose I'll have to tell Noah you've been stirring up trouble for my family.” I played my ace in the hole. Noah had informed his mother that if she caused me any problems, he'd cut her out of his life. After she'd maneuvered to break us up when we were in high school, he'd felt he had no other choice but to issue the ultimatum.

“But that's a lie,” Nadine yelped, gasping and clutching her chest.

“Is it?” I enjoyed how astonished she seemed that someone would fib about her. She did it to others frequently enough that she should expect it.

“As a law enforcement agent, sworn to uphold truth and justice, you wouldn't allow her to do that, would you?” Nadine appealed to Jake.

“Sorry, ma'am. I'm retired.” A smile lurked at the corners of his perfect mouth, as he added, “And I don't think anyone can stop Dev.”

Nadine looked at me, and I returned the stare. I wasn't backing down.

“Very well.” Nadine clenched her teeth. “What exactly do you want to know?”

I quickly reiterated my question before she changed her mind.

“Your stepfather purported to be interested in Shadow Bend's part in the Civil War, but all he really
wanted to do was drag the name of one of the heroes of the Confederacy through the mud.”

“Who?” Was that what Jett had been researching? If so, there were lots of folks in town who wouldn't have minded sticking a knife into his heart.

“He questioned the part my late husband's great-great-great-grandfather played in the war.” Nadine's fingers clenched the arms of her chair so hard I was afraid she'd leave gouges in the wooden surface.

“Questioned how?” I needed to brush up on my Civil War history.

“He wasn't specific. But he came here demanding that I give him access to our private records and said that he'd destroy our family's good name if I refused.”

Jake and I exchanged a puzzled glance before I said, “Did he speak to others about their ancestors? Threaten them as well?”

“Not that I'm aware.” Nadine shrugged. “But I warned the members of the Confederate Daughters of Missouri not to allow him in their homes or to talk to him.” She frowned at me as if I had disagreed and stated dramatically, “They had a right to be prepared.”

Not knowing what else to ask, I looked at Jake, who shook his head, indicating he didn't have anything, either. “Where were you Monday between twelve thirty and one thirty? And can you prove it?”

“Are you accusing me of murder?” Nadine's self-control snapped.

“Not if you have an alibi.” I smiled sweetly and crossed my legs.

“If you must know, I was at a luncheon with our esteemed mayor and several other prominent citizens.” Nadine's words were confident, but I could
sense her relief when Jake and I stood. And when we said good-bye, she couldn't get us out the door fast enough.

A
fter saying good-bye to Nadine and exiting her palatial estate, Jake and I headed to the Mexican restaurant. It had just opened up by the highway, and neither of us had eaten there yet. A Dos Equis and a basket of tortilla chips with guacamole later, I had finally gotten rid of the sour taste in my mouth from talking to Nadine.

After ordering the rest of our meal, we discussed the results of the evening's investigation. Eventually we exhausted that topic, and as we enjoyed combo platters of deliciously spicy food, Jake said, “So what did your mother mean about your parents' little deception?”

“Mom was by herself when she discovered Jett's body. She called my father, who stupidly came running over, and Dad called me,” I reluctantly explained, knowing Jake wasn't going to be happy with my actions.

“And you kept all this from the police?” Jake's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, but his voice was deceptively mild. “What else did you do?”

“I told my father to leave, wiped away his fingerprints, and ditched Mom's cell phone so the cops couldn't see that Jett had been texting her for more than an hour to come to the library.”

“Why in the hell did you do all that?” Jake gritted his teeth. “Tampering with evidence. Leaving the scene of a crime. You all could be arrested.”

“Dad's on parole.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I couldn't risk him being sent back to prison.”

“You could end up in jail.” A muscle ticked in Jake's jaw, and he took both my hands. “You need to be more careful.”

“Probably,” I admitted. “But what else could I do?”

After a long lecture on obeying the law, Jake grudgingly admitted that if Dad had stuck around and we hadn't gotten rid of my mother's disposable phone, my parents would be in a lot more trouble than they were.

Finally, he said, “If the chief finds out about your lies before the real killer is found, all three of you might be in real trouble.”

I needed another beer to get over that idea. Once I had calmed down, Jake and I moved on to considering our next steps. We both agreed that delving into Jett's finances and following up on what he had been researching were the two most promising leads.

As we lingered over the last bites of chile relleno and chicken chimichanga, the restaurant door opened and my friend Ronni Ksiazak strolled in with Coop McCall. She and the fire chief had been dating for the past month or so and seemed to be settling into a steady relationship.

When Ronni spotted me, she led Coop to our table and said, “Hi, you guys! Looks like I'm not the only one hankering for an enchilada tonight.”

“Who can resist all that cheesy goodness.” I smiled at the lively B & B owner.

Coop and Jake hadn't met, so while Ronni made the introductions and the men chatted, I studied Shadow Bend's fire chief. He and Jake shared the same powerful physique, but instead of Jake's sapphire blue eyes, Coop's were a warm golden brown. He and Ronni seemed to make a good couple, but it was hard to tell if they were really into each other or just friends. I didn't sense any chemistry, but that didn't mean it wasn't there.

Glancing at Coop, I found him staring at me. His heated gaze made it clear that he was still interested in me, and I quickly looked away. Two men were more than enough for me to juggle.

Finally, Ronni and Coop said their good-byes, but as they walked away, Coop turned, and the sharp planes of his face made him look almost predatory. I kept forgetting that behind his slight Southern drawl was a man who had been a marine and who was a self-proclaimed adrenaline junky. Certainly not the type to give up easily.

Before I could shake the impression that Coop had been sizing up his competition, Jake's cell
ping
ed with an incoming text.

He glanced at his phone and frowned, then said, “The health aide says that Meg is having a meltdown.”

“I see.” Losing my appetite, I pushed my plate away and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I'm ready to leave whenever you are.”

As I started to move out of the booth, Jake got up from his side and slid in next to me.

He stroked his thumb along my inner wrist and
said, “Do you want to know why I'm itching to talk to the aide?”

“Well, it's the first time you've left Meg with a stranger,” I answered slowly. His touch stole my breath, and I fought to keep my voice steady. “I'm sure you're worried about her.”

“Nope.” Jake continued to caress my arm. “It's because before I left, I set up a little test to gauge Meg's true mental state, and I want to know the results.”

“Oh.” I reached down and smoothed the faded Levi's that lovingly molded the muscles of his thighs. “What kind of experiment?”

“I made sure Meg heard me tell the aide that I was going into Kansas City to have drinks with some guys I had worked with as a marshal.”

“Okay.” I wasn't sure where this was leading. Did Jake think his ex-wife would want to see her old friends, too? “And?”

“And I added that I planned to be back by nine, since that was when your store closed.” Jake lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm.

“Uh-huh.” Because I was distracted by the feeling of his lips, it took me a second to figure out his plan. “And Meg was fine until just now?”

“Exactly.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “The aide said she started screaming at precisely eight fifty-seven. Up until then she'd been quietly watching television with him and had been fine all evening.”

“So she's been faking it all along?” I asked, trying to put all the pieces together.

“I don't think so.” Jake shook his head. “I'd swear she truly was in a near catatonic state when I brought her down here from St. Louis. What I think
happened was that when she started getting better, she kept it to herself.”

“To try to get you back?” I laced my fingers with his. “Which I totally understand.”

“Not because she loves me.” Jake winked. “My guess is that after her experience with the Doll Maker, she's afraid to be alone.”

“But you never leave her on her own and she still appears to be scheming to keep us apart.” I wondered if Jake was just being modest.

“I reckon she's worried that if you and I are together and you're upset with her being here, and I think she's better, I'll ship her back to St. Louis, where she will be by herself,” Jake explained. “Remember, the reason I brought her here to begin with was because she really has no close friends or family.”

“Do you think if we both reassure her that she can stay as long as she wants, she'll behave herself?” I asked.

I wasn't thrilled with the idea. However, I was unable to ignore my sympathy for the poor woman. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be tortured by a serial killer, then afterward having no one in your life but an ex-husband to take care of you.

“Let me talk to Meg and make sure my theory is right. And I have to check with Tony.” Jake's smile was rueful. “He's never forgiven her for dumping me when it looked as if I wouldn't be able to walk again. And he really wants her gone from the ranch.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, knowing that I tended to rush in and take over.

As Jake paid the bill and drove me back to my car,
I was silent. Something was trying to break free from my subconscious. I didn't know if it had to do with Meg's situation or the murder.

I could tell Jake was in a rush to get back to the ranch and confront Meg, because his good-bye kiss was hurried and his pickup tires squealed as he sped out of my parking lot. I had intended to go straight home, but as we pulled into the alley, I'd noticed that the lights were still on in the dime store.

I shook my head. It looked as if the sewing circle ladies had bamboozled Dad into letting them stay late. I had a strict out-the-door-by-nine policy, but the members of the club liked to linger.

Using my key, I let myself in the rear entrance and strolled into the crafting area. As I suspected, the ladies were still sipping coffee, munching on cookies, and chatting. Several of them were fluttering around my father as if he were the only boy at the prom who knew how to dance, and Dad was eating up the attention.

Zizi Todd, a young woman in her early twenties with carrot red hair, was patting my dad's arm and laughing hysterically at something he had just said. Zizi was the spitting image of a grown-up Pippi Longstocking and people often underestimated her. She came off like a space cadet, but in fact, she was in graduate school studying to become a clinical social worker. And was at the top of her class.

I greeted Zizi, who had the grace to look guilty as she grabbed her bag and said, “Dev, we were just packing up to go.”

Winnie Todd, Zizi's mother, threw her arms around my neck, nearly smothering me in her long, frizzy curls. While she hugged me, she murmured,
“Dev, you have my deepest sympathy on the loss of your stepfather.”

Winnie may have been an aging hippie, but like most other native Shadow Benders, she'd taken Miss Ophelia's etiquette classes and could trot out good manners with the best of them.

Extracting myself from her clutches, I inhaled and said, “Thank you. I didn't really know Jett, but he seemed like a nice man.”

Having dispensed with the social niceties, Winnie gestured to my father and said, “Kern is a riot. He was telling us some of his prison adventures. Did you know that he taught math to the other inmates?”

“I didn't.” I raised my eyebrows at my father. Anytime I brought up his incarceration, he changed the subject. I wondered why he suddenly was willing to share stories with relative strangers.

Winnie smiled fondly at my father. “I'm so impressed that although he was falsely imprisoned, he still was willing to come to the assistance of his fellow detainees.”

Winnie had inherited a sizable estate from her grandparents and used her wealth to help others. She thought of herself as Wonder Woman, fighting oppression at every turn, but mostly she did things that just made people wonder.

Both Winnie and Zizi cared deeply for their fellow human beings, and together they had cofounded the sewing circle. They dedicated the club to supporting the county's homeless shelter and the local hospital's free clinic. It was too bad that both these facilities were more than forty miles away from
Shadow Bend and difficult for our poorer citizens to reach unless they had a car.

Currently the group consisted of twenty or so women ranging in age from sixteen to eighty-three. Each member paid for her own materials, and they all donated their finished products either to the shelter for their use or to the clinic's resale shop.

As soon as they noticed me, most of the sewing circle members shot me guilty looks, then immediately said good-bye, gathered their things, and left. However, Winnie, Zizi, and Cyndi Barrows were made of sterner stuff and continued to dawdle.

Cyndi might be one of the wealthy country clubbers, but she had shown up for the first Blood, Sweat, and Shears meeting and had faithfully attended all the subsequent ones. In my observation, she seemed more comfortable with the local women than with her country club friends.

As she slowly packed up her materials, I said to her, “I understand that some of the newer people aren't too thrilled that the library is reopening. Have you heard anything about that?”

Cyndi shook her head. “I don't spend much time at the club anymore.”

“Why?” Winnie joined our conversation, her unconventional features rearranging themselves into an inquisitive smile. “Did something happen?”

“Well, sort of. Nothing big or dramatic.” Cyndi's voice sank to a whisper. “It's just that . . . actually . . . my new boyfriend doesn't like the group that hangs out there. He says they're shallow.”

“New boyfriend?” Zizi frowned. “I thought you were engaged to Frazer Wren.”

“I was, but . . .” Cyndi blushed and continued.
“Five years is just too long, so I gave him an ultimatum, and he broke up with me. Frazer had a fifteen-year mortgage, a five-year car loan, and a lifetime country club membership, but he told me he was afraid of commitment.”

“What an ass!” Zizi touched her arm. “I'm glad you found someone better.” Turning to me, she demanded, “What's this crap about people not wanting the library to open? What kind of idiots are they?”

I noticed Winnie had drifted over to where my father was cleaning up. As I explained to Zizi what I'd overheard, I watched them laughing and joking around. There was something about Dad that attracted the opposite sex the same way Starbucks drew caffeine addicts.

“What a bunch of bullshit!” Zizi's angry expression changed her usual sweet face to a much scarier countenance. “How can people not understand the value of accessible books and knowledge?”

“In my experience, most folks have trouble seeing beyond what's best for them versus what's best for everyone,” I said mildly.

I stuck my hands in my pockets. Zizi was still an innocent, but the cynic in me suspected that a few years in her chosen profession would wear some of the naïveté off of her. The thought made me sad.

Cyndi had lost interest in the conversation, and as she headed toward the exit, she waved good-bye.

Zizi watched the other woman walk away, and with a rueful smile, said, “Cyndi's a sweetie. She's not the quickest horse on the track, but her heart is in the right place.” Zizi frowned. “I hope her new boyfriend is a good guy. Did she say who he was?”

“Nope.” I joined my father and Winnie by the register, and Zizi followed me.

I was about to shoo the women out of the store when I thought of something and asked, “Hey, do either of you know who around here is an expert in Shadow Bend's Civil War involvement?” I qualified, “Not just their family's, but the whole area's history.”

“Why?” Winnie's gaze sharpened, and she hitched her patchwork backpack higher on her shoulders. “Is that what your stepfather was researching? Are you and the gang investigating his murder?”