by Mary Burton
“You might not have gotten paid.”
“She’s not the type to skip.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just her aura, I guess.”
“And the guy at church. How’d you hit that one?”
“The cross around her neck, and when she first arrived, she mentioned she’d be going to a church social. The blue eye shadow and rouge looked clumsy as if she’d applied it for the first time in years. Chicks, no matter how old they are, will preen for a man.”
“Nice.”
She leaned back in her chair. “So how is it sitting on the other side of this table?”
“Grady told you about me.”
“He told me you and my mother worked the tent back in the day.”
“What did he tell you about your mother?”
“Pretty. Drowned right after I was born.”
“She loved you.”
“Really?” The word sounded brittle enough to snap. “We don’t talk about her much.”
“I can tell you about her.”
Sooner drew in a breath. “No.”
When Charlotte moved to rebut, Sooner said, “Sorry again about the missed appointment. I was looking at paint colors and lost track of time. So what’s the bottom line on the lease?”
Charlotte sensed she’d hit a nerve in the kid and backed off. She gave her a detailed rundown of the lease. “You going to follow my advice?”
She reached below the folds of the tablecloth and pulled out a diet soda. She took a long sip and then hid it again.
“Some of it. Not all.”
“It’s all sound advice, Sooner. You should take it all.”
“I might not have a deal if I play hardball with the landlord.”
Charlotte crossed her legs. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I don’t.” The girl possessed maturity far beyond her years.
“I saw the article in the paper.”
“Good press, I’d say.”
“For Grady.”
“And for me.”
“He’s put you out here like bait for a killer.”
She cocked her head. “It’s a bit we started doing this season in a lot of small towns. Pick a murder or crime and announce it can be solved.”
“My God, Sooner, do you know how dangerous that is?”
“We’ve never had trouble before.”
“Have you read the articles about Diane Young?”
“No.” The girl glanced down and back up, a sign she felt defensive.
“She did not die easily, Sooner.” Charlotte’s words were clear, direct, and intended to be cutting. “Whoever killed her was making a statement.”
She shrugged, indicating the event did not hold much interest. “I’m not trying to be hard, but bad things happen. That doesn’t mean they’ll happen to me.”
“Grady paraded you in the paper as some kind of psychic detective. If I saw it, there is a good chance the killer did.”
Her chin tipped up a fraction. “I am going to be fine. Grady says it’s good for business.” Again another shrug. “Look, I’m the first to admit the guy can be a dick, but he does know how to drum up business and I want people to know who I am.”
“There are better ways, Sooner.”
“I don’t have huge cash reserves. I’ve got to hit the ground running and make money.” The girl ran long impatient fingers through her hair. She glanced toward the opening of the tent and saw a man hovering. “Look, I got a customer so I got to jet.”
Charlotte glanced toward the opening. The man standing there was tall, lean, and wore jeans and a plain T-shirt. He could have been anybody. The killer was likely just anybody, someone no one ever noticed. The man who’d attacked her several years ago looked like just anybody. “Sooner, you need to back off this.”
Sooner smiled at the man at the tent entrance and beckoned him in with the wave of her fingers. “You are not my mother,” she said, still smiling at the man. “I appreciate what you did with the lease thing, but you need to back off. Now.”
The man hovered just behind Charlotte, and she could smell the strong scent of Old Spice.
“Is it my turn?” he said.
Sooner’s smile exploded with brightness and welcome. “Yes. Have a seat. This lady was just finished.”
Charlotte stared at the young girl. A part of her wanted to grab her by the wrist and pull her out of this tent. But her carefully cultivated logical side understood that Sooner was eighteen and a legal adult. Whatever rights Charlotte had had to the girl, she’d abdicated long ago.
She moved out of the tent, realizing that with Sooner, rights or no, this was not a retreat but a retrench. Like it or not, she had an obligation to the kid.
She scanned the carnival and quickly spotted Grady’s trailer on the outskirts. During the day, he could be found there, balancing books, figuring work schedules, or handling whatever problem had cropped up the night before. And there were always problems: fistfights, drunks, stolen money, and even missing workers who’d just up and left the carnival.
But when the carnival opened its gates for the evening, Grady was on the go, moving past each ride, each food vendor, and each game to make sure his crew was working. Sooner had been right. Grady did have his faults, but anything associated with this business he did right. Obie had said the rifle shot.
The fairgrounds had filled with parents and their young children. The younger families would clear out by nine, and then the teenagers and singles would arrive. That was when the character of the place changed from soft to edgy.
She bypassed the Ferris wheel, which had been running steadily since she arrived, and moved toward the rifle shot, always a big draw for young families.
Dust now coated her high heels, and she was grateful it had not rained in the last few weeks. Rain would turn this place into a mud-soaked adventure. Grady would be happy about the weather. Crisp, cool air brought the customers out whereas rain and mud all but chased away people accustomed to the clean, paved walkways of amusement parks.
She found Grady standing by the rifle shot. Hands on hips, his back was to her as he watched a customer raise his rifle and aim it at the red bull’s-eyes. The man fired once, twice, and three times. Each time he missed. Charlotte could have told him the sight on the barrel was off but didn’t bother. Frustrated, the man paid another five dollars for three more shots.
The extra moments gave her time to really look at Grady. He’d lost weight and his long, lean body hunched forward. He stood, his feet braced, hands on hips, and a cigarette in his left hand.
She moved up behind Grady and in a low voice said, “That was some article you had in the paper today.”
Without facing her, he grinned. “I thought it would get your attention.”
Anger snapped in her gut. “So that was for my benefit?”
Slowly, he faced her. The moonlight mingled with the glow of the game’s light and deepened the crevices of his face. The air about swirled with a hard edge. “It’s always about business. But if I can catch a few other fish along the way, all the better.”
“Who else are you trying to catch?”
As the customer fired and missed again, he faced her, letting the full weight of his gaze settle. “Who else would I want to catch?”
He was the trickster. The game player. He had inspired her best courtroom tactics. “You said Sooner could catch the killer of Diane Young.”
“Good drama sells tickets.” He glanced toward her tent. “She’s already got a line.”
“You’re putting her in unnecessary danger.”
“She ain’t a baby. She’s a big girl now.”
“Eighteen is so young.”
“She’s done all right for herself.”
“All right? Grady, she deserved a real family. A mother and a father. Regular school. You’ve set her up as a side show freak.”
“Good enough for you and your sister.”
She shook her head. “If I’d known that you wer
e going to keep her—”
“You’d what?” he challenged. “You’d have stayed with me and raised her?” He shook his head. “You wanted out of here so bad you’d have sold your soul to the Devil.”
“That’s not true.” Tears choked her throat. “You said she’d get a real home. You promised.”
He laughed. “You had me pegged for a con artist and a liar the day we met. How old were you? Eight? Even then you could see through all my tall tales, likely because you are just like me.
“I’m not like you.”
He shook his head. “And when you wanted out of here so badly that you could taste it, you chose to believe me. You chose to believe the lies because it suited you.”
Frustration scorched through her. “You’re wrong.”
“Who’s the liar now.”
They could stand here and pointlessly argue about the past, or she could worry about today and Sooner. “You need to protect Sooner.”
“I am.”
“How? You’re standing here. She’s over there.”
“Ain’t nothing happens in my carnival without me knowing it. Not ever.”
“Mariah drowned. You never saw that coming.” Pent-up emotion and anger coated the name.
The teasing light in his gaze vanished, leaving only menace. “I got a close eye and ear on my girl, Sooner, so don’t you worry none.”
“That was what you said about Mariah.”
“That girl was too damn boy crazy for her own good. I tried to protect her, but she never listened to good sense. Sooner’s not like Mariah. She’s like you. She’s smart.”
She stiffened. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Or what?” He leaned toward her. “Why don’t you just get back to your fancy life and leave us behind like you did before.”
“Sooner is a great kid. She is smart and can go far. But she’ll never see any of that here.”
“She’s doing just fine. Fact, I suspect she’ll run this place one day.”
“Is that what you want for her?”
“Sure, why not? It’s a good gig and makes decent money.”
“There are better ways to earn a living.”
“Like being a bloodsucking attorney?” He laughed.
“Look, you did like I asked and got Sooner out of trouble. And I do appreciate it, but now you need to pull that pretty little nose of yours out of my business.”
She wasn’t a scared sixteen-year-old so afraid of the big tall, grizzled man her mother had brought home. “Or what?”
His hand shot out and he grabbed her arm in such a tight hard grip, his calloused palms would likely leave a bruise. “You’d be surprised what this old body can still do.”
She didn’t flinch or try to twist out of his hold. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should.”
So locked in their war of words, neither heard Detective Daniel Rokov approach. “There a problem here?”
Rokov had traded his suit for khakis, a dark polo, and a black leather jacket that covered all but the tip of his holstered sidearm. The dimming light had added some menace to Grady’s visage, but it completely transformed Rokov into a darker, more dangerous man. No traces of her passionate, tender lover remained.
Chapter 12
Friday, October 22, 6 p.m.
Grady released Charlotte’s arm and took a step back.
She flinched and rubbed the red flesh of her wrist. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
Rokov stared down at her, his gaze lingering and searching. “No, you did not. You were having an intense conversation with Grady.”
“How do you know his name?” And then she caught herself. “Of course, the article. He claimed Sooner could catch the killer.”
Grady sniffed and straightened his shoulders. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage. Mind making a formal introduction, Ms. Wellington?”
Her gaze remained on Rokov. “Grady Tate, this is Detective Daniel Rokov. He is a homicide detective with the Alexandria Police. I suspect he’s investigating Diane Young’s case.”
Rokov sized up the old man with a glance. Most underestimated the aging ringmaster as a threat, but Rokov seemed to understand that this old man could still do quite a bit of damage. “That was a bold statement you made in the paper.”
Grady grinned, flashing yellowed small teeth, no doubt realizing that Rokov was no sucker. His body language relaxed, he spoke guardedly. “Bold is what gets the job done.”
“Sometimes. And sometimes it creates a hell of a mess. Do you have information that could help the investigation?”
“Sorry, detective. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”
Rokov glanced at Charlotte. “What brings you here? This doesn’t strike me as your kind of place.”
“I came to see Sooner,” she said honestly. “I was worried about the article.”
“Kind of above and beyond for a pro bono client.”
Rokov’s height, six three or better, had her stretching every inch from her five-foot-six frame. In bed they were equals, but here he dominated. “The article caught my eye. It’s out of the norm, and I thought I’d visit.”
“No other agenda?” he challenged.
Amusement brightened Grady’s gaze. The old man clearly loved this collision of her well-crafted present and unsavory past.
“Such as?” she said.
Rokov flashed even white teeth. “You lawyering out of the answer, counselor?”
She was. And she planned to keep doing it. “Am I?”
Rokov’s amusement faded. “Did you know Diane Young?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. Why would you ask?”
“Just checking to see if you’re capable of a straight answer.” He swung his attention to Grady. “Did you know Diane Young?”
Grady’s pleasure draining away, he slid long fingers into his jeans pockets. “I did not.”
“We found a note to visit the carnival on her to-do list,” Rokov said.
Grady shrugged. “I’ll bet you’re gonna find that on a lot of to-do lists this week. We’re having a record year.”
“I don’t care about anybody’s list but Diane’s and the killer’s.”
“Like I said, that stuff in the paper about Sooner catching a killer was all hype, detective. I saw a chance to grab attention, and I took it.” Grady knew when to tell the truth.
Distaste sharpened the lines in Rokov’s face. “I’d like to talk to your employees and show them her picture. Maybe someone here might have seen her. I also want to talk to Sooner.”
Charlotte took a step back. “This conversation is clearly between you two, so I’ll leave.”
Rokov grabbed her elbow, his grip gentle steel. “A moment please, Ms. Wellington. I’d like to have a chat.”
A rebellious urge rose and died under Grady’s too curious gaze. “I really need to get going.”
“You can give me a minute or two.” Not a request but a statement. “Round up your men, Mr. Tate. I want to talk to them all.”
“I’m a couple of men down tonight. Everyone’s working full tilt.”
“I’m sure you can pull a few at a time. It would be regrettable to call the Health Department for an impromptu inspection.”
“We’re up to code.”
“So you’d like me to call the Health Department?” And Rokov was not a man who made idle threats.
Grady might be up to code, but health inspectors traipsing around food vendors drove off customers. “I’ll get Tiny and Buster off their rides first. They both got backups.”
“Great. I appreciate your help.”
When Grady was out of earshot, Rokov turned to Charlotte. “So what aren’t you telling me? And if you answer me with a question, I think I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
“I’ve told you everything that is germane to your case.”
“Which means you have not told me everything.”
“No, I have not. And I’m not going to. All you need to know is that
I am here to check on Sooner.”
“Why did Grady have a death grip on your arm?”
“Ask him.”
He leaned close and she smelled hints of his soap mingling with his jacket’s worn, smooth leather. He lowered his voice to a hoarse rough whisper. “I’m asking you.”
She had outmaneuvered attorneys and CEOs in countless courtrooms and boardrooms. But here, right now, she sensed in Rokov a raw treacherous edge not easily escaped. If he took the gloves off, she might be hard pressed to win. “If it had a bearing on your case, I’d tell you. But it does not. Some things just have to stay private.”
“The more evasions you feed me, the more curious I become. And I am not a pleasant man when I have an unanswered question.”
“I guess you just have to deal.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Walk with me to Sooner’s tent.”
“Why?”
“Just humor me.”
She shook her head. “I’m not walking anywhere with you, detective. I’ve got a dinner date.”
His energy became deadly still. “Really?”
She swallowed. “With a client.”
Tension easing a fraction, he said, “The Samantha White case is behind you. You can take a little time.” He’d used the same argument when he’d coaxed her back to his bed Tuesday morning.
“I never say no to a client.” She caught sight of Grady, who moved toward them with two rough-looking carnies in tow. Rokov also saw them, and for a split second his attention shifted away from her.
Grabbing the opportunity, she pulled free and put distance between them. “Looks like your party is here. I’ll leave you to it.”
She suspected he could easily make a scene if that’s what it took. But her past was not his top priority ... now. It was Diane Young’s murder.
“This isn’t finished between us, Ms. Wellington. We’ll be talking soon.”
“Call my secretary. She’ll tell you if I have time.”
His grin telegraphed amusement and a very clear message: I’ll find you when I’m ready.
Rokov watched Charlotte walk away, finding himself amused, frustrated, and most of all savoring the way she moved in the confines of her gray pencil skirt. She wasn’t a tall woman, maybe five-foot-six, but she had lean taut limbs, breasts that filled out her white blouse, and a thick leather belt that cinched a narrow waist. He thought back to Tuesday morning and the way she’d touched him. This week’s circumstances had severed their connection, but he’d get it back one way or the other.