by Kym Roberts
“Sugar, I am so glad you found me.” He leaned over and whispered something in her ear that caused her to lick her lips. Dean finished off his beer and put his empty bottle on the waitress’s tray. “While I use the men’s room, could you get me another beer and Princess here . . .” He pointed to my empty hands.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I’ve got a drink waiting for me at the bar.”
Dean nodded. “Then I’ll see you at the shop first thing in the morning.” He winked at the waitress and disappeared into the crowd.
The waitress started to leave, but before she could, I asked, “Excuse me; could you tell me how often Dean hooked up with Marlene Duncan at the bar?”
Her face grew wary. “Are you a cop?”
“I’m about as far from a cop as you can get.”
“Why would you ask if Dean was hooking up with Marlene?” She seemed genuinely stumped.
“Because Dean isn’t exactly the discriminating type?” I suggested.
The waitress leaned toward me, her tray balanced steadily behind her as she displayed a tattoo between her breasts. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the stem to a piece of fruit. She sneered as she looked me up and down. “He’s taken.”
I leaned back. “Excuse me?”
“Dean’s taken.”
“I know he and Marlene—”
A look of shock crossed her face and I realized my mistake instantaneously. Just because I knew one secret didn’t mean I knew them all. “What I meant to say was that he and Marlene were friends, and I was asking him if he knew of any other men she’d dated.”
“Wasn’t she engaged to that old guy who owns the bookstore infested with rats?”
“Rats? The Book Barn doesn’t have rats!” I realized my next mistake a little too late. Defending the store was the last thing I should be doing while trying to get information.
I tried to smooth over my mistake. “I mean, I hadn’t heard that one.” I pushed her for more. I needed to know if Dean could be a suspect. “I heard Marlene had a thing for good-looking guys.”
“Marlene liked to dance,” she replied.
That’s what Dean had said, only he’d meant much more than a bump and grind on the dance floor. “Really? Do you think she could have been cheating on her fiancé with other men?”
“I saw her in here a few times with her ex, and when she couldn’t find someone else, Dean took pity on her.” The light bulb went on and darkened her blue eyes with anger. “Are you telling me my boyfriend chose her over me?” Her hand went down her body as if the thought of a man choosing another bed partner with fewer attributes than she had was an impossibility.
I hesitated, not sure how to deal with the wild card I’d dealt myself. “I wouldn’t go that far . . .”
But obviously she thought I did. Her free hand went on her hip. Her lips pursed and her eyes sparkled with a jealous flame.
“You got some nerve, coming in here, accusing Dean.” She looked me up and down from head to toe, dismissing my skinny frame like a stray tumbleweed blowing across the street. She grabbed the mug of beer on her tray.
As she reared back to shower me with my least-favorite drink, I ducked and the ale struck the only Philly fan in the whole bar. If that wasn’t bad enough, the guy was two sheets to the wind and grumbling about the upside-down score that left his team heading for a loss. He turned around and punched a Dallas fan before I could utter the words, Sorry, that was meant for me.
His one punch was followed by a second. The new victim stumbled back into another guy who had at least one sheet swaying in the breeze as well. I cringed and tried to stop the third guy from getting involved, but it was like trying to stop a bull on its way to a heifer in season. My feet flew out from beneath me as I slipped in the beer and ended up on the floor with the crowd around me throwing punches and insults faster than a WWE wrestling match.
I crawled toward the bar where Scarlet sat back watching the action with a smile on her face. “You’d think it was Friday night,” she yelled over the din and held out my drink.
I grabbed a napkin and wiped the beer off my knees. “This happens a lot?”
Scarlet squinted, trying to read my lips, and then nodded. “Usually when our football team loses.”
I took a sip of my drink and watched a woman break a pitcher over some guy’s head. More beer sloshed on the floor and dripped down his chin.
Dazed, I downed the rest of the best frozen Amaretto Sour I’d ever had. Then I set my glass on the bar and watched Joe Buck start tossing patrons out the front door of the bar.
My jaw tightened from the sour bite of my drink. “We should help.”
Scarlet laughed and shook her head. “Joe’s got it down to a science.”
At that moment I saw Mateo enter the bar flanked by two deputies, Joe Buck pulling up the rear. Mateo grabbed the first two guys he encountered who were throwing punches and handed one back to each deputy. The deputies immediately got the brawlers’ attention by getting in their faces. At first the football revelers bristled and chest-bumped. Then sanity clicked, and with their heads bowed in submission to the deputies’ authority they followed instructions to have a seat on the floor. Those who didn’t obey, got put on the floor with their wrists zip-tied behind their backs.
A break in the crowd formed, leading right to where I sat next to Scarlet.
The sheriff, with his arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart, still had a don’t-mess-with-me look on his face. It was the same expression he’d worn as he made his entire way through the bar. His words, however, were just for me. “I should have known the trail would lead me straight to you.”
I raised my hand and waved, trying to look as innocent as possible. Mateo wasn’t fooled. He grabbed my upper arm and marched me outside.
So much for changing my ways.
Chapter Twenty-three
“What in the blue blazes did you think you were doing in there?” Mateo asked before muttering something under his breath in Spanish. He practically dragged me to his patrol car and opened the passenger-side door.
“Am I under arrest?” I squeaked as he opened the door and shoved me inside with his palm on the top of my head. Déjà vu was definitely setting in.
“Should you be?”
I looked at him, afraid to utter a word lest I incriminate myself.
“Dios mio.” He slammed the door closed and I watched him stalk around to the driver’s side. I jumped when he got in and slammed his door as well.
“What did you get yourself into now?” His voice held the accusation of a prosecutor facing down the man responsible for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
“Nothing!”
“I haven’t seen a brawl like that since . . . since I don’t know when.” Mateo flexed his fingers over the steering wheel.
I think he wanted to put them around my neck.
“Scarlet said it happens on Friday nights when the team loses.” My tone may have come off a little condescending. It wasn’t my intention; it just happened.
“Our team is winning, in case you failed to notice.”
A knock on his side window startled us both. Scarlet was standing on the other side with her arms crossed.
He turned the key in the ignition and rolled down the window. “What can I do for you, Ms. Jenkins?” Mateo’s voice scraped out the polite words as if they were the last thing he wanted to say.
Scarlet didn’t waste any time on good manners. “You’ve got no right to detain Charli.”
“Princess,” he said, making it sound like he thought I was anything but royalty, “started a brawl in the bar.”
“I didn’t see her throw any punches,” said Scarlet.
“You were talking to Joe with your back to the action,” he countered.
He had no way of knowing that, but he was a dadgum good guesser. Mateo rolled up his window, dismissing Scarlet before she could argue. His forehead was beginning to sweat and his jaw made a grinding noise when Scarlet knocked on the glass eve
n harder.
I made the gesture for her to quit by slicing my finger across my neck. Scarlet crinkled up her nose but decided to wait and folded her arms. It wasn’t a second later that a large drop of rain hit the windshield. Then another.
They started coming down faster and Scarlet looked up at the dark night sky. A big grin crossed Mateo’s face for the first time since I’d met him. Scarlet threw her hands in the air and returned to the covered porch of the Tool Shed.
“How much have you had to drink?” Mateo asked, turning to me and resuming his normal blank look.
I refrained from rolling my eyes, barely. “One drink.”
“It must have been a pretty strong one.”
I raised the corners of my mouth in a smile that wasn’t really happy but wasn’t angry either.
The sheriff let it pass. “What happened in the bar, Ms. Warren?”
“Nothing. I was just asking a few questions and the next thing I knew a beer was flying through the air.”
“A bottle or a glass?”
I was happy to enlighten him. “Neither. It was just the beer itself, sloshing down some guy’s back.”
“And you didn’t slosh it?”
I shook my head. I was free and clear.
“Nor did you see who sloshed it?”
That question was a little trickier. I shook my head again, only this time it was more like a Stevie Wonder nod.
Mateo’s eyes narrowed. “Who were you talking to?”
“One of the waitresses. I don’t know her name.” Even if I did, I wouldn’t repeat it. I was already on her bad side without reporting her to the police.
Mateo wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “And what exactly were you asking?”
At this point I’d reached my limit of skirting around the truth, so I confessed. “If she knew how often Marlene and Dean, ah . . .” I hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it. Mateo leaned forward with both eyebrows raised, waiting for me to continue. “If she knew how often they hooked up at the bar.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re spreading gossip about a dead woman?”
I scrunched my nose and shook my head. He was about to figure out the rest.
“Let me guess. You asked the blond waitress who’s about your age and wears a lot of hair spray with a uniform about two sizes too small for her shape?”
I happily evaded, “That describes more than half the female population of Texas, let alone Hazel Rock.”
Mateo pursued the truth. “She has a tattoo between her breasts of two leaves on a stem with two cherries.”
“I didn’t see any cherries.”
His face turned smug. “But you did see the stem.”
“I saw two leaves—”
“Her name is Sugar.”
“Seriously? I thought Dean was just laying it on thick.” Recognizing my mistake, I quickly added, “I didn’t know she loved Dean.”
“Of course you didn’t know. You’re not an investigator. You don’t know the facts and you’re mucking up my case as we speak.”
“I understand that this is your case—”
“Who’s in the bookstore?”
His change of topic caught me off guard. “What?”
“Who’s in The Barn right now?” he demanded.
“No one—why?” I turned to look in the direction of the store.
“Does anyone have permission to be in The Barn?”
At first I thought of my dad but dismissed it immediately when I saw the glow of a flashlight in the upstairs windows. Dad wouldn’t use a flashlight. Then I thought of Scott Duncan, who knew where my dad kept the key. But he was inside the bar.
Mateo’s sense of urgency grew. “Charli?”
“No one should be inside the store.”
The sheriff got on his radio and asked for backup from the officers in the bar. When he opened his car door, I got out of the passenger side at the same time, but he stopped me before I could follow.
“Give me your keys.” I hesitated, and Mateo’s mood changed. He wasn’t irritated or angry, but it was obvious he meant business and he was in charge. “Charli, give me your keys.”
“I can go with you,” I insisted as rain pelted my face.
Mateo was having none of it. “A woman died in The Barn a couple of days ago. I’d like to prevent that from occurring again.” He paused. “I promise I won’t shoot Bobby Ray. Now give me your keys and stay here.”
He was right of course. I needed to let him do his job. He was trained to deal with thieves and murderers. I, on the other hand, wasn’t equipped to deal with any criminals. Unless of course you want to include undisciplined five-year-olds in that category.
I dug into my purse and handed my keys over to Mateo. “The bigger one is for the side door.”
He nodded. “Thank you.” Then he pointed to the wooden planks on the porch next to Scarlet and spoke to my friend. “Keep her here.”
“Mateo Espinosa, what are you up to now?” Scarlet demanded.
“Just keep her here!” Mateo ran toward The Book Barn Princess.
Thirty seconds later, the female deputy exited the bar, talking into the mic on her shoulder.
“Someone’s in the bookstore,” I said and pointed toward the light on the second floor of The Barn. She just nodded her acknowledgment as she took off through the muddy street after Mateo.
As soon as the deputy was gone, Scarlet asked, “Are you sure that’s not Bobby Ray in The Barn?”
“Why would Daddy be walking around with a flashlight?”
“Because the sheriff wants to arrest him for murder?”
I changed the subject before my fears and doubts led to the same stupid mistakes they had in the past. The last thing I wanted to think about was the possibility of Mateo shooting my dad. I had to trust both men to stay true to their word. “Did my dad ever say there was a problem with the well at The Barn?”
“Why do you ask?” Scarlet said.
“Because Dean said he heard I was having problems with the well,” I explained.
“That’s weird. Joe told me he’d heard the same thing.”
“So is it true?”
“If your daddy was having problems with the well, it would have been found during the sale of The Barn and recorded somewhere in the paperwork. Maybe you should check with Yellow Jacket Realty.”
Just then the lights flicked on in the second story of the barn. The shades were still drawn and all we could see were shadows. Scarlet and I looked at each other and out at the downpour that wasn’t about to quit anytime soon and took off running for The Barn. As we approached the side door, we heard loud voices coming from within. Actually, just one loud voice. The pitch was high, but I didn’t think it was coming from the female deputy.
Out of breath, with my heart pounding in my throat, I opened the door to see Mateo and his deputy escorting a smaller man down the wide steps from the second story.
My breath caught as the man with his hands behind his back began yelling. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I’ve got a right to be here!”
“I don’t think you have the right to take anything,” Mateo replied.
“I wasn’t taking anything!” The man’s voice was undeniably recognizable, despite the fact that his face was turned away from me, and the feeling of betrayal seeped into my blood once again.
I’d been a fool to believe him.
Chapter Twenty-four
The sheriff and his deputy had seen Scarlet and me approach, and although neither one looked happy about it, they didn’t tell us to stay away either. Marlene’s ex, however, was completely taken by surprise.
“Princess!” It didn’t take him long to recover and use our agreement to his advantage. “Tell him you let me visit anytime I want.”
He was the only person who hadn’t run through the rain, and as much as I really hated him at that moment, I couldn’t lie. “It’s true, Sheriff. I allowed him to come and go as he pleased while he grieved for Marlene.”
Mr. Dun
can was nodding his head in agreement a little too fast. His enthusiasm reeked of deceit. “That’s exactly what I was doing . . . grieving.”
“He was stuffing a couple of books into his satchel when we found him.” Mateo held up a brown weathered leather bag that I’d seen Mr. Duncan carry on many occasions, including when I first found him in the loft of The Barn.
“They’re mine! I brought them with me tonight.” Mr. Duncan’s eyes were wide and pleading.
Scarlet stepped forward and asked, “What books are they?”
“The African Game Trails volumes one and two. Do they belong to the store?” Mateo looked like he already knew the answer.
“I’m not sure. They could . . .” I said.
Scarlet waved her hand in the air to shut me up. “Written by President Theodore Roosevelt?” she asked Mateo.
“ ‘That’s correct. They’re leather bound—” Mateo started to reply.
“And in a case. Both volumes are signed copies,” Scarlet interjected.
“Signed?” I looked at Scarlet and then back at Mateo for confirmation.
“I haven’t looked at them that closely yet,” he replied.
“They’re mine, I tell you!” Mr. Duncan insisted.
“They belong to Bobby Ray and Charli,” said Scarlet.
“Take him to the station and let Detective Youngblood know I’ll be there shortly.” Mateo released his prisoner’s arm and nodded at his deputy.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” This time the deputy took the covered walk most of the way as she led Mr. Duncan down toward the bar, where her car was parked. I really wanted him to get as wet as we were, but he was only exposed to a few drops.
Mateo waited for the deputy to secure Mr. Duncan in the front seat of her patrol car before he said, “Can we go inside, ladies?” He moved to the door of The Book Barn Princess and held it open for us. Scarlet went in first and I followed.
“I’ll make us some tea,” I suggested. I really didn’t want to smell like a whiskey distillery while talking to Mateo.