Killer Reunion (15 page)

“Caveman's got nothing to do with anything. If things were turned around, you'd be the same way, gettin' into my business whether I wanted you to or not. That's what you and me do. Especially when it's important stuff. And we did it even before we got married. It's about being partners.”

He had her there. They both knew she'd be acting the same way he was, or worse, if their roles were reversed.

She tried a different approach. “It's true, sugar. I take back the caveman comment. But I know this guy way better than you do, and I know how to handle him.”

“You didn't seem to be handling him all that well back at the lake.”

She pulled the car off the highway and stopped about twenty feet away from Stafford's patrol car. “Give me a chance to see what I can do by myself. If it starts going badly, I'll give you the sign, and you can come charging in with the cavalry and rescue me. Okay?”

He seemed to hesitate, which she decided to interpret as acquiescence. “Thank you. I appreciate it. You just sit tight now.”

She started to get out of the car, but he grabbed her arm. “What's the sign?”

“Our usual one.”

“The one you do when you're mad at me? Where you scratch your nose with your middle finger?”

“That's the one.”

A
s Savannah walked toward Tom Stafford's car, hidden among the trees and the bushes at the end of her granny's drive, she couldn't help remembering all the times she had done this very thing in years past.

Under very different circumstances.

How many times had she gone for a walk, only to meet him here for some quick stolen kisses, caresses, and whispers of sweet nothings?

As she approached his car, it occurred to her that if she was remembering, perhaps he was, too. And maybe that would help.

It couldn't hurt.

If she had to be arrested, surely it was better if the officer was someone she'd once loved.

And she was pretty darned sure that Tom had loved her, too, all those years ago. Infidelities aside. She'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, felt it in his touch.

Yes, he had been stupid and had ruined their chance for happiness together. But Savannah had never doubted that she was important to him.

Not important enough to keep his zipper closed, unfortunately
, she reminded herself. But important, nevertheless.

As she approached his vehicle, she saw that he was wearing his dark sunglasses, and she wished that she had hers on, too. If there was ever a good time to hide, surely this was it. She opened the passenger door and slid onto the hot black seat. The leather burned the back of her thighs through the thin fabric of her slacks as she settled into place.

For a long, awkward moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said, “How do?”

With a neutral civility that matched his, she replied, “Fine. You?”

“I've been better,” he said. “I've never particularly enjoyed arresting a former girlfriend for murder. Call me old-fashioned, but it just doesn't feel very chivalrous.”

“No problem. Just don't do it. You know in your heart she's innocent, anyway.”

“I do?”

He turned to face her, and even through the dark glasses, she could tell that he was studying her, appraising her. She figured that must be a good thing. Perhaps he hadn't fully made up his mind yet.

“You know I didn't kill anybody,” she said.

“I do?”

“Stop saying that.”

“Sayin' what?”

“ ‘I do.' We ain't exactly getting married here.”

“We could have, if you hadn't gone and tore outta here like a wildcat with its tail on fire the first time we had a fight.”

“It was a
big
fight, Tommy.”

“I remember. You threw stuff at me and everything.”

“Just think, now you could probably arrest me for that. Call it domestic violence or whatever.”

To her surprise, he reached over, took her hand, and folded it between his. “I wouldn't arrest you for anything, gal. Not unless I absolutely had to. I hope you know that.”

She could feel her face turning red as she snatched her hand away from him. Glancing over at Dirk, she wondered what he was thinking. Whatever it was, she was pretty sure it involved blood being shed.

Tom's, of course.

“You know,” she said, “that it never would have occurred to Herb Jameson that Jeanette's head wound was caused by a high heel unless somebody told him that you'd confiscated one from me.”

“Probably not.”

“Then what does that tell you?”

“That it's a darn lucky thing I caught you red-handed with the murder weapon. Otherwise, I might never have solved this case.”

“You still haven't solved it, peckerhead. And with me in jail, I'm not going to be able to help you solve it, either.”

“Who ever asked you for your help, gal? I don't need your help or your boyfriend's—”

“Whatever. I've got the warrant in my pocket. The judge seems to think we've got a case.”

“Which judge?”

“The Honorable Judge Andrew Lund.”

“Judge Lund? But that's a conflict of interest. The Lunds are second cousins twice removed from the Parkers.”

“Around here that's as unrelated as anybody gets.”

“So does that mean you're going to arrest me?” She didn't bother to fight the tears that quickly sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. There was no point.

“I don't have a choice. You two gals had bad blood between you for years.”

“And
you
had nothing to do with that?”

“Yeah, I did. Okay? I'm sorry, Savannah. But what happened with her and me, which, by the way, didn't amount to a hill of beans—”

“Except to me.”

“Yes, except to you. And then to me, after you dumped me for doin' it. But all that's got nothin' to do with the price of rice in China or me arresting you for killing her. You assaulted her only an hour or so before she disappeared. You lied to me and obstructed my investigation. You gave me an alibi that you knew damned well was false. And then I caught you, clear as day, at the scene of the crime, retrieving the murder weapon. What the hell am I supposed to do, Savannah? What would you do if you were me?”

I'd arrest my own butt
, she thought
. No doubt about it. I've arrested people with a lot less.

“I understand how bad it looks,” she told him. “And I accept responsibility for what I did wrong. I never should have lied to you. The minute you said Jeanette was missing, I should have told you everything then.”

“Yes, you should have. But you didn't. So tell me now.”

“Will it do any good?”

He chuckled wryly. “Well, it ain't gonna do no harm, is it? I've got the warrant in my pocket, and I'm getting ready to cuff you, stick you in the backseat, and cart you off to jail. Can't get much worse than that, now can it?”

“Good point.” She dragged her fingers wearily through her hair and began. “After we left you there in the school parking lot, Dirk and I drove up to Lookout Point.”

“To celebrate slapping the devil outta your old enemy?”

“
In spite of
the stupidness I'd done. We'd already planned on it before I smacked her.”

Tom turned his head and looked out his side window. Savannah sensed he was hurt or angry that she had taken her husband up to
their
place. But considering his history, he hardly had reason to complain.

“Go on,” he said gruffly.

“We went up there. We fooled around and—”

“For how long?”

“I don't know. Forty-five minutes. An hour maybe.”
A lot longer than you and I ever did, Mr. Quickie
, she added smugly to herself. “Just as we had finished,” she went on, “I heard a loud splash coming from the lake.”

“Which direction?”

“Down the hill. Then it started to rain. We got back in the car and drove down there. When we reached the lower make-out spot, I made Dirk stop. I wanted to check the area.”

“Well?”

“Nothing in the clearing there leading to the cliff, and nothing in the lake. If the car was there already, I wouldn't have seen it. The moonlight was gone. The clouds were getting heavy, and it was really dark. But I did see a car on the road at the bottom of the hill.”

“Did you recognize the car?”

“No. I just saw the rear lights. The left brake light was out. Hey, have you written any fix-it tickets for left brake lights lately?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Afraid not. What else?”

“It was pouring, the ground was soggy, and I lost my sister's shoe in the mud. Then we drove back to Granny's, showered, and went to bed. So see? I didn't exactly lie to you. I just didn't mention the Lookout Point pit stop.”

He turned to her and looked intently into her eyes. “I wish you'd told me everything when I first questioned you, and don't pretend that just because the words that came outta your mouth were true, you were being honest with me. You deceived me, and you meant to. That's lying.”

Savannah's temper flared. “And you can keep telling me that until the cows come home to roost, but if you'd been in my place, knowing what we know about the law and how it jumps to conclusions sometimes, you'd have done the same thing. Don't tell me you wouldn't have, 'cause you're not that much better of a person than I am, Tom Stafford.”

“Cows come home to roost?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I wish you'd told me the truth.”

“And if I had,” she said, “you tell me what would be different right now. You'd still have an arrest warrant in your pocket and be getting ready to cuff me and take me in. In fact, you might have even done it then and there. So, if I'd bared it all and confessed that I'd fooled around with my husband at Lookout Point, what difference would it have made?”

He gave her a sad look, then said softly, “Maybe I'd trust you right now. Maybe I'd think you're still the woman I loved.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so she sat in silence, staring down at her hands, which were folded in her lap.

“I'm sorry, Savannah,” he said. “I'm arresting you for the murder of Jeanette Barnsworth. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and—”

“Whoa! Wait a minute. Tommy, please. Wait a cotton-picking minute.”

He was taking a pair of cuffs off his belt. “I'm sorry, baby, I can't—”

“Yes you can. It's Granny's birthday. We're having a party for her in a couple of hours. The cake's baked and everything. Let us have the party, please, Tom. At her age, we never know how many more we'll have with her. I swear to you, on all I hold dear and sacred, if you give me the rest of this day and this night to spend with my family, I'll turn myself in first thing tomorrow morning. I mean it. I will.”

He wouldn't look at her. He fumbled with the cuffs, toyed with his keys, put on his sunglasses, then took them off again.

“All right,” he said finally. “For Granny's sake.”

“Thank you, Tom!” It was all she could do not to kiss him right there, with her husband looking on.

To her shock, it was he who leaned over and kissed her.

Once. Lightly. On the cheek.

“And,” he continued, his voice tremulous with emotion, “because I owe it to you for what I did. To you. To us.”

“I'm so grateful. And I promise I'll be there when you arrive tomorrow morning at nine o'clock.”

“Seven thirty.”

“Seven thirty?”

“Yeah. I'm the sheriff now. The boss. I have to do all the hard things.” He looked at her, and she was sure she saw tears in his eyes. “Sometimes I hate my damned job.”

She gave him a little smile. “You're just doing what you have to, Tom. Any lawman worth his salt would do the same thing. Don't feel too bad if you can help it.”

She opened the car door and got out. Before shutting it, she said, “I owe you one, darlin'.”

“No, Savannah. You don't owe me anything. At best, we're even.” He smiled. “And after all these years, even that feels mighty good.”

I
n Savannah's opinion, the worst thing about growing up with a passel of siblings was the complete lack of privacy. In a family with nine children, everyone knew everything about everybody—from their toilet habits to their favorite piece of chicken, to who had a crush on whom at school that week. All the kids knew more about their brothers and sisters than they ever wanted to know.

The girls even knew whose turn it was to wear the panties with the faded blue rosebuds and the worn-out, unreliable elastic waistband. They knew because they had either worn them already, would wear them someday, or had them on at the moment.

So why did she think she could hide something as important as a murder warrant?

The moment she and Dirk stepped through the door, they were met with a frantic mob, which delivered a barrage of questions, bits of old news, and useless suggestions, all soaked in a deluge of tears.

“Did you know that the sheriff's out to get you?”

“I heard it's a murder warrant he's got in his pocket. The judge done signed it and everything.”

“We could poke you in the back of Butch's pickup, toss some blankets on you, and sneak you out once it gets dark.”

“Naw. There might be a roadblock where they're checking backs of trucks and car floorboards and such.”

“They catch a lot of felons on the run that way. I saw it on
Cops
.”

“Maybe Butch could rig up some sort of harness thingamajig and sling her under the truck. I don't think they look
under
trucks. Just
in
'em.”

“He couldn't go roarin' over any big bumps, though, or that might be the end of 'er then and there. Squashed flatter than a flitter.”

Savannah held up both hands and yelled, “Stop! While I'm sure y'all mean well, you're fixin' to drive me crazy. What's all this talk about murders and warrants and arrest? We got a birthday party to throw here, and that's all that's important right now.”

She shooed them away from her, then pointed to the sofa and assorted chairs. “Sit yourselves down and grab something good to eat. I just talked to Sheriff Stafford, and everything's under control. Let's get the celebrating under way.”

Dirk put his hands on Marietta's back, spun her around, and gave her a push toward the nearest chair. “Savannah's absolutely right. Don't we have some presents to open or a donkey to pin a tail on or something?”

Savannah glanced around the room at her distraught and overly excited siblings. Only Gran, Tammy, and Waycross remained calm. And even they looked terribly worried and sad.

Gran pulled a footstool close to her chair, gave it a pat, and said, “Come sit over here by me, granddaughter. We've gotta have us a serious heart-to-heart talk. And the rest of these knuckleheads are gonna hush up, settle down, and listen.”

Since Gran was wearing her “I mean business, so don't mess with me” face, Savannah immediately did as she was told and took a seat on the footstool. Dirk followed and stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She leaned back against him, grateful for the comfort the simple contact offered.

Gran reached over and took Savannah's hands in both of hers. And for a moment, with the two strongest, most precious people in her life in front of her and behind her, Savannah felt that maybe there was hope. With the love and the strength of her family surrounding her, perhaps there would be an answer.

In her peripheral vision she could see Tammy and Waycross sitting to her right, and she felt their love and support radiating toward her, as well. She wasn't sure what she had ever done in her life to deserve such devotion from such truly good people, but she was infinitely grateful for it. And never more so than now, when she needed all the help she could get to tip the scales of Lady Justice in her direction.

“First of all, Savannah girl,” Gran said, “get any ideas of birthday parties out of your head. There ain't gonna be no celebrating done in this house until this mess with you is over and done with. Once we get you out in the clear, then we'll have double the reasons to hoot and holler and kick up our heels.”

“But, Gran—”

“Not one more word about that, young lady. It's my birthday, so the party's gonna be when I say. Not a minute before or after. We're gonna eat that fine cake you baked, though, while it's still fresh. And somebody else besides Savannah is gonna have to make me another one when the time comes. But other than that, us Moonlight Magnolia members have got serious business to attend to. If any of the rest of you wanna be temporary honorary members, then hang around and make yourself useful. As for the rest of you, thank you for coming to my home to honor me. I appreciate it, but we've got a murder to solve.”

The Reid clan looked around the room at each other. At first, no one made a move. Then Marietta rose and picked up her bejeweled giraffe-print purse and slung it over her shoulder.

“I don't know about you,” she said, “but I haven't got a clue as to how to solve a murder. I actually make it a point to steer clear of that kind of nonsense. It's bad enough that Savannah gets herself all wrapped up in junk like that all the time.”

The others sat silently and watched her walk out the door.

Savannah felt mixed emotions, seeing her sister leave. She couldn't help being somewhat offended by Marietta's lack of concern. But, on the other hand, it was a relief to have her gone.

Domestic tranquility had never been Marietta's strong suit. And if they were going to get anything accomplished, they needed a peaceful setting and as little drama as possible.

Vidalia was the next one to rise. As she gathered her two sets of twins to her sides, she said, “I think I'll be getting along, too. The kids are cranky and need a nap. You don't want them hanging around underfoot. But if you'd save us all a big piece of that cake, we'd be most obliged.” After being assured that her crew would not be dessert-deprived, Vidalia and her offspring made a hasty exit.

“Me too,” Jesup said, springing to her feet. “I've got someplace important I oughta be.”

“By all means, don't let us keep you,” Savannah whispered.

Dirk's hands caressed her shoulders.

“I've got a test tomorrow I need to study for,” Cordele said, rising and smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her baggy skirt. “But if there's anything y'all need, like pencils and notebooks to write on, just let me know.”

Those two hurried out the door, as well.

The family members who remained in the living room wore somber but determined looks. There were the usual core members of the Moonlight Magnolia team: Savannah, Dirk, Granny, Tammy, and Waycross. And now their numbers had increased by one, little Alma.

“Don't worry,” she told Savannah. “We've gotcha. And we've gotcha good. You ain't goin' nowhere, leastways not off to prison. It's bad enough that Macon ends up behind bars from time to time with his nonsense. And that Mom sleeps it off in jail once or twice a month. But you've always been good. You're not a criminal. You've dedicated your life to
catching
criminals.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Savannah said.

“You don't have to thank me. I'm just saying what's true. And those of us sitting here, we're not going to let anything happen to you. You're ours, and we love you, and we've gotcha.”

“That's right,” Tammy said. “You put your life on the line time after time for us. Now it's our turn to help you. And we're more than happy to do it.”

Gran added, “We've solved murders together before, Savannah girl, and with a lot less motivation than we've got now. Somebody must've killed Jeanette Barnsworth, and we know it wasn't you. We're gonna find out who it was, and then you'll be safe and sound, on the right side of iron bars, and with your good name cleared.”

Savannah lost her battle with her tears as she placed her trust and her freedom into the hands of those she loved.

Unfortunately, the confidence inspired by her family's pep talk lasted only as long as it took Savannah to fill them in on the unpleasant facts concerning Jeanette's demise and the so-called evidence that, at least in the sheriff's and the coroner's opinions, pointed to Savannah being the killer. By the time all the gory details had been shared, she could tell that even their resolve was shaken.

When, finally, at one in the morning, everyone had decided to go to bed and get some sleep, Savannah was as frightened as she'd ever been. She knew more about the justice system than most people, and she knew that sometimes—not often, but sometimes—mistakes were made and innocent people were convicted.

She also knew that police officers, or those who had been cops in a former life, suffered terribly in prison. Their terms were often served under circumstances that were, literally, worse than death.

And that was assuming she escaped the death penalty for her “crime.”

She pulled Gran's soft, tulip quilt up to her chin and snuggled over against Dirk, drawing strength and comfort from his closeness and the warmth of his body against hers.

“Only person in history to get the needle for slapping a smart mouth,” she muttered to herself.

He heard and hugged her closer. “You're doing it again,” he said, “but I caught your drift, even if you didn't say it all out loud.”

“I'm sorry. I'm just worried. Really worried. I can't help it.”

“I understand. I'm not exactly jazzed about all this myself, babe. Tomorrow morning I'll be driving my wife into town so she can turn herself in.”

“I know. I shouldn't add to your burden with my complaints.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Don't apologize for anything you say to me, Van. I'm your husband. Nothing's off-limits.”

“Okay then. Here goes.” She took a deep breath. “It's got to be bad when once she heard the evidence, even Granny asked me if I did it.”

“She asked you once, because she had to, just to get it out of the way, if maybe you'd done that gal in purely by accident. She never asked if you killed her intentionally.”

“If I can't convince my own grandmother who raised me . . .”

“But you did. She knew you meant it and so will anybody else who asks you. Your sincerity shines like a floodlight at a new strip mall opening.”

She couldn't help chuckling. This man might eat cornflakes and read newspapers loud enough to wake a cemetery full of dead folks, but he could make her laugh at some of the worst times in her life.

As he ran his fingers through her curls and gently massaged her temples, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment as much as possible, considering her circumstances. Although she hated to think about it, this might be her last night to lie next to her husband and feel his caresses. She felt the need to make the most of it. Every single moment.

The sultry night air drifted through the open window nearby, lifting and parting Granny's lace curtains. Savannah felt the gentle breeze blow across her bare legs and wondered if Tommy Stafford's jail cell had a breeze. The last time she was there, some years back, the place was horrid. A sweat box, without a hint of fresh air, that reeked of urine, perspiration, and desolation.

Well, kiddo
, she told herself,
you'll be finding out soon. Now, aren't you glad that you slapped Jeanette? Hope you had a good time, 'cause you're sure gonna pay for it
.

Long ago Savannah had realized that she had two inner voices. At least two. And over the years, she had become increasingly more grateful for one and more assertive with the other. The former spoke words of kindness, encouragement, and support. The latter was a witch with a nasty, scolding voice who never missed an opportunity to point out her shortcomings to her. Voice number two would expound upon those faults for as long as Savannah would allow her. And lately, with all that was going on, she'd had far too much to say.

“You just shut up already,” Savannah told her. “Nobody yanked your chain. So keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Just to make sure,” Dirk said, “you're talking to someone in your head, not me, right?”

“Yes. The voice of my head that keeps telling me I messed up bad and now I'm screwed.”

“You didn't mess up bad. You did what anybody with an ounce of gumption would've done under the circumstances. I don't know what that gal said to you, but I'm sure it was bad, or you never would've lifted your hand to her. The only one you're beating up who doesn't deserve it is yourself. So knock it off.”

He kissed her on the nose and added, “As far as you being screwed, we'll see about that. First thing tomorrow I'm gonna be all over this case. All of us will be. And we're not gonna stop until it's solved and you're cleared.”