LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2)

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  Cord nodded. “I know Myrna. She’s a determined woman. If anyone can do it, she can.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, how can I help you?”

  He sounded sincere, but she reminded herself of Rand’s accusations. This man could be a killer. Even if he were innocent, would he really want to help her with an article that could cost him his job? She pulled out her notebook, feeling like an imposter. She hadn’t felt that way this morning or yesterday when she was questioning Jean Arbutten’s neighbors and acquaintances, but there was something about Cord Arbutten.

  She steeled her spine. “I’ve been talking to your neighbors.” She looked over at him, but he just nodded as if he’d expected it. “Most of them don’t feel like they really knew your wife. They don’t feel they know you either, but they admire you.” That had come out all wrong. True, but wrong.

  Again, Cord nodded, and Allie put her notebook down in her lap. She didn’t need to look at her notes. They were indelibly etched on her mind. “They didn’t like her,” she said. “They thought she looked down on them.”

  Cord was nodding again. “There’s some truth in that.” He cleared his throat before he continued. “Jean—well, Jean had a pretty rough early life. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when someone like that betters themself, they’re often intolerant of others.”

  “But you live in a nice neighborhood,” Allie said, surprised. “Your neighbors are professionals, middle-upper class. What was there to be intolerant of?”

  “I wondered the same thing,” Cord said, staring down at his desk. “Jean liked being the wife of the sheriff. Not my wife, you understand,” he amended, his eyebrows drawing together, “but the wife of the sheriff. The title. It got her invited to the governor’s mansion. It was a sure-fire guarantee she’d be invited to join clubs and whatnot. I think that was important to her. I never quite understood it myself.”

  Allie did. She had lived with it in Atlanta in the guise of her mother and brother. Even her father, in academic circles. “They said she lorded her status over them,” she said. “Even the people from the Women’s Club said she talked down to them.”

  Cord’s face took on that worried look that was becoming familiar to Allie. “I spoke to her about that one time.” He shook his head. “You’d have thought I raised a hand to her.” He looked up. “I guess to understand Jean; you’d have to know about her background. If you’re interested,” he said. Allie nodded.

  Cord studied his folded hands. “Jean—well, Jean came from a pretty poor background, like I told you. Never knew who her father was, and her mom—” He looked up. “You probably saw her at the funeral. The woman in the wheelchair?”

  Allie remembered the woman picking at her handbag at the funeral. “That was her mother? I thought she was—” A distant relative? An unconcerned acquaintance? She collected herself. “I didn’t see your son even speak to her.”

  He sighed. “No, I’m afraid Rand and his mother were of the same mind there. I’m afraid our family isn’t very close.”

  Allie’s family wasn’t close, but she would still probably cry if her brother were being buried, if nothing else for the lost dream of someday being friends. “Go on.”

  “Well, Jean’s mother was wild in her day. They lived in a trailer park in west Melbourne when I met Jean. She—Jean’s mother—was working as a waitress at the Dixie Diner.”

  “I know the Dixie Diner,” Allie said wryly.

  Cord looked surprised, but then he smiled. “Myrna and her cigarettes.” He shook his head. “I ought to close the place down. The state has a no-public-smoking law, but it’s the only place those poor people can have a cigarette and a meal at the same time. I just can’t bring myself to do it.” He looked at his hands, lost in thought.

  “How did you meet Jean?” Allie asked.

  Cord hesitated before he answered. When he did, he was clearly embarrassed. “I was pretty wild myself in those days. I’d just come back from overseas. Marines,” he added. “Jean was the prettiest thing you ever saw back then.” Allie nodded. She had seen the pictures. Cord went on, “I lost my head over her for a while, and, well, one thing led to another.” He stopped.

  Allie heard footsteps in the hall. They slowed before continuing. “She got pregnant, and you married her,” she furnished.

  Cord nodded thoughtfully. “Happened a lot back then. Lots of us coming back from Nam, wilder than bucks.” He paused, and then went on, “I knew almost from the beginning it was a mistake. I don’t think she loved me any more than I loved her.”

  “Why didn’t you get a divorce?”

  Cord looked at her as if the thought had never entered his mind. “I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I’d gotten her into that situation. As to why she didn’t divorce me, I don’t know. I wasn’t making much back then. I got out of the Marines and went right to work for the sheriff’s office. I guess even a poor law officer’s salary was more than she was used to. She seemed happy enough, especially after Rand was born. That boy was her life.”

  “What about you?” Allie asked quietly. “What was your life?”

  “The job,” he said without hesitation. “I worked pretty much night and day back then. The overtime came in handy, and I was trying to establish myself in the department.”

  “Which you did,” Allie said.

  “Which I did,” he said with a smile. Then, the smile faded. “I guess I was too busy to see how unhappy she was. She fussed a lot, but I figured that was normal. She didn’t like me to be around much, and I didn’t want to interfere with her running of the house or raising Rand. Not until he started having problems.”

  It was so quiet in the office that Allie could hear the crackle of a radio out in the hall. Cord was staring at his hands again, and Allie knew him well enough by now to know that he was looking back over those years, trying to understand what he’d done wrong. Despite her claims of being objective, she did not want this man to be guilty. “I can see why my aunt cared so much about you,” she said without thinking. Her words seemed to embarrass the sheriff even more than they embarrassed her.

  He cleared his throat. “What else can I tell you?”

  Allie almost asked him why he’d asked Jean for a divorce now, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Can I come back if I have more questions?”

  “Of course, you can come back,” he said, his face softening, “even if you don’t have any questions. Did any of this help at all?”

  “I think it helped more than you can know.” She stood. “One more thing. Do you think it would be all right if I talked to her mother? I mean, is she senile?”

  Cord laughed aloud. “No, Frenchie is a lot of things, not all of them admirable, but she isn’t senile.” It was said with long familiarity and affection.

  He got up and came around his desk. Allie resisted an impulse to reach up and hug him. “Thank you, Cord. I really appreciate the time you gave me.”

  He looked embarrassed but pleased. “Happy to do it. But now I have a meeting in—” He glanced at his watch. “In five minutes.”

  He opened his office door and seemed surprised to see Sidney Finch standing there. “Did I forget something?” he asked.

  Sidney had the grace to look embarrassed. “No, sheriff, I was just going to remind you about your meeting with the mayor.”

  Cord reached up and clasped his shoulder. “Thanks, son. I’m on my way right now.” Cord turned back to Allie. “You come back any time you have questions. I’ll be glad to help. Sidney here will walk you to the door.” Then, he turned and headed down the hall.

  Sidney took Allie’s elbow roughly and began to steer her toward the front door.

  “That’s not necessary,” Allie said, trying to pull her arm away. “I know the way.”

  Sidney stopped and looked hard at her, and Allie felt her scalp prickle. “I can answer any questions you have about the sheriff,” he told her.

  Allie wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “So can he,” she said, w
alking down the hallway without looking back.

  She hadn’t gone five miles before she saw the blue lights behind her. She pulled over and buzzed her window down. After a minute, she saw Sidney climb out of the cruiser and amble slowly toward her. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses and his hat pulled low, so Allie couldn’t make out his expression. “License and insurance,” he demanded when he reached her.

  Allie almost told him to go to hell, but she bit her tongue. She pulled both out of her wallet and handed them to him. He took his time examining them.

  “Did I break a law, Sidney?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “You were doing 47 in a 45-mile-an-hour zone. You’ll want to watch that,” he said, handing back her license and insurance card. “You might want to stop asking questions too. You’re just stirring things. If you’ll drop it, it’ll blow over. If you don’t?” He shrugged. “Who knows what might happen?”

  Was the idiot threatening her? Allie was struck by a sudden thought. “Was that you following me the other day?”

  Sidney’s face remained impassive. “I’m just telling you like it is. Stay out of the sheriff’s business. He has enough problems without some nosey newspaper reporter trying to cozy up to him to get information. And you’d better watch your speed. Accidents happen out here every day.”

  Chapter 12

  It was early afternoon when Allie pulled back into her neighborhood. She was still shaken by her run-in with Sidney Finch, the menace in his voice when he’d said, “accidents happen out here every day.” The threat was unmistakable; the only question was whether he had the guts to carry it out.

  Ceasing to ask questions about the Arbuttens wasn’t an option. What kind of reporter would she be if she caved into that kind of pressure? What kind of person?

  As she turned on her street, she saw a U-Haul parked in front of Sheryl’s house and groaned. Oh, God, she had forgotten all about Joe’s mother moving in.

  She screeched into her driveway, narrowly missing the bright yellow Bobcat backing out of the lot next door. Damn construction vehicles were a menace. Leaving her purse on the car seat, she ran the half-block back to Sheryl’s, ignoring the catcalls from behind her. She dashed into Sheryl’s open front door and stopped.

  Everyone sat in the living room, drinking beer, including Mrs. Odum in her wheelchair. Sheryl was sprawled on the couch, wearing only shorts and a halter. Two hulking men were sitting on the floor, an empty beer bottle beside each, and a full one in their hands.

  Allie might have stood frozen in place all night, but Mrs. Odum said, “Allie, dear, come in. It’s so good to see you again. We were just celebrating our successful move.”

  Allie looked at her, then at Sheryl. “I forgot. I’m so sorry. I’ll just go change and—”

  “Nah,” Sheryl said, waving her beer. “No prob. I knew you were working. These jokers,” she waved her beer at the men, “were off duty and happy to help for free beer. Mike and Bub, Allie Granger.”

  The men muttered a greeting, nodding at her. Allie returned their nod and sank down beside Sheryl on the sofa. She glanced at Joe’s mother. She hadn’t seen Mrs. Odum since her husband’s funeral. She looked much better today. She was still thin and fragile-looking, but there was color in her face and a sparkle in her eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re coming to live with Sheryl, Mrs. Odum,” Allie said to her. “I know she worried about your being so far away.”

  “It’s Libby, dear. Short for Elizabeth, you know.”

  Allie hadn’t known, but she thought the name suited her. Kind of old-fashioned and pretty. Joe’s mother was probably no more than sixty, but grief and her stroke years ago had taken their toll. Allie wasn’t sure how serious her disability was, but she had never seen her out of the wheelchair. She only hoped Sheryl hadn’t taken on more than she could handle.

  “Libby and I are going over to Lester’s for dinner tonight to celebrate,” Sheryl said. “Want to join us?”

  “I—” Allie looked over in the direction of her house. “I—”

  Sheryl laughed. “Have to work, right?”

  Allie looked back at her, but there was no censure in Sheryl’s face.

  “No sweat. I’ll bring you something back.” She got to her feet. “Now, everybody out so I can get Libby settled.” She grabbed two beers out of a cooler beside her and handed one to each of the deputies. “Thanks, guys. I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe us nothing,” one of the deputies said gruffly. “We did it for Joe. And his mom.”

  Sheryl looked away, but not before Allie saw the tears in her eyes. Mrs. Odum reached out and grabbed the deputies’ hands. “Thank you, boys,” she said with perfect composure, “from both of us.”

  When they were gone, Allie looked around. There were only a few boxes sitting on the dining room table. The other stuff must already be in Mrs. Odum—Libby’s room. “Can I help you finish getting unpacked?” Allie asked, still stinging from the shame of having forgotten about the move.

  “No, dear, really. We’re almost done, and Sheryl tells me that you’re trying to clear Cord’s name of those allegations his son made against him. I think that’s a lot more important than unpacking.”

  Allie shot Sheryl an exasperated look before turning back to Libby Odum. “I—”

  “She’s right,” Sheryl said, coming to stand behind the wheelchair. “We’re fine. You get back to work.”

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Libby asked. Then, she looked up at Sheryl. “If that’s all right with you.”

  “Well—uh—” Sheryl looked embarrassed. “It’s just that I don’t cook much. Hardly ever,” she added.

  Libby laughed. “Well, how could you when you’re either working or coming by to check on me. Besides, I peeked in your cupboards when you were outside. There’s nothing in there to cook.” She laughed at Sheryl’s expression. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, patting Sheryl’s hand. “I’ll do the cooking, although I’m afraid you’ll have to do the shopping unless you want to drive me to the store.”

  “Hey, no problem,” Sheryl said. “I can shop. I know how to shop.”

  Allie could see Sheryl mentally wiping her forehead. “Then, I’d love to,” Allie said, leaning down and kissing Libby on the cheek. “What time?”

  “I get off at six,” Sheryl said.

  “Then, seven-thirty,” Libby told them both. “No one wants to eat the minute they get off work. That will give you time to change and relax.”

  Sheryl looked dazed at the idea of having someone cook for her, let alone worry about her having time to relax before the meal. She followed Allie out the door. “What’d you find out?”

  “Nothing definitive yet,” Allie called over her shoulder as she headed toward her house. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  As she neared her driveway, the Bobcat once again shot into the street. Allie had to jump out of the way, or it would have flattened her like a bug. She spun around and went after it as it reversed direction.

  “Hey,” she yelled over the clanging of metal. The guy on the Bobcat either didn’t hear her or decided to ignore her. The workers on the new building did, though. They laughed and pointed. Allie felt her temper rise. “Hey,” she yelled again. When he didn’t look down, she picked up a rock and hurled it into the half-door.

  The guy twisted around in his seat. Big guy, overweight, with surly etched in the lines of his face. “Hey, lady, what the hell you think you’re doing?”

  Allie had to shout to be heard over the din. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Didn’t you see me in the street? You almost hit me.” Both times, she added mentally.

  “I didn’t see you. You’re on a construction site, for God’s sake,” he said, scowling.

  “I was on a public street two feet from my yard,” she shot back, furious.

  The guy lifted his hard hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “You want to live in this dump between two construction sites,” he said with a wave
toward her house, “you take what you get. I got a job to do.”

  Allie was so mad she could barely speak. “Well, you’d better do it more carefully,” was all she could manage.

  “Or what?” the guy asked with a smirk. “You gonna call the cops on me?”

  That did it. Without giving it another thought, she headed for Sheryl’s house. She could hear the idiot laughing as he yelled something to his cronies. She’d never once used her friendship with Sheryl to intimidate, but it was time.

  Less than five minutes later, she and a uniformed-right-down-to-the-hat-and-gun Sheryl walked back on the construction site. Any work that had been in progress stopped completely, which must have alerted the Bobcat driver. He switched off his machine and turned as they approached. If Allie hadn’t been so livid, she would have laughed at the look on his face.

  This time, he didn’t ignore them; he climbed down from his machine and met them on their level. “What’s the problem, Officer?” he asked.

  Sheryl pulled her badge out of her back pocket and held it up. “I want to talk to your boss,” she demanded. She had on her cop face, which was enough to scare anyone. It even scared Allie sometimes.

  The guy removed his hard hat and wiped his forehead. Allie could see the ring of dirt and sweat circling his head. “You’re lookin’ at him,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “You?” Sheryl sneered. “You’re the boss of this—” She gestured around the site.

  “Yeah, me. I’m the foreman of this job.”

  “Your name, sir?” Sheryl said, putting her badge back in her pocket and pulling out her notebook.

  “ Gray. Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, there’s a problem, Mr. Gray. I understand from this woman that you nearly ran her over.”

  The man glared at Allie. “She needs to be more careful where she walks,” he snarled.

  Sheryl stepped forward and pointed a finger at his chest. “The way I see it, Mr. Gray, you need to be more careful where you drive that thing. Pedestrians have the right of way in this state. Or aren’t you familiar with that law?”