Janet reached up, grabbed a handful of her own hair, and twisted. It looked painful. “And I don’t know what to do to help him. After all he’s done for me, there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do to help.”
“Why don’t you just tell me all of it,” Allie said, trying to make her voice as soothing as she could. “Maybe together we can figure out what happened.”
Janet looked at her consideringly. Then, she nodded. “OK. Jean came to see me. Her monthly duty visit, don’t you know. Only this time, she seemed different. I could see it in her eyes. Happy like. Excited. Oh, she was a bitch as usual. She told me what an embarrassment I was and what a burden and all. You know, the usual stuff, but when she started talking about Cord—” She looked at Allie and shuddered. “Her eyes were all lit up. She sounded like a crazy woman. She said he was finally going to get what he deserved. She told me he’d asked for a divorce like she was hoping to shock me or something. Of course, Cord had told me about it a long time ago. He told me he’d tried to make it work, but he was unhappy and Jean was unhappy, and he hoped that if he got out of her way, they could both find some happiness in this life. I wanted to cry when he told me that.”
She did the hair thing again. Allie wanted to tell her to stop it, but she didn’t want to break the flow. “What else happened that day she came to see you?”
“It was confusing. She said she’d finally thought of a way to make him pay for all the years he’d cheated on her. Well, I knew that was bullshit too. Cord—well, I know Cord cared about someone once, but he would never do anything about it. I know that man like he’s my own flesh and blood, and he’s not a cheat. Anyway, she was convinced he was screwing everything in skirts in the county. I tried to get her to say she was going to shoot him or something. I figured that way I’d have something to tell Cord. Something definite. But she said shooting was too easy for him. She said she’d figured a way to make him pay the way he deserved. She said she hoped he lived a long life, because she was going to ruin him.”
“Why didn’t you come forward with this when she died?” Allie asked. She had to work to keep the censure out of her voice and her face.
“And tell who? Tell them what? That my lunatic daughter was threatening the sheriff? They would have laughed their asses off. Besides, I couldn’t think what she meant to do. I mean, how do you ruin a man with a shiny reputation like Cord’s?” she finished helplessly.
Allie knew. She knew exactly how Jean Arbutten had decided to make her husband pay. The only question was how she would prove it.
Chapter 20
Janet French’s words had brought it all together in Allie’s mind. It was almost the worst scenario possible, the worst being Cord or Rand as the killer. This was almost as bad, and she had no idea how to make anyone believe her.
She stopped by the newspaper, half-hoping to find Rand there, but he had left for the day. Allie spent a few minutes there talking to Tommy Saers and Holly Miller once she could calm their panic at the sight of her face. Myrna was right. They were both sharp kids. Right out of college and full of ideals. She hoped they could hang on to them for a while.
Alf Reed was there, hunched over his computer. He looked up when he heard Allie’s voice. She watched as he struggled to form his face into a smile, and she realized it was the first time she’d ever seen him a smile on his face that wasn’t mocking. “Hey, gal,” he called over to her. “Heard about your accident. I’m glad you’re okay.” She waited for the inevitable zinger, but it never came. Whatever Rand had said to him must have been good.
Myrna wasn’t at her desk, and Allie hadn’t seen her out front smoking. She went back into Rand’s office. Taking a sheet of paper and a pen she found there, she scrawled, “We need to talk,” and signed it “A.” She left it in the middle of his desk where he was sure to see it.
Then, there was nothing left to do. She took the 528 causeway back to the beach, watching behind her the entire time. She saw no cars that looked suspicious. It should have reassured her. Instead, it made her more nervous. She stopped by Rand’s house on the off chance that he’d be there, but the house was dark and silent. She was beginning to feel like she was the only person left on the planet.
Traffic on A1A dispelled that notion. A cruise ship must have pulled into port because the cars were bumper to bumper, every driver fighting to be in whatever lane he wasn’t already in. It reminded her of Atlanta at rush hour. It took her almost half an hour just to make it the one mile to her turnoff. She had hoped to get back home before Sheryl missed her, but she was batting zero in the luck department. When she pulled in front of the house, her front door opened, and Sheryl stood framed in the doorway. She didn’t look happy.
“I was gone for just a few minutes,” Allie said, breezing past her with as much grace as she could with every muscle in her body screaming.
Sheryl looked at her watch. “You were gone two hours and forty-five minutes. I was going to call and have you picked up, but I was afraid Sidney would intercept the call.” She followed Allie inside. “I know you have this fairy-tale kind of belief that you’re indestructible, but I woulda thought last night had taught you better. All I asked was that you stay here for a little while. I could have taken you anywhere you had to go if you’d just waited a couple of hours.”
Allie stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, and Sheryl bumped into her back. Allie felt like she’d been hit with a truck. She turned, and the sharp retort that had formed on her tongue died unspoken. Sheryl looked terrible. Allie could tell that she hadn’t slept. She remembered her reaction the night before just after she’d kicked the wall. Sheryl didn’t show emotion easily. Allie was one of the few people who had ever seen her cry, and that included Sheryl’s parents. She deserved a better friend than Allie.
Allie reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry. Really,” she insisted at Sheryl’s skeptical look. “I thought I could just run over there and talk to Janet, but then I wanted to see if I could find Rand. I stopped at the paper, but he wasn’t there. So then, I tried his house. Then, I came straight back here.”
“And for two hours and forty-five minutes, you were a walking, driving target.”
“I watched—”
“What would you have done if you’d seen him? Scream? Call a cop? You know what average response time is on a 9-1-1? Eighteen minutes. Eighteen goddamn minutes.”
“Last night—”
“Eighteen minutes unless we have a car right there in the area. You got lucky last night. We had two cars a couple of minutes from the bridge. That was luck. You can’t count on fucking luck. Not if you want to go on living.”
Allie sighed. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two diet sodas, handing one to Sheryl. She took hers to the dining room table and sat down. What could she say? Sheryl was right.
“Nothing on Sidney yet?” she asked.
“Not a goddamn thing. No one’s spotted him or heard from him. It’s as if he vanished off the face of the goddamn planet. The sheriff’s pulling his hair out.”
Allie remembered Janet French tearing at her hair. She’d heard the expression all her life, but it was the first time she’d ever seen anyone do it.
She could see that Sheryl was wound so tight she was likely to come unsprung if she didn’t do something to distract her. “Are you headed in to work?” she asked, even though Sheryl was in civilian clothes.
“Midnight tonight. I volunteered. I have a better chance to spot Sidney if I’m on a different schedule. He won’t be looking for me.”
Sheryl would have to get some sleep before that, but— “Want to go have lunch?”
“Where?” Sheryl asked, suspicious.
Allie smiled. “Lester’s?”
She could see Sheryl fighting it, but her lips widened into a grin. “What the hell.”
***
Allie was glad to see Del working behind the bar. She didn’t know exactly what was happening with Sheryl and him, just that something was. Maybe it was just frien
dship or some kind of weird macho mutual admiration thing. Whatever it was, if it made Sheryl happy, Allie was all for it.
Del was talking to a guy at the near end of the bar when they walked in, a bar towel slung across his shoulder. He broke off in mid-sentence when he saw them. The smile that started to his face froze when he looked at Allie. “God, gal, what happened to you?”
Allie’s hand went self-consciously to her face. She’d forgotten how bad she looked. It was a good thing he couldn’t see the rest of her body. She looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to her. She had a black stripe diagonally across her chest in the exact size and shape of her seatbelt. Her knee was fiery red and swollen where it had slammed into the driver’s side door. Even the bottoms of her feet were black. She hadn’t figured that one out yet.
“Accident,” Sheryl muttered without stopping.
Del beat them down to the other end of the bar. All the stools were taken. Del grabbed the glasses in front of the last two, tourist types, saying, “Gents, mind if I move you to a booth? The ladies need to sit down.”
The men turned to look behind them, and their eyes widened. Allie wasn’t sure if it was because of Sheryl—she often had that effect on men—or because of Allie’s battered face, but they scrambled off their stools without a word. They followed Del over to a booth, sneaking glances back at Sheryl and Allie as they went.
“Auto accident?” Del asked, coming back around the bar and stopping in front of Allie. “This isn’t related to that guy who’s been following you, is it?”
“Sort of,” Sheryl answered for her. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Allie looked at Sheryl in surprise. Was this her close-mouthed friend offering to fill someone in? This might be more serious than she’d thought.
Del nodded. “OK, so, what’ll it be?” he asked, looking from one to the other. “Bloody Marys? Cokes?”
“Cokes and food,” Sheryl answered for both. “I have to work tonight.”
“Well, I don’t,” Allie said. She turned back to Del. “I want a menu and—and a Grand Marnier.”
Del whistled. “The good stuff, huh?”
Sheryl frowned. “You taking that medicine?”
“Not since last night.”Allie sniffed at her. “I just want to see what all the excitement is about.”
As they waited for their drinks, Allie watched as Sheryl scanned the room. Her eyes never stopped moving. She’d check it out in the mirror, and then she would turn slightly on her stool until she had the entire room in her peripheral vision. Then, back to the mirror. Allie was sure she could have described every person in the room—height, weight, visible marks, clothing. It exhausted Allie just watching her. Didn’t she ever relax?
“See anyone we know?” Allie asked, trying to lighten the moment.
“Not yet,” Sheryl said. She glanced at Allie. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Del returned with two glasses. Sheryl’s was tall with ice. He put a soda can on the bar beside it. Allie’s was a tiny stemmed thing. She looked at it skeptically. “That’s all you get?”
Del grinned. “That’s all you need.”
He watched as Allie took a small sip, then burst out laughing at the look on her face.
“It’s—it’s good,” Allie said when she could get a word out. And strong, she could have added. Very, very strong. She felt the warmth slide down into her stomach and spread out to her fingertips and toes. She looked at Del and smiled. “It’s really good.”
Del nodded, satisfied. He put a menu and a glass of water in front of Allie. She opened the menu to share with Sheryl, but Del said, “She wants a mushroom-Swiss burger and fries.” Allie had to wonder just how much time Sheryl had been spending here.
Allie had another Grand Marnier while they ate. Now, she could understand why Janet French had asked for it specifically. It was kind of fiery and orange tasting. After the first sip, it went down more smoothly. By the time she finished the second one, all the aches in her body had quieted, and she was feeling good. Maybe she’d get a bottle for herself. For special occasions, of course.
Sheryl kept looking at her and shaking her head. “What?” Allie asked, but Sheryl said nothing.
When Del brought their check, Allie picked it up and looked at it. Their total was twenty-three dollars, and twelve dollars of that was for her two drinks. She tried to whistle, but it came out more a forced breath. “Good stuff,” she said with a lopsided grin for Sheryl.
Sheryl took her wallet from her and dropped two twenties on the bar. “You’re drunk as a skunk. Let’s go.”
Allie tried to pout, but her grin kept getting in the way. As they started for the door, it opened, and Marc Frederick walked in.
“Marc!” Allie called out across the room.
Silence. All conversation stopped, as everyone turned to look first at Marc, then back at Allie. She wasn’t that drunk. She felt her face turn scarlet.
The show got more interesting as Marc’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw Allie’s face. He didn’t exactly run across the room, but he didn’t walk, either. Allie tried not to wince as he grabbed her by both arms.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Everyone in the room waited for her answer, every head turned toward them, forty pairs of eyes fixed on her face. “I was in an auto accident. I’m fine.” Sort of.
She could feel the disappointment course through the room. One by one, the bar’s customers went back to what they were doing.
“You wanna take her home?” Sheryl said, stifling a yawn. “I gotta get some shut-eye before I go on duty.”
“Sure,” Marc said, his eyes never leaving Allie’s face.
“Don’t let her go anywhere by herself,” Sheryl added as they walked out of the bar. “If you have to leave, you call and let me know.”
Marc looked at Sheryl, then back at Allie. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain it to you,” Allie said, giving Sheryl a dirty look, but then she relented. She reached over and hugged her friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Sheryl. You go get some sleep now.”
“I will,” she said, looking embarrassed, “now that I know you have a watchdog.”
As soon as Marc handed Allie into the car and came around the driver’s side, he said, “What’s going on, Allie? What have you gotten yourself mixed up in this time?”
Allie sat back. “You sound exactly like my mother,” she said, looking over at him with a stony expression, “and I can tell you, that is not a good thing.”
Marc blew out a breath. “OK, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that—Jesus, Allie, you should see your face.”
“That’s nothing,” Allie said, snickering. “You should see the rest of me.”
***
He did. Every inch. That was after she’d filled him in on what was happening with the sheriff, Janet French, and Sidney.
Marc was stoic throughout her recital, even during the display of her bruises. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked finally.
“I’m all right enough,” Allie said. The drinks were wearing off, and her injuries were beginning to set up a chorus of complaints. “They’re just bruises. They look a lot worse than they feel.”
Liar!
They were sitting on the living room couch. Allie had re-dressed in a nightshirt.
Marc reached over and gently brushed the hair back from her face. “I worry about you, you know, and I’m afraid that this is how it will always be. You running off and trying to solve all the city’s crimes, and me stuck down in Miami scared to death of what you’re going to get into next.”
His words were kind, loving even. So why did they make Allie angry? “This wasn’t exactly a matter of my getting into things,” she said, striving for a reasonable tone, “any more than the Rupert Cornelius thing was my getting into something. I didn’t do a thing to bring him down on me. I was a target from the beginning.”
Marc sat back, looking at her evenly. “Maybe you were a target,
but, honey, you know you provoked him by asking all those questions.”
Allie moved away slightly. “I’m a reporter. Asking questions is what we do.”
“You weren’t a reporter then. Not officially,” he said when Allie started to speak. “I know you did it partially for me, and I’m grateful for that—”
“Just like Cord Arbutten is my friend. Should I just turn my head and pretend he isn’t being railroaded here?”
“I can understand that you’re going to keep asking questions,” Marc said, “even though I know Arbutten’s a cop and is probably a lot better able to take care of himself than you are. Still—” He held up a hand when she tried to break in. “Think about it. Sidney’s a dangerous man. He’s a cop, for God’s sake. Who better than him to know how to get to you? I don’t want to spend my life waiting for a call from Sheryl that you’ve been shot or run off a bridge by some lunatic.”
Allie heard his concern, but it didn’t touch her. “Then, we have a problem, don’t we?” she said coolly. “I’m a reporter, Marc. Some even call me an investigative reporter, and that means that I’m going to ask questions. Some people will resent those questions. Some might even try to run me off a bridge or shoot me.” She shuddered involuntarily.
“See, it scares you too.”
“Of course, it scares me,” Allie said sharply. “I’m not an idiot. I don’t want people trying to kill me, but it could happen to anyone in any profession. Even you—”
“I’m an architect, for God’s sake. Who’s going to try to kill me? A rabid interior designer?”
“Maybe,” Allie said, crossing her arms. “Or maybe a steel beam on a high rise or a car coming through an intersection.”
“It’s not the same thing at all,” Marc said angrily. “I’m not intentionally putting myself in danger. You are. You knew when you started asking questions about this that someone was going to get pissed.”
“I did not. I thought the woman shot herself. End of story. How was I to know that some nutso cop I played with as a kid would turn out to be some kind of wacko?”
LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2) Page 20