Sunny recovered almost immediately, a professional mask settling over her face. Too bad. Amanda had kind of liked the real woman who’d sat beside her so briefly, before she mentioned her stalker. “Frank Sturgess? Yes, I know him. He’s a former client. Why do you ask?”
“He’s been following me.”
“Why do you think that?”
She decided to tell part of the truth. Charley’s role always had to be edited out. “I saw him following me last night. Then I found his car parked at the Randolphs’ place and got his license plate number.”
“I see. How did you get his name from the license plate? Have you spoken to the police about this?”
Amanda didn’t want to admit that the Dallas cops were ignoring her, so she opted to indulge her new habit and lie. “No. That information is available on the Internet.”
That evoked a wry grin. “Of course. Everything is out there on the Internet. So you’re a computer expert?”
Amanda laughed at that image. “Not really. I can do e-mail, Facebook, play a few games, the basics. That’s the extent of my computer expertise.”
“But you found Frank’s name by using his license plate number.”
“I had help. I have a friend who is a computer expert.”
Sunny nodded and tented her fingers. “So you want to know about Frank Sturgess. He moved here when he was laid off from his assembly line job in Fort Worth. He couldn’t find regular work, and he made a mistake, robbed the Fast Stop convenience store so he could buy food for his family. I got his sentence commuted to probation, helped him find a job, and he’s walked the straight and narrow ever since.” She hesitated. “Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s not a bad person.”
Amanda grimaced. “Not a bad person? He stole money and now he’s following me and spying on me, and you don’t think he’s a bad person?”
“He loves his kids. Parents will do anything for their kids, even things that are wrong.” Sunny spoke with so much feeling, Amanda wondered if the woman had children of her own. Irene hadn’t mentioned a husband or family. Either Sunny had kids or she was a real bleeding heart.
“Where does Sturgess work?”
“Your computer friend didn’t tell you?”
“Not yet. He’s working on it. I just thought I’d ask since I’m here.”
Sunny laughed suddenly, an unexpected bright, tinkling sound. “Hedge your bets. Smart girl. Frank works as a warehouse manager for Silver Creek Financial.”
“Is that one of the companies owned by the Kimball family?”
“Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”
Amanda shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Just curious,” she repeated, her expression and her voice suddenly switching to lawyer mode. “Roland Kimball called the police a few nights ago because you were trespassing on his property. Now you think a man’s following you, and you want to know if he works for the Kimball family. What’s going on, Amanda?”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Does everybody in this town know everybody else’s business?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. No, not everybody is aware of your encounter with the police. I work closely with local law enforcement. No charges were filed against you, but the officers had to turn in a report. I saw that report.”
“No wonder Charley left this town.” Amanda didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Sunny’s face clouded.
“Charley, your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” Amanda corrected automatically.
“Oh? I thought you were still married when he died.”
“We were. Legally, anyway. It’s complicated.”
“Charley was a complicated man.”
A few weeks ago, Amanda would have argued with her. Charley hadn’t been complicated. He’d been a straight-forward lying, cheating con-man. But over the last few weeks, complicated didn’t even come close to describing Charley. “Yes. He is…was...complicated. How well did you know Charley?” Might as well plunge right in, ask what she wanted to know.
Sunny sat stiffly erect, her gaze focused out the window. “I represented him in court. He was caught with less than an ounce of marijuana. He had no previous record, so it was fairly simple to get probation for him.”
“Probation like you got for Frank Sturgess.”
“Yes, like I got for Frank Sturgess.”
“Do you consider Charley a success story?”
Sunny studied her for a long moment. “Your marriage to Charley was not a happy one.” It was a statement, not a question.
Amanda folded her arms. She’d intended to get information about Charley and Sunny’s relationship, not give information about Charley and her. “We had some good times,” she said. “At first.”
Sunny nodded, her gaze again becoming distant. “Charley could be charming.”
“Yes, he could. So, were you and Charley…um…friends outside of court?” She watched Sunny carefully to see what her reaction would be.
Sunny’s gaze snapped back to her, and she looked horrified. “You think—Charley and me? Oh, no! No, I helped Charley. I thought he had a lot of promise, that he could straighten up his life, maybe even go back to school, become a contributing member of society.” She drew in a deep breath. “I try to help people. Sometimes I do. Frank Sturgess proved that he deserved my help. Charley…disappointed me.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “How so? What did he do to disappoint you?”
Sunny smiled tightly. “Attorney-client confidentiality. Did you have any more questions about Frank?”
Whatever Charley had done to Sunny must have been a doozy if neither he nor Sunny would talk about it. Amanda would have to let it go for the moment, but she wasn’t giving up. “Frank Sturgess,” she said, returning to the thief and stalker who’d turned out better than Charley, “is he having financial problems again?”
“No, he’s fine. I’ll talk to him and find out why he was at Irene and Herbert’s place. I’m sure there’s a good reason.”
Yeah, because Kimball paid him to follow me, see if I’d lead him to that gun he thinks I have, maybe even find the right time and place to kill me. She didn’t say that, of course. No point in it. Sunny would think her as nuts as Detective Daggett did if she tried to tell the attorney her Kimball story.
“Thank you.” Amanda stood.
Sunny laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Amanda, I have a feeling you’re in some kind of trouble, and that trouble may involve our mayor. Talk to me. You can trust me. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”
The woman seemed so sincere, Amanda had a fleeting urge to confide in her. She could use an ally other than Charley—a flesh and blood ally, a sane ally. But she didn’t know Sunny, had only met her a couple of times, and the woman hadn’t always acted totally rationally. Besides, there was the skeleton in the closet Sunny and Charley shared. “I appreciate the offer.” She stood and looked at the floor, unwilling to meet Sunny’s eyes when she told an outrageous lie. “I’m not in trouble.”
Sunny rose to stand beside her. “Let me get you a card with my phone number. I’ll add my cell so you can call me at any hour.”
“Thank you.” In spite of what she might have done with Charley, Sunny Donovan really did seem to be a kind, caring person. She’d tried to save Charley and Frank Sturgess from a life of crime. It wasn’t her fault they’d both been incorrigible. Undaunted, she was now offering to help Amanda, someone she didn’t know, someone who didn’t even live in this town. She might be a bleeding heart, but she was a sincere bleeding heart. She backed up her beliefs with action.
Sunny rummaged for several moments in a couple of desk drawers, finally producing a card. Sunny’s desk must be as unorganized as Amanda’s if she had that much trouble finding a business card. Sunny scribbled something on the card and handed it to Amanda who looked at the scrawled writing and smiled.
“Is something wrong?” Sunny asked.
“No. It’s just that your handwriting is as bad as m
ine. We should have been doctors.” Oh, that’s great. Insult someone who’s trying to be helpful.
But Sunny returned her smile. “That’s why God created computers with word processing software.”
The two shared a moment of bonding over bad handwriting, and Amanda decided she liked this strange woman in spite of her eccentricities. Or maybe because of them.
“So next time I get caught trespassing, I’ll call you.”
“Or you could call me before you commit the act, and maybe we can figure out an alternative, legal way to accomplish your goal.”
Lawyer talk again. A caring person one minute, a lawyer the next. Rather like her dad. It seemed to go with the occupation.
Sunny followed her outside to where her bike was parked.
“Nice,” Sunny said. “I used to ride.”
Yes, Amanda definitely liked her. “Really? What kind of bike?”
“Any kind I could afford when I was young. It was my only mode of transportation in high school and college.”
“Even when it rained?”
Sunny ran a hand over the top edge of Amanda’s windshield and grinned. “Even when it rained. And the smaller, cheaper bikes don’t have very big windshields. But the weather’s usually good in this part of the country. A little rain, very little snow.”
Amanda grimaced. “I don’t like riding in the rain, and I can’t even imagine riding in the snow. You said you used to ride. Not anymore?”
“No. Just when I could afford to get a nice bike, I had to give it up. This is a conservative town, and people expect an attorney, especially a female attorney, to act in a certain way. As you mentioned, everybody knows what everybody else is doing in a small town. So, no motorcycle.” She shrugged and sighed, looking wistfully at Amanda’s bike.
“That sucks.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I have a motorcycle repair shop. Nobody expects any sort of decorum or propriety from a motorcycle repair person.”
Sunny smoothed a hand over the leather seat. “I used to lust after Harleys, especially the Softail. Would you mind if I took a short ride?”
Amanda didn’t hesitate. How could she refuse a fellow biker chick? “Sure.” She handed over her helmet and gloves.
“Borrow the jacket too? I think we’re about the same size.”
Amanda relinquished her jacket, and Sunny put it on. “Nice,” she said. “Perforations for cooling, but still armored for safety.”
“Charley gave it to me. He probably stole it.”
A guilty look flitted across Sunny’s face. Because of what she and Charley had done? Or because Amanda would never have met and married Charley if Sunny had let him go to jail for his crime?
“I’ll just take a quick spin around the block and be right back,” she said.
“Don’t let her take it!” Charley appeared at Amanda’s elbow.
She ignored him.
Sunny climbed on the bike, fired it up and roared away.
Amanda turned to Charley. “Why not? You think she’s going to steal it? You are completely insane. Sunny Donovan tried to help you, and you repay her by badmouthing her?”
“Of course she’s not going to steal it. Why would you think that?”
“Then why would you tell me not to let her take it?”
Charley looked frantic as his mouth contorted but remained closed. Was he having some sort of ghostly seizure?
“What have you got against this woman who kept you out of jail and is now offering to help me?”
“I…I did some things to her that weren’t very nice.”
That confirmed what Sunny had said about Charley disappointing her.
She folded her arms. “You need to tell me what you did to her. It’s going to come out sooner or later. Sunny almost told me today.” Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but she wasn’t the one who was constrained from lying. “If you don’t tell me, she will.”
Charley clenched his lips tightly shut as if the truth might come out of its own volition if he wasn’t careful.
“What’s the big deal, anyway? I know lots of horrible things you’ve done. What’s one more?”
Charley remained obdurately silent.
The roar of the Harley’s engine became louder, and Sunny rode up behind them. She stopped beside Amanda and took off the helmet, a wide grin on her face. “Thanks. That was fun.”
Amanda accepted the proffered helmet. She was more than ever intrigued about the secret this woman shared with Charley. This would not be their last visit. “So...you’ll give me a call after you talk to Frank Sturgess?”
“Yes, I will.” Sunny surrendered the jacket and gloves to Amanda. “In the meantime, don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Frank is a good man. You have nothing to fear from him.”
Amanda nodded. “I really appreciate your doing that for me. How about I treat you to dinner one evening?”
“No!” Charley screamed, grabbing at Amanda’s arms. Cold chills passed through her as Charley’s hands did the same.
Sunny climbed off the bike and stood on the curb. “Thank you, but that isn’t necessary. Calling Frank will only take five minutes.”
“I insist. If not dinner, then how about lunch?”
Sunny shook her head, but Amanda thought she saw the same yearning in the older woman’s eyes as when she’d looked at the motorcycle. Perhaps she wanted to socialize. Perhaps she’d felt the same possibility Amanda had of a developing friendship. Perhaps the secret between Charley and her was the only deterrent to that friendship.
“I’ll bring the bike, and you can take it for another spin,” Amanda coaxed. “Please. Otherwise, I’ll feel guilty for taking up your time.”
Sunny hesitated, then her face relaxed into a smile. “Okay. Let’s go to lunch. You have my phone numbers.”
Charley groaned and clutched his head in his hands. “Omigawd, Amanda. You don’t understand. You can’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
Charley said please? Wow. This must be some scary secret.
Suddenly Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She liked Sunny, thought maybe they could be friends. After all, they had motorcycles and bad handwriting in common. But where had she seen Sunny Donovan before and what would she think of this woman when she finally discovered The Secret?
Chapter Twenty
Sunday was peaceful. Kimball left no further messages, and she hadn’t seen anyone else spying on her. Amanda allowed herself to fall into the soothing routine of the Randolph family. Church in the morning, a relaxed evening with all the family at home.
Sunny called to report she had spoken with Frank Sturgess. He had been coon hunting the night Amanda saw his car. The man was no threat.
Amanda passed a peaceful night and began to consider the possibility that, if she went back to Dallas and left Kimball alone, perhaps he would leave her alone. Maybe if she forgot about him, he’d forget about her. Maybe the cops didn’t have enough evidence to arrest her. Maybe Charley would disappear on his own. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
When Amanda checked her bike on Monday morning, everything appeared intact.
Maybe...
“Amanda, you’ve got a phone call.” Irene stood on the front porch, holding the screen door open.
The call must be on the Randolphs’ landline since Amanda had her cell phone in her pocket. Who could be calling her on their phone?
When she stepped onto the porch, she saw concern in Irene’s eyes. “It’s the mayor.”
Damn! All the stress rolled back through Amanda, clenching her chest and making it hard to breathe. Maybe, maybe, maybe…not. On feet that seemed to weigh a ton each, she walked into the house and over to the phone where Charley stood waiting.
Charley rarely appeared when other people were around. By his presence and the eager expression on his face, she knew he considered this call important.
“Hello?” She held the phone half an inch from her ear so Charley could eavesdrop. He was, after all,
her cohort in crime.
“Mrs. Randolph, this is Roland Kimball, Mayor of Silver Creek.”
So he was playing the official Mayor Kimball now. His smarmy politician voice rolled through her, sticking in the back of her throat, making her nauseous and angry. “Good morning, Mr. Mayor. To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
“I heard you were still here, and I thought I, as a representative of our little town, should get in touch with you, tell you how sorry we all were to hear about Charley. I’d like to take you to lunch as a gesture of good will.”
“Really? Good will? You sure have a strange definition of good will. You try to kill me, you threaten me, you send someone to spy on me and you call that good will.” A gasp from behind told Amanda that Irene had overheard her angry outburst. Damn!
“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, Mrs. Randolph,” Kimball said, his voice smooth and cold as ice. “Please allow me to make amends. If you’ll agree to meet me for lunch today, I’m certain we can straighten everything out.”
Going to lunch with Roland Kimball was not on her list of Fun Things I Want to Do Before I Die. However, she needed to do it if she was going to figure out how to prevent his killing her.
“Lunch is okay,” Charley advised, “as long as it’s in a public restaurant. He won’t kill you in front of a lot of other people. Just don’t agree to go to his house or anything.”
She rolled her eyes in his direction. Did he really think she was that dumb?
“Where?” she asked.
“Anywhere you’d like. But since you’re new to town, may I suggest the Round Rock Country Club?”
“The Round Rock Country Club for lunch?” She turned to Irene with a questioning look.
“I’ve never been there,” Charley said. “This should be fun.”
Fun?
Irene nodded once, woodenly.
“Shall we say around noon?” Kimball asked. “I’ll pick you up.”
No way was she getting in that black car that looked like a hearse. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Good idea,” Charley said.
Kimball chuckled. “On your Harley? I’m not sure the Round Rock Country Club is ready for a leather jacket, blue jeans and motorcycle boots. If you ride with me, you can dress more appropriately.”
The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost Book 1) Page 20