Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas)

by Mari Manning

  Neither did she.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The minister had said the last prayer and departed the cemetery a half-hour ago followed by Miss Grace, Miss Peppie, Esme, Jamey, and a handful of Momma’s old friends. They’d patted Dinah’s shoulder, murmuring their regrets, and she welcomed their comfort, tucking it away against the loneliness that was sure to come.

  She bent and dropped a bouquet of blue-tipped carnations on the raw ground. “I think you’ll like it here, Momma. It’s shady, and the creek is just over yonder. And Daddy’s here. He’s been waiting for you.” Dinah’s head tilted up to the overcast sky as she whispered the words.

  Two modest gravestones lay beside the graves, waiting for a worker to set them into the hard Texas dirt. They would mark Daddy and Momma’s graves. The square stone above the slightly older grave read:

  Benjamin Jon Pittman

  January 3, 1958 – June 15, 2013

  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow — Isaiah 1:18

  A Bible verse on forgiveness had seemed right for him. She’d forgiven him. Finally…and completely.

  The stone waiting by Momma’s grave had been delivered that morning. It had taken Dinah a little more time to find the right epithet for Momma. A Bible verse wouldn’t have captured her spirit, but Dinah had found the perfect words in a well-worn book Momma kept by her bed.

  Virginia “Ginny” Pittman

  November 14, 1959 – May 20, 2005

  For love is immortality — Emily Dickinson

  It was a promise and a reminder, too. Love was the only thing she had to give Momma, so she’d resolved Momma would never have reason to look down from her cloud and be disappointed in her daughter again. Hopefully she had forgiven Dinah for letting her desecrated body rest in an unmarked grave—and for believing Momma would run away—while Dinah wasted the better part of eight years letting anger eat away at her.

  Behind her, a man cleared his throat. Dinah twisted her head. It was Rafe. He wore his jeans and a blue polo shirt. From beneath the rim of his hat, he studied her.

  “I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life.” Her voice cracked.

  “Just doing my job.” He nodded at Momma and Daddy’s stones. “Those are nice.”

  She grabbed onto the new subject like a drowning rat. “They’re giving me the reward money so Momma and Daddy got granite markers.” She shrugged ruefully. “Not sure I deserved fifty thousand dollars for finding what was in plain sight, but the authorities felt different.”

  “You earned it.” Dinah’s heart tugged at the gentleness of his words. “Besides those coins are worth a lot more now than they were when your daddy hid them. The insurance company for the rodeo is making out like a bandit even after paying you. Made good on the two-hundred and fifty thousand loss, and now they got the principle back with interest.”

  “I’m going to send some to Hollyn’s momma so she can start over. Don’t know how much good it will do, but it makes me feel better.”

  He stepped forward. “It will do plenty of good. Mrs. Sutton’s going to need it. Gerald Sutton agreed to testify against Hollyn. He’s blaming her for both murders.”

  Dinah shook her head. “Poor Hollyn. She said they dragged Lonnie out to the car together, and I believe her. There’s no reason to lie to someone you’re getting ready to kill.”

  “You’ll need to tell the D.A., but no matter what, they’re going to lock those two up and throw away the key. Old Gerry’ll get immunity for testifying against Hollyn, but he’s facing second-degree murder for your momma, and the kidnapping charges, of course. And Hollyn better get used to wearing prison whites because that’s going to be her outfit for life.”

  “I would have helped her if she’d asked.”

  “She got off on lying and hurting people, Di. You know that.” He sounded impatient.

  “Why are you here?”

  He turned his head and stared into the distance. The faint scent of his aftershave drifted past her nose. “Just came to say good-bye.”

  Throw your arms around his neck and tell him to stay. So said her heart. But she didn’t deserve sexy, smart, solid Rafe. Maybe in a few years, if she got her life going in the right direction, another man would come into her life, and she’d be ready. That’s what her practical side said.

  “I’m sorry about Brandon, and the things he said. When you came in, he’d just grabbed me. Nothing happened.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “It doesn’t change anything. You’ve made your feelings about me clear.”

  He wasn’t making this easy for her. “I know this may be too little, too late, but I’ve changed.”

  He turned his gaze on her, studying her face closely from beneath the brim of his hat. “How’s that?”

  “I-I mean, I want to change. Go back and get my masters in psychology, devote my life to helping people. Make my momma and daddy” —and you— “proud.”

  He backed up a step. “Good for you.”

  “Rafe…” I love you. She opened her mouth to say the words but they wouldn’t come out. She was afraid. For the first time in her life, something scared the bejesus out of her, and it was telling the man she loved how she felt. If he rejected her, she wouldn’t be able to hide her grief. Hell, she might never get herself glued back to together. “When are you leaving?”

  “Now.” He tipped his hat. “So long, Miss Dinah. I will never forget you.”

  He turned, and she watched him stride off. Wait. She wanted to call out to him, say something to make him come back, but she didn’t think he’d listen.

  …

  Someone was banging on her front door.

  “Keep your pants on,” Dinah grumbled. She stood, dusted off her hands and surveyed her work. Boxes littered Momma and Daddy’s old room. On one side were a few marked “Keep.” They contained personal items Dinah couldn’t part with like Daddy’s war medal and Momma’s sorority sweater and tenth-anniversary ring. The rest would be removed the day after tomorrow, along with the bed and other furniture, by volunteers at the local church. Then she would turn the keys over to the new owners and drive away in her new used Honda—a blue one in honor of her mother.

  A fist thumped on the door again. Dust motes tickled her nose, and she sneezed. “Coming.” She hollered the words at the open window.

  “Hurry up.” Jamey’s voice wafted through the evening air.

  In the gathering twilight, Dinah carefully sidestepped more boxes piled in the hallway and went downstairs.

  Jamey, hair still wet from a shower, wearing a freshly pressed cotton shirt and khaki shorts, dropped a big Texas grin on her. “Put on your party clothes; we’re celebrating.”

  A long day of packing had exhausted her. She didn’t feel much like kicking up her heels. “Not tonight.”

  “Yes, tonight.” He pushed his way into the house.

  “What is this about?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “If this has something to do with Rafe—”

  “It has something to do with me. Now go on up and get changed.”

  She sighed. Why not? In a few days she would be going back to Houston. The clinic where she’d started out after college was giving her a job. This might be her last chance to hang out with Jamey for a long time since there was little reason to visit El Royo…and lots of reasons not to. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Take all the time you need. Just hurry.”

  Buckled into the passenger seat of Jamey’s truck ten minutes later, Dinah frowned at him. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  But she already knew. “I am not going to Osito. If you are up to something sneaky, I will kick your butt, Jamey Brenner.”

  From the backseat, Jamey’s dog, Chip, barked.

  “Chip doesn’t want to go, either.” She folded her arms.

  Jamey smiled at her. “If you’re worried that you’ll see Rafe, forget it. He’s gone off to Houston to be a detect
ive.”

  Houston? Shit. “What’s he doing there?”

  “Seems like solving your case and rounding up the bad guys got him a detective job in the big city.” Jamey cleared his throat. “Seems like he was chomping at the bit to get outta El Royo, so he grabbed it.”

  Heat rose to her face. “Watch where you’re stepping. You’re about to put your foot into something that won’t wash off.”

  Jamey chuckled. “Thanks for the advice, ma’am.”

  What were the chances she’d run into Rafe in Houston? Probably slim. It was a big city. Anyhow, the news lightened her mood. Maybe it was enough to know they shared a town.

  Jamey turned the truck into the Morales hacienda and parked beside the wide stone patio. He swung out of the cab as if he lived there. Maybe he almost did. “We’re here,” he hollered. Chip hopped between the seats and clambered out as if he lived here, too.

  Damn show-offs.

  The screen door swung open, and Esme burst out and leapt into Jamey’s arms. He lifted her and swung her around, legs and hair flying in the setting sun. Dinah couldn’t bear to watch, so she eyed Miss Peppie, who followed Esme at a more dignified pace.

  “Howdy, Miss Peppie.”

  “Nena.” Miss Peppie eyes brimmed with sympathy. She held her arms out to Dinah. “Poor, motherless child. Come give Miss Peppie a hug.”

  Dinah allowed her a brief maternal hug before pulling away. Miss Peppie was Rafe’s mother, not hers. This was his home and family, not hers. And Rafe had made his feelings about her clear. Best not to get too close.

  “I’m fine, Miss Peppie. Busy, actually. I’ve got to have the house packed up by the day after tomorrow. In fact…” She tapped her boot impatiently. “I was doing just that when Jamey dragged me over here for a celebration.”

  Miss Peppie clucked her tongue. “That Jamey. Always exaggerating. My Esme’s going to have her hands full with that one. It’s just a family dinner to celebrate their engagement.”

  Dinah blinked. “Jamey and Esme are engaged?” Arm-in-arm, they joined Dinah and Miss Peppie. “Why didn’t you tell me when you came to the house, Jamey?”

  “We wanted to tell you together,” said Esme. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, and her expression radiated happiness. It was impossible to be jealous.

  “Congratulations, honey.” Dinah hugged Esme. “And you, you old sneak.” She squeezed Jamey in a sisterly embrace.

  Esme pulled closer to Jamey. “I want you to be my maid of honor, Di.”

  It was a horrible idea. How could she see Rafe for a whole day—at a wedding, no less—and act like she was over him? What if he brought a date? “What about Ernesta and Erika? They’re your blood. Won’t they be hurt?”

  “You’re my blood, too, Dinah.”

  She rifled through her imagination for another excuse. Nothing presented itself. “I-I don’t know. Can I think on it?”

  Esme’s eyes grew wise. “It’s time for that talk, Mama.”

  Jamey backed up a few paces. “And I, uh, have something to do in the barn. See you at supper, Dinah.” He jogged off in the general direction of the animal hospital with Chip galloping eagerly at his heels. Traitor.

  Dinah’s gaze swung from Esme to Miss Peppie. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing.” Miss Peppie linked her arm with Dinah’s. “I want to talk to you, and you have turned down my invitations to supper, so my future son-in-law took pity on me—lovely young man that he is—and brought you out.”

  “If this is about Rafe, nothing you say will change anything.”

  “This is about my son. Esme, pour us some wine. Come on in, Dinah. Since your dear mother is no longer here to help you see things straight, I’ll have to do it for her.”

  “You’re wasting your breath.” She was going to kill Jamey.

  “It’s my breath to waste, isn’t it, nena?”

  “Waste away, Miss Peppie. I warned you.” Dinah propped herself stiffly in a side chair at the long hacienda table.

  Esme brought three glasses of chilled rosé and set them on the table. Dinah gripped her glass as if it were a life raft and took a deep gulp. The alcohol eased through her, warming her belly and loosening her muscles. Then she looked up. Miss Peppie’s forehead was creased and her lips were drawn into a stern line. Esme examined her from behind her wine glass until Dinah felt like a sick horse. The atmosphere grew thick.

  Dinah broke first. “I don’t know exactly what Rafe told you, but it’s all true. I’m a terrible person, and he can do much better.”

  “Rafe doesn’t talk,” said Miss Peppie. “The girls go on for hours, but he keeps everything inside.”

  She pushed her wine away. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “A mother has dreams for her children. Someday you’ll understand.” Miss Peppie reached across the table and patted Dinah’s hand. “My son is a good man. Even growing up, he always had a sense of honor. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  Miss Peppie barreled on anyway. “He was good to his sisters no matter that they drove him loco with all their fussing and chattering.”

  “Mama!” It was Esme.

  “Hush, nena.” Miss Peppie turned back to Dinah. “Always, he seemed to know when I or Dr. Ernesto needed help. It didn’t matter what was going on, he was there. The girl up in Dallas—God rest her soul—went off for months and left him alone. He stuck with her and never complained, though he suffered for it. But you, Dinah, you understand what’s important to him. You can make him happy.”

  Dinah didn’t want to hear anymore. “I can’t make myself happy. How the hell can I make him happy?” She spoke roughly, hoping Miss Peppie would leave her alone.

  Miss Peppie’s eyes narrowed at the word Hell. The ruby ring wagged at her. “You are too old to be playing games. It’s time you took life seriously and stopped wasting your time on party games and naughty boys. It’s time to settle down with a nice boy like Rafe.”

  “I’m not right for him.” Dinah’s heart twisted. If only Miss Peppie was right.

  “I know my son. Yes, I will admit I was on the wrong trail for a while. The girls were too young, too sweet. He needs a mature, experienced woman like you.”

  When had she graduated from wild and sexy to mature and experienced?

  She gazed unseeingly at her wine. Miss Peppie was dead wrong. Dinah wasn’t mature and experienced. She was pathetic. Eight years ago she’d wrapped a cloak of defiance around herself and waged a bloody war with the conventional world. Families were a joke, law and order was an illusion, self-respect hardly worth the effort.

  Unfortunately, her heart had been the first, and only, casualty in her self-declared, one-woman war.

  She saw now that she’d been driven by fear. Fear of being deep-down hurt like her daddy had hurt her. It was easier to not feel at all. But somehow, Rafe had managed to push past the barriers. He’d touched her, made her love him, feel him, need him, and she was tired of pretending he didn’t matter to her. Tired of telling herself she hadn’t changed, that he hadn’t changed her, that his love hadn’t forced her to care about him or her life or the future.

  Tilting her head up, she eyed Esme and Miss Peppie. Their dark eyes were filled with genuine concern.

  “This is all my fault,” Dinah said.

  “This?” asked Esme.

  Dinah bit back tears and took another hefty gulp from her glass. Dutch courage. Turning her life around wasn’t going to be easy. But she was going to try. For her sake, for her momma and daddy’s sake, but most of all for Rafe’s sake. Because she loved him, and he deserved to know it. Even if it was too late for his forgiveness, he had a right to know his love hadn’t been rejected. Not really.

  “I hurt Rafe, and I pushed him away and told him I didn’t deserve him. I thought I was being noble, but I wasn’t. I was being a liar just like my daddy. A coward and a liar.”

  “Nene, no.” Miss Peppie patted her hand. “You were confused. You’ve had a rough time of it. Rafe under
stands. We all do.”

  She sighed deeply and dove in again. “I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t understand. Why should he bother with me? There are probably a million girls who’d fall all over themselves just to be with him, and if he’s smart, he’s already found someone. You said he was special, Miss Peppie, and he is.”

  Esme spoke up. “I know my brother. He’s hurt and angry, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped caring. If you speak to him from your heart, he’ll hear it and forgive you.”

  Dinah met Esme’s gaze. Esme wasn’t talking off the top of her head. She’d had to overcome her own fears to love Jamey. Dinah grinned at her. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

  Esme shook her head. “Not me. Not anymore.”

  The hardness inside Dinah shifted and melted away. So what if she got hurt? If she didn’t try to win Rafe back, she’d never know what could be. “I’m going to try. When I get settled in Houston, I’ll go see him and tell him how I feel.”

  Miss Peppie patted Dinah’s hand again. “I’ll get his address for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rafe’s apartment complex was a collection of low-slung stucco buildings designed to resemble a quaint Mexican village. The sea of a parking lot surrounding La Casita ruined the effect. But still, it was quiet and shady—almost sleepy under the late afternoon sun—and pleasant as far as apartments go.

  Dinah leaned against the hood of her car, arms folded, legs crossed, as she rehearsed her “from the heart” speech. Where was Rafe? According to Miss Peppie, his shift ended an hour ago. Of course he could have stopped for a drink or still be at the station. Maybe this was a bad day. If only she hadn’t given up the tarot cards.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She sprang off the hood. Rafe stood beside her Honda. His eyes raked her face, moving down her body to her yellow tank top and skinny jeans, then up again. His expression was stony. Not an auspicious beginning.

  The speech she’d been rehearsing for the past week fled. “I-I, uh, I love you.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them away.