Hot Water

by Maggie Toussaint

  She nodded toward the screen. “What’s he in the system for?”

  “Got in a brawl with three vets over at the American Legion two years ago. Said war was dumb and the vets were suckers.”

  “What a dumb place to say something like that.”

  “They beat the crap out of him, and he got in a few licks himself. One of the vet’s houses caught on fire a week later, but there was no proof of anything. Nobody got hurt, and the insurance paid out, but Bird was shunned after that.”

  “Did you suspect arson?”

  “Hell, yeah. But the local fire guys traced it to an electrical problem. No accelerants were used. Bird thought he walked on water after that. He flashed cash all over town, for all the good that did him. Folks started crossing the street to avoid him.”

  “Why doesn’t he move?”

  “Got nowhere to go. His family is all buried here, generations of them. His place out on Starfish Alley has been in his family since the days of the King’s land grants.”

  “He got any outstanding warrants?”

  “None that I know about.”

  “I’m heading to his place to question him. Pirate’s Cove burned last week, and he’s a potential suspect.”

  “Damn. I always liked that place. Lots of atmosphere and great seafood.”

  She rose. “I think it will be rebuilt.”

  The burly sheriff lumbered to his feet. “I’ll keep that in mind. My wife’s parents love to eat out when they visit. Look, I’ll follow you out to Starfish Alley. I’d hate for Prince to give you a hard time.”

  “I can manage.”

  “Sure you can. You wouldn’t be up for a promotion if you couldn’t. But you’re my buddy’s daughter, and you’ll always be little Laurie Ann to me. Do me a favor and don’t get all bent out of shape by this.”

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up at Prince’s place. The low-slung seaside cottage was oddly quiet. His green Pontiac was parked in the yard. Her cop instinct flared. “Feel it?”

  The sheriff pulled his weapon and stepped in front of Laurie Ann. “I do. Something’s wrong here.”

  The door was unlocked. No one responded to their knock or hail. The sheriff stepped inside. “Prince. You in here?”

  The sickly smell of death hit Laurie Ann as she entered the cabin’s living room. She hid her queasiness beneath her cop face. “He can’t answer you, Sheriff. My money says he’s dead.”

  “Mine, too. Look. There he is.”

  Across the room, a man lay in his recliner, a bullet hole in his forehead. A bottle of beer sat nearby, only a sip gone. He had the look of a man relaxing at home, except for the being dead part.

  “Don’t touch anything. I’m calling my boys in here,” the sheriff said.

  The strong smell drove her to the door, but she took out her cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the scene. No gun in sight. No sign of forced entry.

  Looked like Bird Prince hadn’t shot himself. He’d been killed. If this murder was connected to Wyatt’s investigation, and that was a big if, then there was only one obvious conclusion.

  The killer was tying up loose ends.

  Bird Prince’s house had seen better days. So had his beater of a car. He hadn’t been wearing a watch or any other jewelry that she’d noticed. His lifestyle was modest, to say the least.

  If Bird Prince tied into the arson investigation, someone had made damn sure he couldn’t talk about it.

  Chapter 32

  When Laurie Ann was finally cleared to leave the murder scene, she drove south on highway seventeen and called Wyatt. She hoped he’d found answers. All she’d done was raise more questions.

  “North.”

  His clipped tone annoyed her. “Dinterman,” she said in a matching tone.

  “Hey. Hold on a sec.” His voice softened. She heard loud voices, footsteps, and a door closing. “Sorry. I was right in the middle of something.”

  “You want to call me back?”

  “No. I’m good. What did you find out?”

  “Jacob Whitman drove to Savannah this morning, so he wasn’t available for questioning.”

  His voice hitched. “Savannah?”

  “Yep. Savannah and Rincon are the same general direction from Tidewater County.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. This fire started early this morning. A Savannah commuter noticed, so the entire place didn’t burn down. But it could have easily gone the other way.”

  She hated having to ask the next question, but she needed the answer. “Was there a body in the house?”

  “Doesn’t look like it. But gasoline was a factor. This fire is arson, but who and why aren’t known.”

  “Was the place abandoned?”

  “No one was living there, but it was fully furnished. The owner made it big singing in Nashville, so he closed up this house and moved to the big city.”

  “Anything missing?”

  “Too early to tell.”

  “Hmm.” Her mind was awhirl with scenarios. Had Whitman crossed the county line this morning, shot Bird Prince, and then rode over to Rincon to torch this guy’s house? Did he have a partner in crime?

  “That sounded ominous. You track anyone else down?”

  “Funny you should mention that. I paid a visit to Bird Prince. His front door was unlocked. Found him sitting in his recliner, a beer beside his chair. Bullet hole between the eyes.”

  “Damn. That’s not good. Another dead end.”

  She turned off the highway at the wildlife refuge sign. A slender ribbon of paved road stretched before her. “It sure wasn’t good for him.”

  “Tell me about Bird Prince.”

  “The local cops thought he was dirty a couple of times but they couldn’t prove anything. His place is low-key, no big ticket items. But I trust cop instincts a helluva lot more than what my eyes see. I believe this guy was dirty. So why was he killed?”

  “Wait. Let’s get the timeline. When was he killed? What kind of gun?”

  “The county coroner said two days dead. And it looked like a 9 mm handgun. We’ll know more after the autopsy.”

  “Nine mil fits—same as a previous victim, Warren Felk. But the timing is off. The other deaths were a year apart. It’s only been a few days since James Brown died.”

  “We have a few pieces of the puzzle, but we need more.”

  “Agreed.” She pulled into the Gas ’N Goodies parking lot. “What time are you heading, uh, back?”

  She caught herself just before she said home; Mossy Bog wasn’t Wyatt’s home. She had to remember that.

  “We’re wrapping up here now. Probably start your way in about thirty.”

  Thirty minutes. That didn’t give her much time to finish her errands, and she had one very important stop to make.

  “Where should I meet you?” he asked.

  “At the station.”

  “I was thinking about our date to play pirates.” His voice roughened. “We could play cops and robbers instead.”

  His teasing made her laugh. “In your dreams, fire guy.”

  She ended the call and hurried inside. Tubby hadn’t seen Jacob Whitman. It wasn’t looking good for Whitman.

  Next, she drove straight to her aunt’s house. Her jaw dropped at the sorry sight. Tall grass licked the steps. Fallen branches dotted the yard. Mats of oak leaves and Spanish moss topped the sagging roof. Why wasn’t Lester keeping the place up?

  She hurried up the steps. Aunt Bessie’s hand fanned her round face as she opened the door. Her face lit up with joy. “Laurie Ann, as I live and breathe.” Bessie mouthed a kiss in the air by Laurie Ann’s cheek. “How’re you doing, kiddo?”

  “Good. Good.” Great. She was repeating herself. That was her worst nervous tell. “I hoped you might have a few minutes to talk about Lester.”

  Her aunt’s sunny smile dimmed a few watts. “Come on in and sit with me.”

  Laurie Ann followed her aunt into the house, twisting am
idst the towering stacks of magazines. Her aunt’s magazine collection had outgrown her bookshelves years ago, but that hadn’t stopped her from buying more. Her aunt took pride in knowing she had the most magazine subscriptions in the entire county.

  This place was a firetrap.

  Aunt Bessie sat in the faded glider in the den, gently moving back and forth. Laurie Ann cleared off the nearest chair. When she put the foot-high stack of magazines on the floor beneath the chair, a cloud of dust arose.

  “Lester’s off fishing with your dad,” Bessie said. “Someplace upstate, but you know that, right?”

  Laurie Ann felt a pang of guilt for questioning her aunt. But better her than Wyatt. She didn’t want Wyatt to see how her aunt lived. “I do. But folks have been asking me about Lester’s work. They want to know where he’s been and what he’s been doing. I told them Lester was working with Jimmy moving furniture. Is that his only job?”

  “Yes. Poor thing. He gets so worn out. He comes in here after one of those road trips and sleeps for days. I keep telling him he needs to quit that job and find a better one. He won’t do it because he likes having so much time off. For hunting and fishing, of course.”

  “Of course. I can’t remember a time he didn’t like hunting or fishing.”

  “He got bit by the outdoor bug early on. I was glad. Busy hands keep young folks out of trouble.”

  Her aunt’s statement propelled Laurie Ann forward in her seat. “What do you mean by that?”

  “There was a time when I worried about Lester. That he would take up with the wrong sort. The same worries every mother has, I suppose. He had a rebellious streak and an independent nature for awhile there, but he came around, especially once I told him how things had to be.”

  She’d never seen her aunt stand up to Lester. Her cousin had wheedled his way into a bike she could ill afford, a second-hand boat full of holes, and a broken-down car. But then he’d used the bike to collect cans for money. He’d patched the boat and ran crab lines. He’d repaired that car, too.

  Maybe she’d been wrong about Aunt Bessie. Maybe her aunt had figured out how to keep Lester busy in a productive way. Time enough to think about that later.

  “Do you remember the places he’s gone recently with Jimmy?” she asked.

  “Lemme see. He said something about being in Milledgeville. And before that it was Statesboro, Cartersville, and Griffin.”

  When her aunt paused, Laurie Ann glanced up from her note taking. There was a vacant look in her aunt’s eyes. “Aunt Bessie?”

  “Oh. Where were we?”

  “Talking about Lester’s moving jobs. You said he’d recently been to Milledgeville, Statesboro, Cartersville, and Griffin.”

  “Milledgeville was last year.”

  “Last year?”

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “Lester’s trips with Jimmy. Moving furniture. You were telling me where he’d been.”

  Aunt Bessie waved dismissively. “Oh, I don’t keep up with all that. He comes and goes all the time. That boy always did have fire in his pants. My only complaint about him is he didn’t do me right. I’ve got no grands to spoil. You’d think a red-blooded male would want to reproduce.”

  She didn’t want to talk about her cousin’s sex life. However, the conflicting information coming from her aunt worried her. “When’s the last time you went to see Dr. Winter?”

  “The doc? I haven’t been to see him in years. I’m healthy as a horse. Just look at me. I’m strong and hearty. Got a few extra pounds, but who doesn’t at my age?”

  Laurie Ann resolved to get her aunt in for a checkup soon. She rose and pocketed her notepad. “You look amazing. And I’m sorry that I can’t stay and visit longer. I’ve got to get back to the office. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”

  “Come back when you can stay longer. I don’t get much company these days.”

  She nodded goodbye and threaded her way through the magazine stacks to the door. Why had Lester allowed this place to get so out of hand? She needed to sit down and have a long talk with him as soon as he returned.

  Meanwhile she called Jimmy’s Moving for a list of Lester’s trips. Jimmy promised to fax them over as soon as he compiled the list, which involved cross-referencing payroll records with job tickets.

  She stopped at two community gathering spots, the roadside oak and the laundrymat, on the way into town, trying to get a bead on James Brown’s former associates. But Ray Spivey and Frankie Miles had dropped off the planet. No one had any idea where they might be. Worse, they hadn’t been seen after Brown was killed.

  How was that possible?

  Neither man had family or resources.

  She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Was the reason she couldn’t find them because they were already dead?

  Chapter 33

  At Sheryl’s Diner, Laurie Ann hunkered down over a thick bowl of crab stew, hoping to get in and out of the restaurant before anyone approached her. But luck was not on her side.

  Her friend Jeanie plunked down across from her in the 1960s-styled booth, toddler in arms, her four-year-old son watching with big eyes. Even though she owned The Muddy Rose and firmly embraced motherhood, Jeanie favored a rebellious pink hairstyle.

  “What’s this I hear about you having a boyfriend?” Jeanie asked.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m working with an arson investigator from Atlanta.”

  “That’s not what I heard. Donna Banks says the guy is smitten.”

  Laurie Ann chugged half of her sweet tea. “Donna’s mad because he’s too busy with the case to ask her out. You can’t trust her opinion in this matter.”

  “Mama, I’m hungry,” Nathaniel said, tugging on her sleeve.

  Jeanie handed her son a package of soup crackers. “So he didn’t kiss you?”

  She wouldn’t let it drop. Laurie Ann eased back in her seat, squaring her shoulders. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

  “Jeez. You don’t have to go all squinty-eyed on me. I won’t blab. I’m happy for you. You deserve to meet someone nice. You deserve to have someone who worships the ground you walk on.”

  That had worked out fine for Jeanie, until her no-good foot worshipper had run off with her third cousin. “I have to be circumspect about personal relationships. Mixing business with pleasure is risky.”

  The toddler cried, and Jeanie handed her daughter a sippy cup of milk. “That’s bull, and you know it. I understand your caution, though. Did you run a background check on him and his family?”

  Little Nathaniel peeked at her through his chubby fingers. Then he pretended the salt and pepper shakers were cars.

  Despite her intention to keep her personal life private, Laurie Ann felt a smile tugging at her lips. “I did.”

  “And he passed?”

  “He did.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m realistic.” She sighed and leaned forward, keeping her voice pitched low. “He lives in Atlanta. He loves his job. He travels all the time. It is geographically impossible for us to be involved because my job is right here.”

  “One of you could move.”

  “Not me. The woman always has to give, and by George, I’m tired of being a second-class citizen in a man’s world. I’m a cop, and this is my home.”

  “Maybe he’ll be so enchanted with you that he’ll want to move. Sloan did it for Roxie.”

  “Sloan grew up here. That was different. Wyatt is from north Georgia. Hill country. And he’s from a big family. He has roots up there.”

  “You thought about this already?”

  “It was the first thing I thought about. Why get involved if it can’t go anywhere?”

  “Still hungry, Mama,” Nathaniel said, sitting on his knees.

  Jeanie handed her son Laurie Ann’s last package of soup crackers. “Are you involved?”

  “There’s chemistry, though chemistry seems a tame word for the flashes of lightning between u
s. And with me being detailed to him night and day, well—there’s been opportunity.”

  Jeanie let out a squeal of delight. “I knew it.”

  Heads turned in the busy restaurant. Sable dropped the cup and trumpeted her disapproval. Jeanie ducked her head and grinned as she soothed her daughter.

  “This keeps getting better,” Jeanie said. “I’m happy for you.”

  “It’s not that straightforward. There’s the case. He’s convinced that his arsonist, who is also a murderer, lives right here in Tidewater County. And knowing the clock is ticking on our time together makes me even more cautious.”

  “Don’t give me that ticking clock crap. You’ve always been cautious with men. I’ve known you since kindergarten. If you have a chance with this guy, I mean, really have a chance with him, why not follow your heart? What do you have to lose?”

  “Besides my pride, my self-respect, and my heart?”

  “It’s what makes us human. You can’t be guarded all the time, not if you really want to live. Give the badge and gun a rest. Allow yourself to feel what it’s like to be you, Laurie Ann the woman, not Laurie Ann the cop.”

  Nathaniel disappeared under the booth. Laurie Ann felt him climbing over her feet. Oh, to be so young and carefree.

  She pushed the spoon around the three potato lumps in her soup bowl. The need to talk to someone welled up until she couldn’t ignore the geyser of informational pressure. She leaned forward and spoke confidentially.

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t work around guys all the time. They sense a weakness, and they use it against you.”

  Jeanie reached across the table to pat Laurie Ann’s hand. “You’re the bravest woman I know. You face down crooks, robbers, drunks, wife beaters, and more on a regular basis. But there’s a part of you that stays locked away. Chances like Wyatt don’t come along very often. I’m challenging you to be brave about this. If you give in to your fear, you’ll be kicking yourself for the next thirty years.”

  The noisy clink of silverware and pulse of conversations faded. Laurie Ann couldn’t look away from Jeanie’s kind eyes. “You think I should go for it?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”