Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (7 page)

Chapter Ten

A heavy fist rapped against Dinah’s front door.

“It better be a client, or supper is a spoonful of peanut butter,” muttered Dinah. She’d convinced a few merchants to post her flyer, but no one had come around. Maybe business would pick up this weekend.

Glancing out the living room window, she sighed. An El Royo patrol car was parked in front. Again. Hollyn certainly wasn’t going to answer it. Dinah dug the pepper spray out of her purse before opening the door. Swope better behave like a gentleman or else.

It was Rafe. She slipped the tiny canister of man-repellant into the back pocket of her cut-offs. “No wonder I don’t have any clients. The El Royo police department spends half its day parked in front of my house. I might have to open up a donut shop.”

Rafe glowered at her. “That isn’t funny.”

She stepped back to let him in. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you.”

As he stepped into the hallway, his breast pocket lit up, and the brassy clang of a rotary phone ringtone bounced off the walls. He pulled out his cell. His right knuckle was raw and scraped.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing.” Rafe sent the call to voicemail and set the phone next to his Stetson.

The thought came out of nowhere:
He hit Swope.
Her body turned warm and liquid. Not good. She put her hands on her hips and tried to look severe. “You didn’t hit Officer Swope, did you?”

His mouth tightened. “This is an official visit. Do you have a few minutes?”

She sighed theatrically. “Better come on in and sit down.”

The walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder began to squawk.
Unit 3, please respond to accident at 420 Alamo Drive.

“Unit three responding.”

“What’s your location and ETA?”

“The 800 block of south Laredo. I’m en route. Five minutes.” Rafe grabbed his hat and pushed it down on his head. “I’ll be back later.”

His cell still lay on the table. She stared at it longingly. “Hey, Rafe?”

“I can’t talk now, Dinah.”

She took a deep breath and held it. “Uh, can I borrow your phone?”

“What do you—” He stopped. “No cell phone?”

She grinned. “No service.”

“Here.” He handed it to her. “Go crazy.” Then he tipped his hat and flew out of the house.

She took the cell, still warm from his body, and curled up on the sofa. It had been nearly a month since her phone service was cut off, and the phone felt good in her hand. “Hello, civilization.”

Pressing Rafe’s Contacts icon, she scrolled through the phone list until she found
Esmeralda Morales
. So Esme never married. Was it because of the “court of public opinion” Rafe referred to the other day? She’d been dying to know what happened to Esme, and why the Morales family was so protective of her. She even dared a trip to the library to look up old news stories. But Esme’s name didn’t turn up.

Sometimes a girl had to take the bull by the horns if she wanted straight answers. She hit Esme’s number.

“Rafe? Is something wrong?” Esme’s voice vibrated with concern.

Dinah swallowed hard and dove in. “Esme, it’s me. Dinah.” She waited for a click.

“Where is Rafe?” Esme’s tone hardened.

“He’s investigating a traffic accident. I borrowed his phone.” Now the click would come. But, again, it didn’t. There was a heavy silence. Dinah’s nervousness loosened.

“Why are you calling me, Dinah?”

Good question. “I’m not sure.”

“If you think there’s anything you could say or do that would mean anything to me, think again.”

Dinah wanted to reach through the phone with both hands and hug her old friend. “I want to be your friend.”

“Really? Then why didn’t you ever call me after you left El Royo?”

“I thought you were mad at me. Because I said I didn’t want to be your friend.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you didn’t want to be seen with the town whore.”

“You’re crazy!
I’m
the town whore. Remember? I’m the one who stripped in front of our high school class.”

There was a long silence.

“Esme? Are you there?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what? What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know what happened?”

“Rafe said something the other day about you being hurt in the court of public opinion.”

“Hang on a minute.” The whoosh of wind brushed against the phone.

“Are you outside?”

“I don’t want Brooke to hear.”

“Brooke?”

“My daughter.” The emptiness that had dogged Dinah wherever she went ballooned inside her. Esme had a daughter. She had a life that mattered to someone.

“When did you have a baby?”

“Eight-and-a-half months after you left.”

“Is she Michael’s? You were engaged, right?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Before I tell you what happened, you must promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Be straight with me. I don’t want your sympathy. If you feel like hanging up, do it.”

“Sure.” But she wouldn’t hang up. There was nothing Esme could ever do that would make Dinah hate her. A little thought fluttered up. She’d hated her daddy for what he did, but she immediately quashed the thought. This was different.

Esme took a deep breath. “It happened right after you left. Most of the class was hanging out in the quarry, we were drinking, and I was feeling sorry for myself. My best friend in the whole world had packed her bags and left town without saying good-bye, plus Michael was going off to basic training at Fort Sill. I drank too much, and when Michael tried to take me home, I went a little crazy and picked a fight, so he drove off. I don’t remember much after that. Maybe it’s better.”

Whore. Court of public opinion.
Dinah saw where this was going. “Esme, you don’t have to—”

“Let me get through this, Di. It’s my story.”

“Sure, sweetie.”

“Some of the guys had sex with me, or maybe a lot did. Apparently they took turns. I don’t remember any of it, but they said I wanted to, which is ridiculous. I was engaged, and Michael was the only guy I’d slept with. But it was the word of all those upstanding high school graduates against a drunken whore. Michael broke off the engagement the next day before I even knew what had happened. Eight-and-a-half months later, Brooke was born.”

“Michael’s?”

“I was pregnant when it happened. I never told him, and people assume it happened that night.”

“Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

“He died. Shot by a kid over in Iraq two days before Brooke was born.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. I’d have come back to be with you.”

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Di. It changed my life in good ways. I have my beautiful daughter. She’ll start second grade in the fall. I have a great career working with Papa and spending my days healing sick animals. Before the rape, I was just a girl with dreams of being a soldier’s wife and mom. I never even wanted to go to college. Just start right in with the housekeeping and baby making. I’ll probably never have a man in my life, but otherwise, everything is perfect.”

“Why no man?” Like Dinah should talk. She’d dated every loser on the planet. Celibacy would have been a better option.

Esme’s voice was solemn. “How can I ever trust a man after what happened?”

“You trust Rafe and Dr. Ernesto.”

“They love me because I am a sister and daughter to them. That’s different.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of Rafe…are you two dating or something?”

“No! Is that what Rafe said?”

“Miss Peppie thinks you two are an item. Rafe never says anything. He’s a man.”

Dinah giggled. Esme did, too.

“We’re just friends,” said Dinah, then firmly changed the subject. “So you wouldn’t talk to me at the party because you didn’t think I wanted to talk to you.”

“That and because I keep to myself. But you didn’t want to talk to me because you thought I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I guess so.”

Esme began to laugh. “We are both
loco
.”

Dinah smiled. “No, we are both too good for this town.”

She had one other call to make before Rafe returned.

The number went directly to voicemail.
Bastard!

“You have reached the party line.” Brandon sounded drunk. As usual. In the background, a girl tittered.

She deserved this. Hadn’t she done worse to the only decent guy she’d ever dated?

“I’m off to Cancun for some R and R. Leave me a message. Maybe I’ll get back to you when I return to L.A.”

She’d leave a message, all right. Hopefully one that would ruin his sweet little vacation with Lolita. “I want every last penny you took from my account, Brandon. All of it, or this time I’m pressing charges. No more second chances.”

Chapter Eleven

Dinah looked different when she opened the door. Happier? It seemed that way to Rafe, but he could never tell with women. Sometimes they smiled, then kicked you in the balls.

She handed over his phone with a little bow. “Thanks.”

Which reminded him… “You need a phone.”

Her hands went to her hips, her head tilted, and her right foot began to tap. She looked adorable when she was annoyed with him, and he steeled himself for the argument he was about to get from her. He liked that, too, although he didn’t want to. No more stubborn women.

“I have a phone,” she said.

“A phone with service. You’ve had a break-in. What if I hadn’t been there? What would you have done then?

“Run.”

“That boy who broke in was fast and strong enough to vault over a five-foot fence. He also had a mean-looking knife. Do you really think galloping off in your cowboy boots would discourage him if he wanted to hurt you?”

The corners of her mouth inched up, and her foot stopped tapping. “Maybe not. But I’m not taking money from you, Rafe, so put that idea right out of your head.”

He set his hat and phone down. “Let’s sit down. I have a few things to go over with you. We can talk more about the phone later.”

He sat beside her, breathing in the soapy scent of her skin and enjoying the warmth of the female body just a few inches from his. Clearing his throat—and hopefully his brain—he got down to business.

“The autopsy came back on Teke Cruz. He was murdered.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought he fell off the bridge.” Gold flecks glimmering in the green irises. Strange. He hadn’t noticed them before.

“It was only about six feet, and he was drunk. Must have landed like a rag doll. Not even a broken finger. Before he went over the railing, someone cut his carotid artery. That detail is classified, by the way.” Rafe had debated with himself about letting loose about the knife wound on Teke’s neck. But it had to be from the same guy who broke into the house earlier in the evening, which meant Dinah could be in danger.

“Sweet tea, you two?” Hollyn appeared in the doorway with glasses of iced tea balanced on a tray. Where had she been? Had she heard what he said to Dinah?

“This is a private conversation,” he said.

“Ooh, sorry.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll just set these cold drinks right down on the coffee table and be on my way.” With a giggle, she skittered out.

“You were a little rough on her,” said Dinah, as Hollyn disappeared.

He lowered his voice. “No one is supposed to know about the cut except the killer.”

“And me.”

“I’m worried about your safety. Someone out there has decided the money is still around, and you know where it is.”

“Actually, there’s more than one someone who thinks that.” Dinah bent forward and picked up a glass. She wore a backless top tied in floppy bows at her neck and waist. His eyes traced the curve of her spine.

“Who thinks you know where the money is?”

“Gerry Sutton and Lonnie Bigsky.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, Mr. Gerry rode over here on his scooter the other day. He wants me to dig up the backyard and tear the house apart. He’s positive it’s here. And he wanted to know everything my daddy told me about the money. Which was nothing. I told him, but he didn’t believe me.”

“What about Lonnie.”

“He accused me of telling Teke where the money was.”

Lonnie had been at the bridge when Teke was found. Rafe nodded slowly. “Anyone else?”

She shook her head. “Just Mr. Gerry and Mr. Lonnie.”

“Very good. I’ll follow up with them.” Lonnie first. Gerry Sutton could barely walk much less vault over fences and push able-bodied men off bridges.

Dinah’s expression grew speculative.

“Anything else?” he said. “Even if it seems inconsequential to you, it might fit the bigger puzzle.”

Her brow still creased and troubled, she shook her head slowly. “It’s probably nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe—”

From the hallway came the sound of china smashing against the floor. Rafe jumped off the sofa and nearly leaped over the table. Dinah was right behind him. It was Hollyn, standing amid shards of china and chocolate chip cookies. “I’m so clumsy these days.” She batted her eyes at him. “Must be the baby and all.”

She stooped and began to pick up pieces of china. “I’m so sorry, Miss Dinah. I didn’t mean to break your momma’s dish.”

“Don’t you worry, honey lamb. Those things are older than I am. They’ve lived a good life.” She pulled Hollyn to her feet. “I want you to go on into the kitchen and rest. Put your feet up for awhile. You’ve been working too hard around here. I’ll clean all this up after Office Morales leaves.”

Hollyn looked doubtful. “I feel okay, Miss Dinah. I don’t want to leave you unattended.” Her eyes slid to Rafe meaningfully. “Should I fetch another plate of cookies?”

“Officer Morales and I will be just fine.” The words curled out of Dinah’s mouth close to his ear, slow and soft and husky, like a siren call. The hair on the back of Rafe’s neck stood up.
What is she up to?

Dinah wound herself around his arm and pressed her breast against his bicep. “Officer Morales and I have some more discussing to do, if you know what I mean,” she cooed.

Hollyn’s eyes glittered with disapproval, but her face turned twenty shades of red. She backed away. “Sure, Miss Dinah. Maybe I’ll take myself for a little walk.”

Dinah pressed her hip against Rafe’s. “I’d sure appreciate it.”

Hollyn disappeared into the kitchen, and he got his arm back.

Things didn’t seem so clear suddenly. Maybe tough ladies were his fate. “Are you coming on to me?”

She lifted a slender finger and pressed it against her sweet, kissable lips. “Shhhh.” Then she grinned at him, and added, “Would you like to come upstairs for a little bit, Officer.”

His body stirred, and he struggled to hold onto his good sense. “I’m on duty.” Had he really said that?
I’m on duty.
He sounded like a nervous adolescent. The last time he felt this out-of-control was back in his Dallas days, with Sam. His instincts screamed at him to walk away. Dinah was too sexy, too smart, too blond, too tough…too Sam.

With a crook of her finger, Dinah gestured for him to come upstairs with her. Her trim bottom and slim legs swayed as she climbed. Unable to stop himself, Rafe followed her.

Her bedroom contained a double bed and dresser, both white and girlish. A shelf against the wall held schoolbooks and toys. When she’d left home, she’d still have been a girl. But she’d grown up fast. Esme, too. Maybe they all did. Life seemed to have a way of making that happen to girls. A night sky covered her bedroom ceiling, and he imagined her lying on her back in the rumpled bed, staring up at the infinite yellow dots of light and feeling alone.

Dinah waved her hand at the unmade bed. “Have a seat. I have something to show you.” A discarded bra lay across the pillow. “Sorry for the mess.” Dinah grabbed it and a pair of blue silky panties near his feet and tossed them into the closet.

Sweet lord!

Pulling a baby doll off the shelf, she plopped herself beside him.

What was the doll for? Was she into something kinky? He needed time to think. “I’m on duty right now, but if you want I could come back later—”

Her jaw dropped, and she punched his shoulder. “Get your head out of your pants, Officer. I am trying to assist your investigation, and I’d rather not make my daddy’s last statement a topic of public speculation. Hollyn doesn’t seem like a gossip, but she’s as curious as a cat sometimes. I’d die if this got out, and people started talking about him again.”

It took him a minute to switch gears. “Sorry. You got me a little worked up with all that rubbing, Miss Dinah.” He arched a brow at her, struggling to gain the upper hand.

She wasn’t biting. Her eyes met his straight on. “Uh-huh.”

She twisted the head off the doll and fished around in the body until she pulled out an envelope jingling with coins, a man’s wedding ring, and a tightly folded paper. She unfolded the paper. “The prison said they were sending copies of this to local law enforcement, but I didn’t know if you’d seen it.”

He took it from her. “No. It would probably go to the sheriff’s office. I’ll ask after it tomorrow.”

He read the letter while she waited. It was hard to concentrate with Dinah sitting right beside him, her breath caressing his jaw as she reread the letter over his shoulder.

Don’t let temper…ruin your life…like I did.
Waves of emotions collided inside him. Anger at a man who had thrown away his wife and daughter in a fit of temper. Hurt over what Dinah must have gone through. But mostly fear that the events Ben Pittman set in motion over eight years ago weren’t resolved yet, and his daughter was in danger. He read the last words again. A chill ran down his spine.
Trust…no one. Take the gold…straight [indecipherable] in Austin.

He curled his arm around her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Dinah.”

Her body stiffened. “It’s okay.”

He retrieved his arm. “I know you’re not a fan of cops, and I don’t blame you, but this one’s got your back. Not just because it’s my job, either. I feel like we’re friends.”

She sighed deeply. “I do, too, Rafe. I didn’t mean, uh, it’s just that, well, I’m dealing with a lot right now. That’s all.”

“Yeah.” So was he. “If this letter is accurate, seems like your father knew where the money was.”

“Doesn’t mean I do.”

“Most folks would conclude otherwise after reading this transcript. He asked you to return the money.”

“Actually he said to return the gold. But the armored car had dollars.”

“Maybe he bought gold.”

“Do you have any idea how much a quarter-million dollars worth of gold would weigh?”

He’d never considered it. “No, do you?”

She sighed. “No. But it seems like it would be hard to hide.”

“Maybe not. Gold would be harder to hide than paper money, but it would resist fire or water damage or rot.”

She stood and began to pace her little room. “But he talked like
I
knew where the money was, or at least I would happen upon it easily.”

Rafe studied her starry ceiling. “He wouldn’t hide it in the house. It wouldn’t be safe. Anyone could have walked in since you’ve been gone and stumbled on it.”

“Maybe someone did. You said squatters come through here, didn’t you?”

He did some quick calculations in his head. “Based on gold prices eight years ago, a quarter of a million dollars worth would probably take up the area of a small filing cabinet and weigh at least several hundred pounds. I don’t know how it could be much less. How would a homeless drifter manage to cart away that much gold without someone noticing? Besides, if he tried to sell it, he’d be busted.”

She stopped pacing. “True. But that holds for my daddy, too. Someone would have noticed if a man bought that much gold with cash, right?”

“There are places in Houston, Dallas, maybe San Antonio, too, where arrangements can be made. Especially if you’re a cop. You’d know where to go.”

She looked away. “Of course.” The words sounded sad.

“He said he loved you, uh…” He glanced down at the letter. “Truly. Like the song. Was he an old-fashioned kind of guy?”

“Not really. He was a Vietnam vet and loved the Rolling Stones.”

Rafe shrugged. “Maybe the stenographer got it wrong. He was obviously having trouble understanding your daddy.”

“I’ll think on it, but I never heard him say anything like that when I was a kid.”

“Maybe an idea will come to you later. Happens that way for a lot of folks.”

“Maybe.”

It was time to get back to work. He rose and gazed down at her bowed head. What would it feel like to bury his mouth in those shiny blond curls? She lifted her head, and he turned away so she wouldn’t see the desire written on his face.

“Well, I better be going.”

She led the way downstairs. The broken plate and cookies had been cleaned up. Hollyn was banging pots and pans in the kitchen.

Dinah shook her head. “I don’t know how she does it. Just when I think we’re down to our last slice of bread or scoop of peanut butter, that girl manages to squeeze out another meal, and an endless supply of cookies and sweet tea.”

“Sounds like you’re lucky to have her.” He grabbed his hat and cell from the side table. Which reminded him… “I was dead serious about the phone. You need a functioning cell, Dinah.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am not taking your money.”

“How about an arrangement?” Or a little payback for her fake seduction earlier.

“An arrangement?”

“A trade. I provide you with a phone in return for your services.”

Her sweet mouth popped open. “You are out of line, Officer.”

He raised an eyebrow and shot her his most innocent smile. “Can I come for a reading tonight?”

Her face reddened. “Sure. It’s fifty dollars.”

“It’s whatever it costs to turn your phone service on.” He met her eyes and dared her to argue.

“I meant what I said, Rafe.”

“And I intend to ensure you’re safe by whatever means necessary.”

“Ooh. You’re still here.” Hollyn was watching them from the dining room. She didn’t look happy to see him.

Irritation pricked him. He was tired of getting snuck up on by Hollyn. It was time to teach her a little lesson—if you peek through keyholes, you might get your eye poked. Miss Peppie used to say that to his sisters.

He gave Hollyn a lazy, half-lidded smile. “Yup, I’m still here.” Then he slid his hands around Dinah’s bare shoulders. They were silk beneath his palms. He tilted his head and went in for a kiss, bracing for a slap or a protest. But neither came.

He brushed her lips softly, caressing them with his mouth until her hands slid around his waist. He pulled her closer, and she let him kiss her—two long, slow sweeps of his mouth against hers. She tasted of cookies and tea and woman. Her lips parted, and she sighed deeply into his mouth before pushing away.

He opened his eyes. Hollyn had disappeared. A pot banged in the kitchen.