A Justified Murder, page 19
Kate sighed. “Mine may have stolen diamonds.” She looked at him to reply.
“No one knows where Dad got the money for that big Harley. It just appeared one day.”
“Think our fathers rode away together on a stolen motorcycle while clutching a bag of misappropriated jewelry?” When Jack didn’t laugh as she’d expected him to, she looked at him. He wasn’t smiling.
“My father had a big mouth. He loved to brag, thought it made him seem tough. But from what I hear of your father, he kept things to himself. If he did anything illegal, he did it alone and didn’t tell anyone.”
“You’re saying that Roy was what he seemed but my father, Randal, hid inside a facade of charm.”
“Pretty much.”
“What you’re really saying is that we don’t know what happened with... I guess with anyone.”
“We sure know a lot of facts, but we don’t seem to have put them together at all. Sylvia, Janet.”
“Tayla, Gil.”
“And maybe Carl Olsen. Fat now skinny. Skulks around but no one knows why. I think—” He broke off when the band began to play. “I think we should forget it and dance.” He held out his hand and she took it.
It was a slow dance and Jack pulled Kate close. He was half a foot taller than she was, but with her heels, they fit together perfectly.
“What shampoo do you use?” he whispered.
“Behave or I’ll dance with Chris.”
“You should know that half the women in town have dumped him.”
She pulled back to look at him. “Did you know that when you lie your left eye twitches?”
“Until last year, Chris lived with his mother.”
“Like you live with your honorary grandmother and me, your sort of sister?”
“You are destroying my manhood.”
“I think there’s enough of it that you can afford to lose a bit.”
He started to speak, but laughed instead. “Is it possible that there was a compliment in that?”
“I think you should stop the loquaciousness, feed me, then dance my legs off. I need movement. I need to clear my overworked brain.”
Jack twirled her out to arm’s length. “Did I ever tell you that you are what I’ve always dreamed of in a woman?”
“But I’m not blonde.”
When the music stopped, Jack was laughing.
“Hey, Jack!” the lead guitarist called. “Sing with us.”
“Gotta feed my girl, then maybe.”
To one side four firemen were sitting at a table. They had on tight T-shirts and jeans and they were so fit, so muscular, they looked like they were ready for their calendar photo shoot.
When Kate smiled warmly at them, they lifted their beers in salute to her. “If you want to sing, I’ll be fine. Really and truly fine.”
Jack put his hand firmly on the small of her back and half pushed her to their booth.
On their way there, they passed two old men sitting at the bar. One grabbed Jack’s arm.
“She’s Randal’s daughter and you’re Roy’s son.”
The second man smirked. “Lock up your women and your jewels.”
Kate saw that the remarks made Jack angry. She stepped between him and the men—who looked a bit drunk. She put on the most flirtatious manner she could conjure. “Roy’s son has learned to combine them both and I can assure you, gentlemen, that he never locks me up.” She winked at them. “Not too often anyway.”
“Really?” Jack asked as soon as they were back to the booth. “My reputation isn’t bad enough without you adding to it?”
“From the way everyone in this place greeted you, they certainly seem to like you. Did you ever think those men were teasing you just to see the infamous Wyatt temper flare up?”
Jack opened and closed his mouth before turning red and looking down at his beer. “No, actually, I didn’t.”
“Well you should.” The band was playing “Summer Nights” from Grease. “Can you sing that song?”
“Sure.”
“You know all the words?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes. You know that I can’t stand to be around you.”
Jack started to frown but then smiled. Since Kate had arrived months ago, they’d hardly been apart. “I guess you want me to show you.”
“I do rather like your voice. In singing, that is.”
With a chuckle, he got up, went to the band, and picked up the microphone. He came in midverse in the song and immediately, the dance floor filled. From the reactions of the patrons, Jack singing with the band was a regular occurrence—and a welcome one.
Minutes later, Chris came to the booth, held out his hand to Kate, and she took it. When she was on the dance floor with him, she saw Jack, singing away, glower. She mouthed “Wyatt” and he shook his head at her. As she started to dance, Jack put more energy into his voice, more emotion into the song. And when he started a sexy, gyrating dance, the women broke away from their partners, stopped moving, and gave their attention to Jack.
But Kate didn’t want to stop dancing. Chris raised his eyebrows in question and she shook her head. She didn’t want to stop. The other dancers stepped back and formed a circle around the edge of the dance floor. When all of them looked toward the table of firemen and started clapping, she knew something was up.
One of the men, about Jack’s age, downed half his beer, then stood up, and did a stretch. His T-shirt strained against muscles. He had on suspenders and they looked good.
Kate had no idea what was going on, but Chris did. He let go of Kate and stepped back. It looked like he was turning her over to the other man.
“Name’s Garth,” the man said over the music, then took Kate in his arms.
To say that Garth was a good dancer was an understatement. Think Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Think Channing Tatum. Kate thought that she loved dancing so much because she’d been deprived of it when growing up. It was inconceivable that she would have been allowed to go to a high school dance. Her religious-fanatic uncles forbade it.
When she got to college, it was as though all that pent-up movement came out. Her required physical classes were all in dance. Garth, as limber as though he were made of soft plastic, brought out the best in her. Add that to Jack’s singing, which grew in tempo and ferocity as it went on, and it was a three-way show. Kate and Garth on the floor, surrounded by clapping and cheering couples, Jack on the stage, his voice throaty and suggestive and powerful.
After a very long dance session, Kate was out of breath and she could practically see Garth’s heart pounding through his tight shirt. Abruptly, Jack changed to a slow song, the other dancers filled the floor, and Garth pulled Kate to him. His cheek was next to hers.
“So you like Chris, do you?” Garth asked.
“Nice guy. So why’s he single?”
“Same as Jack, I guess. He can’t find a woman who is sweet, pretty, and mentally stable.”
“Oooooh. Sounds like he’s had a hard time.”
“He has. Ask anybody about Bridget. He hasn’t had it as bad as Gil, but—”
At the name, Kate stopped and looked at him. “Gil? What did he—?”
Their halting seemed to bother Jack as he abruptly stopped singing. One of the band members took the mic, and Jack jumped down. He pushed Garth aside and led Kate into the dance.
She had grown accustomed to his quick movements. “You interrupted at a very bad time.”
“Garth is married and has a kid and a half. He—”
She moved closer to him. “Shut up and listen. He said that Chris dated Bridget who—”
“Was crazy.”
Kate stepped away and glared at him.
Jack pulled her back into his arms and was silent, listening.
“Garth said Bridget wasn’t as bad as Gil has it, but...”
“But what?”
“That’s when you jumped off the stage and demanded my full attention.”
Jack ignored that remark. “Gil is my best friend. He’d tell me if...”
“Tell you what?”
“Nothing. He hasn’t told me anything. What does Garth know that I don’t?”
“Maybe I would have found out if you hadn’t done one of your jealous fits and—”
Jack stopped dancing, took her hand, and led her back to the table. Their sandwiches were there.
“I want you to stay here while I go talk to Garth.”
“How about if you stay here while I go talk to all of them?” She picked up her drink and when the napkin stuck to the bottom, she pulled it off and dropped it on the table.
“I know those guys so I—” He broke off as he looked at the napkin.
Kate saw what he was looking at and put her drink down.
The napkin had large, black letters on it.
STOP THE COP
A second later, Jack had slid out of the booth and was looking around the room. Other than a few tourists, he knew everyone in the bar. “Stay here,” he said, then hurried through the dancers to reach the back door.
Kate was a foot behind him.
“I told you—” He’d already seen the futility of trying to make Kate obey him. As they ran through the kitchen, he asked if any strangers had been there.
“Just an old guy,” a cook said.
“Skinny?”
“Yeah.”
Jack practically leaped to the door and flung it open. Kate caught it before it closed.
“Damned heels,” she muttered. “If you hadn’t made me wear them, I could —”
Outside, Jack stopped and looked around. “That’s why I told you to stay inside. For your safety.”
“No, you told me to stay behind because I’m a girl and therefore you think I am incapable of doing—”
He gave her a Give me a break look. “He’s gone.”
Kate pulled the napkin out of her pocket. “So now what? We go home, do show and tell, and go back to endlessly talking about murder? What happened to our vow to not get involved?”
The band started to play again. High up on the wall was a screened window and they could clearly hear the music.
Jack could see how upset she was. On impulse, he pulled her into his arms and began a slow dance with her. “You are a great dancer. Nobody can keep up with Garth, but you did.”
She knew he was changing the subject and she was glad of it. “I had classes in college. I like staying agile.”
“Yeah?” He pulled her closer.
“What do you think that note means? I’m guessing ‘the cop’ is Chet. Do you think he’s getting close to the real kidnapper? Or maybe he’s close to finding Janet’s murderer. Maybe we should—”
Jack dropped her into a dip so low that she quit talking. “I suggest we go back in, eat our sandwiches, have a few more beers, then go home. I’ll get one of the guys to drive us. Tomorrow we’ll turn this over to Chet and let him figure it out. Sound like a good idea?”
“An excellent plan. When do we order the chocolate?”
“As soon as you swear to never ever again dance with Garth. My heart can’t stand watching that again.”
“Oh, Jack, you do say the funniest things. I’m going to dance with Garth every chance I get. What’s his wife like?”
“Pregnant. Never could dance. He said it was his favorite thing about her as she would never complain that he didn’t take her dancing.”
She laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”
They went back into the bar together.
* * *
As Carl Olsen watched them from high above, he sighed in relief. His entire body hurt and it was hard for him to get down. If they’d stayed a few more minutes, he might have fallen at their feet. It had been hard to escape them. But earlier, it had been easy to disappear in the excited crowd in the bar. No one looked at a skinny old man who was hunched over and scuffling about. Those people were full of the energy of life, something that Carl no longer had.
As he got down, he thought how he wished with all his might that the cop would stop investigating. He wasn’t worried about that reporter. That guy was so desperate that he’d make up an ending for his story, anything that would get him on talk shows. The truth meant nothing to him.
But the cop... He cared about justice, about vindicating his stupidity from the first time around. All that cop cared about was being able to say, “See, I figured it out. I wasn’t a fool after all.” The consequences of revealing the truth meant nothing to him.
But Carl cared very, very much about the consequences. And when it came to true justice, he needed it even more than the cop did. In fact, he was willing to give up his life to get it.
* * *
One of Jack’s friends drove them home, and another one drove the truck. The two men left together as Kate and Jack entered the house through the garage.
“You sure do have a lot of friends,” she said.
“What can I say? I’m a likable guy.”
Kate smiled. But then at the moment she was feeling no pain, so everything made her happy. “I guess you’re staying with me.”
“Yeah.” Jack seemed to be thinking of something else. “You go in and go to bed. I’m going to take this to Dakon.” He held up the napkin.
“Okay, but tell me what he says.” Kate walked through the courtyard to her bedroom, grabbed her nightclothes, and went to the bathroom. The dancing had made her sweaty so she got into the shower and washed her hair. It felt good to be clean, even better to have had an evening away from the image of a woman in a chair with a knife in her chest—not to mention what was on the wall behind her.
When she got out, she dried off and put on one of her old nightgowns, the Sister Wives kind she’d worn while living with her mother. Uncle approved.
She thought Jack would probably be outside the door, his eyes teasing, making sexual innuendos, faking horror at her high-necked, long-sleeved gown. But he wasn’t there.
She got a robe—plain and pale pink—out of her closet and went into her living room. The couch had been pulled out to make a bed and covered with white linens. No doubt done by Aunt Sara.
Jack was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes downcast.
She sat down beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Noth—”
“No! Don’t patronize me. What’s upset you?”
“Dakon wasn’t in my room.”
“Maybe he’s watching TV. Did you check?”
Jack looked at her.
“Yeah, of course you did. Think he went somewhere?”
“I think he’s spending the night with Sara. In her bedroom.”
They looked at each other.
“How about tomorrow we give them some privacy? I have a boat,” he said.
“Do you? I guess you haven’t been out on it since I’ve been here.”
“Nah. Too busy solving murders. I vote that we leave early in the morning and spend the day on the water. It would help clear our minds.”
“You can tell me about that apartment building you’re going to build for me and all your relatives.”
“Forget the boat. Let’s get married tomorrow and I’ll buy us a house.”
His joke made her laugh. She stood up, covered a yawn, then bent and kissed him on the forehead. “We’ll do the boat. I like that.”
Jack was looking at her hard. “My offer was real.”
“Yes, I know it was. But just to be clear, if you repeat it tomorrow I’ll jump over the side and ride an alligator to shore.”
Jack gave a half smile. “Old man Dakon scores but I don’t.”
Kate was walking toward her bedroom. “If he had asked me I might have said yes.” When a throw pillow hit her in the back, she laughed and kept walking.
Fourteen
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, they left a note for Sara. Her bedroom door was still closed, but then neither Jack nor Kate wanted to see them just yet. They moved about Kate’s rooms quietly.
“What clothes should I take?” she whispered.
“None” came his answer, making her smile. She put on her 1940s-style outfit of Bermuda shorts and a halter top. An inch of midriff showed.
Jack ran his finger along the bare skin. “Hope you have sunblock for that.”
She patted her big canvas tote bag. “Three tubes. And a swimsuit, towels, a couple of books and—”
“Won’t need the books.” He held the door open for her and they went out the door toward the garage. Sara’s MINI was there and Jack’s truck.
“We should take the car. Think Dakon can handle a three-quarter-ton pickup?”
“I think he could drive a tank right over it.”
Jack tossed fishing gear in the back. They had breakfast at First Watch by Sawgrass Mall, went to the nearby Fresh Market, then Jack drove them to A1A. He kept his boat docked on the ocean side of southern Florida. He told her that last night he’d called ahead so the boat would be ready: cleaned and gassed.
His boat was long and sleek, mostly white but with a dark blue stripe along the side. There was a tall mast with a navy sail wrapped around it. A raised area had stairs that led down into a cooking/sleeping cabin.
It was a beauty!
“Impressed?”
“Very,” she said.
“It was my first big purchase. I wanted to prove to myself that I could own something and pay it off. I wanted to be in debt.”
She smiled at him in understanding. It was her guess that after his stepfather died, buying the boat was something he needed to do all on his own.
A tall blond young man came out to greet them. “I had to call in a team this morning to clean it up,” he said. “Sorry but you’re going to get a big bill, but it’s clean now and fueled.”
Jack was frowning when the young man left.
“What’s wrong?”
