Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas)

by Mari Manning

  “If you’ve moved on, why are you here?”

  A twinge of discomfort passed through Dinah. Where had it come from? She glanced back at the street, but the narrow slice she could see was quiet.

  Maybe Hollyn sensed Dinah’s uneasiness because she came clean on her story. “My boyfriend ditched me at the gas station off the highway yesterday. I don’t have anywhere to go, and even if I did, I don’t have any money.”

  Me, too.

  “What about your parents? Where are they?” Maybe she could shame a little more cash out of Teke for a bus ticket.

  The girl shook her head. “They threw me out. Called me a slut, and my daddy hit me in the stomach.” The girl rested her hands on her belly. “Thought I was going to lose my baby.”

  A self-righteous anger exploded in Dinah. This girl—barely more than a child, really—should be with her family, not wandering the streets. What kind of parents treated their child like this? Then she remembered her father was a convicted thief and her mother had abandoned her right after the trial, leaving Dinah to fend for herself. Her own parents were the kind.

  She and Hollyn were sisters under the skin.

  A single tear shimmered in Hollyn’s innocent blue eyes. “If I could find a place to stay. Just for a week or maybe less. I know I can find a job or something.”

  It seemed unlikely anyone in town would hire a girl about to give birth. But Dinah couldn’t leave her. She rose to her feet and held out her hand.

  “Come on, girl. You can stay with me until we figure out what to do with you.” Two mouths to feed. She’d have to come up with a legal, but free, way to advertise ASAP. But she’d manage. She always did.

  Hollyn scrambled to her feet and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Thank you, Miss Dinah. And don’t you worry, I’m used to working hard. I can cook and clean, do laundry, pull weeds, feed the chickens, you name it.”

  Dinah laughed. “That’s a lot for a girl who’s about to have a baby. When are you due?”

  “About a month, I think.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s get some lunch in you, honey lamb.” Dinah followed Hollyn along the narrow walkway. “There’s a free clinic in town—” She stopped as the street came into view. “What the hell?” Dinah’s quiet little neighborhood was quiet no more. She had visitors.

  The color drained from Hollyn’s face. “Looks like the police are at your house, Miss Dinah.”

  Not just the police. Rafe Morales was leaning against a police cruiser, arms crossed, gazing at her house as if she’d emerge if he stared hard enough. Parked in front of the cruiser was a familiar white pickup.

  “Are you in trouble, Miss Dinah?”

  “No.” But someone is about to be. “Come on.”

  Dinah stormed home. When Rafe saw her, he straightened up. His open expression faded into a frown as she closed in on him. But Rafe wasn’t Dinah’s target. It was the man unhitching the white pickup with Brenner Engineering & Construction emblazoned on the side.

  “Uh, Dinah. Wait—” Rafe tried to stop her as she blew past him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  A head covered with brown curls lifted from a toolbox. Twinkling blues eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses smiled at her. Jamey Brenner. The only boy—no, the only kid—in El Royo who’d helped her that awful day. Hoots from her classmates had greeted her when she emerged from the quarry, her head clear, her pain temporarily in check. Hoots and Jamey Brenner holding a blanket up. He’d wrapped it around her and walked with her through the crowd to her car. He’d been kind—too kind—to the newest bad girl in town, and she hated that she’d needed him that day.

  “Hey, D-d-dinah. How ya’ll d-d-doin’?” He’d always stuttered when he was nervous. She could smell it on him now. She hated herself, but she didn’t want his charity. She was just fine on her own.

  “Why are you here, Jamey?” Against her will, Dinah’s voice softened.

  He nodded at the roof. “Had some extra t-time, and I heard that—”

  “I asked him to take a look at your roof.” Rafe’s voice was low and close. It held a cut-the-crap warning. “Seemed like there was more rain inside than outside last night.”

  She spun on him. Stress pulled at the corners of his eyes, and his tongue worried the inside of his cheek. Dark stubble covered his face.

  “I never said—”

  “I said. Unless you want me to call the village and have your house condemned.”

  “No!” It was the only thing of value she had in the world. If it was condemned, she’d be out on the streets stealing food with Hollyn.

  “In that case, kindly apologize to Jamey for your poor manners and allow him to get on with his work.”

  How was she going to pay for the patched roof? She couldn’t afford to buy a box of nails.

  “And while you’re at it,” said Rafe, “you might as well thank him, too, since he is doing this as a favor to a former friend.”

  When had she turned into such a bitch? “I’m sorry, Jamey. I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes.”

  Jamey shrugged. “It’s okay.” But she’d let him down. He bent over his toolbox again.

  “I really am sorry. Honest. Look, I’d be grateful if you’d come on in after you look at the roof. I was just about to fix up a pitcher of sweet tea.”

  “Mayb-b-be.”

  Hollyn, who was half-hiding behind an overgrown catclaw bush caught Rafe’s attention. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he called out. “Come on over.”

  The blood drained from Hollyn’s face. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she baby-stepped slowly and reluctantly toward Rafe. Poor thing. She probably thought he was going to arrest her for stealing groceries.

  Dinah rode to the rescue. “She’s my housekeeper.”

  Hollyn’s eyes flashed with relief.

  Rafe’s mouth curled up. “Really.” She liked the way he looked when he smiled.

  “Is that against the law, too, Officer?” The corner of her mouth quirked up. She’d bet a jar of peanut butter he had a good sense of humor.

  His smile deepened, revealing his dimples, and his dark eyes warmed as they met hers. “Not yet, Miss Dinah.” Then he turned away from her and studied Hollyn. “Weren’t you at the crime scene this morning?”

  “Crime scene?” asked Jamey.

  “Crime scene?” Dinah echoed his shock. Despite the hot day, she shivered.

  “An old drunk guy fell over this little bridge in the park,” said Hollyn.

  “What were you doing there?” Rafe asked her.

  “I saw a crowd, so I went over to see what happened. It was horrible.” Hollyn pressed a hand to her chest. “I almost fainted from the terrible smell.”

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You ever seen that man before?”

  Hollyn shook her head. “No, sir. I just got into town this morning.” She studied her torn sneaker and the toe poking out. “Heard one guy say he fell off the bridge ‘cause he was drunk. Is it true?”

  “It’s still under investigation.” Rafe fished a small notebook out of his shirt pocket. “In the meantime, we’re interviewing everyone who might have seen something suspicious. Can I get your full name and date of birth?”

  “What for?” Hollyn’s eyes widened with alarmed. Not surprising. Today’s grocery caper was probably not her first. “I told you. I just got here this morning.”

  “Just routine.”

  Hollyn pressed a hand against her forehead and swayed. “I’m feeling a little faint. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  Dinah scrambled over to her. “How stupid of me. Let’s get you inside. It’s cool in the living room. You can lie down while I fix you a sandwich.”

  “Dinah.” It was Rafe..

  “Don’t you want to know who died?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You tell me. It was Teke Cruz.”

  Jamey’s eyes widened in shock. Dinah staggered backward. The world began to spin around her. />
  Hollyn’s arm slid around her waist. “Are you okay, Miss Dinah?”

  Dinah shook her head. “No.”

  Teke was dead? He’d been as nervous as a cat in heat last night, looking over his shoulder, jumping at every sound. She’d told him he was crazy. If only she’d taken him more seriously, asked a few more questions. But she didn’t have the stolen money. Of course, he hadn’t had the money either. At least not when he left her house. So why would anyone want to kill him? Dumb question. At least one person in El Royo had a motive, maybe the best motive ever: Dinah herself, and it was a doozy—revenge.

  …

  “Teke Cruz, huh?” Jamey whistled softly. “You think it has something to do with Dinah?”

  “Maybe.” Rafe studied the Pittman bungalow. White paint peeled off the sides in long sheets and the dark blue shutters, which had crescent moons carved into the panels, hung askew. Gaps where shingles had blown away dotted the sloping roof where it extended past the dormers. Buffalo grass sprang from the front lawn’s hard-packed dirt. Why had she come back?

  El Royo’s other police cruiser rolled past Rafe and parked at the curb. Swope poked his skinny head out the window.

  “Heard you call in the Pittman place and thought maybe you could use some help.” He grinned at Rafe. His teeth looked buttercup yellow in the sunlight.

  “Just conducting routine interviews concerning Teke Cruz’s death, Swope. Don’t need any assistance.”

  “Think she offed him?”

  “I just started the investigation. It’s too early for conclusions.”

  Swope glanced up at the house. “Is she in there?”

  “Why?”

  “Told you this morning. I plan on getting me some of that. Have you seen her in those jeans? That’s some fine ass.” He flashed another yellowy grin.

  Jamey’s ladder clattered to the ground.

  “Get back to the business district, Swope. Before dispatch starts looking for you.”

  The cruiser door swung open, and Swope got out. He hitched up his pants and adjusted his gun belt. “How about you help a buddy out, Morales? You take the business district. Let me interview her. I swear I’ll have her singing like a canary before we get down to personal business.” He winked at Rafe.

  “Fuck this.” Jamey muttered the words as he launched himself at Swope.

  Rafe managed to grab his shirt collar and pull him back.

  Swope raised his hands in the air and feigned shock. “Whoa, whoa. You just threatened a police officer.”

  “I’m defending a great human being and a good friend.”

  Swope stepped back. “Hey, I’m just looking for a little action, Brenner. I bet there’s plenty of her to go around.”

  Jamey strained against Rafe’s hand. “Let me go. I don’t c-c-care if I go to jail.”

  “Get back in your cruiser, Swope, and get out of here.”

  Swope’s eyes swept past Rafe to Jamey’s flushed face, then up at the bungalow. “Maybe I’ll come back tonight after my shift. Lonely gal like that will be glad for some male company.” He slid into the cruiser. “I’ll let you all know how it goes.”

  Jamey tried to shake off Rafe. “He has no right to talk about her that way.”

  The cruiser pulled away from the curb, and Jamey turned on Rafe. Anger stained his cheeks, and his eyes blazed. “I thought you were a decent guy, Morales. What kind of man lets another man talk that way about a lady?”

  Was Dinah a lady? He didn’t recall any loose talk about her except for the naked dive into the quarry, but it was hardly the behavior of a modest, traditional girl. The kind he was going to marry. Someday.

  Lady or not, it was a free country, and Jamey better get used to hearing Dinah’s name being slung around because there were a lot more guys like Swope in El Royo. “Come on, Jamey, he was baiting us. He’s a jerk. And you took the bait. He could have thrown you in jail for threatening a police officer. Is that what you want?”

  “I want people to stop hurting Dinah and-and-and all the girls around here just because they’re-they’re… Forget it.” He straightened his glasses and picked up the ladder.

  What was Jamey’s problem? He probably hadn’t seen Dinah in years. Maybe… “Did you and Dinah, uh, date in high school?”

  Jamey spun on him. “Why is everything about sex?”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You implied it, Rafe. For your information, Dinah is my friend, or at least, was my friend.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t around when all the shit went down with Dinah and her family, but it must have been hell for her.”

  Jamey nodded. “It was.” Looking past Rafe, he added, “She wasn’t the only girl who went through hell that summer.”

  He was talking about Rafe’s sister. Esme had been raped a few weeks after Dinah’s dive. “Esme’s doing okay. At least better than Dinah.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s still living at the hacienda with the family, but she got her vet degree.”

  “A doctor, huh?”

  “Helping my dad with the practice. I owe her. My dad had planned on me coming into the practice, but…” Rafe shrugged. “Couldn’t get my head around the idea of sticking my arm up a horse’s ass.”

  Jamey grinned. “Yeah.” His expression sobered. “Don’t see Dr. Esme around El Royo.”

  “You won’t. Some folks still haven’t forgotten what happened. She gets wolf whistles and worse, so she stays away from town.”

  Jamey’s eyes narrowed. “Somebody ought to stand up to those folks.’”

  “Leave it alone.” Esme and Rafe’s family had been through enough pain. They just wanted to forget about it and move on.

  “Sure thing.” Jamey hoisted the ladder up. “I guess I better check the roof. Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?”

  “Interviewing Dinah. She looked ready to faint when I told you all about Teke.” It was not an interview Rafe was looking forward to. “Let me help you get that ladder set up before I go in.”

  Chapter Six

  Rafe knocked softly on Dinah’s door. Her new “housekeeper” answered.

  “Miss Dinah will be with you in a moment.”

  She abandoned him in the entryway and scurried into the kitchen. Her voice echoed off the metal cabinets as she muttered something indecipherable to Dinah, who answered softly, “Don’t worry about it.”

  That gal had found herself on the wrong side of the law at some point. He’d bet his badge on it. As pregnant as she was, she didn’t pose much of a threat, but he’d keep an eye on her.

  In broad daylight, the house lost its air of mystery. It looked plain old tired. A small table with a set of keys was the only piece of furniture in the narrow hallway, although it shared the space with a thick cobweb. Dinah had drawn the shades down to keep the house cool, and the dim light added a layer of gloominess to the bungalow’s general air of neglect. A small pile of neatly folded clothes waited on the staircase leading up to the second floor. Not much of a wardrobe.

  He set his Stetson down and settled himself in the living room. This space was habitable and clean except for the wet stains on the carpet and the metal mixing bowls positioned beneath the damp spots in the ceiling. Two easy chairs were set at soft angles from the sofa for conversation, and in the center sat a coffee table with a cut glass candy dish—empty—and today’s edition of the Austin Statesman.

  A spoon clanked against the floor in the kitchen. More soft conversation drifted through the house. He stood and strolled over to the card table in the corner. The window had been cracked open to allow air to circulate. He leaned over the table and peered out at the Indian Hawthorn growing past the sill and spread out along the house. A great hiding place if someone wanted to hear what was going on in this room.

  He picked up the worn tarot deck lying on the table and cut it. An ancient clock surrounded by winged creatures presented itself.

  “Wheel of Fortune. The destiny card.” Dinah sto
od behind him with a glass of iced tea. “I brought you something to drink. You looked a little thirsty.”

  He set the cards back and took the drink from her. The tea was sweet and cold. He drained the glass.

  “Shall we sit? I’d like to know what happened to Mr. Teke.”

  They retreated to the sofa, and he pulled out his cell. “Mind if I record our conversation?”

  She shook her head. The scent of soap drifted toward him. “Now tell me about Mr. Teke.”

  He forced his head into police interview mode. “He was discovered in the park this morning and pronounced dead at the scene.”

  “Do they know how he died?” Her wide, shimmering eyes gazed at him.

  He bent his head and concentrated on his hands. “I’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s start at the beginning. When did you last see Teke Cruz?”

  “Last night. He came for a reading and left just a few minutes before you burst in.”

  His eyes darted up to her face to see if she was teasing him, but her expression was serious. “What did you and Teke talk about?”

  “This and that.” She began to pick at her cut-offs. “He was real nervous. Kept saying someone was watching him. I didn’t believe him, of course.” She glanced away, and her gaze hovered over the tarot table. “Maybe I should have.”

  “Do you know why someone would follow him or want to hurt him?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  Not really. Some kind of suspicion was floating around under her waterfall of blond waves. “How about a theory. Got any of those?”

  Her fingers stopped playing with the threads dangling from her shorts. Emotions tripped across her face—surprise, alarm, uncertainty, guilt. What would she do if he kissed her? Would it be easy to tell if she liked it by watching her face?

  “Aren’t the police concerned with facts?”

  “We’re concerned with all kinds of things, including evidence, opportunity, and motive. Any thoughts along those lines?”