Dying to Get Her Man

by Judy Fitzwater

  She couldn't control the redness she felt burning in her cheeks, but she sure as heck wasn't going to allow Leigh Ann, Teri, April, Monique, or anyone else for that matter, to feel sorry for her. Or talk behind her back. There were worse things than being alone. Her Southern pride had long ago taught her that. Of course, pride wasn't much of a conversationalist, or companion, and it didn't have the deepest, darkest, bluest eyes...

  She tossed aside the newspaper.

  "You poor thing," dark-haired Leigh Ann whispered, tears welling, her petite body shuddering with emotion. "You're so brave. You've been going with Sam a good while now. I thought, well, I thought someday it'd be you in that photo with him."

  "I say we kill the two-timing son of a bitch," Teri growled from her spot on the floor, her dark eyes half-lidded, a menacing determination creasing her cocoa-brown skin. "Jennifer writes the best mysteries ever written, published or not. We could lose the body where nobody could find it."

  "Now, now, you don't mean that," April cautioned, her big blue eyes wide with shock. After all, she was the mother of two young children. "Violence is never a solution. But misery—and lots of mental anguish—that could be arranged."

  "When did the two of you break up?" Monique asked quietly from her solid maple rocker, her plain, fortyish face earnest, reasonable. "And why didn't you tell us about it?"

  Jennifer looked at them. First Monique, solid, older, obviously rationally weighing the situation; then April, plump, sweet, optimistic but ever pragmatic; Teri, protective, belligerent, definitely out for blood; and finally Leigh Ann, the true romantic of the group, who couldn't have been more crushed if she had just lost the one true love of her own life.

  Jennifer took a deep breath. "We didn't. The newspaper was the first I'd heard of it."

  "Oh, no. Jennifer's the other woman," Leigh Ann declared, rising up from the corner of the sectional sofa, her green eyes huge, her small mouth drawn into a disapproving bow. "He must have been dating this… this… what the heck was her name again?"

  "Isabelle Jean Renard," April supplied from her seat on the other sofa.

  "This Renard woman all the time he's been going with our Jennifer. I thought he was too good a catch to be single. Where did the paper say she was from?"

  "Atlanta now, but her family's from North Carolina," Monique reminded them.

  "Isn't that where Sam's from?" Leigh Ann asked. "They've probably known each other for years, before Jennifer and Sam even met."

  "Don't any of you have anything to read?" Jennifer demanded. "The last time I looked at our bylaws, this was supposed to be a writers' group where members read their work aloud and get critical suggestions."

  "Do we have bylaws?" Leigh Ann asked.

  Teri nodded and stretched. "That piece of paper Monique handed out at our first meeting."

  "That was years ago. Were we supposed to read it?"

  Monique drew herself up. "Jennifer's right. What's going on between her and Sam is none of our business, at least not until she decides it is. Leigh Ann, I think you had something you said you wanted to read tonight, the start of a new romance novel."

  Leigh Ann nodded, digging folded pages out from the bottom of her large purse. "I worked on this yesterday evening, and I thought I'd let you all give me your first impression." She glanced pointedly at Jennifer before her eyes found the typed page. Then she cleared her throat and began.

  "'Jenette looked over the cliffs at the dark, inviting waves crashing against the huge, polished stones below. The cold wind whipped at her hair and shawl, billowing her long skirt. But that iciness could not match the cold she felt where her heart had once been. The only warmth in her entire being was the lingering memory of Seth's kiss on her lips and the look of longing in his eyes. He loved her, loved her deep, down to her bones, down to her very marrow, and she knew it. No matter what anyone said, no matter what rumors flew about that hussy Belinda who was said to have stolen him from her. No one could take their love away, not as long as she wouldn't allow it. All she had to do was be strong, trust in him, believe in their love, follow her heart, be true to—'"

  "Okay," Jennifer interrupted. "I get the message."

  Leigh Ann blinked. "Whatever do you mean?"

  Teri rolled her eyes. "Hang it up, Leigh. She's on to you. Not that any moron wouldn't be."

  "I'm not going to talk about it," Jennifer insisted. "Besides, that engagement announcement is the least of what's bothering me."

  They all turned expectantly toward Jennifer. Cripes. Seems she never quite knew when to shut up. Now she had two choices. Explain or leave. Hah! As if she'd ever make it out of there.

  "I saw Sam this morning."

  "Well, thank the good Lord for that," April said. "And he told you—"

  "And he was with Belle Renard."

  That struck them all silent, at least for the moment.

  "Shall we take a vote? Who's in favor of my solution?" Teri asked, raising her hand.

  A loud pounding sounded on Monique's door as both Leigh Ann's and April's hands shot up. They each looked at one another. Jennifer checked her watch. It was seven-fifteen.

  "Excuse me just a moment. Everyone I'm acquainted with knows not to come by here on Monday nights," Monique insisted, dragging herself out of her rocker and heading for the door.

  No one said a word. They were hardly ever disturbed. As Monique said, everyone knew better.

  "I don't think that's such a good idea," Monique protested from the hallway.

  A masculine voice responded. "I've been looking for her all day. I know she's here. If you don't let me in, I'll... I'll wait outside until she leaves."

  Oh, no. It was Sam. Jennifer's perpetual blush deepened. Couldn't he at least leave her some modicum of dignity? Did he have to play out their problems in front of her dearest friends?

  "All right then."

  And Monique was actually going to let him in. How could she? Quickly, she scanned the room. There was nowhere to hide.

  He stopped just inside the doorway to the den. He looked horrible, deep circles under those dark blue eyes of his, his hair still wild. Had he not combed it all day? Had Belle not noticed? What kind of girlfriend was she?

  "We have to talk," Sam insisted. He started toward her, but Teri spread her legs across the floor in front of Jennifer. That stopped him.

  "Say the word and I'll take him down," Teri offered. Her brown belt in karate would probably be enough to do just that, considering the state Sam was in. "I think I should warn you we've just had a vote—"

  "Please," he begged. "It's not what it looked like. Belle is—"

  "I'm not romantically involved with Pepper." That voice, spunky now, as Belle appeared at the doorway. Did she not realize that one needed an invitation to come into someone's house? But what was one more? They might as well have a convention of all the parties involved right there in Monique's den.

  Jennifer threw up her hands. "Do you mind? We're having a meeting here."

  "I'd say we're having quite a meeting here," Leigh Ann muttered, a delicious smile on her lips. "Pepper, huh?"

  "I'll be home by nine o'clock," Jennifer stated. "Call me then."

  "And risk that you might not answer your phone or show up at all? No way," he insisted.

  "Why bother with me? You seem to have your future..." Suddenly, Jennifer sat straight up. "Did she say you're not involved romantically?"

  Belle nodded her head, her soft, reddish brown curls swishing on her shoulders. She was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, not the most fetching outfit.

  "That's what I've been trying to tell you," Sam said.

  "I knew they weren't really engaged," Leigh Ann said, grinning and relaxing back against a cushion.

  "But I saw the two of you... the bathrobe... the conditioner..." Jennifer began.

  "Conditioner?" April repeated. "What kind of conditioner?"

  "I found Belle in Atlanta Sunday evening and insisted she come back with me to my place."

  "
Oh, man, you are not helping your case," Teri warned.

  "Do you think we could go somewhere and talk?" Sam suggested, nodding toward the door. "Without the audience."

  The frying pan or the fire. Staying would only put off the inevitable and mean listening to her friends drone on about Sam and Belle, especially now that they'd seen her in the all-too-becoming flesh. She sighed and stood up. At least she had the keys to her car. Maybe she could make a getaway.

  Sam tried to take her elbow, but she shrugged him off. She wasn't about to let him touch her. Quickly, she stepped over Teri's legs, grabbed her coat off a chair and headed for the front door.

  "Call me," Leigh Ann hollered after her.

  Without a backward glance, Jennifer was out the door and down the steps, Sam and Belle trailing after.

  "Give me your keys," Sam insisted behind her.

  She turned and asked innocently, "Why?"

  "Because I know you. Cough them up."

  "No way."

  "If you run over my other foot, I'll probably be crippled for life."

  "I didn't actually hurt you, did I?"

  "Only caught the tip of my shoe. All I'm asking for is one hour of your time. I think, after all we've been through together, you owe me that much."

  She looked at her watch. It was seven-twenty. "One hour."

  "If you still want to tell me to go to hell by—"

  "Eight-twenty," she supplied.

  "By eight-twenty, I'll go away and leave you alone." He opened the door to his Honda and helped her in. Belle let herself into the backseat.

  "So she's coming with us," Jennifer observed.

  "That's right," Sam told her. "I don't intend to let her out of my sight. Belle is in danger."

  Chapter 9

  "Just who," Jennifer didn't add the besides me she was thinking, "wants you dead?" She leaned across the table in a booth far in the back of Alfie's Diner. Belle must have someone specific in mind.

  "I don't know that anyone actually wants me dead," Belle said.

  "Saturday night someone broke into her apartment and went through her belongings," Sam explained. "She was just lucky she wasn't home when it happened."

  "Nothing of any value was destroyed," Belle insisted.

  "The place was ransacked and that's not the half of it," Sam went on.

  "I told you, it was only one small death threat." Belle removed the top of her bun and slathered her hamburger with ketchup. "It's not as if I haven't had them before. Man, I'm hungry. I didn't think he was ever going to stop chasing after you long enough for us to have anything to eat. I hate that they won't serve these rare anymore." She grinned at Sam. "Remember when we used to go to that place in Durham? What was the name of it?"

  "I think it was Hamburger Haven," Sam suggested.

  "No, Heaven, wasn't it? Yes, I'm sure that's right," Belle said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile curving her lip.

  Sam shuffled his legs under the table, and Jennifer suspected Belle had been rubbing her foot against his calf.

  "If you're in such danger, why don't you just go to the police?" Jennifer snapped. She'd seen that we-have-a-past exclusionary tactic before, and she wasn't about to let Belle get away with using it. Or with playing footsie with Sam under the table. "You're going to have to explain how some bogus engagement announcement—without the groom's knowledge—offers you any kind of protection from a death threat. It obviously didn't stop someone from breaking in."

  "That was poor timing on my part. I should have put it in last week," Belle said.

  "You shouldn't have put it in at all," Jennifer said.

  "The article in the paper was Belle's rather creative idea of insurance," Sam explained, stirring his coffee. At least he had the decency not to have an appetite.

  "How so? She didn't even ask you first!" She turned to Belle. "Do you not realize he has a life? What were you thinking?"

  "Hey, take a chill," Belle suggested.

  Sam placed a restraining hand on Jennifer's forearm. She shook it off, but settled down next to him on the bench. Getting angry was not going to make her look good in Sam's eyes, and he was in a difficult position. After all, jealousy ranked at about the same level of hell as pity. She was loathe to admit it, but she hated Belle already, even if the woman was in danger. And it didn't help a bit that Belle sat there with her little-girl smile and perfect white teeth, her smooth skin flushed a charming peach, and with dimples to boot, while Jennifer played the enraged girlfriend. She knew how she looked when she got angry and pretty wasn't it.

  And why did men love women who ate beef? Where was the attraction in that?

  Belle wiped ketchup from the corner of her mouth and swallowed. "Look, I never expected Pepper to see that announcement. I doubt that a guy like him even knows the style section exists. Besides, it was in a newspaper from another city. And, of course, I didn't know about you—that he was involved with anyone. It was the only thing I could think of with such short notice." She turned toward Sam. "I would never intentionally create trouble for you. You know that, don't you?"

  There it was again, that darned lilting. And that gag-me-with-a-spoon, syrupy sweetness.

  "You should have called first," he told her.

  She gave him a glowing smile. "I'm sorry. Of course I should have, but we hadn't seen each other in over two years, and I didn't want to bother you."

  "Bother him!" The words exploded from Jennifer's mouth before she could stifle them. Belle should get her own boyfriend if she needed someone to rescue her.

  "Wouldn't you like something to eat?" Sam offered, shoving the shared basket of fries in her direction.

  She shook her head and gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. She'd had very little of the pizza she and Suzie had ordered, but stuffing food in her mouth was more likely to make her choke than to keep her quiet. She'd try to do better.

  "Who's trying to kill you?" Jennifer asked again, more softly this time.

  Belle took another bite of burger. "About eighteen months ago, I did some undercover work. I'm a reporter."

  "That's how you two know each other?" Jennifer asked.

  "Oh, Pepper and I go way back," Belle assured her, talking and chewing at the same time. "We were both journalism majors at UNC Chapel Hill. We worked together on the college newspaper."

  Just as Jennifer had figured. Late nights thinking up ways to aggravate the administration. She remembered them well. As someone once said, there's nothing sexier than fomenting revolution.

  "Which newspaper do you work for?"

  Belle hesitated. "The Atlanta Eye."

  Jennifer couldn't help but let a smile escape. So that's why Jennifer didn't recognize her name. She refused to open that scandal rag.

  "But that's only temporary," Belle hastily added. "As I started to tell you, I got involved with the Simon DeSoto murder case, managed to get close to him."

  "She fooled DeSoto into thinking she was interested in him," Sam explained, his mouth drawn, obviously disgusted with Belle's foolhardiness. "We all knew he was suspected in the murder of his wife, but the police couldn't get any evidence against him."

  "And the newspaper sanctioned—" Jennifer began and then stopped herself. At the Eye, anything went. And the people they hired...Well, Teague McAfee was a prime example. Young, obnoxious, persistent as a pit bull, and ready to sacrifice the truth for a good story any day.

  "I read every word about that case," Jennifer went on. She kept up with all the notorious murder cases in the state of Georgia. It made for great research for her novels. "I don't remember any mention of a girlfriend."

  "Right," Belle agreed. "Because I never had to testify against him. I found evidence of his contacts with the hired gun, mainly by gaining entry to his home and going through his phone bills. DeSoto never knew it was me. Once the killer was located, he copped a plea and testified against DeSoto."

  "And now..." Light was dawning. DeSoto had been released. And he was looking for Belle. "You'r
e crazy," Jennifer said.

  "Well, it didn't seem so crazy at the time," Belle told her. "How'd I know Hovey would get the guy's verdict set aside?"

  "I can't believe he was able to do that." Jennifer shook her head.

  "I know," Sam agreed. "But some of the evidence is being challenged, or at least its interpretation."

  "But you'd think that now Hovey is dead—"

  "Doesn't matter who defends DeSoto now," Belle said. "If he can show other people were in his home, and worse yet, that he wasn't in his home when some of those phone calls were going on, he'll be home free. Reasonable doubt."

  "Right," Sam agreed. "From what I was able to find out between trips to your apartment, he's got a strong case, assuming no one is perjuring himself. The theory Hovey was most recently putting forth was that the killer was hired by someone else but rolled over on DeSoto in order to make the deal."

  "So DeSoto thinks you were sincere," Jennifer suggested, "that you actually cared about him." It was beginning to make some kind of twisted sense.

  "I hope he still thinks that. It's better than him thinking I tried to screw him over."

  "Does he know you work for the newspaper?" Jennifer asked.

  "Yes, but cracking major news stories is not the Eye's usual fare. I saw this story as my way back to the legitimate press. Unfortunately, none of my work about the case actually saw print. My editor thought it was too risky, even after the conviction." She took a sip of coffee and motioned for the waitress to bring some more.

  "Your editor was right," Sam agreed.

  Jennifer noted Belle's use of the words "back to." Sounded like she was an excellent match for the Eye. Why would she want to go back where integrity—and playing by the rules—was a necessity?

  "DeSoto wrote me letters from prison." Belle smiled at the waitress who filled her cup and then shooed her away. She'd finished the burger and licked the ketchup off the side of her hand. Now she was on to the cheese fries. "I never answered any of them, and he seemed to lose interest after a few weeks. But about a month or so ago, the letters started back up again after Hovey filed the motion. Then the D.A. called me last week to let me know he was coming out."