Ever Present Danger (23 page)

Ivy studied her father’s face and saw genuine concern. “Dad, I know I’ve been a big disappointment. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve put you through.”

“Well, the best way to prove it is to stay clean—and to stay out of trouble.”

Ivy nodded. “I will. I promise.”

BRANDON JONES LEANED against the bedroom window, a mug of coffee in his hand, and admired the majestic peaks that looked as if someone had painted them on the pale canvas of Thursday morning sky. He stifled a yawn, bemoaning that he had tossed and turned all night.

Was it wrong not to tell Maggie Easton that Buzz was cheating on her? After all these years, she must’ve seen and heard clues that either she chose to ignore or were too painful to consider. It’s not as though Buzz were subtle or possessed even a smidgen of tact. Somewhere along the line he was bound to have slipped up and given Maggie a reason to suspect he’d been unfaithful. Was she even aware that Buzz was into pornography?

Brandon took a sip of coffee, wondering if Jake Compton had been trying to warn him about Buzz’s indiscretions and help him avoid getting caught in the middle. Too late for that. But it wasn’t as though Brandon had never been in such a delicate position before. During the seven years he worked at the clothing company in Raleigh, he had known colleagues who were addicted to pornography and sex. Others who had affairs. He had never really considered he had the right or responsibility to express his opinion about their behavior—not that they would have welcomed his two cents anyway. He figured people knew right from wrong and didn’t need anyone to point a finger. So wasn’t it wise just to forget that
Buzz was cheating on Maggie and let them work it out?

He was suddenly aware that the room was warm and damp and permeated with the scent of herbal shampoo.

“The shower’s all yours.” Kelsey Jones walked over and took a sip of his coffee, her hair wet and draping down the back of her yellow terrycloth bathrobe. “You were sure restless last night.”

“Yeah, sorry. I probably should’ve slept in the guest room so I wouldn’t bother you.”

“Were you upset because we argued?”

Brandon studied her flawless complexion that looked prettier to him without makeup. “Yeah, I really hate it when we have disagreements.”

“Me, too. Why don’t we start this day off right?” She slipped her arms around his neck and let her warm lips melt into his.

Brandon yielded himself to the tender urgency of Kelsey’s kiss and was suddenly aware of every inch of her—and the fact that he had a staff meeting in twenty minutes.

“Wow, you make it tough for a guy to think about getting ready for work.”

Kelsey rested her head on his shoulder. “I know you have to leave in a few minutes. I just wanted to be sure that things between us are okay.”

Brandon’s mind replayed the smug look that had been on Buzz’s face when he had emerged from his girlfriend’s place. How could any guy be happy deceiving his wife day after day?

“Are we okay or not?” she said.

Brandon pushed back so he could see her face, then brushed the wet hair from her eyes. “Better than okay. I was just thinking how blessed we are.”

“Then let’s decide right here that today we’re going to act like it.”

Sheriff Flint Carter sat at the table in Bobby Knoll’s office and looked at scores of photographs that had been turned over to authorities by class reunion attendees.

“Just a bunch of old friends having fun,” Flint said. “Who
would’ve guessed this thing would turn deadly?”

Bobby unwrapped a piece of bubble gum and popped it into his mouth. “Want some?”

“No thanks. So did the pictures reveal anything helpful?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Lowry workin’ with a couple feds, and it’s surprisin’ how many photos have that clock in the background. Helped us nail down a number of alibis. I just wish Unger’s employer knew where he went on vacation so we could get his statement before Monday. The APB hasn’t yielded anything. We can’t find him in any of the photos after 11:30 p.m. Several classmates remembered talkin’ to him. Said he seemed angry about his upcomin’ divorce.”

“What did his wife say when you questioned her, Bobby? Is he prone to violence?”

“She says he’s got a short fuse but has never hurt her.”

“Did she shed any light on why they’re getting divorced?”

“Says Ronnie’s married to his TV remote. It was obvious this isn’t an amiable split, if you get my drift. She was cooperative enough, but kept lookin’ away when she talked to me, like she was embarrassed to be in the middle of this.”

“I can sure understand that.” Flint picked up a wide-angle shot of the room and recognized Ivy Griffith sitting at a table near the band, talking to Bill Ziwicki. “The clock shows 1:45 when this was taken.”

Bobby looked over Flint’s shoulder. “The clock in several of the photos confirms Griffith was in the Aspen Room durin’ the entire time in question. That’s the only photo we have of Ziwicki that shows the time. We have only Griffith’s word for it that he was at the bar when the victims left the room at 1:20. But we can’t find any inconsistencies in what he told us. The leader of the band remembers Ziwicki leavin’ with Griffith right after the band quit around 2:00. The front desk clerk remembers them askin’ for Richards and Morrison’s room number around 2:05. Ziwicki made the 911 call at 2:13. It’s not airtight, but I don’t see any red flags either.”

“What about the other basketball players? Have you confirmed
where they were between 1:20 and 2:10?”

“Yeah, they’re all accounted for.”

“And nobody else in the class had a bone to pick with the victims?”

“Not that we can tell.”

“Did you ask Unger’s wife?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t remember him ever mentionin’ the names of our three victims.”

Flint tossed the pictures on the table and looked up at Bobby. “So where does that leave us?”

“You mean other than empty?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Only four classmates have registered handguns—all accounted for. Not even fired recently. Unger’s wife said he has a hunting rifle but no handgun.”

“Well, somebody at that reunion knows how to shoot and got his hands on a Glock .45!”

“Believe me, sheriff, I’m as frustrated as you are. That arrogant FBI special agent is leanin’ on us. But we can’t pull a murder weapon out of a hat. And we can’t track a shooter who didn’t leave a trail. We’ve got no fingerprints. No weapon. No DNA. No motive.”

Flint groaned. “I can’t believe this. I’ve got a ten-year-old murder I can’t solve, and now a triple homicide with more than a hundred and fifty potential suspects—and we can’t come up with any suspects?”

Bobby blew a pink bubble and sucked it into his mouth. “Yep. Not today, anyway.”

“Well, if we can’t solve this one, I might as well clean out my desk.”

After the breakfast crowd had left Jewel’s Café, Ivy Griffith started cleaning tabletops and listened to the conversation between Deke and Roscoe, who seemed to be in no hurry to leave.

“I’m tellin’ ya, that shootin’ is a payback for somethin’,” Roscoe
said. “Sheriff hasn’t figured out squat, but I see the writin’ on the wall.”

“Aw, you don’t know nothin’.” Deke dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Think yer smarter than the FBI, ATF, and ever body else?”

Roscoe lifted his faded brown eyes, his grin revealing a row of stained teeth. “Well, I’m a darned sight smarter than I look.”

“I sure hope so.” Deke guffawed and slapped his knee.

“Listen, you ol’ coot. I’ve been followin’ the news real close, and I’m thinkin’ them young men was executed—maybe even by the mob. That Pete Barton was always gamblin’ over at the Indian reservation and sweet-talkin’ the women folk.” Roscoe scrunched his wiry gray eyebrows. “Who knows what else he was doin’? Coulda been involved with gangsters or drug traffickin’ or smugglin’ illegals into the country. There’s a lotta that goin’ on, I hear.”

“You can’t hardly hear nothin’,” Deke hollered. “You’re almost as deaf as that chair yer sittin’ on, so where’d you come up with all that?”

Roscoe folded his arms across his chest, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got close captionin’ on my TV set. You’d be surprised whatcha can learn on cable.”

Ivy was relieved no other customers were being subjected to the high-decibel dialogue between these two old guys. It had never occurred to her that Pete might have been involved in the mob or some illegal activity and that the shooting might have had nothing at all to do with Joe Hadley.

She looked up just as the front door opened and Bill Ziwicki walked in and flashed her a big smile.

“What’re you doing here?” she said.

“Thought I’d grab an early lunch.” Bill winked. “What’s the special?”

“Baked ham and cheesy mashed potatoes,” Ivy said. “But I can’t serve you lunch for another forty minutes.”

“Then bring me a couple of Jewel’s cranberry muffins and a cup of coffee, and I’ll be happy as a lark.”

Roscoe ever so slowly rose to his feet, then looked over at Ivy. “Put everything on my tab, will ya please?”

“No, it’s my turn to pay,” Deke said. “Put it on my tab.”

Ivy stifled a grin. “How about if I split it and put half on each bill?”

Roscoe smiled. “Yep, that’ll do ‘er.”

“Thank ya kindly,” Deke said.

The two men shuffled past her and out the door.

Ivy finally gave in to the laughter and turned to Bill. “How old do you think they are?”

“Not sure about Deke, but Roscoe’s a hundred and one.”

“I believe it. Okay, sit wherever you want. I’ll be right back.”

Ivy went in the kitchen and put two still-warm cranberry muffins on a saucer, grabbed a mug, filled a plastic pot with coffee, and carried them to Bill’s table. “Here you go.”

“So how’re you feelin’ today?”

Ivy glanced over the top of the swinging doors that led to the kitchen and didn’t see anyone. “I’m okay. Listen, Deke and Roscoe were discussing the possibility that Pete might’ve been involved in the mob or drugs or something illegal. That maybe his death was an execution. What do you think?”

Bill spoke barely above a whisper. “It’d be great if people would start believin’ that. But you and I know it had to be revenge for Joe Hadley’s death. How else can you explain the messages we got?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I keep hoping I’m off the hook. I’m so tired of living in fear. I just want to relax. Live my life. Put the past behind me.”

Bill took her hand, and she didn’t resist. “It’s gonna be okay, Ivy. I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you.”

“If someone wanted to get to me, you couldn’t stop it.”

“But whoever killed Pete, Reg, and Denny already got his revenge. He’s not out to hurt you. He’s just tryin’ to scare you into tellin’ the sheriff that Pete killed Joe because he can’t do it without lookin’ suspicious.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. You really don’t know
whether Pete shot off his mouth—or if Reg or Denny did, for that matter. Just because they told you they didn’t doesn’t make it true.”

“I think they were very serious about not having told anyone.”

“Well, somebody found out.” Bill lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m thinkin’ it was Mr. Hadley.”

“Joe’s dad?”

“Just think about it. After all those years of hopin’ Joe was alive, he finds out that he was murdered right here. Wanna bet he went lookin’ for answers on his own? I would’ve.”

“But if he had reason to believe Pete and the guys killed Joe, why wouldn’t he just go to the sheriff?”

Bill snickered. “With what—hearsay? Investigators didn’t find any DNA evidence. Mr. Hadley knew Joe’s killers weren’t goin’ down unless he took them down. And the way he decided to do it made the authorities think one of his classmates did it. Pretty smart.”

Ivy sank into the chair across from him. “My head’s spinning. It makes total sense! This was the perfect crime, and if he actually did it, Mr. Hadley’s going to get away with it. How’d you figure it out?”

“I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it, and the pieces started fallin’ into place. Sometimes I think I would’ve made a good cop.”

“So you don’t think Mr. Hadley wants to hurt me?”

“Nah, I’d stake my life that he’s only tryin’ to intimidate you into tellin’ the sheriff so everyone knows Pete killed Joe. When he realizes you’re not gonna do it, I think it’ll all go away.”

There was a long pause, and Ivy realized Bill was still holding her hand.

“So you wanna go to a movie tomorrow night?” he said. “We’re both gonna need a stress breaker after goin’ to the memorial service.”

“Okay.”

“You want me to come pick you up for the service? You can bet the media’s gonna be all over us.”

“Thanks, but my parents are expecting me to go with them.” Ivy shook her head slowly back and forth. “It’s gonna be so weird
watching all those clueless people paying their respects to Joe, never even knowing the other guys killed him.”

“Well, pay special attention to Mr. Hadley and remember what I told you.”

BY NOON ON FRIDAY, the traffic had begun streaming into Jacob’s Ear for the two o’clock memorial service, and Jewel’s Café was packed with lunch customers.

Ivy Griffith sat with her parents at a table by the window, thinking how odd it felt staying seated while customers were coming in the door. She pulled back the green and white checked curtain and saw the KTNR-TV news van go by. She had already decided she wasn’t going to talk to the media, no matter what.

“You nervous about the memorial service?” Elam Griffith said.

Ivy nodded. “Yeah, I just want it over with.”

“It’s nice they’re remembering Joe Hadley, too. Poor kid never really had a decent burial.”