Deadly Melody

by Connie Mann

  He pulled into an empty parking space outside the two-story block building just past the downtown area of Safe Harbor. Two bay doors stood open, a car on each lift. Cat’s beige sedan—or Walt’s sedan, actually—sat alongside the building.

  He walked into the first bay and over to a guy wearing gray coveralls, covered in grease. “Hey, Cliff. How’s it going?”

  Cliff stood, wiped his hands on a filthy rag. “Nick. Good to see you. They just brought the car in.” He pointed to the side of the building.

  “I saw it, thanks. Just wanted to let you know I was here.” He glanced at the older man. “Anything unusual strike you when you picked it up?”

  “Only that whoever was driving it was dang lucky. The roof is a little dented, but it didn’t cave in when the car rolled down into the culvert. This could have been a lot worse. At least she was alone when it happened.” He shook his head in disgust. “People should know better than to drink and drive.”

  “I’ll go have a look,” Nick said and then walked around the building.

  Cliff was right. It was a wonder Cat had walked away without serious injury. The car wasn’t pretty. Walt would not be getting it back in the same condition as when he’d lent it.

  He studied it as he walked around it. The passenger side was dented, and the glass on the driver’s side door was missing. He ducked into the opening. The smell of tequila permeated the interior. The broken bottle was on the floorboard. He pulled on gloves and leaned halfway over the console to reach the piece of the bottle he was looking for, then held it up. The seal on the bottle was unbroken. If Cat had been drinking, it wasn’t from this bottle. He’d have to check where she had gone when she’d left the marina.

  He bagged the top of the bottle, just in case, and then circled the car again. He crouched by the rear tire. It was flat, but it hadn’t separated. A nail would more likely cause a slow leak than a catastrophic failure. He pulled out his flashlight for a closer look, trying to find whatever had caused her to lose control.

  It took a few minutes, but he finally found it. He took a picture with his cell phone, then borrowed a pair of pliers from Cliff and dug out the bullet lodged in the tire. He bagged it, then crouched down and found another bullet hole near the trunk. He popped the trunk and eyed the mess inside. The clasps on a small suitcase had popped open, and her clothes were strewn about. He eyed the clothes, surprised to find both a blonde wig and a red one among the T-shirts and jeans. The violin case was still closed. He lifted the lid, relieved to see the beautiful instrument appeared intact.

  Cat not only wore disguises, and used multiple names, which tripped all sorts of alarm bells in his head, but she had been leaving town—after he’d told her not to. He put his annoyance on ice as he searched the black interior with his flashlight, pushing clothes aside so he could see. He found the bullet lodged in the trunk’s interior wall.

  He dug that one out, as well, bagged it, and held it up to the light. When he compared the two, it was obvious they came from the same gun.

  He slammed the trunk, then scanned the interior of the car again, looking for anything he might have missed, but the car was immaculate. No trash or food wrappers or any of the detritus usually found in cars.

  He slowly circled the car one more time, just in case, thinking. Teddy Winston died of a heart attack for no apparent reason, Cat had gotten into it with known druggie Eddie Varga, and now Cat Johnson’s car had been shot at. What was the connection?

  Why was she in such a hurry to leave town?

  Was someone trying to keep her here—or shut her up for good?

  Cat couldn’t settle. She paced the small cell, trying to figure out how to get Nick to release her. She wouldn’t lie, but she couldn’t explain, either.

  She glared at the Gazette. Her picture taunted her, making her heart race and her palms sweat. Over the years, she’d tried to talk herself out of her caution, to tell herself that her worry was unfounded, that after so many years, her uncle would be over it and Garcia would have forgotten her name.

  Then she’d go to a public library and do an online search on Garcia, and inevitably, there would be another article about some law enforcement agency trying to build a case against him and the witness mysteriously dying. Once, the woman even died while in protective custody. No, she wasn’t exaggerating. By running off, she’d thwarted her uncle’s plan, which meant Garcia hadn’t gotten what he wanted—namely, her. No way would he just let that slide.

  In today’s technological age, did he already know where she was? She knew if he didn’t yet, he would soon. Any other assumption was just stupid, and Cat wasn’t stupid.

  The door to the station opened, and she heard voices from the main office area. She pushed closer to the bars, desperate to hear.

  “I am Rosa Martinelli. I want to see my daughter. She was in an accident.”

  Cat leaned her head against the bars, surprised by her sudden tears. Mama Rosa was still protecting her cubs, never mind how sick she was after months of cancer treatments.

  “She’s fine, Mrs. Martinelli.” This from Wanda, the dispatcher.

  “Then where is she?” Mama demanded. “I want to see her right now.”

  “She’s, ah, in the back. Nick, Officer Stanton, said he may have more questions for her.”

  “Then he can ask them at our home. Where is she? Through here?”

  Cat heard Mama’s voice getting closer and Wanda’s attempt to stop her. “Mrs. Martinelli, you can’t go back there. Only official personnel allowed.”

  Mama marched through the partially opened door and stopped, stunned. Blaze was right on her heels. Mama walked up to the cell and reached her hands through to squeeze Cat’s hands. “Oh, my girl. Are you all right?” She patted Cat’s cheek. “I will take care of this.” Mama turned on Wanda. “How dare you put my baby in a cage. Unlock this door right now.”

  Just then, Nick walked into the police station and, at a nod from Wanda, headed in their direction. Cat’s heart skipped an involuntary beat when she caught sight of him across the room. How could his mere presence ease her anxiety at the same time his cop instincts scared her to death?

  Mama turned on him. “Why did you put Cat in this cell? You let her out right this minute.”

  Nick walked over, leaned down, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hello, Mrs.—Mama Rosa,” he corrected and then took her arm to turn her toward his desk, but she was having none of it. She planted her feet, leaned heavily on her cane.

  “It’s good to see you up and around.” He smiled at Blaze. “Good to see you, too, Blaze. Why don’t we talk over here?” He indicated a chair in front of his desk.

  Mama glanced at her, and Cat smiled. “It’s OK, Mama. I can hear from here.”

  Nick scowled at that, but Mama slowly followed him. She set her cane next to the chair, folded her hands over a black leather purse the size of a laundry basket, and then speared him with a hard glance. “Do not talk around me, Nick. If she was in an accident, why is she locked up? Let her go.”

  Cat strained to hear his response. “Mama Rosa, she was apparently on her way out of town when she lost control of her car. Did you know she was leaving?”

  “Of course I did. She’d just said goodbye to all of us.”

  “Had she been drinking?”

  “What? No, not my Cathy. Why do you ask?”

  “There was alcohol everywhere in the car, including on her.”

  “She had a bottle of tequila in the car. Maybe it broke,” Blaze said.

  Mama’s eyes flew to Cat, then to Blaze. “Why did she have tequila?” Mama asked, surprised.

  “I don’t know. But she wasn’t drinking. You know that, Nick. You just saw her a little while ago.”

  “Maybe she stopped somewhere after she left.”

  “I didn’t,” Cat called from her cell.

  Nick turned an annoyed glance her way. He blew out a breath, then stood. “Wait here.”

  When he walked toward her, brown eyes steady
on hers, Cat had to look away, afraid he would see too much, would somehow know what was going on in her head. He stopped in front of the cell.

  “I wasn’t drinking. The bottle broke when I crashed.”

  He looked away, then back at her. Nodded once. “I found the top of the bottle. The seal was intact.”

  “Then you know I’m telling the truth.”

  His steady gaze made her want to squirm. “I think you’ve told me select pieces of the truth. But I don’t think you’ve told me nearly the whole story.” He folded his arms over that impressive chest and settled in as though waiting for her to fill him in. He’d have a very long wait.

  “You’re making more of this than there is. The other officer drew some wrong conclusions, that’s all.”

  “Someone shot out your rear tire. And into your trunk.”

  Cat felt the color drain from her face and carefully masked any further reaction, but she could see his gaze sharpen. She had to tread lightly here. “Shot at my car? Why would someone do that?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. What kind of trouble are you in, Cat—and did it follow you to Safe Harbor?”

  Cat gripped the bars. Hearing him put her greatest fear into words almost buckled her knees. She went on the offensive instead. “What kind of a question is that? I came home to play for Eve’s wedding. That’s all. If somebody took potshots at my car, you should be looking at which local teens get off on stuff like that.” Her chin came up. “Now please let me out of here. You have no grounds to hold me, and you know it. Do I need to get a lawyer involved?” It was a total bluff, since she’d never risk such a thing—never mind not having the money to afford one—but it had the desired effect.

  He narrowed his eyes, then took a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the cell door, holding it open. “Your car is at Cliff’s Garage.” He reached into his pocket again and held up her car keys. “If I give these back, are you going to stay put for a couple more days?”

  Cat snatched the keys from his hand, then looked him right in the eye. “You have no legitimate reason to make such a demand. You’re fishing, and I am not obligated to hang around while you do. Have a nice day, Officer.”

  She marched out of the cell with a show of confidence she didn’t feel and went over to where Mama Rosa and Blaze waited. “Thanks for coming to spring me,” she said, then kissed Mama’s cheek and helped her to her feet.

  Mama swayed slightly, her pace slowing with every step. Cat hated that she’d spent her energy having to come down here. “Why don’t I drive us home,” she said. At Mama’s nod, Cat tucked her into the passenger seat while Blaze climbed in back. Mama was asleep before they left the outskirts of town.

  Chief Monroe walked into the station not long after Cat and her family left. Nick sat in his chair, trying to figure out who would have shot out her tires. He studied the bullets, took pictures, and used a search engine to try to match the gun they came from.

  “Nick, what’s this I hear from Cliff that somebody plugged a couple shots into the Martinelli girl’s car?”

  Nick stood, eyed the chief, wondering how the man always knew what was going on in town without actually spending more than a few minutes at the station every day. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “Now why would somebody do that?” Monroe crossed his arms. “That girl’s always been trouble. Where’s she living these days?”

  “Nashville.”

  “I’d check around, see if anyone has seen any strangers in town, someone who doesn’t belong. Chances are some lowlife from up that way followed her here.” He glanced toward the cell. “Hopefully, she’s on her way out of town.”

  Nick decided not to mention that he’d told her to stay. He clenched his jaw. Though he’d bet his pension she was already headed for the county line.

  He couldn’t decide if that made him mad or glad, which only annoyed him further.

  He went back to the search engine, looking for connections.

  Chapter 13

  Once they got Mama Rosa settled in her favorite rocker on the porch, Cat steeled herself and walked down to the marina to talk to Sasha and Jesse.

  Cat found Sasha sitting on a stool behind the counter, updating the books. She looked up in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

  Cat wasn’t sure if that was a good surprise or not, but Sasha’s face gave nothing away.

  While she debated what to say, Sasha looked closer, frowned. “What happened to you? You look rough.”

  “I had an accident, but I’m fine. Just banged up a little.” She decided to skip the part about someone shooting at her. Her sister didn’t need that kind of worry. “But, my car is, ah, at Cliff’s. I was wondering if you could give me a ride over. I need a new tire.”

  Without hesitation, Sasha stood, then rubbed her lower back. “Do you have a spare?”

  Cat eyed Sasha’s growing belly, and another pang of fear gripped her. Nothing must ever happen to this baby because of her.

  She focused on the question, tried to remember. “I think so. I’m borrowing the car from a friend, so honestly I never checked.” She shrugged.

  “Seriously? You drove all the way from Nashville without knowing if you have a spare?”

  Cat narrowed her eyes at Sasha. “Like you would have checked?”

  They stared each other down, then Sasha huffed out a breath. “You’re right. Not usually. Just this pregnancy thing has made me a lot more cautious.” She eyed Cat. “Let me get Pop or Jesse. You’ll need help with the lug nuts.”

  Within a few minutes, Jesse pulled into Cliff’s parking lot and helped Sasha climb out of the cab of his pickup. Cat followed, happy to let Jesse do the male bonding thing with Cliff.

  Once they had the old tire in the bed of the truck, they headed over to Barry’s Quality Cars to buy a new tire from Captain Barry.

  He walked out of the bays and into the office, a smile of greeting on his face. It was replaced by a scowl when he saw them. “Don’t tell me someone’s been slashing your tires again, Claybourne.”

  Cat had heard about someone doing that, right after Jesse showed up in town.

  Jesse’s expression didn’t change. “Nope. But we do need a new tire for Cat’s car.” He rattled off a series of numbers.

  Captain Barry narrowed his eyes, shrugged. “Those are not standard-size tires. It’s going to cost you.”

  Cat’s anxiety went up another notch. “How much?”

  Captain Barry chewed the inside of his lip, then named a figure.

  “That’s way too much,” Jesse protested. “Come on, Barry. What are you doing?”

  Cat looked from one to the other, trying to decipher the undercurrents in the room. She knew about Captain Roy dying in the explosion when Jesse saved Sasha’s life, so maybe Barry blamed Jesse. All the marina captains were longtime friends. But she’d also heard the captains were pretty riled up that Jesse planned to start a boat racing team in Safe Harbor.

  “That’s fine. I’ll take it.” Cat did not want to stir up any bad blood or make things hard for Sasha and Jesse after she left. She just needed a new tire so she could get out of town.

  She pulled out her wallet, counted. Then recounted. She didn’t have enough. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to figure out what to do.

  Jesse stepped up beside her, handed a wad of cash to Barry. “Go ahead and mount and balance it, too.”

  Barry didn’t say anything, just rang up the sale and disappeared into the back. A young man in coveralls took the old tire from Jesse’s pickup and went into the bay.

  “Thank you, Jesse,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you back right away.”

  Jesse smiled, and Cat understood why Sasha had fallen for him. He had a great smile, but it was his heart that made you love him. “No hurry. Whenever you get to it is fine.”

  “I need to find a restroom,” Sasha said and hurried away.

  As soon as she disappeared, Jesse speared Cat with a look.
“Cliff said a bullet put that hole in the tire.”

  Cat met his eyes, saw the worry there. “That’s what I hear.”

  “What kind of trouble are you in, Cat? Sasha doesn’t need—”

  Cat interrupted before he could finish. “I know. The minute the tire is on the car, I’m out of here. And I won’t be back.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” He looked at her. “Whatever it is, stay. We can help.”

  Cat’s eyes filled at his easy offer. If he only knew how much she wanted to be part of a family like that, with people who would jump in to help at a moment’s notice. But she couldn’t let herself get that close. She cared too much to put them at risk. “Thank you, Jesse. You’re a good man, and your offer means the world. But I can’t stay. I wish I could.”

  He reached into his wallet again, pulled out some more cash, and pushed it into her hands. “Pay me back next time you’re in town, OK?”

  Cat wanted to protest, but she couldn’t. She nodded, tucked the cash into her pocket. “Thank you. Sasha is lucky to have you.”

  He grinned, and Cat saw the love in his eyes. “I’m lucky to have her.”

  At that moment, Sasha walked in, came over, and kissed his cheek. “And don’t you forget it,” she said with a smile.

  Seeing them, their easy way with each other, the way Jesse put a protective arm around her and the baby, hit Cat with a longing that burned like fire. Not only to be part of a big extended family but to have a man of her own who loved her enough to have a baby with her.

  Nick’s face popped into her head, but she shoved it away. He was the very last person she’d ever risk getting involved with.

  Within a few minutes, the young man put the new tire in the pickup, and Jesse drove them back to Cliff’s Garage. “Let me go talk to Cliff,” Jesse said, and Cat watched in astonishment as the older man offered to put the tire on for her.

  She and Sasha stood by the truck. The silence stretched. It didn’t have the open hostility of the past, but it was still . . . awkward. And Cat had absolutely no idea how to bridge it. How did she make things right, explain and apologize about all those years ago, without saying too much? Sasha and Jesse had been through enough. With the baby, she didn’t want to give her anything else to worry about.