“Some people are good liars,” Rafe said. “And it was dark. Not that easy to see. I didn’t get the feeling that they were lying, but they mighta been.”
So the suspect list now included Mrs. and Ms. Odom, Sandy and Kayla, and Pablo and his friend. In addition to Robbie and his hypothetical partner. I had no idea about the Odoms, or Kayla and Sandy, but at least we knew that Pablo and his friend had access to guns.
“The guns they were carrying...”
Rafe shook his head. “Ballistics came back as shotgun. Not pistol.”
“But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have two shotguns tucked away somewhere else.”
He nodded. “Could easily be a couple of shotguns behind the seat in that truck, yeah.”
So they weren’t off the list. Even if Rafe seemed strangely inclined to believe that they’d had nothing to do with the Skinner murders.
“Did I tell you I’m taking Pearl to the vet tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m hoping to find out something more about the dog fighting thing. I tried to find whatever vet the Skinners took their animals to, but nobody would admit that the Skinners were patients.”
“Dog fighting’s illegal,” Rafe said. “If a vet thinks a client’s using dogs for dog fighting, he has an obligation to inform law enforcement.”
“So if one of the veterinarians did know, and didn’t inform, he wouldn’t want me to know about it.”
He nodded.
“Then I probably won’t learn anything. But Mother said I should take Pearl in and make sure she’s all right from living outside, so that’s where we’ll be in the morning.”
Rafe nodded. “Not sure what the sheriff’s got planned for tomorrow. The whole case feels like it’s mired in molasses. Everywhere we turn is a dead end. We have a lot of info, and a lot of possible motives, but none of’em seem to go anywhere. They all end up in the parking lot at Beulah’s with two people with alibis.”
He turned the Volvo into the driveway at the mansion.
“I can’t wait to get inside to the bathroom,” I said.
He laughed.
* * *
Pearl had to put on a show before letting us into the house, of course. By the time that was over, I click-clacked my way down the hall to the guest bath without taking my booties or overcoat off first. By now, my need to pee had escalated to an absolute must, and immediately.
Rafe, meanwhile, went inside the parlor to visit with Mother. When I came in, she was talking animatedly, using her hands to make her point. But as soon as I showed up in the doorway, she stopped. “There you are.” She smiled.
“I had to visit the ladies room,” I said, taking a seat next to Rafe on the velvet loveseat. “The baby’s squeezing my... um...”
Bladder. The word I was looking for was bladder. But I figured Mother probably wouldn’t appreciate me using it. Too anatomical.
“Rafael was telling me about what happened on the way home.”
Oh, was that what he’d been doing?
It hadn’t sounded that way to me—it was Mother who had done all the talking, not Rafe—but his expression didn’t give anything away.
“It was scary,” I admitted. “At least at first. When we first stopped, and they had their lights on, and Rafe got out of the car, I was sure they were going to shoot him.” And I’d be a widow after less than six months of marriage.
He reached out and took my hand. It was hard and warm. “They didn’t.”
Not this time. But telling him that I worried would be pointless. He knew. I turned back to Mother. “They ended up just talking for a while, and then the truck drove away. And we came home. Nothing happened. Everyone’s fine.”
She nodded. “I spoke to Bob while you were gone. He’s going to stop by.”
Fine by me. I had suggested it myself, this afternoon. “We’re probably going to head up to bed. I’m wiped out. And it isn’t every night Rafe has a chance to get to bed at a decent hour.”
Like last night, when he came in sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Before tramping through the woods half the day. He must be exhausted.
From the look he gave me, clearly not too exhausted for dessert, though.
“Go ahead,” Mother said. “I’ll let Pearl out when Bob leaves.”
Bob was leaving? I had assumed he’d be staying the night once he got here.
Not that it was any of my business. They were consenting adults. They could do whatever they wanted. And there was no need to lie about it, if that was, indeed, what Mother was doing to spare my feelings.
Whatever.
“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. Once I get up there, I probably won’t wake up again for anything but a minor earthquake. This making a baby business takes a lot out of you.”
Mother nodded. “Just wait until the baby’s born,” she told me. “You won’t get a full night’s sleep for the first year.”
Something to look forward to.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said. “I’m taking Pearl to the vet. If I’m not up by eight, will you wake me?”
Mother promised she would, and I caught Rafe’s eye. He got to his feet, too. “Good night, Margaret Anne.”
“Good night, Rafael,” Mother said. And I couldn’t help but remember a night last year—Christmas Eve—when he had shown up here to tell me that he had finished the investigation into Hector Gonzales’s SATG and was ready to rejoin the human race, if I wanted him. I’d taken him upstairs to my room while Mother had glowered, tight-lipped.
A lot had happened in a year. Not all of it good, but as far as I was concerned, we were all in a better place than a year ago.
Like last year, I held Rafe’s hand up the stairs. Unlike last year, I didn’t have to drag him behind me. “You can stay downstairs and wait for the sheriff if you want,” I told him as we reached the second floor. “And update him on our meeting with the drug dealers.”
“It can wait till tomorrow. If I let you go to bed by yourself, you’re prob’ly gonna be asleep by the time I get there.”
There was a good chance of that.
“And anyway—” He grinned, “the sheriff ain’t coming here to see me. He wants to see your mama. I don’t wanna get in his way.”
“Good point,” I said. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”
We turned into my room. “What’s the matter? Just wanna get it over with?”
“Tired. But I never just want to get it over with.” It had been more than a year of us sleeping together at this point. And I still couldn’t get enough.
“Good.” He pushed my back up against the wall next to the door and bent his head to nuzzle my neck. I dropped my head back. “I’m not tired at all,” he added, his breath warm against my skin. “I can do this all night long.”
My toes curled into the rug. Rafe chuckled. And that’s when the phone rang.
It wasn’t inside my room. I could hear twin dial tones from downstairs, and from Mother’s bedroom at the end of the hall. After a few seconds the ringing stopped, so she must have picked up the phone downstairs. I turned my attention back to my husband, who was doing wonderful things with his lips and my throat. Until—
“Rafe! Savannah!” It was Mother’s voice, from the bottom of the stairs, and she sounded frantic.
Rafe didn’t even hesitate. One second he was there, a hundred percent intent on getting me naked and into bed, the next he was out the door and on his way down the stairs, two steps at a time.
Good thing we hadn’t gotten around to taking any clothes off.
I followed, a little more slowly. She’d called for him first, so chances were he was really who she wanted. I was just an afterthought.
They were standing in the foyer, and Rafe already had his boots on.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked up at me, while keeping his hand under Mother’s elbow while she slipped her feet into shoes. I don’t think either of them realized just how far they’d come in a year. “Somebody shot the sh
eriff.”
Oh, my God. “Is he OK?”
He had to be, if that had been him on the phone. Didn’t he?
“OK enough to get himself to the hospital.” Rafe’s voice was grim. “Get your shoes on if you’re coming.”
Was I coming? I glanced at Pearl, standing in the hallway outside the parlor, looking from one to the other of us. “Maybe I’ll just stay here with the dog.”
“Nice try,” Rafe said. “Get your shoes on. Let’s go.”
“You asked.” But I made my way toward the booties over by the door.
“I ain’t leaving you alone here. Not even with the dog for protection.”
Fine. “Can we take the dog with us? I don’t want to leave her here alone. What if she starts to chew on Great-Aunt Ida’s velvet loveseat?”
Mother looked nauseated.
“She’ll have to stay in the car when we get to the hospital,” Rafe warned me. “We can’t take her inside.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t just stay here with her?” I’d gotten my booties on, but I still wasn’t sure about this.
“I don’t want you staying here by yourself. Just in case someone thought this would get us out of the house.”
“Why would someone want us out of the house?” But I grabbed for my coat.
“Dunno,” Rafe said. “But just in case someone’s coming, let’s give’em what they want. I don’t want you here alone. Does the dog have a leash?”
She did. It was in the kitchen, where I’d left it when I stowed the food and biscuits earlier. Rafe hurried down there and got it. When he approached Pearl, she hunched her back and dropped her head and the stub of a tail dejectedly.
My heart broke a little. “It’s OK,” I told her. “We’re not chaining you up. You’re coming in the car. But there are leash laws. You can’t just run free. Unfortunately.”
She didn’t respond. But when Rafe had buckled the pink collar around her neck and attached the practically weightless leash, she lifted her head and looked surprised.
“Guess somebody was expecting another chain,” Rafe said and tugged the leash. “C’mon. Time to go.”
“I’ll take her.” Mother reached out and took the leash from him as we passed through the door and onto the porch. “You two sit up front. I’ll stay in the back with Pearl.”
I had my mouth open to protest—how could I relegate my mother to the backseat?—but Rafe nodded. “Strap in. I’m gonna go fast.”
“Thank you,” Mother said, and crawled into the back of the car. After a second’s pause, Pearl jumped in after her. I walked around to the passenger seat and strapped myself in.
“Everyone ready?” Rafe didn’t wait for an answer, just peeled off down the driveway and onto the road without stopping.
“Is he at the medical center in Columbia?” I asked when I’d caught my breath.
Mother nodded. She wasn’t as used to Rafe’s driving as I am, and she was clinging to the door handle so hard her knuckles were white.
“How bad is it?”
Mother took a breath. “He was able to drive himself to the hospital. I imagine that means it’s not life threatening.”
I would imagine so. “Has anyone called Todd?”
Rafe glanced at me. “I’m sure the hospital did,” Mother said. “He’s Bob’s next of kin.”
He was. And she was right, the hospital had probably taken care of it. Nothing I had to do, then.
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“He was on his way to the mansion,” Mother said. “I told you he’d called, and was coming over.”
I nodded. “Where was he coming from?” Or from whence was he coming? “Home?”
Bob Satterfield, and Todd too, lived in an old four-square house in downtown Sweetwater. In case I haven’t made it clear, the Martin Mansion is on the north side of town, on the Columbia Highway, near the city limits. It’s probably not much more than a five minute drive.
“The sheriff’s office,” Mother said. “Someone shot at the car. And hit Bob in the shoulder. Instead of coming to the mansion, he drove straight to the hospital.”
Smart man. “If he could get himself all the way there, I’m sure he’s all right. I’ve been shot in the shoulder. Rafe has, too.” And I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to drive myself to the hospital afterwards.
However— “I don’t think Rafe even went to the hospital.” A couple of band aids and some Tylenol, and he’d been back on the job.
Rafe nodded. “It hurts like hell, but it’s usually not a big deal. No organs or anything to damage up there. As long as the bullet didn’t shatter a bone, they’ll patch him up and pump him full of antibiotics, and he’ll be back to normal in a week or two.”
Mother nodded. She still looked a little pale, but that could have been the darkness and the occasional pair of headlights coming in the opposite direction, bleaching the color from her face. She kept her hand on the dog’s back as we zoomed up the road to the medical center, either to give Pearl comfort or to take some of her own from the steady breaths of the relaxed animal.
Twenty-One
The last time Rafe and Todd Satterfield had met in a hospital, Todd had said the wrong thing and Rafe had flattened him, right there in the corridor.
It was a year ago, give or take. I had just had a miscarriage. Rafe thought it was Todd’s baby. Todd knew it was Rafe’s. Neither of them was happy about it, and one thing led to another. Incidentally, it was just a week or so later that I got shot in the shoulder. Nothing to do with either Rafe or Todd.
When I peered into Bob Satterfield’s hospital room and saw Todd sitting there next to his father’s bed, it all came rushing back.
I turned to my husband. “Maybe we should just stay out here in the hallway.”
Rafe gave me a look. “Your mama’s gonna wanna see her boyfriend, darlin’. And I’m sure the sheriff has something he wants me to do.”
“Todd’s there,” I pointed out. Couldn’t he do whatever it was his father wanted? Between him and Mother, surely they’d have it covered?
“I see him, darlin’. Feel free to take him outta the room if you think he can’t handle looking at me, but I gotta hear what the sheriff has to say, so I can go about trying to find who shot him.”
“Would you like me to try?”
He looked at me. “I got it covered.”
“I meant, do you want me to try to get him out of the room before you go in?”
“No,” Rafe said. “I want you as far away from him as you can get.”
OK, then. I took a breath and pushed the door open, and pasted a smile on my face. “Evening, Sheriff. How are you doing?”
“I got shot,” Sheriff Satterfield said. He was sitting up in bed, in a hideously ugly hospital gown. I could see the outline of bandages crossing his right shoulder under the fabric.
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I smiled politely at Todd. “Hi again.”
He nodded. To me and to Rafe. “Collier.”
“Satterfield.” Rafe nodded back.
A truce. Good. At least neither of them would end up on the floor.
“We won’t be staying long,” Rafe said, turning to the sheriff. “I just wanted to see what you wanted me to do about this.”
The sheriff nodded, and then winced. Even that small movement must hurt. “They got the bullet out. I had them tag it for forensics. Just in case there’s a connection to the Skinner case.”
Rafe nodded.
“I think the shots mighta come from Oak Street Cemetery. I was on my way past there when it happened.”
That was interesting. Or seemed so to me. Probably because I had just been at Oak Street Cemetery this afternoon.
That didn’t mean there was any connection to Beulah or the Odoms. Unless it was a total accident—some kid taking potshots at cars on the road from his house—there aren’t that many places on the road between Sweetwater proper and the mansion where someone could hide and wait. It’s mostly private property along the ro
ad. And someone who was hoping to kill the sheriff would probably have enough sense not to go into someone else’s yard to do it, just in case someone was home and got a good look at the shooter.
“Any chance it was an accident?” I asked, and the sheriff moved his eyes (only) to look at me.
“I wouldn’t think so. The shot was too accurate for that.”
“So do you think he was trying to kill you? Or make you crash? Or what?”
He shifted, and winced again. “I wasn’t going fast. Even if I’d crashed, I don’t think I woulda died.”
“But you might have been laid up for a while.”
He nodded. “I’m gonna be laid up for a few days now. But it’s not like that matters. The investigation will go on. Even with me outta commission, there are other people who’ll do the work.”
He glanced at Rafe, who nodded. “Anything else you can tell me? Or something else you want me to do, other than checking the cemetery?”
“I can’t think of anything.” The sheriff shifted again, and winced again. It was as if he couldn’t keep from moving, even though he knew it would hurt. “Forensics on the bullet’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll know more then. Anything new on your part?”
“I had a talk with a couple drug dealers on our way home from dinner.” He outlined what had happened in Beulah’s parking lot. Mother made unhappy noises, and while Todd didn’t make noise, he didn’t look happy, either. “They said they can alibi each other for the night the Skinners were shot. That ain’t worth much, since they’d prob’ly lie about it. But for what it’s worth.”
The sheriff nodded.
“They took off back toward Columbia,” I added, “after they were finished saying what they came to say. I don’t know if they would have had time to get down to the Oak Street Cemetery to shoot at you.”
Although if we had had time to go inside the mansion and spend a couple of minutes with Mother and upstairs before we got the call about the sheriff’s mishap, maybe they would have. On the other hand, the shooting had taken place before we got the call, so maybe not. It might even have happened while we were in Beulah’s parking lot, talking. And if so, Pablo and his friend were definitely off the suspect list.
Bad Debt (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 14) Page 23