The Maverick

by Diana Palmer

  He did go home, but only after a heated session on her sofa that ended with him actually pulling away and running for the door. He waved as he slammed it behind him, leaving a disheveled Alice laughing her head off.

  It was raining on their wedding day. Alice carried an umbrella over her gown and Lisa Parks held up the train as they rushed into the church just ahead of a thunderbolt. Cy Parks was waiting at the altar with Harley, who looked devastating in a tuxedo, a conventional black one with a white shirt and black bow tie. Harley couldn’t take his eyes off Alice.

  Lisa went to her seat. The full church quieted. Alice smiled as the Wedding March struck up on the organ and she adjusted her train before she picked up the pretty bouquet he’d ordered for her. The fingertip veil just hid the wetness in her eyes as she wished with all her heart that her parents had been here to see her marry.

  She walked slowly down the aisle, aware of friendly, curious eyes admiring her dress. Leo Hart and his wife, Janie, were sitting on the aisle. Alice didn’t know, but Janie had dated Harley while she was trying to get over Leo. It hadn’t been serious. In fact, Harley had dated several local women, including one who’d cast him off like a wet shoe and hurt his pride. It had seemed to many people as if Harley would always be the stand-in for some other man. But here he was with a really pretty, professional woman, and she had a reputation as a keen investigator. Many people in Jacobsville watched the crime scene investigation shows. They grinned as they considered how nice it was going to be, having somebody local who could answer all those questions they wanted to ask about homicide investigation.

  Alice paused at the altar, looked up at Harley and felt a moment of panic. They hardly knew each other. They were almost strangers. This was insane…!

  Just then, as if he knew what she was feeling, Harley’s big hand reached over and linked itself unobtrusively into her cold fingers and pressed them, very gently. She looked into his eyes. He was smiling, with love and pride and confidence. All at once, she relaxed and smiled back.

  The minister cleared his throat.

  “Sorry,” Alice mouthed, and turned her attention to him instead of Harley.

  The minister, who had a daughter just Alice’s age, grinned at her and began the service.

  It was brief, but poignant. At the end of it, Harley lifted the exquisite veil and kissed his bride. Alice fought back tears as she returned the tender kiss.

  They ran out of the church amid a shower of confetti and well wishes.

  “Good thing you aren’t having a reception,” Cash Grier remarked as they waited for the limousine Cy Parks had ordered to take them to the airport, one of several wedding presents.

  “A reception?” Alice asked, curious. “Why?”

  “Our local district attorney, Blake Kemp, had one,” Cash explained. “He and his wife went home instead to dress for their honeymoon. While they were gone, there was an altercation. One of my officers was wearing the punch, another salvaged just the top layer of the wedding cake and most of the guests went to jail.” He grinned. “Jacobsville weddings are interesting.”

  They both laughed, and agreed that it was probably a good thing after all.

  Cy Parks paused with Lisa when the limo drove up and the driver came around to open the rear door.

  Cy shook hands with Harley. “Your house will be ready when you get back,” he told Harley. “You did good.”

  Harley beamed. “You’ll never know how much it meant to me, that you and Lisa stood up with us. Thanks.”

  Cy was somber. “You’re a good man, Harley. I hope my sons will be like you.”

  Harley had to bite down hard. “Thanks,” he managed.

  “Go have a nice honeymoon,” Cy told the couple. He grinned. “I won’t let the Hart boys near your house, either.”

  “The Hart boys?” Alice parroted.

  Leo Hart leaned over her shoulder. “We have a reputation for making weddings interesting,” he told her, and grinned.

  “Not so much these days.” Janie grinned from beside him.

  A tall, silver-eyed man in a police uniform walked up beside them. Kilraven. Grinning. “I’m giving the limo a police escort to the airport,” he told them.

  “That’s very nice of you,” Alice told him.

  He sighed. “Might as well, since there’s no reception. Weddings are getting really somber around here.”

  “Why don’t you get married and have a reception?” Cash Grier suggested.

  Kilraven gave him a look. “And have women throwing themselves over cliffs because I went out of circulation? In your dreams, Grier!”

  Everybody laughed.

  Corpus Christi was a beautiful little city on the Gulf of Mexico. It had a sugar-sand beach and seagulls and a myriad of local shops with all sorts of souvenirs and pretty things to buy. Harley and Alice never noticed.

  They’d managed to get checked in and they looked out the window at the beach. Then they looked at each other.

  Clothes fell. Buttons popped. Intimate garments went everywhere. Alice threw back the covers and dived in just a few seconds ahead of her brand-new husband. In a tangle of arms and legs, they devoured each other in a surging crescendo of passion that lasted for what seemed hours.

  “What are you waiting for?” Alice groaned. “Come back here!”

  “I was only…trying to make it easier…” he began.

  “Easier, the devil!” She arched up, grimacing, because it really did hurt. But only for a few seconds. She stiffened, but then the fever burned right back up again, and she dragged him down with a kiss that knocked every single worry right out of his mind.

  “Oh, wow,” she managed when the room stopped spinning around them. She was lying half under Harley, covered in sweat even in the cool room, shivering with delight. “Now that was a first time to write about!” she enthused.

  He laughed. “I was trying not to hurt you,” he pointed out.

  She pushed him over and rolled onto him. “And I appreciate every single effort, but it wasn’t necessary,” she murmured as she kissed him. “I was starving for you!”

  “I noticed.”

  She lifted up and gave him a wicked look.

  “I was starving for you, too,” he replied diplomatically, and chuckled. “You were incredible.”

  “So were you.” She sighed and laid her cheek on his broad, hairy chest. “No wonder people don’t wait for wedding nights anymore.”

  “Some of them do.”

  “It isn’t night, yet,” she reminded him.

  He laughed softly. “I guess not.”

  She kissed his chest. “Should we go down to the restaurant to eat?”

  “Mr. Parks gave us a one-week honeymoon with room service. I do not think we should insult the man by not using it,” he replied.

  “Oh, I do agree. I would hate to insult Mr. Parks. Besides,” she murmured, shifting, “I just thought of something we can do to pass the time until supper!”

  “You did?” He rolled her over, radiant. “Show me!”

  She did.

  They arrived home bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and with only a few photos and souvenirs of where they’d been. In actuality, they’d hardly seen anything except the ceiling of their hotel room.

  The ranch house was one level. It was old, but well-kept, and it had new steps and porch rails, and a porch swing. It also had a new coat of white paint.

  “It’s just beautiful,” Alice enthused. “Harley, it looks like the house I lived in when I was a little girl, growing up in Floresville!”

  “You grew up in Floresville?” he asked as he unlocked the door and opened it.

  She looked up at him. “We don’t know a lot about each other, do we? It will give us something to talk about when we calm down just a little.”

  He grinned and swept her up in his arms, to carry her into the house. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen,” he advised.

  She smiled and kissed him.

  He put her down in the living
room. She sighed. “Oh, my,” she said softly.

  There were roses everywhere, vases full of them, in every color. There were colorful afghans and two sweaters (his and hers), a big-screen color television set, a DVD player, an Xbox 360 gaming system and several games, and a basket of fruit. On the dining-room table, there were containers of breads and a propped-up note pointing to the refrigerator. It was full of cooked food. There was even a cake for dessert.

  “Good grief,” Harley whistled. He picked up the note and read it. “Congratulations and best wishes from the Scotts, the Parkses, the Steeles, all the Harts, and the Pendletons.” He gaped at her. “The Pendletons! Jason Pendleton is a multimillionaire! I thought he was going to deck me in San Antonio…” He hesitated to tell his new wife that he’d tried to date Jason’s stepsister Gracie, who was now Mrs. Pendleton. He chuckled. “Well, I guess he forgave me. His mother has a craft shop and she knits. I’ll bet she made the afghans for us.”

  Alice fingered the delicate stitches. “I’ll be still writing thank-you notes when our kids are in grammar school,” she remarked. “Harley, you have so many friends. I never realized.” She turned and smiled at him. “We’re going to be so happy here.”

  He beamed. He opened his arms and Alice ran into them, to be held close and hugged.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She peered up at him and laughed. “We didn’t get breakfast.”

  “And whose fault was that, Mrs. Fowler?” he teased.

  “I said I was hungry, it just wasn’t for food. Well, not then. I could eat,” she added, peering past him at the cake on the table.

  “So could I, and I noticed fried chicken in the fridge. It’s my favorite.”

  “Mine, too,” she agreed. “I don’t cook much on the weekdays because I’m on call so often.” She looked up at him worriedly.

  “I can cook, Alice,” he assured her, smiling. “And I will, when I need to.”

  “You’re just the best husband,” she sighed.

  “Glad you think so.” He chuckled. “Let’s find some plates.”

  They watched television while they nibbled on all sorts of delicious things. It was a treat that they both liked the same sort of shows. But they didn’t watch it for long. The trip back had been tiring, and in many ways, it had been a long week. They slept soundly.

  The next day, Alice had to drive up to her office to check on what progress had been made into the murder investigation while Harley got back to work on the ranch. He had things to do, as well, not to mention getting his own present of purebred cattle fed and watered and settled before he went over to Mr. Parks’s house to do his job.

  Longfellow welcomed her at the door with a hug. “Did you have a nice trip?”

  “Lovely,” Alice assured her. “But it’s good to get home. We had food and presents waiting for us like you wouldn’t believe. Mr. Parks had Harley’s house renovated and he actually gave him a small herd of purebred cattle for a wedding gift—not to mention the honeymoon trip. What a boss!”

  Longfellow smiled. “Surprising, isn’t it, how generous he is. Considering the line of work he used to be in, it’s a miracle he survived to get married and have a family.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” Alice replied. “Any word yet on that scrap of paper we sent to the FBI lab?”

  She shook her head. “The holidays, you know, and we’re not at the top of the line for quick results.” She pursed her lips. “Didn’t you once bribe people to get faster service?” she teased.

  Alice laughed. “I did, but I don’t think my new husband would appreciate it if I did that sort of thing now.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Anything on the woman who died at Senator Fowler’s house?” Alice added.

  Longfellow frowned. “Actually, the senator stopped by and left you a note. I think I put it in your middle desk drawer. He said you were going to be a terrific daughter-in-law…Oops, I’m not supposed to know that, am I?”

  Alice’s eyes widened. She hadn’t considered that she was now the daughter-in-law of the senior senator from Texas. She sat down, hard. “Well, my goodness,” she said breathlessly. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “You’ll have clout in high places, if you ever need it,” the other woman said wickedly. “You can threaten people with him!”

  Alice laughed. “You idiot.”

  “I’d threaten people with him,” came the reply. She frowned. “Especially Jon Blackhawk,” she added.

  “What’s Jon done to you?”

  “He called me at home at midnight to ask if we had lab results back on that thermos that Sheriff Hayes gave you.”

  “Now why would he want to know about that?”

  Longfellow’s eyes sparkled. “The investigator who was working with Marquez on the Kilraven case recalled seeing one like it.”

  “Where? When?”

  “At the home of her ex-husband, actually,” she said. “Remember that spiral design on the cup? It was rather odd, I thought at the time, like somebody had painted it with acrylics.”

  “Can we find out who her ex-husband is?” Alice asked excitedly.

  “I did. He died a few weeks ago. The woman he was living with couldn’t tell her anything about his friends or visitors, or about the thermos. The investigator told me that the woman was so strung out on coke that she hardly knew where she was.”

  “Pity,” Alice replied sadly.

  “Yes, and apparently the ex-husband had a drug problem of his own. Poor woman,” she added softly. “She worked her way up to sergeant in the homicide division, and lost her promotion when she helped Marquez reopen the Kilraven cold case files.”

  Alice was only half listening now. She recalled the note the senator had left, pulled it out, opened it and read it. He’d talked to the police commissioner, he wrote, who had promised the reinstatement of the investigator on the Kilraven case. He’d also spoken to his colleague, the junior senator, and informed him that they were not going to try to hinder any murder investigations, regardless of how old they were. He’d talked to the coroner as well, and the autopsy on the senator’s kitchen worker had been reclassified as a homicide. He hoped this would help. He reminded her that she and Harley should call and let them know when they were coming to supper. They had a wedding gift to present.

  Alice whistled softly. “He’s been busy.” She told Longfellow the results of the senator’s intercession. “What a nice man.”

  “Lucky you, to be related to him.” The other woman chuckled. “See, I told you that…Wait a sec.”

  Her phone was ringing. She picked it up, raised her eyebrows at Alice and pulled a pen and paper toward her. “That’s very nice of you! We didn’t expect to hear back so soon. Yes, I’m ready. Yes.” She was writing. She nodded. “I’ve got it. Yes. Yes, that will be fine. Thank you!” She hung up. “The FBI lab!” she exclaimed. “They’ve deciphered the rest of the numbers on that slip of paper you found in the victim’s hand in Jacobsville!”

  “Really? Let me see!”

  Alice picked up the slip of paper and read the numbers with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Now there was no doubt, none at all, who the victim had come to Jacobsville to see. The number was for Kilraven’s cell phone.

  Eleven

  Kilraven waited for Alice in the squad room at the Jacobsville Police Department. Alice had driven down in the middle of the day. She didn’t want him to have to wait for the news, but she didn’t want to tell him over the phone, either.

  He stood up when she walked in and closed the door behind her. “Well?” he asked.

  “The number on that slip of paper in the dead man’s hand,” she said. “It was your cell phone number.”

  He let out a breath. His eyes were sad and bitter. “He knew something about the murder. He came to tell me. Somebody knew or suspected, and they killed him.”

  “Then they figured that Dolores, who worked for Senator Fowler, might have heard something from the man, and they killed h
er, too. This is a nasty business.”

  “Very,” Kilraven replied. “But this case is going to break the older one,” he added. “I’m sure of it. Thanks, Alice,” he added quietly. “I owe you one.”

  “I’ll remember that,” she said, smiling. “Keep me in the loop, will you? Oh, there’s another thing, I almost forgot. That thermos that Sheriff Hayes found, the one wiped clean of prints? Your investigator in San Antonio actually recognized it! It belonged to her ex-husband!”

  “Oh, boy,” he said heavily. “That’s going to cause some pain locally.”

  “It is? Why?”

  “Her ex-husband is the uncle of Winnie Sinclair.”

  “Does Winnie know?” Alice asked, stunned.

  “No. And you can’t tell her.” His eyes had an odd, pained look. “I’ll have to do it, somehow.”

  “Was he the sort of person who’d get mixed up in murder?”

  “I don’t know. But he’s dead now. Whatever he knew died with him. Thanks again, Alice. I will keep you in the loop,” he promised.

  She nodded and he left her standing there. She felt his pain. Her own life was so blessed, she thought. Kilraven’s was a study in anguish. Maybe he could solve the case at last, though. And maybe little Winnie Sinclair would have a happier future than she expected. Certainly, Kilraven seemed concerned about her feelings.

  Alice and Harley went to supper with the senator and his wife. They were hesitant at first, with Harley, but as the evening wore on, they talked. Old wounds were reopened, but also lanced. By the time the younger Fowlers left, there was a détente.

  “It went better than I expected it to,” Harley said. “I suppose all three of us had unrealistic expectations.”

  She smiled. “They were proud of you when they heard what you’d done with your life. You could tell.”

  He smiled. “I grew up. I was such a cocky brat when I went to work for Cy Parks.” He chuckled. “But I grew up fast. I learned a lot. I’m still learning.” He glanced at her as he drove. “Nice presents they gave us, too. A little unexpected.”