Читать книгу Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 15
ОглавлениеThomasina had skipped Sunday school this morning, so she’d driven her own car to eleven o’clock church services. When she’d dragged in five minutes late, her mother had given her one of those disapproving glares that only parents can give. She had sat through the sermon, doing her best to relate to what Reverend Donaldson had to say, but the honest truth of the matter was that she’d spent those forty minutes looking at the new minister, actually drooling over him the way every other woman in the congregation was. The man was gorgeous. Black hair, blue-gray eyes that were such a contrast to his darkly tanned face, and a body that would put sinful thoughts into a woman’s mind.
Her sister Amanda, who’d been sitting on her right, had nudged her in the ribs and whispered, “He’s single, you know.”
Thomasina hadn’t reacted in any way except to smile. Matthew Donaldson was drop-dead gorgeous and single, facts that under different circumstances would have interested her greatly. But not now. Not when Brandon Kelley was on a mission to woo and win her with a very old-fashioned and utterly romantic courtship. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of her secret admirer this morning, but Brandon wasn’t overly religious and came to church on average once a month. Not seeing him had been disappointing, but she consoled herself with the thought that she could make a point of running into him at school tomorrow. She would be friendly, maybe even a little flirtatious, but in a very ladylike way. If she came on too strong, too female-in-charge, she might turn him off and put an end to their romance before it actually began. Taking her cues from him was the wisest course of action. Apparently he wanted their relationship to begin by being sweetly romantic, with an air of mystery.
Thomasina made a point of speaking to Reverend Donaldson and welcoming him to Adams Landing. She figured if Amanda had picked the man out as a potential brother-in-law, her mother had zeroed in on him as son-in-law material. And as every girl knows, it’s always best if you can keep your mama happy. Of course, every mother in town with a single daughter over the age of twenty was probably making mental wedding plans for her daughter and the reverend. Young, handsome, successful single men in Adams County were few and far between.
Amanda grasped Thomasina’s arm just as she started walking toward the parking lot. “Hold up.”
Thomasina paused. “I spoke to him, smiled at him and made friendly. That should satisfy Mama.”
“Hmm … What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, I know you. You’ve got a new boyfriend, haven’t you? And it’s about time. You should have stopped pining over Ron Hensley two seconds after the bum dropped you like a hot potato.”
“He didn’t drop me like a hot potato. We just wanted different things from a relationship.”
Amanda lowered her voice. “Yeah, all he wanted was sex.” She looked directly into Thomasina’s eyes, as if daring her to lie to her. “Come on. Who is this new guy?”
“Swear you won’t tell a soul.”
Amanda giggled. “I swear.”
“It’s Brandon Kelley, the art director at the college.”
“And when did this start? When was your first date? Details, girl. I want details.”
“Look, I’ll fill you in on everything after dinner today, when Mama takes her nap and the guys and kids are outside playing ball. But I can tell you this—he is so romantic.”
Amanda let Thomasina leave without further questioning, probably realizing that they could easily be overheard by any number of people. The church grounds were covered with three fourths of the congregation who lingered to chit chat and gossip before going home.
Despite the clouds blocking the sun, the July heat seeped through and the high humidity created a damp heaviness in the air. On her way to her car, she spoke to half a dozen people and threw up her hand and waved at Robyn and Bernie Granger, who were with their parents. She’d bet Brenda Granger had her eye on the reverend as a potential mate for one of her daughters.
When Thomasina reached her car, she realized that in her haste to make it inside the church on time, she had forgotten to lock the doors. No big deal. She didn’t have anything worth stealing inside the vehicle, and who’d want to take her older model Grand Am? She opened the door and started to slide inside, wanting to get the air-conditioning going as quickly as possible. But she stopped dead still when she saw the large manila envelope lying on the driver’s seat. Her heart lurched. Was this another gift from Brandon? After picking up the envelope, she got in, closed the door, started the engine and turned up the air-conditioning. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching her, she tried to decide whether to open the envelope now or wait until she got home.
No one was paying any attention to her, so why wait? She opened the envelope eagerly, barely able to contain the fluttering excitement in her belly. Peering inside, she saw a note and what looked like four-by-six-inch snapshots. She removed the note from its envelope.
I love looking at you. You’re so beautiful.
Thomasina sighed. Her whole body quivered with pleasure.
Her hands trembled as she reached inside the manila envelope and removed the photographs. Three pictures of her. One taken at the college, one coming out of Robyn’s Fitness Center, and one going into the Piggly Wiggly yesterday.
An odd feeling rippled up Thomasina’s spine as she realized that he’d been following her yesterday, that he’d been close and yet hadn’t made his presence known. It was almost as if he was stalking her. A hint of uneasiness crept into her romantic fantasy of Brandon Kelley courting her with notes and gifts.
You’re being silly. There’s a difference in a man like Brandon being secretively seductive and some guy she wasn’t interested in stalking her. After all, she wanted Brandon to notice her, to take an interest in her, to pursue her.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Thomasina banished every negative thought from her mind. Perhaps tomorrow, at school, Brandon would make his next move and ask her for a date. After all, how long could he continue admiring her from afar when it was obvious what he wanted was to admire her up close and personal.
Jim felt downright awkward coming for Sunday dinner at the Granger house when it was apparent that everyone else here had come straight from church services. Everyone was still dressed in their Sunday best. Reverend Matthew Donaldson still wore his suit and tie. Raymond Long had removed his jacket, but wore a white button-down and blue-and-gray striped tie. Only R.B. Granger looked halfway comfortable, having taken off his jacket and his tie, leaving him in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. My kind of man, Jim thought. Jim wore khaki dress slacks and a navy blue, short-sleeve, cotton pullover. In comparison with everyone else, he was definitely underdressed. But he usually didn’t put on a suit and tie, except for funerals.
“Come on in, Captain Norton.” R.B. invited Jim in with a wave of his hand. “Bernie’s introduced you to everybody except her mother and sister. They’re out in the kitchen getting dinner ready to put on the table.”
Jim entered the large den where the others had congregated. This room, like the living room and dining room he had glimpsed when he’d entered the foyer, possessed a sense of hominess. The furniture was a mixture of styles, mostly dark woods and earthy colors, antiques blending with sturdily built, more modern pieces. In many ways, it reminded him of the home he’d grown up in, the place where he’d been happy and at the time hadn’t realized what a lucky kid he was. As a boy, he’d had everything he now wanted for Kevin. A happily married mother and father, a kid sister, and a house filled with love.
“Smile, Jim,” Bernie whispered to him. “This is Sunday dinner, not a walk to the electric chair.”
He forced a closed-mouth smile and entered the den. Bernie had introduced him to everyone, including Raymond Long’s mother, Helen, who was at this very minute studying him intently. He couldn’t figure out why she was so interested. It was as if she’d taken an instant dislike to him and was searching for a reason to justify her decision.
“Dad, you’ll have to keep the conversation going,” Bernie told her father. “I need to help Mama and Robyn. Dinner should be on the table in just a few minutes.”
Jim glanced at Bernie as she walked away hurriedly. She wore a two-piece tan suit, with a skirt that hit her mid-calf, but she didn’t look all that different today than she had the past two days. Everything about her—from her simple style in clothes to her minimum of makeup and long hair pulled away from her face and secured in a ponytail—was neat, orderly and… well, to be honest, plain. Not that Bernie wasn’t pretty. She was, but in a plain sort of way. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium complexion, simple clothes, simple hairstyle. Bernie’s only outstanding feature was her five-nine height, making her as tall as a lot of men.
R.B. pulled Jim aside and said, “Bernie tells us that you’re going to be keeping your son for a few weeks while your ex-wife undergoes surgery and then chemo.”
“That’s right.”
“I sort of know what your ex-wife is facing. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years ago.” R.B. grunted. “Cancer. That’s a word no one wants to hear in reference to their own health.”
“No, sir.”
“Look, son …” R.B. clamped his big hand down on Jim’s shoulder, the two men standing eye to eye, R.B. not quite an inch taller. “Brenda and I talked things over after Bernie explained your predicament, and we’re both ready, willing and able to act as surrogate grandparents for your boy.”
Jim released an emotional breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s mighty kind of you and your wife, but—”
R.B. squeezed Jim’s shoulder, then lowered his voice and said quietly, for Jim’s ears only, “The way I see it, one good turn deserves another.” R.B. scanned the room so quickly that Jim doubted anyone else even noticed. “You look out for my kid and I’ll look out for yours.”
“Do you mean Bernie?”
R.B. nodded. “It’s not that I don’t think she’s doing a bang-up job as sheriff. She’s smart and good as any man on the force. But she’s young, and well, son, she is a woman. And we both know that a woman thinks with her heart and not her head. Of course, my girl is better than most about using her common sense and seeing things the way we men do.”
“Are you concerned about something in particular?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, I’m concerned about this murder case,” R.B. told him. “This is a bad one, and we both know it. Unless y’all just get lucky, it may become an unsolved murder. Bernie’s not going to accept that easily. She’s got a lot to learn, and that’s where you come in. You have the experience she lacks. I want you to help her … guide her along through this case.”
Jim blew out a deeply inhaled breath. No beating around the bush for R.B. Granger. Bernie’s father said exactly what he thought. The only problem was that Jim wasn’t sure he could make that kind of a deal. “Bernie’s my boss. She’s the sheriff, I’m just the chief—”
“Dinner is served,” a feminine voice called from the doorway.
Taking this as an opportunity not to finish his conversation with R.B., Jim turned his attention to the owner of that syrupy sweet voice. The woman standing in the doorway, smiling, her long, curly black hair framing her beautiful face, all but took Jim’s breath away. Tall and willowy, with slender curves in all the right places, the lady was a real knockout.
“Y’all heard my little girl,” R.B. announced. “If I know my Brenda, we’ve got a feast waiting for us in the dining room.”
Jim allowed the others to go first, taking his time, bringing up the rear, so he was surprised that when he entered the hallway, R.B.’s “little girl” was still there. When he passed by, he glanced her way. She smiled at him, then reached out and slipped her arm through his.
“I’m Robyn,” she told him. “Bernie’s sister.”
“I’m—”
“Jimmy Norton. I know. I’ve heard all about you from Daddy and Bernie. I’ve been dying to meet you.”
“Have you?”
When she flashed that thousand-watt smile at him, his stomach muscles tightened. “I hear Mom and Dad are going to be looking after your son. I love kids and I’m a great babysitter. I’ll be happy to help out the folks with—What’s your son’s name?”
“Kevin.”
“And how old is Kevin?”
“Twelve.”
As they entered the dining room, Robyn whispered to him. “I’m supposed to sit next to Raymond and across from the new minister, but that’s Mama’s plan, not mine. She’s always matchmaking.”
Jim noted that the table sat eight, with R.B. and his wife—who was an older, shorter version of her beautiful younger daughter—residing at each end, Raymond and Helen on the left, and Matthew on the right.
Bernie placed a bread basket on the end of the table by her mother, then headed toward the other end with another basket. Just as she started to sit down beside the handsome, young minister, Robyn rushed forward, all but dragging Jim.
“Come on, Jimmy, you sit between me and Reverend Donaldson.” She looked at her sister and said, “You sit over there next to Raymond.”
Jim glanced at Bernie, whose facial expression didn’t alter in the slightest, but he noted something in her eyes. Just a hint of displeasure, so subtle that he felt certain no one else caught it. For a split second she looked right at him, then averted her gaze quickly and took her place at the table beside Raymond Long. Then Jim sat exactly where Robyn had told him to sit, between her and Matthew Donaldson.
During the course of the meal, Robyn didn’t pay much attention to the minister or anyone else; instead, she concentrated on Jim. The more she talked, the more he realized she wasn’t really saying anything. Her main topic of conversation was herself. Jim offered her an agreeable smile now and then and answered when she asked a question, nodding fairly often and replying yes or no. By the time Mrs. Granger served Mississippi mud pie for dessert, Jim realized that Robyn reminded him of someone. She reminded him of Mary Lee. It wasn’t that they resembled each other, except they were both very pretty and had great figures. No, it was more a personality thing. Robyn seemed to be as self-centered and egotistical as his ex-wife. She wanted, probably needed, to be the center of attention. She knew she was pretty, that men found her attractive, and that fact fed her sizable ego.
It wasn’t that Jim didn’t like Robyn. He did. But he’d been badly burned by one extremely high-maintenance woman and tended to steer clear of others like her. Then again, he might make an exception where Robyn Granger was concerned.
Just as Jim took his first bite of scrumptious pie, Bernie’s cell phone rang.
“Oh dear, I wish you could turn that thing off at the dinner table.” Brenda sighed. “But I know you can’t, your being the sheriff and all. You’d think I’d be used to having my dinners interrupted by business calls.”
Bernie scooted back her chair, stood and walked out into the foyer. Jim glanced over his shoulder and watched her as she paced back and forth, doing more listening than talking.
Robyn said something to him, but he didn’t understand her because he was too busy keeping an eye on Bernie. “Huh?”
“I said why don’t we—”
“Jim, we’ve got to go,” Bernie called to him from the doorway.
When he turned to Robyn, she put on her best little-girl pout. “Business calls,” he told her, then laid his napkin on the table, shoved back his chair and stood. “Mrs. Granger, thank you for a wonderful dinner. I appreciate y’all being so hospitable.”
“You must come back again,” Brenda said. “We’d love to have you any old time.”
R.B. stood. “I’ll walk you and Bernie out.”
R.B. caught up with Jim just as he joined Bernie in the foyer. “So, what’s up?” he asked.
She looked from Jim to her father, then replied to her father’s question. “That was Charlie Patterson. They’ve found Richie Lowery.”
“This is the Preston girl’s old boyfriend, right?” R.B. asked.
Bernie nodded.
“Where was he?”
“I don’t know. It seems he heard we were looking for him, so he just showed up at my office about ten minutes ago.”
“So he hadn’t skipped out on us like we thought when we couldn’t find him at home yesterday and nobody seemed to know where he was,” Jim said.
“No, apparently not,” Bernie replied, then turned to her father. “Dad, we have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure, sure. You two go on.”
Once outside, Bernie quickened her steps, as if she couldn’t wait to get away.
“Hey, hold up,” Jim called to her.
She slowed her pace and waited for him.
“Your car or mine?” he asked.
“Yours. There are several others blocking me in.” She glanced at all the vehicles parked in the drive and along the street. Her gaze paused on the old rattletrap truck parked on the street. “Is that yours?”
“Yep.”
“Didn’t they pay you a decent salary in Memphis?” she asked teasingly.
“Better than what you’re paying me,” he tossed back at her. “But until my wife remarried, I was paying her alimony, as well as child support. Add to that the fact that I’m socking away as much as I can for Kevin’s college fund and… you do the math.”
She headed toward his truck. When she reached the curb and started to open the door, he reached around her and opened it for her. She jumped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he told her.
Hoisting herself up and into the cab, she replied, “Don’t apologize for being a gentleman. It’s just that most of my deputies bend over backward trying to treat me like just one of the guys.”
“Hmm …”
After closing her door, he rounded the hood and got in on the driver’s side. As he started the engine, he caught a glimpse of Bernie in his peripheral vision. She sat there beside him, belted in, her back ramrod straight and her gaze fixed straight ahead, as if she saw something interesting on the other side of the windshield.
“Is your sister involved with anybody?” Jim asked.
Bernie didn’t respond immediately. Why was she giving her answer so much thought? Why not a simple yes or no response? Finally, after taking a deep breath, she told him, “Robyn’s not dating one person in particular.”
“Hmm …”
“I don’t think she’s ready for anything serious, but she can’t convince our mother. Weren’t you aware that there were two single men, other than you, at dinner today? Mama would like to fix me up with Raymond, and she had high hopes of putting Robyn with the new preacher, but it seems my little sister is more interested in you.” Bernie snapped her head around and looked right at Jim. “And apparently the interest is mutual.”
“Then you wouldn’t have a problem with my asking your sister out?”
“No, why should I?”
“Conflict of interest. My being your chief deputy and her being your sister.”
“Captain Norton, you are free to date anyone you choose and that includes my sister.”
Richie Lowery was short and stocky with curly brown hair. His voice was slightly high pitched, and at the moment the guy was more than a little agitated. He clenched and un-clenched his hands as he stared at the sketches laid out on the table in front of him and a fine sheen of perspiration moistened his upper lip. Of course, it was July in Alabama and everyone sweated in this oppressive heat.
“You think I drew these?” He chuckled nervously. “I can’t draw a damn stick figure. Ask anybody who knows me. I don’t have a bit of artistic talent.”
“If that’s the case, then why did Stephanie Preston think you sent them to her?” Jim posed the question from where he stood on the other side of the table. Charlie Patterson sat at the end of the table and Bernie stood in the corner, observing.
“How should I know? Besides, you just got her husband’s word for it that Stephie thought I was the one sending her all that stuff.”
“Are you saying you think Kyle Preston is lying?” Jim asked.
“Hey, I don’t know. All I know is that I didn’t draw them damn lewd pictures or take snapshots of Stephie or send her notes and little presents.” Richie faced Jim boldly. “I haven’t been pining away for her or nothing like that. I’ve got a girlfriend. She lives in South Pittsburgh. That’s where I was yesterday and last night. If you don’t believe me, you can ask her.”
“If that’s the case, then why didn’t your parents or any of your buddies know where you were?” Charlie asked.
Richie focused on the ABI agent. “Look, my folks wouldn’t approve of my girlfriend. She’s … well … she’s not white, and my old man would beat the shit out of me if he knew I was dating a black girl.”
Jim cleared his throat. “Where were you the night Stephanie was kidnapped? And where were you the day she was killed?”
“When was she kidnapped exactly?”
Jim told him the dates.
“I was at work the night she was kidnapped. Swear to God. I work swing shift at the poultry plant and I was on evening shift then. I didn’t get off until midnight. And that’s a good thirty-five-minute drive from the college.”
“What about the day she was murdered?” Charlie asked.
“Same thing. I was at work. Day shift. You can check with my boss and with the people I work with. They can vouch for me. I was at work. Honest to God.”
Bernie noticed Jim and Charlie exchange knowing looks and realized they were agreeing on something—probably the fact that it didn’t appear that Richie Lowery was their killer.
“Mr. Lowery, we appreciate your coming in to answer our questions,” Jim said. “We’ll check out your alibis and if we find you’ve been straight with us, then that’s that. But if you’ve lied to us—”
“I haven’t lied. Everything I’ve told you is the gospel truth.”
Jim nodded.
“Can I go now?” Richie asked, almost pleadingly.
“Yeah, you can go,” Jim told him. Richie scooted back his chair. “But first, I’ve got one more question: Do you know of anybody who might have had a reason to harm Stephanie? Somebody with a grudge against her or her husband or her father?”
Richie thought for several minutes, then said, “Nah, nothing like that, but … what about guys who were interested in her? You know, guys she fooled around with.”
“Was there someone else?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, there was this one guy who kind of had a thing for her and when we broke up, I think she might have seen him a couple of times before she hooked up with Kyle.”
“This guy got a name?”
“Yeah, yeah. Kelley. Brandon Kelley. He’s a professor or something over at the junior college where she took night classes.”
“Thanks, Mr. Lowery.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes, you can go.”
As soon as Richie closed the door behind himself, Charlie stood and stretched. “Think he’s telling us the truth?”
“Yeah, I think he is,” Jim replied.
“I know Dr. Brandon Kelley,” Bernie said. “He’s got quite a reputation with the ladies. Word is that he’s dated more than one of his students.”
“Interesting.”
“You know what’s even more interesting? Brandon Kelley is the art director at Adams County Junior College.” She glanced at the charcoal and ink sketches lying on the table. “The man’s an artist and from what I hear, a damn good one.”
