Between a Book and a Hard Place (8 page)

Chief Kincaid was silent, and I stared over his shoulder at a Tyvek-suited figure collecting dust and dirt samples in the other room.

I was still amazed that a town as small as Shadow Bend had such an extensive crime scene team and that we actually had a need for it. Not to mention the pimped-out white RV with
SHADOW BEND POLICE CRIME SCENE UNIT
painted in navy blue now parked in the alley near the library's side entrance.

It all came back to the infamous grant wars going on between Chief Kincaid and our esteemed mayor, Geoffrey Eggers. The chief and Hizzoner didn't get along, and because of that the city council had been voting down police department budget increases for years.

Frustrated, Chief Kincaid had applied for federal funds to remodel the station, then to train personnel, and finally to purchase up-to-date gear. Everyone had been surprised when the chief's applications began to bring in money and even more shocked when he'd been able to complete all three of those projects.

Eventually, Chief Kincaid had hit the mother lode and had been able to purchase his very own crime scene unit and mobile lab. The grant had even been large enough to pay for the training that allowed
the chief's people to operate the elaborate forensic equipment.

The mayor had been beyond livid that the chief had managed to get what he wanted without financing from the town's coffers. Geoffrey Eggers hated being bested at his own game, and if I were Chief Kincaid, I'd be keeping a sharp lookout for Hizzoner's next strike.

Tapping his notepad with his pencil, the chief brought my focus back to him and asked, “How long were you and your mother together before coming over to the library?”

“An hour or so.” I kept it as loose as possible. Nailing down a timeline could show too many cracks in our story. “As you said, I don't like to close up the store, so it took her a little while to convince me.”

“Yvette would seem to be one of a very few people in these parts who might have some reason for wanting your stepfather dead.”

“Like what?” My thoughts flew to her flirting with my dad, but I brushed that image aside and added, “If Mom wanted out of the marriage, she's obviously not averse to the idea of divorce.”

“True.” Chief Kincaid rolled his pencil between his fingers. “In that case, are you aware of anyone else who might have a motive?”

“No.” I shook my head. “As I mentioned, I really didn't know Jett. To my knowledge, he'd never been in Shadow Bend before, so why would anyone here want to kill him?”

“Which brings us back to your mother,” Chief Kincaid mused. “The logical assumption is that Benedict's death has something to do with her. Jealousy is a tried-and-true reason for homicide. And the
only person I can think of who might be jealous of Yvette's relationship with her new husband would be her old one.”

It took me a millisecond to grasp what the chief had said, but when I did, I gasped, a wave of dizziness sweeping through me. I had hoped that since Dad and Chief Kincaid were pals, he might not believe my father was capable of murder. Evidently, I'd been wrong about the depth of their friendship, because it was clear that Dad was one of the chief's top suspects in Jett Benedict's death.

A
fter Chief Kincaid blithely announced that my father was one of his top suspects, he escorted me to the police station and took my written statement. As I waited for Yvette to finish with her official account of the afternoon, I texted Noah that due to my stepfather's death, I wouldn't be able to go to the theater with him.

Assuring him that I would explain everything when I saw him, I requested that he keep quiet about our canceled plans, asked him not to call me, and suggested that we meet for lunch the next day. I told him to come to the dime store, where we could talk in private, promising him chicken salad sandwiches from Little's Tea Room and a full pot of his favorite French-roast coffee.

After getting Noah's okay, I texted Poppy and Boone to tell them about my stepfather and begged them to meet me at Gossip Central at eight for a much-needed drink and debriefing. They'd probably heard about Jett's murder, since they were both firmly tied in to Shadow Bend's rumor mill. In a
town as small as ours, there was no way Chief Kincaid could cordon off a street and expect to keep the homicide from becoming the prime topic of local speculation.

Once both of my friends agreed to the get-together, my finger lingered over the picture of Jake on my contact list. I could certainly use his law enforcement expertise, but he rarely seemed to have time for me anymore, and I didn't want to bother him. Or at least I didn't want to feel like I was bothering him, which was even worse.

Sadness crept through me. I missed him. His humor. His warmth. His sexiness. We spoke on the phone every few days, and I could hear how frustrated he was with Meg's lack of progress, but he was too good a guy to dump her back into a psychiatric facility.

I knew that if I were a better person, I would be more sympathetic about Jake's situation. And intellectually I understood his position. But emotionally I felt neglected and abandoned. The same could be said for Noah's behavior. His mother occupied nearly all of the spare moments he could steal from his medical practice, which left precious little of his attention for me.

Disgust hit me in the chest. How could I whine about two such amazing guys? Yes, they had commitments that interfered with our relationship, but then again, so did I. And they'd both pushed aside their pride in order to allow me the space to figure out which of them I truly loved. There weren't many men around who would be able to overcome their macho need for exclusivity.

I was still trying to decide whether to text Jake
when my mother joined me in the police station lobby. Once we got into the car, I asked, “Did Chief Kincaid confiscate your cell phone?”

“He wanted to see it, but I told him I lost it.” Yvette shrugged. “Eldridge didn't seem to believe me, so I told him to search my purse and pat me down.” Her smile was smug. “Luckily, Kern forgot to give it back to me after he phoned you.”

“Good.” I gave my mother an approving nod. “I just hope the chief isn't able to get a list of Jett's calls from his carrier.”

“He won't.” Yvette studied her nails. “Both Jett and I use prepaid cells. He was a bit of a nut about privacy.”

“Good.” I mentally raised my brows. Had my stepfather been hiding something, or had he just been paranoid? “I'll get your phone from Dad and dispose of it.”

After my mother assured me that she'd stuck to our agreed-upon story, I warned her to make sure she didn't change any of the details and told her about Chief Kincaid's theory that her husband's death was connected to her. Yvette paled and swore to keep Dad's presence at the scene a secret.

Once I had dropped my mother off at the luxury condo she and Jett had rented near the country club and made sure she was settled in, I headed home.

When I turned in to our lane, I hit the brakes and stared at the new handwritten sign attached to a fence post facing the road. It read,
NO TRESPASSING. ET HAS GONE HOME
. WE DON'T HAVE THE M
ONEY TO BUY ANYTHING
. WE'VE FOUND JESUS—H
E WAS HIDING BEHIND
THE COUCH. WE HAVEN'T
VOTED IN TWENTY YEA
RS. REALLY, UNLESS YOU
'RE GIVING AWAY CHOC
OLATE, DON'T BOTHER.

Evidently, the UFO guy had been back and Gran had had enough. I just hoped the professor got the message, because if he returned, Birdie would probably put a load of buckshot in his britches. And the last thing we needed was another family member hauled into the police station.

As soon as I walked in the door, Gran put supper on the table, and while we ate, I brought her and Dad up to speed on what had happened since my father had left the library.

I was starving, and even their unending questions couldn't stop me from enjoying Birdie's chicken and biscuits. The interrogation continued through the homemade butterscotch-pudding cake, but they both finally ran out of steam as we washed the dishes.

My father wanted to go to Mom's condo to make sure she was all right, but I persuaded him that his friend the chief of police would have an officer watching Yvette and would see Dad's visit as evidence that he was still in love with Mom and had killed Jett to get her back.

We argued back and forth, and I finally snapped, “After how Mom treated you, I just don't understand why you're even talking to her, let alone care about her.”

Dad put his arm around me and said, “I've made peace with my past, and you should, too. Otherwise, it will screw up your present.”

I made a noncommittal sound, and when Dad promised to stay away from his ex-wife and throw the shoes he'd been wearing and my mother's cell phone down the old well, I headed to Gossip Central. I tore down the blacktop toward the bar with Adele's newest hit blaring from my radio.

As I drove, I passed farmhouses and freshly harvested wheat fields. A deer froze by the side of the road, staring at me as I zoomed by. I waved at the inquisitive animal, loving the peacefulness of the deserted countryside and relishing the lack of traffic and congestion I'd faced every day when I'd commuted to Kansas City.

By the time I turned in to the club's parking lot, the breeze had picked up, and the sign over the entrance moved back and forth on its chains, emitting a gentle squeak with each swing. Summer would be over in another week, but it was still pleasantly warm, and I enjoyed the soft night air.

Anxious for that first taste of the intoxicating goodness of lime and tequila, I sprang out of the Z4 and ran up the side steps. Poppy was waiting for me at the delivery door and swung it open, relocking it as soon as I was inside. With her silvery blond ringlets, amethyst eyes, and slight build, a lot of guys made the mistake of believing she was an angel. However, they quickly discovered she was more likely to wear horns than a halo.

“Boone's already here. He's saving the Stable for us,” Poppy informed me as she pushed me in front of her. “I'll grab a pitcher of margaritas and meet you there.”

Gossip Central had been a cattle barn before Poppy bought it and turned it into the hottest nightspot in the county. She'd kept the basic structure, and the center of the building contained the stage, dance floor, and bar, while the hayloft was now a space that could be rented for private parties. Instead of tearing down all the stalls, she'd converted them into out-of-the-way little spots with comfortable seating, themed decorations, and privacy.

When I entered our favorite alcove, one of the few spots where Poppy didn't have listening devices installed, Boone was seated on the brown leather love seat facing the doorway. His coppery face creased into a wide smile, and he leaped to his feet to hug me. Boone claimed that his skin was naturally bronzed, but both Poppy and I knew about the clandestine tanning bed in his back bedroom.

Which, I suppose, was only fair, since he knew all our deep, dark secrets. My biggest one was a tiny shooting-star tattoo I had gotten during a college spring-break trip to Mexico. Poppy's was how she had gotten the financing for the bar.

After releasing me, Boone said, “Your stepfather's murder is all anyone has been able to talk about, but no one seems to know any details. The police are being particularly closemouthed.”

“I know.”

Boone pulled me down on the sofa, and with an arm slung over my shoulders and an impatient look on his face, he said, “Spill.”

Before I could start my story, Poppy strolled through the doorway. She placed a tray holding a pitcher and three glasses on the wood – and wrought-iron feed box that served as a coffee table, then dropped into one of the pair of saddle-stitched club chairs.

She glared at Boone, evidently because he'd tried to get the scoop without her. Then, as she poured the margaritas, she jerked her chin at me and instructed, “Start from the beginning.”

“It's hard to know where that is.” I grabbed my glass and took a healthy gulp. As the potent liquid entered my system, I relaxed for the first time since
I'd gotten my father's call. “How much have you all heard?”

“Jett Benedict was found dead in the library's basement by his wife,” Boone recited, as if reading from a newspaper. “Because of the overwhelming police presence, foul play is suspected. Devereaux Sinclair and Yvette Benedict spent a considerable amount of time as guests of the Shadow Bend Police Department.”

Boone had barely finished talking when Poppy snapped, “I bet my dad loved that.”

“Obsessed much?” I teased. Poppy was convinced that Chief Kincaid's every move as a cop was his way of getting back at her.

“Yes, she is.” Boone's hazel eyes crinkled, and he leaned forward and tapped her knee. “Honey, you've got to get over that.”

“I am not obsessed. I'm justifiably suspicious,” Poppy protested. “Because I know what my father is capable of and you don't.”

“We would if you would tell us,” Boone retorted. “Which makes me wonder why you won't. We tell each other everything else.”

I rolled my eyes. Although it was true we did confide in one another, I had no doubt we each had some things we didn't share. But I remained silent, because when Poppy and Boone started sniping at each other, it was hard to stop them. And tonight I didn't have the energy to waste that kind of effort on something futile.

“I'm not telling because you'll take his side,” Poppy accused.

“No, I won't. I would never do that.” Boone looked hurt. “Name one time when I haven't stood shoulder to shoulder with you and Dev.”

When neither Poppy nor I could meet Boone's challenge, she said, “Well, you set Dev up when her mother and stepfather came to town.”

“That was different. I just wanted us to have a library again, and I figured there was no way she could avoid them in a place this small anyway.” Boone glanced at me. “You forgive me, right?”

“I suppose I have to.” It was too hard being mad at one of my best friends. “But don't ever keep something like that from me again.” I finished my first margarita and poured another. “If you'd have explained, I would have attended the meeting voluntarily.”

I hoped I was telling Boone the truth, but I wasn't sure. Would I have sacrificed myself for the town? Probably. Maybe. Possibly.

“Speaking of the library, what happens now that Jett is dead?” Poppy asked.

“Good question.” Boone straightened the sharp creases in his designer jeans. “I'll have to see if the endowment was completely set up yet. There've been some hitches with the transfer of funds.”

“That explains why the inside of the library is still filthy and looks as if it hasn't been touched,” I murmured. Then his words sank in, and I asked, “What kind of snags are you talking about?”

“Oh. Wrong account numbers. Waiting for the right moment to sell stocks. Lawyers on vacation.” Boone wrinkled his nose. “Stuff like that.”

“In my former profession in the investment field, those types of issues would have thrown up a red flag.” I frowned, thinking about what that could mean. “Maybe that's the motive for Jett's murder. Maybe he had money troubles and someone found out.”

“Which leads us back to what the eff happened,” Poppy huffed.

“You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself.” I sat back and made myself comfortable. “It all started this afternoon when my mother stopped by the dime store and asked me to have lunch with her and Jett.”

Taking a deep breath, I told them everything, except that it was my father rather than me who had been with Yvette when she'd found her husband's body. I had made Dad and Mom promise not to tell a living soul about his presence, and I wasn't sure if I could do any less.

“Do the cops have any idea who might have killed him?” Poppy asked.

“Unfortunately, that's why I needed to talk to you guys. Chief Kincaid has his eye on two suspects.” My heartbeat skittered into high gear as I said the words aloud. “Mom and Dad.”

“Was Kern brought in for questioning?” Boone asked, grabbing a leather pad and a slim gold pen from the pocket of his bright green Ralph Lauren polo shirt. “He shouldn't talk without a lawyer.”

“Not yet.” I sighed. “But I'm sure that's on the chief's to-do list. He probably wants to get all his ducks in a row first. You know, process the forensic evidence and check for witnesses.”

I prayed no one had seen my father enter or leave the library.

“Do either of your folks have an alibi?” Boone had donned his attorney persona. His practice consisted mostly of family and real estate law, but in his heart he fancied himself as defense lawyer Will Gardner from
The Good Wife
. Before Will was
gunned down, died, and disappeared from the show.

“We won't know that until they have the time of death.” I nibbled on my fingernail, then glanced at the ragged edges. It was a good thing I no longer had the money to spend on manicures, or I would have just blown thirty bucks. “As I told the chief, Dad stayed late to finish up the Fall into Autumn display, so he was at the store until twelve thirtyish. And Mom was there from a little after noon until we went to the library together.”