“Fine, if you want to talk rules, then I have a few of my own.”
“What are they?”
“Ladies first.” He grinned, quite pleased with himself.
“You think you always have to get the last word, don’t you?” I asked, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser on the table. “Do you have a pen?”
“What for?”
“We’re putting this in writing.”
He laughed as he handed me an ink pen. “Is this a contract?”
“Of sorts. When we first met, you claimed you weren’t a man of your word. You’ve proved otherwise, but I feel a need for backup.” I started writing. “We, Rose Gardner and James Malcolm—”
His hand descended on mine.
“It’s your name, right? That’s what I’m calling you from now on, so get used to it. No more yoke of shame”—I snatched my hand loose— “agree to the following. Number one, we are equals and partners.” I glanced back at him, grinned at the scowl on his face, then returned my attention to the paper. “Number two, we share information even if we think it will hurt the other person.”
He leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and nodded solemnly. I suspected he didn’t think much could hurt him, so for him it was an easy concession.
“Three, we don’t solve a situation with violence unless we have no other choice.”
I glanced up, expecting an argument, but he simply nodded again.
“No argument?”
“When we’re working together? No. I’ll go your way.”
“Why?”
He didn’t uncross his arms, but his expression softened. “Because you couldn’t live with yourself otherwise, and I won’t ask you to compromise your principles.”
“But you’re . . .”
“A criminal?”
It was no secret, but we often glossed over his illegal activities.
“Let’s just say I’ve doing a lot of thinking lately,” he finally said. “I’m considering some restructuring.”
“What does that mean?”
“What that means has no relation to this agreement.” He sat up. “What else?”
I gave him a worried glance, then straightened my back. “Number four, we’re just friends.”
“Damn straight,” he said. “You had your chance at a business partnership, and you passed.” He winked. “Besides, what would your boyfriend think of you partnering up with a crime lord?”
A now familiar pain seized my heart, but there was no way I was going to tell Skeeter that Mason and I had broken up. I couldn’t help tearing up, so I kept my gaze on the list.
“I have one,” he said, his tone light. “I do the driving.”
“What?” I asked, snapping out of my funk. “You think I’m incapable of driving? You let Jed drive!”
“But Jed’s my underling. Are you saying you want to negate rule number one?” He tilted his head and grinned. “Fine, we’ll share the driving.” He pointed to the napkin. “Go on. Write it down.”
We worked our way through a list of thirty-five rules, some ridiculous, some important—Rule #16, that I was only allowed to take part in illegal activities if absolutely necessary, was included at Skeeter’s insistence.
“I’ve already got a criminal past, Rose. So if I get arrested, I’ll take whatever punishment Carter can’t get me out of.”
Just when I thought we were done, Skeeter took the napkin from me and wrote “Rule #36: Rose’s safety comes first. Always.”
“That’s hardly fair,” I said after I read it.
“Rose, give me this one concession. I gave you Rule #27: no complaining if you have to stop to pee.”
“That’s different, James.”
His eyes lit up. “I’m being a gentleman, and everyone knows that in the South, being a gentleman is more important than any contract.”
“No one ever accused you of bein’ a gentleman, James Malcolm,” I teased.
He shrugged. “Maybe Skeeter Malcolm is incapable of it, but that doesn’t mean James Malcolm is, too.”
But I knew that to be false. He’d been a perfect gentleman to me multiple times.
Before I realized what he was doing, he signed his name at the bottom. James Daniel Malcolm. For some reason, it brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because he was sitting in front of me as himself, and I knew the list of people who ever saw him like this was probably nonexistent.
He handed me the pen, and I signed my name next to his. Rose Anne Gardner. Suddenly the napkin reminded me of the list I’d written on a hot May night long ago. The list that had set the wheels of change in motion. Only, I’d made that one alone.
I tried not to think of the significance of that as I folded the napkin and carefully tucked it into my coat pocket. “We’ll find someplace safe to keep this.”
He nodded, then leaned forward. “Now that we’re partners, I’ll do some digging into Kate Simmons. See if I can find her bank accounts. See if there was a major withdrawal.”
“You can do that?”
He shrugged. “You just have to know the right people.”
Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Maybe his connections would help me solve another mystery.
“Do you think you can find me someone who can read shorthand?” I blurted out.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Remember me telling you about the book of evidence my birth mother had?”
“Joe Simmons took it.”
“Yeah, but a photocopy of one of the pages was hidden in a safe at the factory. Mason’s mother used to know shorthand, so we gave it to her to decipher. But she’s forgotten most of it, and even though she bought a book to help, she’s makin’ slow progress. All we know is that it mentions something about a bank account, a shed, the police chief, and a key.” I paused. “We found a key taped under one of Henry Buchanan’s desk drawers.”
“You think a journal from twenty-five years ago is gonna help us now?”
“I don’t know, but several people have died over that journal—it has to be important. Not for a minute do I believe the police chief’s death was a coincidence,” I said, prepared to fight him over it.
He held up his hands, palms forward. “Whoa. Wait a minute. What police chief’s death?”
“This happened about a week or so after J.R. came to Henryetta and threatened Dora in person. She went to see Henry Buchanan in his office with her baby—me—in her arms. According to her journal, she made a real ruckus and told him about J.R.’s threats. When he refused to do anything, she took off, but the factory burned down only days after that. Dora and Henry supposedly went to the police chief, Bill Niedermier, who said he was going to investigate the evidence they had on J.R., but he was murdered before anything came of it. Then my mother died in a car accident, and Henry hung himself.”
Skeeter’s eyes hardened. “Something stinks here.”
“I know for a fact that Beverly killed Dora. She confessed in the factory, but she swore she didn’t have anything to do with the police chief’s death, and I believe that Henry killed himself.”
“So Simmons had the police chief killed so his involvement would stay buried.”
“Or in this case, taped underneath a baby bed for twenty-five years.”
“We need the book.”
I shook my head. “I have no earthly idea where it could be, but the page is at least a start.”
He studied my plate as though it held the secrets of life before he lifted his gaze to mine. “Okay, I’ll ask my bookkeeper. She knows anything from me is strictly hush-hush. She’ll find the right person.”
I should have come to Skeeter in the first place, but there was no denying that Mason was the reason I hadn’t. It was further confirmation that I’d made the right decision to break up with him. I was going to do everything it took to bring J.R. Simmons to his knees and castrate him, and that was going to require some outside-the-law scheming.
My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I
dug it out, cringing when I saw the name on the screen. I glanced into Skeeter’s guarded eyes. “It’s Joe.”
“What’s your gut instinct on that? Answer or let it go to voice mail?”
“After what went on at the square, he’ll waste time and manpower if he thinks I’m in danger.”
He gave a curt nod. “Answer it.”
I hit accept and tried to sound breezy. “Hey, Joe.”
“Rose, where are you?” He sounded anxious and exhausted.
I glanced at Skeeter. “Out.”
“A lot’s been going on downtown, some of it close to your office.”
“Well, no need to be worried. I’m not there.”
“I think someone is after you again. And I think it has to do with my father.”
“Why would you think that?”
He paused. “Because my father escaped tonight.”
Joe was only confirming what Skeeter had already surmised, but a shiver still ran down my back.
“How did your dad escape?” I asked, locking eyes with Skeeter.
His face hardened.
“During the transfer. They were ambushed while they were unloading him from the ambulance in front of the county jail. Two deputies and an EMT were shot.”
“Oh, God,” I choke out. “Who were the deputies?”
“I’m not allowed to say until we’ve notified the next of kin.”
“Who were the deputies, Joe?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Rose.”
“Is Randy Miller okay?”
He hesitated. “He’s in the hospital. Last I heard, they were taking him to surgery, but they aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
“Why are you asking about Randy?”
Of course. He had no idea that we were friends. “He’s always been so nice to me. I hate that this happened to him.”
“I’d love to spare the manpower to watch you, but I’m—”
“I’m fine.”
“Mason’s still at his office. I know you two are fighting right now, but maybe you should go stay with him anyway.”
“Yeah,” I said, resting my forehead on my hand. “I’ll give him a call.”
“Rose, whatever you do, be careful. I know I don’t have to tell you that my father is dangerous.”
“Thanks.” I hung up and put my phone on the table.
“A friend of yours get hurt?”
I sucked in a breath and wiped tears from the corners of my eyes. “Yeah. He’s in surgery.” I gave him a hard look. “How ironic that I’m friends with people on both sides of the law. You. Jed. Randy. Joe. Mason.” My voice broke on Mason’s name. “You’re all sworn enemies, but I’d be devastated if anything happened to any of you.”
“It’s like I told you in the Gems parking lot when it was burning to the ground. You don’t see black and white. You see gray. People aren’t all good and bad. You have a way of bringing out the good.”
I shook my head, thinking of J.R. Simmons, who didn’t have a good bone in his body. “No. Not with everyone.”
“Most people. That’s what I like most about you . . . other than your determination to do what you think is right, even if everyone else around you thinks you’re wrong. And the fact that you stand your ground, even with a scary asshole like me. You’re a woman of principles who wants to do the right thing.” He slid out of the booth and stood, surprising me by tossing a hundred dollar bill on the table. “Let’s go do the right thing.”
As he ushered me out of the diner, I kept thinking about that hundred-dollar bill he’d left for the waitress in the restaurant he owned.
And I wondered if he was more like me than he thought.
Chapter 12
Skeeter wanted to go to his safe house, but after I told him about the duffel bag, we drove past the alley, slowing down to take in the fire fighters and police swarming the alley.
“There’s no way we can get in there and get the bag,” I said. “Unless you have someone on your payroll who works for the fire department.”
“I do, but not someone close enough to trust with this.”
I spun around to look at him. “I was kidding.”
He remained silent.
“So what do we do?”
“The bag might be a lost cause, but maybe that’s not such a big deal. You already saw everything that’s in it, right?”
“Yeah, but not in great detail. But there was one file I hadn’t seen before.” I glanced at him again. “A file on Joe’s old housekeeper.”
“Roberta?”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know her?”
“Yeah. Everyone loved Roberta. She was like the grandmother everyone wanted.”
“I know Joe loved her,” I said. “He told me she taught him how to cook.”
“It was probably lonely to grow up a Simmons. From what I saw, she and Joe were close.”
“Do you know why she left?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I was back in Fenton County by then, but once I heard, I checked into it. Apparently, it was very abrupt. I heard she’d left a note saying it was time for her to move on, but she’d given no notice whatsoever. She’d never even hinted that she was leaving. I heard the whole household was in an uproar after she left.”
“Oh, my word. Did J.R. kill her?”
“No. Once I heard about her departure, I tracked her down in Memphis. She was scared to death to see me. She told me she’d been keeping her mouth shut, just like J.R. had told her to.”
“Keeping her mouth shut about what?”
“She wouldn’t say, but when I assured her that I would help her, she pretended like she’d never been scared at all and made me stay for dinner.”
“She knew who you were and what you did,” I murmured. “If she thought you were there to hurt her, then why would she invite you to dinner?”
“I assured her that no one would ever hurt her if I could help it.” His voice hardened. “And I meant every word.”
“You were willing to disobey J.R.?”
“J.R. was like the father I’d always wanted. He knew how to play that to his advantage. But I was startin’ to see him for who he was.”
“Is Roberta still alive?”
“No,” he said softly. “She died from congestive heart failure about two years ago. She died in her sleep.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t foul play?” I asked. “Why else would Kate have a file on her housekeeper who died two years ago? When did it happen?”
“September, I think.”
“September two years ago?” I said, turning in my seat to face him. “Joe said Kate disappeared in the early fall that year. She was living in Little Rock, and then she just up and vanished to California . . .” My eyes widened. “Without a word to anyone.”
Skeeter cast me a sideways glance. “Are you suggesting Kate Simmons killed her old housekeeper eleven years after she left?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. But I am saying the timing is very coincidental.”
He was quiet for a moment. “We could ask her granddaughter if she thinks something happened, but she never hinted that she suspected foul play when I saw her at the funeral.”
“You went to Roberta’s funeral?”
He squirmed in his seat. “I visited her at least once a month.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
There was so much I didn’t know about this man. So much he kept hidden. “I think that’s sweet.”
“Sweet?” he asked in dismay. “There’s not one sweet thing about me, not even a sweet tooth. It was for purely selfish reasons. She fed me a home-cooked dinner every first Tuesday of the month.”
Yeah, right. “You know her granddaughter’s name? You know how to contact her?”
“Her name is Anna Miller, but I lost contact with her about six months ago. I have no idea where she is.”
“I do,” I sa
id, gasping in shock. “I know exactly where to find her.”
“Where?” he asked in disbelief.
“Right under our noses.” When he gave me a questioning glance, I added, “She works at my nursery.”
He pulled to a stop at a street corner and turned to face me. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“No. Violet hired her right after we reopened the nursery. She’d just moved to Henryetta, but she didn’t say why. She said she was from Mississippi.” I gasped. “I was covering for Violet in the shop a couple of weeks ago, and Hilary walked in. Anna kept her distance and acted nervous. Then Hilary saw her and got a funny look. She left in a bit of a hurry. Would Hilary know her?”
“I don’t see how. I don’t think Roberta ever even mentioned her family in that house, which is understandable. She was a smart woman. I’m fairly certain she only stayed with the family as long as she did because of the Simmons kids. She loved those kids, but she wasn’t about to risk the safety of her own children and grandchild.”
“So why is Anna here in Henryetta? It’s not exactly the kind of place people move to on a lark. She’s got a purpose, and it has to do with the Simmons family.”
“Agreed.”
“One more thing, Skeeter,” I said, and he cast a glance in my direction. “Anna hates me. She’s sweet to everyone else, but she doesn’t bother to hide the fact that she doesn’t like me.”
“Why would you keep her as your employee if she’s disrespectful?”
“I rarely work at the nursery, and Violet really likes her.” I shrugged. “As long as she’s doin’ a good job, there’s no reason to let her go. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“No. Let me do it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You? Do you think scaring her is the best way to go about it?”
“Who says I’m gonna scare her?”
“Have you seen yourself?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “You’re intimidating.”
He grunted. “She knows me. And I know what to ask. I’m the one who should talk to her.”
“Fine, but we need to come up with some kind of plan.” I looked around at the landscape. “Where are we going?”
“I told you. The safe house.”
“This isn’t the way. It’s south of town.”
Thirty-Six and a Half Motives: Rose Gardner Mystery #9 (Rose Gardner Mystery Series) Page 11