by Kym Roberts
I looked down at my own outfit. I would disappear next to a vixen like Scarlet.
“OMW. Next to you, I look like a fat ogre,” she said.
“You’re kidding, right? Because I’m feeling about as shapely as a piece of barn wood.”
Scarlet laughed and linked her arm with mine. “Then I suggest this ogre take her best piece of barn wood to the hottest bar in town to see how much trouble they can stir up.”
“The Tool Shed Tavern is the only bar in town.”
“Exactly.” She looked at me—hard. She scrutinized the redness of my eyes and the puffiness around my nose. “Have you been crying?”
So much for nobody noticing. “Allergies,” I lied. “This isn’t like a biker bar or anything, is it? I’m not exactly looking for trouble.”
“No, it’s not, but trouble is brewing in Hazel Rock. I can feel it in the air.”
A pickup truck with darkened windows slowed down as it came up behind us. Its shiny black paint and extralarge tires made it clear the driver loved his vehicle. The truck rumbled as it passed, the vibration traveling through the town and my body. I was pretty sure if I’d still been in the apartment, I would have felt it.
“Who’s that?” I asked as we continued toward the bar.
“Don’t pay him no mind. That’s Scott Duncan. He’s going through a midlife crisis.”
“Aren’t you supposed to buy a sports car when you go through that?” I thought of Mr. Duncan in the loft, sneaking around the store. The same Mr. Duncan who’d called my daddy away from the bookstore when I was seventeen and a newspaper photographer just happened to take a picture of me placing those infamous maternity books in the display window.
I should have asked Daddy about him. It seemed especially important now that I realized there was no way I would have missed the rumble of his truck outside The Barn when I’d caught him in the loft. Mr. Duncan didn’t want to be seen that night, which was understandable. . . to a point. Now it was kind of making me think twice about allowing him access to the store whenever he wanted, even if it was to reminisce about Marlene.
My dad may have shown him where to find the key, but my comfort level was deteriorating fast.
“What red-blooded man in Texas would want a dinky little sports car when he can put that same money into the monster truck of his dreams?” Scarlet said.
I shrugged. I’d obviously been gone too long to understand. “So what did you hear that made you think we had to check out the gossip at the bar?”
Scarlet leaned in close. “Marlene was stepping out on your daddy.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Apparently, that’s why Mateo thinks your daddy killed her. It was a crime of passion, in his mind.”
“But that also means there’s at least one other suspect,” I argued.
“You’re right and you’re wrong. It means there are at least three other suspects.”
“Three?” My voice growled with anger at the woman who had duped my daddy.
“Mind you, it’s just the rumor mill. But supposedly, Marlene was seeing her ex-husband, Dean MacAlister, and—you’ll love this one—Mike Thompson.”
“He’s half her age! And . . . and . . .”
“A slimeball with beautiful hair.”
“Exactly!” I thought of the man who’d tricked Cade out of a hundred bucks and put me in debt to my high school sweetheart for a few books I wasn’t even sure existed. “How does a woman who catches a sweet man like my father end up cheating on him with a boring math teacher she discarded in the wind, a mechanic, and an immature computer geek who has the natural gift of even turning off a woman of God as soon as he opens his mouth?”
“Shhh.” Scarlet waved as Scott Duncan crawled out of his truck. “That’s what we’re going to the bar to find out.” She turned up the volume as she greeted our old math teacher, who didn’t look nearly as lost as he had when I’d found him snooping in The Barn.
He waited for us but didn’t seem happy about it. On the contrary, Mr. Duncan appeared more irritated by the second. He ran his fingers around the collar of his short-sleeved button-down shirt as he waited for us to catch up.
“Remember Charli Rae Warren?” Scarlet asked. “She was a year between the mayor and me.” Scarlet pushed me forward and I awkwardly held out my hand, unsure whether I should pretend he had been caught red-handed prowling in my store or not.
“Of, course,” he said smoothly. “How could I forget? I’m sorry for your loss, Charli.”
Again, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I certainly wasn’t the one who’d lost my old flame. Marlene was a distant acquaintance to me, not my ex-wife I supposedly still loved. “You too, Mr. Duncan. It’s got to be pretty hard on you.”
He nodded. “It is on everyone, I suppose.” His eyes traveled between Scarlet and me. I gave a slight shake of my head to let him know I hadn’t breathed a word about his afterhours visit to the store. His relief was visible. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure I should keep his secret.
“How’s your father holding up?” he asked.
Yet again he left me tongue-tied. As far as he knew, I had no idea how my dad was doing. Yet I had to admit his question had a sense of desperation to it, as if he was at a loss as to what to say and had blurted out what he thought would be expected of him. He was as bad a liar as I was, and by the look on Scarlet’s face, she knew she was missing something.
“I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m sure I will when he’s ready to talk about it.”
Mr. Duncan nodded. “I’m sure he’s glad you’re home.” He didn’t leave any room for a response as he nodded at both of us and added, “Have a good night, ladies,” and slipped past us into the bar.
“That was weird.” Scarlet looked after him, completely puzzled by the exchange. I chose to shrug it off, as if I didn’t know what to think of it—because I didn’t.
We went into the bar and I was surprised by the interior. The last time I’d been in the Tool Shed was when I was ten years old. Not long after my mom died, I’d come home from school one day and The Barn was locked up tight. A short time later I’d found my daddy’s pickup parked in front of the bar for the first time in my life. Not sure what to think or that there could be anything wrong with a ten-year-old walking inside a liquor establishment, I pushed open the door and strutted right in. The place was dark and dingy and full of smoke that made me cough.
The bartender had looked up and yelled immediately, “Get your butt out of this bar, young lady!”
My dad looked up from the drink perched between his elbows with a look of horror on his face. That was the first time I’d recognized the Tool Shed as a place not fit for kids or mourning husbands.
Daddy grabbed the bartender by his shirtfront, growled something in his face, and shoved him away before stumbling off his stool in my direction. I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, the fact that he’d gotten angry at someone or the way he’d swayed as he walked—unable to pass the two rough-hewn timber columns that separated the bar from the dance floor without grabbing hold of them for support.
By the time he’d made it to me, I knew he needed to lean on me. I wasn’t sure why, but when we got outside to the truck, he told me we could leave it there for the night. The walk home would do him good.
That was the first and last time I’d stepped foot in the bar, so when we walked in and my eyes didn’t immediately start burning from cigarette smoke, I took that as a good sign. Joe Buck had done an incredible job transforming the Tool Shed from a depressing, down-on-your-luck hole in the wall to an upbeat bar and grill. And from the look of it, the crowd was well into a celebration for the football game of the week. The fact that it was the Big D’s team playing the City of Brotherly Love didn’t hurt. The rivalry brought all the fans to cheer and jeer together.
Scarlet grabbed my hand and we squeezed our way through the standing-room-only crowd that currently wasn’t happy about a touchdown being called back on a holding call. There were loud complai
nts being yelled at several large TV screens in various locations in the bar. I couldn’t help wondering if Cade was among the unhappy fans.
We passed several people I’d known in high school. Sarah and Debbie? Kathy and Gwen . . . or was that Vicki and Gwen? I honestly couldn’t remember. I smiled politely as Scarlet hugged and air kissed the two I thought were Vicki and Gwen before we moved on to two seats that were magically vacated at the bar. After being on my feet all day, I was happy to take a load off.
“You don’t remember them, do you?” There was a hint of amusement in Scarlet’s eyes as she tugged down her skirt.
I leaned in and confided with a yell, “I’m honestly having a hard time separating them from my students.”
She giggled, but our conversation ended as Joe approached us.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Thank you for bringing her in, Red. You’ll have to introduce Princess to my Leila when she comes around.”
“Will do, Joe. In the meantime, I’d like a Sex on the Beach.”
“You and me both, Red. Maybe you could tell Leila I deserve it.”
“Maybe you should sweep your wife off for a romantic weekend to the Gulf.”
“I’m afraid there won’t be any romance for this bartender until after the Super Bowl.” He swept his arm out, indicating the crowd in the bar. “We live for football.”
That was a given in Hazel Rock, Texas. Even the sign welcoming you to town was in the shape of a football. It was either that or a star—the town had voted for the football well before I was born.
“What can I get you, Princess?” Joe asked.
“It’s Charli now,” I yelled over the sudden outburst of cheering for a touchdown by the home team. Joe squinted, trying to make out what I’d said, as he pointed to his ear. I gave up on trying to get him to call me Charli and told him I’d like a frozen Amaretto Sour if he had one.
“Anything for the Princess of Hazel Rock.” He turned and walked down to the other end of the bar as I rolled my eyes.
“You may as well let it slide. That’s how people remember you.” Scarlet pulled out her larger-than-life smartphone from the fifties-style clutch purse she’d set on the bar. “Lean in for a selfie.”
Not wanting to offend her, I leaned in for the photo and found out she had an ulterior motive. Behind us, to my left, another gentleman had just joined the group of football enthusiasts standing around a café-style table. Dean McAlister was the best mechanic in town, but with four kids by four different women, he wasn’t exactly the catch of small-town USA. Sure he looked good for a man in his early forties, with brown hair curling around his neckline and a strong jaw with happy eyes. He worked hard and was an honest businessman. But when it came to his love life, the man didn’t know the meaning of the word loyalty.
Scarlet nudged me and we smiled for the photo, which actually turned out pretty good. “He’s somebody we need to talk to.”
“How am I going to approach him without him thinking I’m looking for something I’m not?”
“Ask him about a rental car.”
“A rental car?”
“Yeah. Dean’s got a couple of vehicles he lets people use while he’s working on their cars. I’m sure he’ll give you a deal.” Scarlet winked.
I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from seeping into my voice. “At what price?”
Scarlet laughed. “Grow some backbone, girl. You’re from Texas—and we don’t back down in Texas.”
She was right. Except I’d learned how to keep to myself and avoid adversity in Colorado. Approaching Dean was going to mean all kinds of trouble—I could feel it in my bones.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Go! Before he moves on and it becomes awkward.” Scarlet reached over and turned me toward Dean, both hands on my shoulders.
“Why don’t you come with me?” I sounded like I was back in high school, but I didn’t care.
“Because I’m waiting for our drinks. Now go. Unless you really don’t want to help your daddy?” Scarlet challenged.
“I didn’t say that.”
She raised her brow and I sighed with resignation.
“Hold my seat.”
Scarlet beamed, but I ignored it and slid off the stool. Five steps later, I was tapping Dean on the shoulder, ready to get more information about his affair with Marlene and who else had a motive to kill her. Dean turned around, expecting someone much shorter than me, and when his eyes finally reached mine I felt like I’d been thoroughly undressed. I couldn’t help the shiver that traveled down my spine. Dean, however, reached out to shake my hand.
I returned the gesture even though I knew he wouldn’t let go, which of course he didn’t. I pulled my hand back with a gentle tug.
“Princess. I heard you were back.” His drawl elongated every word.
I debated on getting right down to business but let my Southern upbringing dictate my greeting instead. “Hello, Dean. How are you?”
“My day just got brighter.” He sidled up next to me and put his arm around my shoulder.
I would put money on Dean running out of women who would fall for that line in Hazel Rock. Looks could only get you so far. Yes, the man was total arm candy—if you wanted an older man to warm your bed and leave as soon as he found pleasure somewhere else. He did own MacAlister’s Auto Shop, which was the best in the area, but along with his success he also had four kids and four child-support payments.
I slid out from under his arm, blurting out my excuse for approaching him before I got the information I needed. “I came over to see if you had a car for rent.”
Talking business did the trick. Dean’s expression changed and he gave me his undivided attention. “You should have told me you needed the truck worked on.” He’d been known to work on some vehicles for free when families ran across hard times. It was that version of Dean that I liked.
“It’s not the truck.” I blushed because I knew I couldn’t afford to pay him to rent a car but suddenly realized how much I could use a vehicle. “My dad’s taken off with the truck and, well . . .”
“You’re kind of stranded in Hazel Rock until he gets back,” Dean prompted.
“Yeah.”
“I heard you’re having trouble with the water from the well at The Barn. How much can you afford?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about with the well; as far as I knew, it was fine. But then again, maybe that was why dad had moved out. I decided to ask Scarlet about it later and then focused on one of Dean’s good qualities. He didn’t believe people would try to get something for nothing, yet I had no doubt some people had taken advantage of his generosity over the years.
I stretched my wallet as far as it would go. “Ten bucks a day?”
“Twenty-five for the week, and if you need it longer, we’ll talk.”
“I’m not sure when my dad will be back. He could show up tomorrow. . . or Thursday.” Thursday was the day of Marlene’s funeral. I waited to see if my mentioning it would have an effect on him.
It did. Immediately.
His face softened, and for the first time since I’d known the man, I saw real emotion cross his face. Not the generosity he’d shown toward others but pain for a personal loss mixed with what might be guilt. “I can’t imagine Bobby Ray missing Marlene’s funeral. The whole town will be there.”
“Will you?”
“Of course. Back when we were just kids in our early twenties, Marlene helped me buy the auto shop. She was just starting out at Yellow Jacket and I was ready to start making a name for myself.”
“There isn’t any other reason?” I asked.
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he searched mine.
“I know.” My voice was soft, but Dean heard every word and his shoulders slumped.
“I’m a weak man. Marlene and I went way back. She’s the one woman who never wanted anything in return from me.”
I was happy I’d obtained a little bit of information to help my daddy’s case, yet sad that his fiancée,
Marlene, hadn’t been worthy of his love. I hid my disappointment and asked, “So she was a friend . . . with benefits.”
The smile he gave me was kind of sad. “She was a good friend . . . with benefits.”
I pushed further. “Even after she was engaged to my father?”
Dean looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. “Even then,” he confessed.
Suddenly I felt my eyes filling with tears. I blinked them away before asking, “Didn’t she love my dad?”
“In her own way, yes.”
I couldn’t let Marlene off the hook that easily. “What does that mean?”
“Marlene was . . .” Dean cleared his throat, as if what he was about to say would be hard to swallow. “She was the female version of me. Being tied to one person forever seems like a mighty long time to keep someone happy.”
It suddenly dawned on me that Dean was afraid. Not physically but emotionally. Taking a risk with his heart was the last thing he wanted to do—would ever do. “So never committing is better than losing someone you care about?” I asked.
He tapped the side of his nose and smiled. I’d identified his fears without him admitting a thing.
“When was the last time you and Marlene . . . ahhh, danced?”
There was a flash of shame in his eyes, but he squared his shoulders and confessed his sins as if he was sitting in the confessional on Saturday morning. “Two weeks ago Marlene and I danced the night away. It was the last time I saw her.”
Two weeks ago.
It was shocking to hear that the woman my daddy loved had cheated on him so recently. Especially because he was prepared to give up his past and sell The Barn to make her his future. For a moment I wondered if my dad really had killed Marlene in a fit of jealousy. But couldn’t Dean be just as jealous of the man who was stepping in on his dance?
Before I had time to ask another question, a waitress came up and put a clingy hand on Dean’s arm. Her big blond hair was full of hair spray. She wore a plaid denim short-sleeved shirt with the pearl buttons open all the way down to the knotted shirttails, showing off plenty of her perky, man-made breasts. Her denim shorts exposed long legs born from hours at the gym. The look on her face was exactly what Dean liked: a sultry pout.