Wink of an Eye (23 page)

“Mrs. Denny's avoiding something at home,” I said.

Sophia glanced at the printout, then looked to me to explain. “Why do you say that?”

“Look at all the stuff she's involved in. She's either making amends for something that's going on at home or she's avoiding having to be at home. Or maybe both.”

Sophia was skeptical. “Why can't she just be a good person with too much energy?”

I shrugged. “She could be, I suppose. But if I were a betting man, I'd say she's making good to make up for something bad. The daughters moved out of state. They live close to one another but left Mom and Dad in the dust.”

“Maybe their jobs took them out of state.”

I pulled the laptop over and keyed in the first daughter's name. Within a few seconds, I had her complete profile. “She's a restaurant manager. She could do that in Texas.” I pulled up the second daughter's info. “The youngest one is a graphic artist. There's plenty of design firms in Texas.”

Sophia gnawed on the inside of her lip, not wanting to admit my theory had a basis. “Maybe they just raised independent daughters.”

“Possibly. But I don't think so. The oldest daughter is thirty-five, the youngest is thirty-two. Their baby-making clocks are ticking and neither really has the kind of career you'd have to choose between family or work. Why no kids? Why no husbands?”

Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Do you
even know
how sexist that is?”

I think we were about to have our first real fight. But I wasn't going to backpedal to soften the truth. “Yes—I know it's sexist and archaic. But it's the truth, Sophia. There's a reason these two women are living where they're living, aren't married, and have no children.”

“Yeah, and the reason may be they simply don't want to be married and don't want kids. Not every woman dreams of the white picket fence and a dozen snot-nosed kids running around.”

I threw my hands up to calm the storm. “I'm just saying there's usually a reason
why
they don't want it.”

“Yeah—they just don't want it.” Her voice was raised. I'd not only touched a nerve, I'd severed it. “Wow. I'd never have guessed you to be so blatantly
chauvinistic.
”

“All I'm saying is, where the Denny sisters are concerned, I'd be willing to bet the reason has something to do with Daddy. There's a reason people want or don't want things. Do you have kids? A husband?”

She sprang up off the bed and I actually flinched. I thought for a moment she was either going for the jugular or upside my head. “Whoa,” she said, jamming her hands on her hips. “Ground rule number one, we're not going there. Have I asked you how long you've been screwing Claire Sellars?”

I could hear my heart beating in the silence. We stared at each other for a long while, each trying to grasp what had just happened. Was she trying to make a point that I had treaded into a topic that was off-limits? Or was the investigative journalist in her curious because she had investigated the senator and his wife? Or was she actually a little interested in who I was sleeping with?

I finally looked away from her and pretended to read Denny's schedule again. “Okay … it looks like he's got a Rotary Club meeting tonight. So, um, here's the game plan. We pick up the tail at the Sheriff's Department, and stay with him until he's tucked away nice and safe at home.”

She nodded quickly, then casually sat back down on the bed. “And how long do we do this?” I thought I detected a slight quiver in her voice. Miss Cool-as-a-Cucumber was flustered. It was kind of cute. It took every ounce of restraint I could muster to not comment on it.

“We'll do it a few nights and if nothing happens, we'll switch gears and go to plan B.”

“And what's plan B?”

I grinned. “Well, if plan A works, we won't need plan B, will we?”

She nodded. “You don't have a plan B, do you?”

I shook my head. We were easing back into our comfort zones and I liked it. Maybe it was going to be a good night after all.

 

CHAPTER 20

Sheriff Gaylord Denny left his office at 6:15
P.M
. He drove straight home, disappeared inside his comfortable brick ranch-style house and emerged twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his coat and tie and into a pair of ill-fitting athletic pants, ball cap, and a golf shirt that looked like it had been pulled from the bottom of the laundry hamper.

“I don't think Rotary Club meetings are formal, but it seems he'd at least make himself presentable,” I said.

Sophia didn't say anything as she watched Denny through the tinted windshield. She was in the passenger seat with her long legs pulled up and feet pressed against the dashboard.

I had parked two houses down on the intersecting street with a clear shot of the Denny homestead just beyond the backyards. Denny left the department-issued vehicle in his driveway and climbed into an older model Cadillac with a busted taillight and scratched rear bumper.

“Peterson's got something on him.” I cranked the engine and followed the Cadillac out of the neighborhood. He drove about two miles, then picked up the main road and headed back into town.

“Why do you say Peterson has something on him?”

“If he was an active participant, he'd shell out the money to have his car fixed. A man that drives around in a Caddy likes the status that comes with it. They usually have the car in the shop the next day.”

“I still say he's just a doddering old man with some issues.”

I threw a glance at her and grinned. “Uh-huh. Then why are you tagging along on this ride? It's not that you simply like my company.”

She glared at me a moment, then turned back to the windshield. “I'm tagging along to prove you wrong.” I thought I saw a hint of a grin.

“He's turning into that burger joint.” She pointed toward the fast food restaurant on the corner. “He's going through the drive-thru.”

I pulled into the opposite turning lane and headed into the gas-station parking lot across the street. “Why the hell is he going through a drive-thru? Don't they have dinner at Rotary meetings?” I pulled the van out of the way of the gas pumps and parked near the curb where I could keep an eye on the restaurant.

“Maybe he doesn't like what they serve.”

“Or maybe he's not going to the meeting.” I hoped he wasn't going anywhere he wanted to make an impression. Not how he was dressed.

A few minutes later, he pulled out of the drive-thru and back onto the main road. I let a few cars pass, then picked up where we'd left off. About three miles later, he turned into Kermit's definition of a mall and drove around to the south entrance.

“He's going shopping?” Sophia was as perplexed as I was.

“Maybe he's shopping for a new outfit.”

The parking lot was nearly empty. Denny parked, got out, and strolled inside. I parked a row over. “Can you follow him?” I asked Sophia.

She looked at me with a tiny amount of fear in her eyes. “Me?”

“I'm going to tag along behind you but I'm afraid we're going to lose him if you don't go now. I'm still kind of hobbling.” My voice took on an urgent tone as Denny neared the entrance.

Sophia hurried out of the van, giving me a look like she didn't know if she should trust me. What did she think I was going to do? Drive away and leave her there? She sprinted toward the same entrance Denny had just gone through. Damn, she looked good in shorts.

I climbed out of the van, then pulled a crutch from the back. When I finally got to the entrance, I called Sophia's cell. “Where are you?”

“At the Dollar Movie Palace.”

“He's seeing a movie?”

“Toy Story 3.”

“Seriously?”

“Ah … yeah.”

He's meeting someone. “Buy two tickets and I'll be there in a minute.”

Before she could respond, I clicked my phone off and hobbled inside. She was standing at the theater entrance and didn't look happy.

“The least you can do is buy me popcorn.” She handed me the tickets.

I happily obliged and even bought her a drink. The movie was showing on screen six of six, which meant it was at the farthest end of the theater. By the time we made it down the hallway, my foot was throbbing.

The trailers for upcoming attractions were already playing so the theater was dark, illuminated only by the flickering on the giant screen. The theater was stadium seating with a few clusters of people scattered here and there, no one wanting to invade anyone's space. Denny was sitting by himself on the third row from the back. I gritted my teeth and struggled with the crutch until we made it to the back row. From this vantage point, we had a great view of the back of Denny's head.

There was a couple sitting on the opposite end of the top row and three teenagers in the middle of the next row within whispering distance to Denny. Other than these few, we had the top half of the theater to ourselves.

“Did you see one and two?” Sophia asked in a hushed voice.

“One and two what?”

“Toy Story.”

I glared at her, then shook my head slowly. “No, I'm afraid I missed those.”

She stared, mesmerized, at the trailer for a romantic comedy, slowly moving individual pieces of popcorn to her mouth. “They were great,” she said between bites.

“Uh-huh. I try not to make it a habit of lurking around kiddie movies. Especially if I don't have a kid with me. Otherwise people look at you weird—kind of like we're looking at Denny right now.”

She lifted her chin and looked at the back of our subject's head. “Maybe he just likes great animation. You know, people with dementia or Alzheimer's do sometimes revert back to childhood.”

“That's true, but he drove himself here. He dressed in comfortable clothes and knew exactly where he was going when he left the house. And ten to one, Mrs. Denny thinks he's at the Rotary meeting.”

“Probably.” She turned her attention back to the screen and settled in for the movie.

It was obvious by her interest in a plastic cowboy named Woody that I was going to be the one to keep an eye on Sheriff Denny.

“This movie's about talking toys?” I asked, thirty minutes into the movie.

“Shhh.”

I went back to watching Denny and let her watch the movie in peace. When it was over, Denny wandered the mall for half an hour, then bought an ice cream cone and sat on one of the benches. Sophia and I pretended to be interested in a cell phone display a few stores down from where Denny sat enjoying his melting ice cream. I popped a pain pill and took a swallow of Sophia's watered-down soda to wash it down.

“Did you like the movie?” she asked, in all seriousness.

I shrugged. “Not really.”

She looked taken aback. “How can you not like
Toy Story
?”

“That doll with the messed-up eye gave me the creeps.”

She stared at me a moment, her lips puckered in question. Finally, she pointed a finger at me. “There's a named phobia for that. I can't think of it at the moment, but fear of dolls is a real phobia. Probably goes back to something in your childhood.”

I couldn't help but grin. “Don't try to analyze me. You'll die of frustration.”

Denny stood up, wiped the chocolate from his mouth with a napkin, then dropped the napkin in a wastebasket. He glanced around the mall, then headed out.

“Whoever he was meeting didn't show.” I nudged Sophia in Denny's direction and we tagged along at a safe distance.

“How do you know he was meeting someone? Maybe he was just observing, keeping an eye out for trouble. He is the sheriff.”

“How can you keep an eye out for trouble in a dark theater?”

“Okay, with him being the sheriff, would he actually meet someone in a public place like a mall?”

“Dark theater, dear. He just spent two hours in a dark theater alone watching a kid's movie. Now that's creepy.”

It was dark when we got outside the mall. We climbed back in the van and followed Denny back to his neighborhood. I drove by the entrance street and circled back around. The Cadillac was parked in the driveway beside a black Lexus I assumed was Mrs. Denny's. I drove around the neighborhood a couple times to make sure Sheriff Denny was home for the night.

“So much for the Rotary Club.” I turned back on to the main street and headed to Rhonda's.

“So what do we do now?”

“The same thing tomorrow night.”

“I'm telling you he's just a doddering old man.”

“And I'm telling you he was meeting someone.”

And whoever that someone was, was one of the reasons Denny's daughters lived out of state. But I wasn't going to broach that subject again. Not yet anyway.

She glanced at me and shook her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips. Damn, she
could
read my mind.

At Rhonda's, we climbed out of the van and stood in the driveway a long moment. I caught a glimpse of the blind in the living room pull aside, then drop back in place. Eat your heart out, Rodney.

“Same time tomorrow?” Sophia asked.

I nodded. “I'll check the movie schedule and see what's playing.”

She threw her head back and laughed, then said, “I still don't understand how anyone could not like
Toy Story.
It's a classic.”

“No—
The Godfather,
one and two, are
classics.
”

“It's the doll thing, isn't it?”

“I don't want to talk about it. I'll have nightmares.”

She laughed hard again, and then a comfortable silence settled on us like a setting sun. I wanted to kiss her so bad I could already taste her.

“Okay … same time tomorrow,” she said, then hopped into the Mercedes. She gave me a little wave, then disappeared into the darkness.