Chance of a Lifetime (27 page)

“Lapse in judgment,” she replied.

“Yeah, right. If you ever want to relapse, just let me know.”

She wasn’t looking at him when he turned to her hoping for an answer. Her gaze was fixed on a couple standing outside the used bookstore. “Did you know the two white heads were coming back?”

“No, but I think you should frisk them this time. It’s bound to be a plot against my life.”

When he reached the elderly couple, Rick smiled warmly as if they were old friends. “How may I help you this morning, Mr. and Mrs. Peters?”

Minnie looked at her husband, Eldon. “We’re here to buy another hour of your time.”

“All right. Let’s go upstairs.” As they walked slowly up, Rick introduced the Peterses to Marshal Trace Adams again and said she was with him on official business.

When they finally reached Rick’s office, Minnie pointed at Trace and asked, “Is she staying?”

Rick saw the worry in the old woman’s eyes. “No,” he said quickly. “Not unless you’d like her to.”

“Will it cost extra?”

“No,” both Rick and Trace said at once.

“Then I’d like it if she stays.” Minnie moved to the chair she’d sat in Friday. “You may have a criminal case on your
hands, Mr. Matheson, so it wouldn’t hurt to have the marshal here to testify to all that is said this morning.” When no one, including Eldon, moved, she continued, “I’ve reason to believe Eldon is trying to kill me.”

Minnie’s tall, aging husband lowered slowly into the chair next to her. “Now, Wanda, you know that’s not true. It was an accident.”

The old woman rummaged in her purse and pulled out three fifty-dollar bills. “Our hour starts now. If we go over, I’ve got more cash.”

Rick nodded. Trace moved closer.

“Maybe you should start at the beginning, Mrs. Peters.” Rick tried his best to keep from thinking how much he was making and how important every detail would be if he had to build a case.

“I haven’t got enough money to start at the beginning,” Minnie retorted with a shrug. “I just need to know if I need to hire a lawyer or talk to the police.”

“If we talk to the police, you’ll be sitting in the cell next to me.” Eldon took off his worn Stetson and lowered his head. “With my luck I wouldn’t even get any peace in prison. Hell, for all I know they went co-ed like all the damn dorms in colleges did. I got four grandkids in college and they got people of the opposite sex living right next door. In my day, we didn’t even eat in the same dining hall. Hell, I wouldn’t have lasted a year with girls on campus.”

Minnie shook her head. “You didn’t last a year.”

“It just didn’t take me long to figure out I’d rather farm than study. I told my folks that when they sent me off, but my dad never heard a word I said.”

“What happened that brought you two here today?” Rick was tempted to let them ramble, but he couldn’t wait to hear the details of the attempted murder. This might prove to be his best file ever.

Minnie pressed her thin lips together so hard they disappeared. “I’m not talking until I get some assurance from you, Mr. Matheson, that you’ll be my lawyer and not his. We searched a hundred miles around and you’re the cheapest
on your hourly rate. I’m the one who found you and I’m keeping you.”

“Now, Wanda, he’s got a right to make up his own mind. This ain’t no Easter egg hunt. You can’t just say you get to keep him ’cause you found him. Maybe he’d rather go with the more logical one of us or, better yet, the innocent one.”

Rick glanced at the clock and smiled. They’d been in his office fifteen minutes and hadn’t even told him the problem yet. He’d be making money today.

As soon as the thought registered, he felt guilty. What kind of lawyer thinks of money at a time like this? He mentally slapped the smile off his face and swore he’d do his best, whatever came next.

He frowned, wondering if any of the lawyers within a hundred miles had people like this dropping by. Probably all of them. But what did he know? He was the cheapest around, and none of them probably wanted to talk to him. That didn’t set well.

“Look, Mr. and Mrs. Peters, I don’t want to waste your money. If we could just get to the facts, maybe I could help you.”

“I can tell you what her problem is.” Eldon leaned back in his chair, causing Trace to jump for fear he might not be able to balance, but he just teetered as he launched into his version of events. “She thought she wanted a divorce until she found out she’d only get half our money. Once we got home, she figured out the only way to get it all was to kill me. Two nights ago she started salting my food and yesterday she bought me a box of cigars.” He let the front two legs of his chair drop and added, “This morning, she started baking sweets like she hasn’t baked in twenty years. She knows I’m diabetic.”

“I forget,” Minnie said quickly. “A woman’s memory goes about the same time her husband’s sex drive drops. I’ve committed no crime, right, Mr. Matheson? He’s the one who put the car in gear while I had one foot still on the ground. He’s the one who could have killed me.”

“It’s no crime to be in a hurry. If you didn’t think you had
to open and read the mail before you get back in the car, I might not be dying of old age waiting for you all the time.”

Rick glanced at Trace. Her only answer was a shrug so he decided to change directions. “How long has this fight been going on between the two of you?”

Neither one of them answered.

Rick leaned halfway across the desk. “Look, I’m not a marriage counselor. If you want a divorce, I can help you, but if you just came here for a referee, you’re out of luck. Marshal Adams and I are going to go downstairs and get some coffee. When I come back, I’d like you two to have come to a decision.”

He motioned Trace to follow him. “And by the way,” he said from the door, “you’re both still on my clock, so don’t take too long to decide or you’ll owe me another hundred and fifty dollars.”

They were halfway down the stairs when Trace smiled. “You think they might kill each other?”

“If they do, it’s your problem, not mine,” Rick said as he turned into the bookstore.

George Hatcher wasn’t at his usual station at the front. Rick felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and saw Trace had tensed like a trained soldier ready to fight. They moved slowly through the empty store.

Nothing looked out of place except the back door was open. He’d seen George leave the door open on summer days but never when it was this cold.

They moved toward the back.

The door creaked open in the breeze and both saw George Hatcher’s body lying facedown on the steps.

Trace’s actions were lightning fast. She pulled a gun from her boot and stepped in front of Rick before he could move. “Stay here,” she ordered as she leaned low and took a step outside.

George raised his head and moaned. Blood dripped from a scrape on his cheek.

Rick couldn’t just stand there watching and no weapon
appeared to be handy. Besides if anyone was out there, the marshal could handle them. Hell, she could probably handle a gang.

“Rick? That you?” Hatcher mumbled. “Help me up.”

Without another thought of self-preservation, Rick walked outside and knelt beside the bookstore owner. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Trace was several feet away, her weapon still at the ready as she surveyed the parking area and alley beyond.

“I’m fine.” George took Rick’s arm and stood slowly like a man unsure which limbs might hold. “I fell. Must have not been watching where I was going.”

Rick heard someone talking and realized his office back window was just above and for once, it was open. Eldon Peters was complaining about his wife’s driving. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that George might have been eavesdropping.

Rick made a mental note to keep his window closed.

Fighting down a smile, he asked, “You think you might have broken anything?”

Hatcher took a hesitant step as if testing his bones. “I don’t think so.” He brushed his cheek. “I must have scraped my face on the corner of those old stairs when I fell. Don’t know how it could have happened. I’ve made that trip to the trash a hundred times.”

George must have gone to the alley and heard something upstairs on his way back. Then he must have tried to balance on the uneven steps while he was listening.

Trace walked back to them. “You all right, Mr. H?” she said in her relaxed tone as if she hadn’t been a warrior only seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just an old fool for not paying attention.”

Trace took his arm. “It wasn’t your fault. Things like this happen. Who knows, it might have even been that ghost you say you hear around the place.”

George brightened. “That’s a possibility. The sheriff doesn’t have one clue as to who sawed the steps. Maybe the ghost doesn’t
want any of us around the place. I need to call and get an expert to come in and investigate.”

Rick wasn’t sure Alex would have time to help George. She’d probably send Phil Gentry, her deputy. As long as he was near a coffeepot, he’d entertain any possible crime theory.

“Don’t you think we should doctor that scrape on your face, George? It could get infected.” Trace tried to pull him toward his chair, but he would have none of it.

“I got to reach Mrs. Weatherbee before she leaves for Wichita Falls. She reads palms over there on Monday afternoons, but this is far more important.” He patted his cheek with a napkin as he punched in the call. “We’re doing breakthrough work here.”

Rick finally caught Trace’s gaze and motioned they leave. She nodded. While George gave details to the town’s only fortune-teller, Trace and Rick walked out front.

“So, do we stay with the ghost serial killer or with the dueling murderers upstairs?” she asked as if she were being serious. “Who knew small towns could be so interesting?”

They started up the stairs. “It’s me,” Rick said. “Interesting things always happen around interesting people.”

She frowned at him.

He grinned. “You were sexy back there, going all U.S. Marshal on me.”

“Don’t go there, Matheson. I’m just watching over you.” Before he could think of anything to say, she asked, “Wonder how the senior citizens are doing in your office. I sure hope we don’t find the blood and white hair flying.”

Rick checked his watch. “This looks like it could be a long morning. I’ll buy lunch.”

When he made it back to his office Mr. and Mrs. Peters were not talking to each other and three fresh fifty-dollar bills lay on his desk. Rick took the money and sat down. “I’ll respect your time-out for as long as you wish to sit in my office, and then we’ll talk.”

Minnie lifted her eyebrow as if guessing he was just passing time, but her lips had disappeared into that thin
line again. It was obvious she didn’t plan to be the first one to break the silence.

Rick glanced at Eldon and he looked just as stubborn.

Trace stood behind them rolling her eyes. It took her about three minutes to get bored and disappear.

Rick waited.

When the second hour was up, Minnie stood and thanked him for his time. Eldon followed her out, saying that they’d be back.

Rick liked the money, but this had to be the most boring case he’d had to date. He gave them time to get downstairs, then grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door.

As he swung the office door open and ran to find Trace, she collided with him in a full body slam. Both stepped back and complained.

“What are you doing?” she snapped.

“I was going to find you for lunch, Wanda.”

To his surprise, the serious federal marshal burst out laughing.

E
MILY WALKED AROUND THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE
library, making sure everything was in place. She loved the smell of books.

All was quiet. Everyone had run over to the used bookstore to deliver all the books on ghosts that they could find. Pamela Sue even picked up a few children’s books. George Hatcher was calling in the writers’ group as well as everyone he could think of who believed in ghosts.

Emily thought it strange that Pamela Sue thought the moon landing was a hoax but believed spirits roamed the earth pestering humans. She’d even talked the children’s librarian into going along to see what was happening at the used bookstore. Apparently, the expert palm reader, Mrs. Weatherbee, was going to give a talk as soon as she arrived.

Walking down the steps, Emily smiled. Thankfully, she was going to miss it. Memories already haunted her, she didn’t need ghosts as well.

She stopped at the set of mysteries called The Secrets of Comeback Bay. She checked to see if there had been
another entry, but there was none. Maybe one of the two people passing notes in the old books had moved away, or died. She might never know the truth. It had been so long since they’d written in the book.

As she held the mystery in the center of the silent library, Emily thought she could almost feel Tannon’s arms around her. It felt so right to be with him, but she knew she was doing what she always did with men. She was starting to push him away.

The friendship they’d rebuilt was great, but when he kissed her she knew that at some point he’d want more. She wanted his touch, his kiss, even that taste of his passion, but she wasn’t sure she could handle more.