The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost Book 1)

by Sally Berneathy

  “What’s she like, Mrs. Roland?” The woman she’d glimpsed last night didn’t seem the type to play kinky sex games, but Amanda wasn’t sure she knew what type would.

  “She seems to be the perfect politician’s wife, quiet, submissive, always gracious, content to live in her husband’s shadow.”

  “That sounds like an interesting match.”

  “Almost like a medieval marriage of alliance between ruling monarchs. Catherine Montgomery and Roland Kimball. Two powerful families combined to rule Texas. They got married two months after he came home from law school. Wasn’t a long courtship.”

  Two powerful families combined to rule Texas. The future governor of Texas could be a murderer and a sexual pervert. Nice.

  “How about Dianne Carter? Did you find out anything else about her after she came back to Silver Creek?”

  “A year after she came back, she married Gregory Carter. They had two kids, both boys. She was a grade school teacher, he’s a high school athletics coach. Both were active in the church and charity organizations.” Dawson continued with the same information Irene had already given her.

  Amanda sighed. Dawson had uncovered some things about Kimball she hadn’t known, but nothing that would help her.

  Another call popped up on her cell phone. “I need to go. My dad’s calling. Thanks, Dawson.”

  She answered the incoming call. “Hi, Dad.”

  “What in the devil were you doing trespassing at Roland Kimball’s house last night?”

  Amanda sat upright, stunned. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Amanda, what have you got yourself into?”

  “It was…a mistake.”

  “Yes, it was. Your trip to that town was a mistake. You need to come home. Brian is working on a defense for you with regard to Charley’s death, and he needs your assistance.”

  “Have they...” Amanda gulped. “Have they decided for sure to arrest me?”

  “Not yet. You’re my daughter. They’re going to be very careful before they make their move.”

  Amanda shivered. “But you think they will make that move eventually.”

  Her father was silent for a long moment. “I think you need to come home and help us put together a good defense just in case.”

  Just in case. The casual way her father tossed out that phrase told her it was pretty close to a certainty. A chill crept down her spine, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

  “Dad, I can’t come home right now.” For a moment she considered telling him what was going on. She’d always been able to count on him when she needed help. He was her rock.

  But if he found out she was taunting a murderer, he’d come down and physically carry her home.

  “Why can’t you come home right now?” he demanded, his tone strangely sharp.

  “I...uh...Charley’s mother. She likes me. I think having me here comforts her.” She wasn’t lying, just not telling everything she knew, an old trick she’d learned from Charley.

  “How much longer do you plan to stay there?” Again her father’s voice held a note of stress.

  “Two weeks.” That should get her a week.

  “Three days.”

  Three days? “Dad! I’m an adult. You can’t just order me around.”

  Judge Caulfield chuckled. “Sweetheart,” he said, sounding more like his normal, in-control self, “I couldn’t order you around when you were a child. Please come home in three days. Is that better?”

  “One week.”

  “One week. If you promise no more prowling around in the middle of night. Stay at the Randolphs’ house. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Her father’s admonition to remain at the Randolphs’ house was oddly reminiscent of Charley’s. Promise me you’ll stay with my family the whole time you’re here. The two of them were rarely in accord. “One week.” She agreed to the time element only.

  “Do I have your promise?”

  “I promise to come home in one week.”

  Her father sighed. “All right. Please don’t do anything crazy.”

  She couldn’t agree to that either. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, Mandy.”

  She disconnected the call. “Something’s going on with my dad.”

  Charley laughed—nervously, she thought. “Why do you say that?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t know. He just sounded funny.”

  “Your dad’s fine. I gotta go.” Charley disappeared.

  Amanda stared at the empty space. Did Charley know something about her father that she didn’t? The two men didn’t even like each other. Her father had adamantly opposed her marriage to Charley.

  Yet he’d known about Charley’s very-much-alive family and had kept the knowledge a secret from her when that might have persuaded her not to marry Charley.

  And he’d bailed Charley out of jail more than once, used his influence to rescue her husband from a number of scrapes. In fact, she’d come to wish he’d stay out of things and let Charley deal with the consequences of his petty crimes, but Judge Caulfield insisted on upholding the family name.

  Tonight her father had given her the same instructions Charley had given her the first night she was there, to remain within the confines of this house.

  Charley, who could no longer lie, had chosen to disappear rather than talk about her father.

  A ridiculous idea swam around the edges of her mind.

  No. She dismissed the thought immediately. No way was it possible that Charley had been blackmailing her dad into getting him out of trouble. She could believe that of Charley, but her dad was the most morally upright man she’d ever known. Stodgily so. He could never have done anything to be blackmailed for, nor would he have given in to a blackmailer.

  Her whole world had been turned upside down. Some of the changes were good, like meeting Charley’s family. But she was having doubts about her father and fears for her life.

  That reminded her she had not yet checked her motorcycle after her run-in with Kimball last night. She hurried downstairs and out into the yard. Her bike was still parked where she’d left it. It seemed to be intact, but a cursory inspection before her ride into the mountains had not revealed the things Kimball had done to her bike.

  She moved up close, ready to do a complete check of everything.

  She didn’t need to. Someone had made three yellow chalk marks on her back tire, the kind police left on automobile tires to determine if they stayed in a parking zone too long. But the marks hadn’t been there the night before. They were fresh, not driven over. And if there should be any doubt as to who was responsible, someone had written a capital letter K in the dust on her gas tank.

  Kimball was sending her a message. Nothing she could take to the police, just a warning that he could get to her any time he wanted.

  Amanda rose slowly, her gaze glued to her bike. Kimball wanted to frighten her. He’d succeeded. The extent of his power, the fact that he could get to her so easily was terrifying.

  But he’d also roused her anger. How dare he sneak around in the middle of the night, intruding on Irene and Herbert’s property and touching her motorcycle? He’d already ruined her favorite bike. Now he’d touched this one, and that felt creepy beyond words. She’d have to check it for problems and wash it thoroughly before she rode it again.

  Killing Charley was one thing. She could hardly blame him for that. She’d thought about it often enough herself. But breaking into her apartment, stealing her gun and putting her at risk of going to prison, causing her to wreck one motorcycle and leaving his evil presence on another…the jerk had to be stopped.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That afternoon Amanda made a thorough inspection of her bike followed by a thorough washing before she rode to the high school football stadium to talk to the coach, Dianne’s widower. If she could figure out why Kimball killed Dianne, that might give her a lever in dealing with him.

  Charley, of course, came with her. W
hen he was alive, he’d spent a lot of time away, working on scams, having affairs, a night or two in jail. Now, when he should be gone forever, she couldn’t get rid of him.

  The two of them stood at the rail around the football field and cheered for Paula and Penny as the girls ran laps. When they finished their track practice, they came over, smiling and mopping perspiration from their faces.

  “Hi, Amanda!” Paula greeted. They had their names on their shirts so Amanda could tell which twin was which. Unless they’d switched shirts. “Did you ride your bike? Can I ride back with you?”

  “No, let me!” Penny protested.

  “Tell them both they can’t,” Charley said. “I don’t want my sisters riding with somebody who goes so fast, my life flashes before me.”

  “I have one spare helmet. I could take one of you home and then come back for the other.”

  The sisters looked at each other and nodded. “We’ll be right back as soon as we shower and change clothes.”

  “Before you go, is that Greg Carter?” She indicated the man in a baseball cap holding a clipboard and talking to another sweaty girl.

  “Yeah, that’s Coach,” Paula replied.

  “Can you introduce me?”

  The twins exchanged startled glances. “You want to meet Coach?” Penny asked.

  “He is single,” Paula said. “But...”

  Amanda almost choked when she realized what the girls thought. “Oh, that’s not what I mean! I don’t want to meet him socially. I want to ask him some questions about…” She hesitated, unsure how to explain the whole thing to the girls. “I’m trying to get information about people who knew your brother.”

  Both girls looked relieved. “We like Coach,” Paula said.

  “It’s just…” Penny ended her comment with a shrug.

  Amanda hadn’t been out of school so long she’d forgotten how things were. “Just that it would be really weird for somebody you know to date him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Trust me,” she assured them, “that’s not where this is going.”

  “I should hope not since you’re still a married woman,” Charley said.

  Paula trotted over to Greg Carter, said something to him, pointed to Amanda, and the two walked back to where she stood.

  “Amanda, this is our coach, Mr. Carter.”

  The man was tall and muscular as expected of a football coach, but his broad face and warm brown eyes gave him a mellow appearance. Amanda extended a hand, and Greg took it in a firm but gentle grip. “You’re Charley’s widow?”

  “Yes. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Sure.”

  Penny and Paula took this as permission to leave. “We’ll meet you back here after we get cleaned up.”

  “They’re good kids,” Greg observed, watching them go.

  “The whole family’s great.”

  Greg turned to her. “You want to talk about Charley? I didn’t know him very well. He never went out for sports.”

  That figured. Even in those days he probably had no time for something as clean-cut as sports. “Actually, I want to talk about Dianne.”

  Pain flashed across Greg’s face, and he looked down for a moment, composing himself before he met her gaze again. “I could talk about Dianne all day, but she didn’t know Charley very well either.”

  “I realize that. It’s just that they came from the same town, and they both died violent deaths.”

  Greg shifted his clipboard from one hand to the other and studied her for a long moment. “Two years apart, in different towns.”

  “Both were shot with a thirty-eight caliber hand gun. I know I’m probably reaching, but I’d really appreciate it if you could answer a few questions.”

  Greg pushed his baseball cap toward the back of his head and drew in a deep breath. “It’s hard to get past something like that. The boys and I still miss her every day. But I guess I don’t have to tell you what it feels like when your life partner is gone.”

  Amanda wished she knew what that felt like.

  “Do you know why Dianne and Roland Kimball broke up?”

  Greg blinked a couple of times as if startled by the question. “I…no, that was before we started dating.”

  “I know. I just thought she might have told you.”

  “She never talked much about that time in her life.”

  “Did she stay in touch with him after they came back from college? Did they remain friends or at least friendly?”

  Greg shook his head. “She had no contact with him, and she never brought up his name.”

  “So the breakup must have been a bad one.”

  Greg drew in a deep breath. “My wife is dead. All I have left is her memory. Why do you want to dredge up things from her past that are better off forgotten?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. Her killer was never brought to justice, and Charley said he thought her death might be connected to what happened in college.” That wasn’t a lie. She just didn’t specify if Charley told her before or after he was killed.

  Greg gripped the rail and leaned closer. “You think that bastard Kimball had something to do with what happened to Dianne?”

  Amanda hadn’t expected that reaction. For all his money and prominent position in the community, Kimball didn’t seem likely to be voted Mr. Popularity. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking questions.”

  Greg leaned back. “She was different when she came home from college. In high school she was the girl everybody loved. A cheerleader, smart, funny, bubbly, adventurous. Always right there when somebody wanted to do something silly. One time she and her friends put pink flamingos in the biology teacher’s yard. Another time they blew up hundreds of balloons and filled the boys’ bathroom with them. Never anything bad, just high-spirited. About the worst thing she ever did was smoke a cigarette in the cafeteria on a dare.”

  “She doesn’t sound like the kind of girl who’d date Roland Kimball.”

  “He was rich and good looking, she was beautiful and popular. Nobody was surprised when they started dating. After they went off to college together, everybody thought they’d get married.” Greg was silent for several seconds, his gaze focused on the ground.

  “But they didn’t,” Amanda supplied.

  He slowly lifted his head. His eyes were damp, but he smiled. “No, they didn’t. She came home and married me. She never looked at me in high school, but when she came back, she was quiet, subdued, ready to settle down. We had a good life.”

  “She never mentioned Kimball? Never even something like, gee, I wish I’d never met that creep?”

  Greg shook his head. “Never. Not even when somebody else brought up his name. She never talked about him, and she went out of her way to avoid him, like if he was speaking to a group or visiting the school or something public like that. Yes, I thought that was suspicious. I thought he’d probably hurt her, but I didn’t see any reason to bring up bad memories, so I never pushed her.” He hesitated, holding his clipboard against his chest. “She had nightmares. Sometimes she’d wake up crying, sobbing as if her heart was broken.”

  “Did she say what the nightmares were about?”

  “No. She always claimed she didn’t remember. The nightmares got worse just before she was killed.” He hesitated then seemed to make up his mind. “Sometimes I’d catch a word here and there in all the crying. She’d mumble things like, forgive and blood. She was very religious, obsessed with never being good enough. So that seemed normal, forgiveness and the blood of Christ. But sometimes she begged somebody to stop.” He swallowed. “Sometimes she talked about death and murder.”

  A cold chill shot down Amanda’s spine. “Death and murder? Did you ask her what she meant?”

  Again Greg shook his head. “She always claimed she didn’t remember the dreams.”

  “Coach Carter, can you come see if I’m doing this right?” Another young girl in track gear came up behind him.

  �
��Sure, Julie. Be right there.” He looked at Amanda, smiled weakly and spread his hands. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You helped.” While the information that Dianne had nightmares and talked in her sleep about murder seemed ominous enough, she had no idea what to do with that information, where to go from there. Feeling a little frustrated, she started to leave, find the twins and head home.

  “Mrs. Randolph?”

  “Yes?” She turned back to Greg Carter.

  “You might talk to Sandy Lawson. Dianne and Sandy were friends, and they roomed together in college. When Kimball walked into Dianne’s funeral, Sandy got upset. Said he had no right to be there. Going to funerals is part of being the mayor, but Sandy said, after what happened between him and Dianne, he shouldn’t have come.”

  “Do you have her phone number?”

  “It’s in the phone book. Her husband’s name is Don. She still lives here in town.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Charley said as Coach Carter walked away.

  “We?”

  Paula and Penny ran up, clean and ready to roll. As the three of them—four if you counted Charley—headed for the gate, Amanda noticed a man a few feet away duck his head and turn from them. He looked ordinary enough, and there was no reason he shouldn’t be hanging around the high school stadium, but why was he trying to hide his face?

  The girls didn’t seem to notice anything, but she glanced at Charley and saw him watching the man too.

  A pervert scoping out the kids, or one of Kimball’s flunkies keeping an eye on her?

  She didn’t much care for either possibility.

  

  As soon as Amanda ferried Penny and Paula home, she looked up Sandy Lawson’s number and called her. The woman was more than ready to talk about Dianne and Kimball.

  “But not on the phone. Can you drop by after dinner?”

  “Absolutely!”

  When Amanda announced she was going for another moonlight motorcycle ride, Irene looked at her skeptically but said nothing.