Читать книгу Scene of the Crime: Killer Cove - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8
ОглавлениеIt was an appropriate day for death and funerals. Bo woke just after eight to gloomy dark clouds obscuring any morning sunshine.
Although he’d been in bed and trying to find sleep, he was still awake when Jimmy came in just after three in the morning. Bo remained in bed, his brain whirling and refusing to shut off.
Memories of his mother had plagued him, and he dreaded both the service that day and the final act of packing up her things and giving them away. At least he didn’t have to worry about what to do with the house right away. Jimmy had grown up on the swamp side of town, in one of the shanties that threatened to tumble down beneath a stiff breeze.
He and Bo had become best friends in third grade and Jimmy had spent much of his time at the McBride house, eating meals, staying as long as he could before he had to return to the shanty where his brutal alcoholic father lived with his verbally and mentally abusive wife.
As soon as Bo had opened Bo’s Place, he’d hired Jimmy to be his manager and Jimmy had finally escaped the swamp, moving into a small apartment in the back of a liquor store in the center of town.
When Bo realized his only chance to survive financially and emotionally was to get out of town, it was only natural that he turned to his best friend to move into the house Jimmy had always thought of as his real home. The benefit to Bo was that he knew Jimmy would take care of his mother so she wouldn’t be all alone.
It had been a win-win situation for both of them and Bo was in no hurry to toss out the man who had played the role of son when he couldn’t be here.
He now rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, and then padded into the kitchen where he made coffee. As he waited for it to brew he remembered that just before he’d finally fallen asleep his thoughts had been filled with Claire Silver.
She’d been the first woman in two years who had caught his attention in any way, who had filled him with a touch of curiosity and an unexpected attraction.
She had eyes the color he’d always imagined the waters of the Caribbean might look like, an azure blue that appeared too beautiful to be real. They also had held a spirit that he wasn’t quite sure was confidence or craziness.
He dismissed thoughts of her as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. In the distance, through the gloom he could see the top of the ridge where new construction was taking place.
Large equipment had been brought in, indicating that whatever was going to be built up there was going to be big. Bo couldn’t imagine what would stand on that property, but it didn’t matter to him. He definitely wouldn’t be here to see whatever it was completed.
He drank two cups of coffee, disappointed that apparently the sun didn’t have the energy to burn off the dark clouds overhead. He only hoped that if it rained, it would wait until after the service that afternoon.
He returned to his bedroom where he made his bed and pulled his black suit from the closet. The last time he’d worn it had been to his father’s funeral, and it was still encased in dry-cleaner plastic.
He removed the plastic and wondered how many people would show up at the cemetery. Brenda McBride had been well liked among her peers in the small town. But that had been before Shelly’s murder. He’d hoped that by him leaving town she’d been able to keep her friends and hadn’t been stigmatized by his presumed guilt.
By the time he’d laid the suit on the bed, he smelled the scent of bacon frying coming from the kitchen. He returned to the kitchen to find Jimmy standing in front of the stove, clad in a pair of khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and a pair of worn sandals.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake yet,” Bo said as he sat at the table.
Jimmy flashed him a quick smile. “I’m usually up just before eleven. I guess I don’t require as much sleep as most people.” He flipped the bacon strips. “Scrambled eggs okay?”
“Since you’re cooking, whatever works for you,” Bo replied. “I’m really not that hungry anyway.”
“It’s going to be a stressful day. You need to eat something,” Jimmy said.
Bo didn’t reply. Within ten minutes Jimmy set a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast in front of him and then sat across from him with a plate of his own.
“What’s going on up there?” Bo asked and gestured out the window to the top of the ridge.
Jimmy took a bite of toast and chased it with a swallow of coffee before replying. “Mayor Frank Kean was unseated in the last election and our new mayor is on a mission for Lost Lagoon to be found. The town sold the land on the ridge to some corporation that is putting in an amusement park.”
Bo stared at him in surprise. First he was stunned to learn that Frank Kean had been voted out after serving as mayor for the past ten years or so. “An amusement park?” he finally said incredulously.
Jimmy nodded. “Jim Burns was voted in as mayor and you know what a hotshot he’s always been. Once he was in office he surrounded himself with like-minded councilmen and then rallied the business owners to push through the sale of the land. There was one heated town meeting before the final vote. As you can imagine most of the old-timers didn’t want to see the town overrun with tourists and the like, but there were enough who believed Lost Lagoon is a dying town and the amusement park was the opportunity to get it prosperous and thriving.”
Bo stared at his friend for a long moment, trying to digest what he’d just learned. “Why would anyone choose this place to put in an amusement park?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Rumor is it will be pirate themed to play off the legends of pirates once roaming the area.”
Many of the businesses in town had already embraced the pirate theme years ago. There was the Pirate’s Inn, rumored to be haunted by pirates who couldn’t find their ship; the Treasure Trove sold pirate T-shirts and fake swords along with elaborate costume jewelry and gold-wrapped chocolate coins. On Main Street you couldn’t walk ten feet and not see something pirate-related.
“Frank Kean must have been devastated to lose the election,” he said.
“Actually, I think he was ready to step down. Besides, he’s on a small committee that’s working closely both with the city council and the people building the park. There are still some people disgruntled about the whole thing, but it’s a done deal and life will definitely change around here when the park is done.”
As they finished their breakfast Jimmy continued to fill him in on the happenings in town, who had gotten married and who had gotten divorced and all the rest of the local gossip.
Bo encouraged the conversation, knowing it was much easier to talk about things and people he didn’t care about anymore than think about the service for his mother that afternoon.
After cleaning up the kitchen, it seemed all too soon that it was time to shower and get dressed for his final goodbye to his mother.
As he dressed in a white short-sleeved dress shirt and his suit pants, he thought about the fact that he hadn’t mentioned to Jimmy his unexpected interaction with Claire Silver the night before.
Maybe he was afraid that Jimmy would tell him that Claire was nice, but was also the town’s nutcase, and Bo liked her. He didn’t want to hear anything negative about her. Right now she and Jimmy were the only two people in this godforsaken town he liked.
He doubted he’d see her again. Tonight he’d have Jimmy bring home some sturdy boxes from the bar, and tomorrow Bo would pack his mother’s things, catch up with the lawyer, and by Saturday or Sunday be back on the road with Lost Lagoon just a distant memory.
Oh, he would forever be bound to this place because of his nearly lifelong friendship with Jimmy and his secret ownership of Jimmy’s Place, but there would be no reason to ever come here again.
He carried his suit jacket into the kitchen and placed it across the back of a chair, and then walked to the window and stared outside as he waited for Jimmy.
It was two o’clock and outside the window the dreariness of the day remained unchanged, as if a reflection of Bo’s somber mood. He already knew his mother had requested a closed casket and a short grave site service performed by Pastor Ralph Kimmel from the Methodist church she had attended for years.
The cemetery was only a ten-minute drive and Bo didn’t see any reason to arrive too early. There was nobody he wanted to visit with and he suspected that few people would attend.
Jimmy walked into the kitchen, clad in a dark gray suit that Bo vaguely remembered once had belonged to him. Thankfully the two were about the same size, and many times over the years Jimmy had been given clothes from Bo.
“Maybe we should go ahead and head out. If we get there early you could at least have a few minutes alone before anyone else arrives,” Jimmy suggested.
Bo nodded and grabbed his suit jacket and pulled it on, dread, grief and anxiety all boiling inside his stomach. His mother had grieved long and hard following the death of his father, and there was some consolation that the two of them were now together once again.
Minutes later they were in Jimmy’s car and headed toward the Lost Lagoon Cemetery. With each mile Bo’s heart grew heavier as emotion pressed tighter and tighter against his chest.
Once they arrived it was easy to see where the ceremony would take place. A small white canopy fluttered in the sultry air over the plain white casket, which was already in place to be lowered into the ground.
Nobody else was there yet, and as Bo got out of the car and walked toward the site the emotion in his chest rose up to blur his vision with tears.
He quickly brushed them away, not wanting anyone to see any weakness, but they appeared once again and he was grateful that Jimmy had hung back, giving him a moment alone.
He stood at the foot of the casket, his brain whirling with memories of his mother. She had been the one who had pushed him after high school to drive back and forth to the bigger city of Hattiesburg to attend college, where he’d received a business degree by the time he was twenty-one.
She’d then encouraged him to open Bo’s Place, her and his dad fronting him the money to begin the successful venture. One of his proudest days had been when he’d been able to pay them back every cent of their seed money.
“So, I figured I hadn’t seen the last of you.” The familiar deep voice coming from behind him tensed every one of Bo’s muscles.
He turned to see Sheriff Trey Walker and his deputy, Ray McClure. Both men had been Bo’s biggest accusers and both had been extremely frustrated that they hadn’t been able to put together a case that would see Bo in prison for Shelly’s murder.
“What are you doing here?” Bo asked, unable to hide a hint of hostility.
“We always come out to pay respects to one of our own,” Trey replied, his green eyes narrowed as he held Bo’s gaze.
“Maybe you should be spending this time looking for the person who really murdered Shelly,” Bo said.
“Already know the answer to that question,” Ray said. Ray was a mean little creep, built like a bulldog and as tenacious as one. He had been one of the loudest mouths proclaiming Bo’s guilt in Shelly’s murder.
Bo was about to tell the two of them to get the hell out of there when he heard a female voice calling his name. He watched as Claire ran toward them. Clad in a pair of slender black slacks and a white blouse, the sight of her immediately diffused some of Bo’s anger.
She reached Bo’s side and looped an elbow with his, as if presenting a united stance. At the same time Jimmy joined them along with Pastor Kimmel, who immediately took Bo’s hand in his.
His faded blue eyes held a kindness that warmed him as much as Claire’s surprising nearness and open support. “It’s a sorrowful day when we have to say a final goodbye to such a good woman.”
Bo nodded, unable to speak around the lump that had risen in his throat. Claire moved closer to his side, as if she sensed the myriad emotions racing through him.
Pastor Kimmel released his hand and stepped back, nodding to the other attendees. “Shall we get started or should we wait to see if others want to come to pay their respects?”
Bo glanced at the road by the cemetery. There wasn’t a car in sight and it was three o’clock. “Let’s get this done,” he said roughly.
So his mother would be sent off to her final destination by a pastor, a loving son, a surrogate son, two cops who thought her son was guilty of murder and a woman Bo hadn’t decided yet if she was completely sane.
* * *
CLAIRE HAD A FEELING few people would be here today. Brenda McBride had become a semi-shut-in after Bo left town. She and Jimmy showed up every Sunday morning for church, but other than that she was rarely seen out and about.
The service was short yet emotional, and Bo’s face and body radiated a soul-deep sorrow that Claire felt inside her heart. She didn’t know what it was like to have a loving, caring mother, nor did she know much about having a decent father, but that didn’t stop her from imagining the depth of Bo’s loss. She’d felt the same way when Shelly had been murdered, that something precious and beloved had been stolen away from Bo.
When the service was finished, Bo looked hollow-eyed and lost. His jaw clenched as Trey and Ray approached him. “You planning on staying in town?” Trey asked.
“Why? Do you intend to put up posters of my face to warn young women?” Bo retorted. He drew a deep, weary sigh. “Don’t worry, I just have a few things to clear up and I should be gone by the weekend.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Ray said.
Claire saw every muscle in Bo tense as a red flush rose up his neck. “Come on, Bo. I’m taking you home with me,” she said. Bo looked at her in surprise. “Jimmy, I’ll bring him home later this evening.”
She grabbed him by the hand and physically pulled him away from both the lawmen and his friend. He balked for only a moment and then went willingly with her.
They didn’t speak as they walked through the cemetery and to her compact car parked in the lot. She got behind the wheel as Bo folded his long legs into the passenger side.
“You have a car,” he said, stating the obvious.
Claire started the engine. “My usual mode of transportation around town is my bicycle, but I get the car out for special occasions and when the weather isn’t conducive to riding or walking.”
She felt his gaze on her. “Thank you for showing up today,” he said. “And for stepping in before I punched Ray in his face.”
“I figured you could use a stiff drink rather than a night in the jail,” she replied. “Besides, Ray McClure isn’t worth the effort of an uppercut. He’s a weasel who likes to chase anything in a skirt and hand out tickets for looking at him cross-eyed.”
“He was one of the loudest voices screaming my guilt all over town before I left,” Bo said. Once again she felt his gaze on her, warm and intense. “What am I doing in your car going to your home?”
She flashed him a quick glance and then focused back on the outer road as they rounded the tip of the lagoon. “I figure within an hour or so Jimmy will be leaving to go to work, which means you’ll probably be holed up in your house all alone, and nobody should drink alone.”
“What makes you think I’m going to drink?”
“Because I would if I were in your shoes. You just buried your mother. I don’t think you need to be by yourself right now.”
“You’re kind of a pushy woman,” he replied lightly.
A small laugh released from her. “I’m sure I’ve been called worse. I hope you’re a gin-and-tonic kind of man because that’s what I’ve got at the house.”
“Anything is fine,” he replied, his voice suddenly weary.
She pulled up in front of her house in the driveway that just barely held the length of her car. “Home, sweet home.” She unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car at the same time as Bo.
“Nice,” he said. “I don’t remember this place looking like this. You must have put a lot of work into it.”
She was acutely aware of his presence just behind her as she walked up the porch and unlocked the door. The hot, sultry air intensified the scent of him...a fragrance of shaving cream and pleasant woodsy cologne. “It took me a full year to get rid of what once stood here and make this a real home.”
“Looks like you have a gift.”
She turned and looked where he pointed to the edge of the porch, where a vase of flowers sat on a folded note. A wave of irritation swept through her. If this was some sort of a charming courtship game it had gone on long enough.
She grabbed the vase and note and then ushered Bo inside. “Apparently I’ve picked up a secret admirer.” She set the vase in the center of the table next to the one from the day before. “Take off your jacket and get comfortable.” She gestured toward the beige sofa with bright green and turquoise throw pillows.
He took off his jacket and slung it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Do you have any idea who your secret admirer might be?” he asked.
She pulled from a cabinet a large bottle of tonic and a bottle of gin, and then opened the refrigerator door to grab a couple of limes. “Not a clue,” she replied. “And honestly I think the whole thing is ridiculous. If some man is interested in me, then he should just step up to the plate and tell me. Lime?”
“Sounds good.”
As she cut up the limes he wandered the space, checking out the books on her turquoise-painted ladder bookcase, the green and blue knickknacks that she’d found to give the house a sense of home. He finally landed on the sofa. After handing him his drink, she sat on the opposite side of the sofa with her own.
“Why are you being so nice to me? Aren’t you afraid somebody in town will see you with me and you’ll be shunned?” he asked, his midnight-blue eyes holding her gaze.
She took a sip of the biting yet refreshing drink and then placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “I don’t pay much attention to what people think about me. I’m often on the unpopular side of an issue.” She offered him a sympathetic gaze. “You want to talk about your mother?”
He settled back against the cushion and took a long, deep drink from his glass. “Not really. I’ve had days to do nothing but think about her and now I’d much rather talk about you.”
“Me? Trust me, there isn’t that much to talk about. I was born and raised here. My mother ran off when I was six and I was left with a neglectful alcoholic father in a shanty that threatened to fall down whenever the wind blew. I went to college on a full scholarship and got my teaching degree. When I returned here my father had disappeared and I haven’t seen him since. And that’s my story.”
She leaned forward and grabbed her glass and then took another sip. She’d made her drink light on gin and heavy on tonic and had made Bo’s drink heavy on gin and light on tonic.
“So, your turn. Tell me what you’ve been doing for the last two years,” she asked. “Have you made yourself a new, happy life? Found a new love? I heard through the grapevine that you’re living in Jackson now.”
He nodded at the same time the sound of rain splattered against the window. “I opened a little bar and grill, Bo’s Place, although it’s nothing like the original.” His dark brows tugged together in a frown as if remembering the highly successful business he’d had here in town before he was ostracized.
He took another big drink and then continued, “There’s no new woman in my life. I don’t even have friends. Hell, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here with you.”
“You’re here because I’m a bossy woman,” she replied. She got up to refill his glass. “And I thought you could use an extra friend while you’re here.”
She handed him the fresh drink and then curled back up in the corner of the sofa. The rain fell steadily now. She turned on the end table lamp as the room darkened with the storm.
For a few minutes they remained silent. She could tell by his distant stare toward the opposite wall that he was lost inside his head.
Despite his somber expression, she couldn’t help but feel a physical attraction to him that she’d never felt before. Still, that wasn’t what had driven her to seek contact with him, to invite him into her home. She had an ulterior motive.
A low rumble of thunder seemed to pull him out of his head. He focused on her and offered her a small smile of apology. “Sorry about that. I got lost in thoughts of everything I need to get done before I leave town.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said.
He raised a dark brow. “About all the things I need to take care of?”
“No, about you leaving town.”
“What about it?”
She drew a deep breath, knowing she was putting her nose in business that wasn’t her own, and yet unable to stop herself. “Doesn’t it bother you knowing that Shelly’s murderer is still walking these streets, free as a bird?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you so sure I’m innocent?” he asked.
Claire had never had a problem speaking her mind or sharing her thoughts, but she found herself reluctant to truly answer his question, afraid that he’d think she was silly, or worse, the loony tune she already suspected he thought she might be.
“I’m three years younger than you and Shelly and I know it sounds crazy, but I was in love with your love for each other. You two were the shining example of what I wanted to find for myself someday. I watched you walking the streets, hand in hand, having ice cream outside the ice cream parlor.”
The words tumbled out of her, as if the more she spoke the less he’d think she was nuts. “I saw the way you looked at her, Bo. I know the reputation you had in town as being a caring, gentle soul, a loving son, and I don’t believe there was anything Shelly could have done that would have resulted in you hurting her.”
Bo stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a darker shade of blue than she’d ever seen them. “Thank you,” he finally said. “And of course it bothers me that her killer has never been brought to justice.”
“It bothers me so much I carry pepper spray everywhere I go,” she said. “I try to be inside the house with the door locked after dark.”
Bo took another drink, his gaze not leaving hers. “What does all this have to do with me leaving town?”
Claire uncurled from her position and moved closer to him. “I don’t think you should leave town. I think you should stick around and prove your innocence.”
Bo laughed, the sound deep and rusty, as if he hadn’t laughed in a very long time. “You are out of your mind.”
“I don’t think so,” she protested. “You know that at the time of Shelly’s murder there wasn’t really a thorough investigation. Law enforcement focused on you to the exclusion of anyone else.”
“Shelly’s case is a cold case that nobody is working because they all believe I did the crime. I can’t imagine Trey or Ray agreeing to reinvestigate it just because I’m back in town,” Bo said.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “They wouldn’t lift a finger to help you with any unofficial investigation, but I would.” She saw his dubiousness in his eyes and quickly pressed forward. “Think about it, Bo. We don’t even know if the sheriff and his men interviewed any of Shelly’s friends after her death. I don’t believe they did much of anything, but you and I could talk to people, see what they remember about Shelly’s life at that time, who might be a possible killer.”
“It’s a stupid idea.”
“Maybe it is, but isn’t it worth giving a little time to see what we might stir up? Wouldn’t you like to prove your innocence to all the people who doubted you?”
Bo took a drink and sat forward. He placed his glass on the table and raked a hand through his slightly unruly hair. He glanced toward the window where the rain had stopped.
“I need to go home. You’ve got me half looped and considering things that shouldn’t even enter my mind.” He stood and she did the same, wondering what it might take to convince him that staying in town and fighting for his reputation would be worth it.
Of course, she’d spent years trying to convince her father to put down his bottle and be a real dad because she was worth it, and that certainly hadn’t worked out.
