Lying to Kimball was one thing. He didn’t count as a member of the human race. And withholding information from her parents for their own good was also justifiable. But she couldn’t lie to this woman who’d lost her son then taken his widow into her home and heart. Irene deserved the truth, scary as it might be.
“When and where are you meeting that monster?” Irene asked.
“I don’t know.” Amanda sat up straighter, girding herself to divulge her frightening plan to her mother-in-law. “I’m going to get a gun like the one he used to kill Dianne, and I’m going to give it to him, but only if he admits to me that he killed her and Charley.”
Irene’s face paled. “Amanda, that’s plumb crazy!”
“Yeah, probably, but it’s the best plan we’ve...I’ve been able to come up with.”
“Even if he lets you out of there alive, what makes you think the police will believe he confessed to you?”
“I’m going to record our conversation on my cell phone. There’s an app for that.” She tried to sound flippant.
“And what about getting out alive? You got an app on your cell phone for that?”
“Okay, this plan isn’t completely fleshed out yet. There are still a few holes.”
Irene shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. I’m going to talk to Herbert tonight. We’ll all put our heads together and figure out something. You’re not alone in this anymore. Family takes care of family.”
Amanda hated that she had brought Irene and soon Herbert into the tangled, dangerous mess of trying to trap Kimball. At the same time, she felt an intense relief at sharing the burden with other people who believed her, who cared about her. Other real people, she amended. Much as she hated to admit it, Charley provided some help. Not enough to compensate for the problems he caused, but he was really good at the sneaky, sleazy parts.
Chapter Twenty-One
Herbert didn’t leave for work immediately after breakfast that morning. As soon as Paula and Penny were out the door, he and Irene resumed their seats at the breakfast table.
“Leave the dishes for now,” Irene said. “We need to talk.”
Amanda set down the plates she’d carried to the sink and joined them at the table.
“We don’t think you ought to take a gun to Kimball,” Herbert said. As usual, his lean face showed no expression, but his words were laced with tension.
“I’m not crazy about the idea myself,” Amanda said. “But we’ve got to do something.”
“I know most of the guys on the police force,” Herbert said. “Went to school with them, hunt with them, play poker with them. I’m gonna talk to them.”
Amanda shook her head. “We’re accusing the mayor, one of the most prominent and richest men in town, of murders we can’t prove. You’re probably not going to get a lot of support.”
Herbert nodded and slid his chair back. “Don’t you worry. We’ll take care of the worthless scum that killed my son.”
Amanda gasped as she remembered Charley’s reference to his dad’s shotgun. “You’re not...you wouldn’t...do anything...illegal?”
Herbert gave her a small smile. “I’m not gonna kill him. I won’t deny I’ve thought about it since Irene told me everything last night. But that’s not the right way to do things. I just want to be there when they give him the shot.”
“The shot?” Amanda repeated.
“Lethal injection. I’d like to see him hang, but I guess I’ll have to settle for the shot. I want to see him die like he made my son die. We’ll catch him. He won’t get away with murder.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly then turned and left the house.
“Now,” Irene said briskly, “you can relax and enjoy your visit here. The strawberries are just right for picking at the Berkley farm. Let’s go get some today, and I’ll show you how to make strawberry preserves.”
Irene’s words were meant to be soothing, to convince Amanda she needn’t have any further contact with Roland Kimball, that everything was taken care of, but the anxious expression on Irene’s face and the way she twisted her hands in her lap told Amanda her mother-in-law knew it wasn’t going to work. Herbert’s idea of going to the local police was pretty lame, and they all knew it. They were just trying to talk her out of doing something they considered dangerous.
“Can we have strawberry shortcake?” she asked, going along with the diversion. Might as well pick strawberries. She couldn’t do anything else until Dub came up with a gun.
When her cell phone rang that afternoon, Amanda was stirring a big pot of strawberry jam. She set down the spoon, yanked her phone from her jeans pocket, saw the number was local and felt a flash of excitement that it might be Dub with a gun. She turned the stirring over to Irene and ran from the room while answering the phone.
“Hello?”
“I thought you’d lost my phone number.”
Kimball.
Amanda stopped at the foot of the stairs, her stomach doing the familiar Kimball-clenching act.
“No, I didn’t lose your number, and I wasn’t aware I’d given you mine.”
“You didn’t have to give it to me.”
Anger flared at the smug reminder of the range of his power as well as the admission he was snooping in her affairs. No wonder he’d been able to find out she was going on a trip so he could sabotage her motorcycle at just the right time. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she snapped as she climbed the stairs. “You’re omniscient and omnipotent around here. King Kimball.”
The line was silent for a moment, and she considered asking if he was looking up the multi-syllable words. Probably not a good idea to shoot the rabid grizzly bear with a BB gun.
“I have access to any information I need,” he said. “Right now, considering the fact that I caught you in a lie about your safe deposit box then you walked out on me after saying you’d call but you didn’t call, I don’t think you have anything I need. I think you’re just a loud-mouthed bitch trying to cause problems.”
She entered her bedroom, closed the door behind her, and looked for Charley. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But you may change that opinion when I take this gun to the cops.”
“Really? If you could do that, why did you send your father-in-law to tell the cops I killed Charley but you can’t prove it?”
Damn!
Where was Charley when she needed him to feed her lies and tell her how to handle this new development?
“I didn’t send Herbert anywhere. He’s a grown man. He goes where he pleases and says what he wants.”
“Who are you talking to?” Charley demanded. “Where did Dad go? What did he say?”
Charley! She never thought she’d be glad to see him. She held the phone away from her ear so he could hear.
“Obviously you talked,” Kimball said. “I thought that was part of our deal, you were going to give me the merchandise and keep your mouth shut. Now you’ve involved your father-in-law.”
“You didn’t tell him anything,” Charley instructed.
“I didn’t tell him anything.” That was true. She’d told Irene, who’d told him.
“It certainly is an amazing coincidence that he came up with the same story as you, that I killed Charley and Dianne.”
“Tell him it doesn’t matter what anybody says when you have the only proof around,” Charley supplied.
Amanda repeated Charley’s words. He really was good at squirming out of tight spots and putting a spin on things. She’d hated that when she was married to him, but it was coming in handy now.
“In that case, I’m sure you’ll want to get rid of that item before it causes harm to other people,” Kimball said smoothly.
Even though she’d seen that one coming, it still sent icicles through her veins. Not only was her life in danger, she’d put Herbert’s and maybe even Irene’s lives in danger.
“Tell him you’re through playing with him. You’ll give him the gun tomorrow night.”
Amanda sucked in a gas
p, looked at Charley and mouthed, No gun!
“We’ll get one. Tell him!”
“Fine,” she said, trying to sound cocky. “I have to admit, I was kind of enjoying teasing the big, powerful mayor, but you win. Tomorrow night. We meet, I give you the evidence, and this ends. I do not want my in-laws involved.”
“Then they’d better keep their mouths shut.”
“They will.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow with a location.”
She hung up. “Tomorrow night? Are you insane? What if Dub doesn’t come through by then? Where are we going to get a gun? How am I going to bluff my way out of this?”
Charley paced the floor, running his hands though his translucent hair. “We can’t go to Smitty’s downtown to get a gun. Too much risk Kimball might find out.” He stopped and looked at her. “Maybe you could go back to Dallas and get one.”
“The creep got my cell phone number. He checked for safety deposit boxes. He found out when and where I was going on that motorcycle trip so he could jack up my bike. This man has a long reach. If I buy a gun in Dallas, he could easily find out. And I don’t have the kind of connections you do so I could buy one illegally.”
“How about Dawson? Maybe he can find one on the Internet.”
“I’ll call him.” She punched in the number.
“Hi, Amanda. I’ve been working on the bikes all day and don’t have anything on Sunny Donovan yet.”
“That’s okay. No rush. But, uh, I do need a gun really fast. Can you get one on the Internet?”
“Well, yeah, I can order it.”
“How long would it take?” She gave Charley a thumbs-up.
“I’m not sure. A few days, a week or two.”
She gave Charley a thumbs-down. “That’s too long. Never mind.”
“Why do you need a gun?”
“It’s a long story. If I live, I’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime, can you find a phone number for Dub—?” She looked at Charley quizzically.
“Henderson,” he supplied.
“Dub Henderson.”
“Give me a minute.”
“Why on earth did you choose tomorrow night?” she demanded of Charley while she waited for Dawson to return to the phone.
“We needed Kimball to back off, and I didn’t think he would if we told him any later. You’re the one who blabbed to my mom and got this thing ramped up.”
Amanda drew in a deep breath and told herself to remain calm. Arguing with Charley wasn’t going to help matters. His value was in being a con artist. He was worthless when it came to dealing with real situations. She was on her own now.
“I can’t find a listing for Dub Henderson in Silver Creek,” Dawson said. “Are you sure that’s the right name?”
“Oh,” Charley said. “His real name is Dwayne. We just call him Dub because who wants to be called Dwayne?”
Amanda heaved a sigh. “Try Dwayne Henderson.”
He returned in seconds with a phone number.
Amanda signed off with Dawson and immediately called Dub’s number. No answer.
“He’s probably still at work,” Charley said. “We can try again in an hour.”
“Great. I’ll just sit here and have a nervous breakdown while we wait.”
Somewhere around the tenth time she called, Dub answered.
“I need that gun tonight,” she said without preamble.
“No can do. I need a few more days.”
“We don’t have a few more days. My life is in danger. The lives of Charley’s parents are in danger.”
Dub was silent for a few seconds. “I could maybe get you one but you wouldn’t be able to register it.”
“I don’t care if I can register it. I don’t care if it’s stolen.”
Again Dub was quiet.
“It’s…stolen?”
“We don’t care!” Charley shouted.
“We don’t care,” she echoed. Surely her father would rather she be caught with stolen goods than be found dead.
“Okay,” Dub agreed. “Tonight, nine o’clock, Shade Tree Inn.”
Amanda arrived at the Shade Tree Inn a few minutes before nine. Irene had protested her leaving the house at that hour, but she’d assured her mother-in-law she wasn’t going to see Kimball. That had only slightly assuaged Irene’s concern. She would be up, worrying, until Amanda returned. Amanda left for her rendezvous to buy a stolen gun with a spot of warmth in the middle of all that terror.
“I watched really close and didn’t see anybody following you,” Charley said as they walked across the lot toward the Shade Tree’s entrance.
“Doesn’t mean somebody wasn’t following me, but I suppose it’s marginally better than if you’d seen someone.”
“Yeah. Either nobody was there or it was somebody with more skill at following than Sturgess.”
“You have a real knack for making me feel better.”
The same or similar faces as the ones on Friday night turned toward her when she walked inside then turned back to their drinks when they didn’t recognize her. The same scents of stale beer and cigarette smoke greeted her, and the same or similar country music played on the juke box. Familiarity was doubtless an appeal for those who frequented this place.
From the same stool where he’d sat Friday night, Dub lifted a hand. He was nursing a beer while a Coke sat on the bar beside him in front of an empty stool.
Amanda took a seat and lifted the Coke. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
“Be cool, Amanda,” Charley advised, taking a seat on the bar and dangling his legs between them. “You don’t want everybody in here to know you’re buying a gun.”
Amanda shot him a scathing look. “How was your day, Dub?”
“Fine. How about yours?”
“Good.” Didn’t count as a lie. She was just observing the social amenities.
Dub took a drink of his beer, and Amanda sipped her Coke.
Amanda hated that she was in a position to need Charley’s expertise. However, he’d been helpful with Kimball, and she grudgingly admitted to herself she needed him tonight. She had no idea of the protocol for conducting the purchase of an illegal weapon. She looked up at him, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
“Be patient,” Charley said. “Like you know what that word means.”
She couldn’t retaliate except to shoot him another glare. He laughed happily at her inability to retort.
Dub drained his beer. “Think I’ll go outside and smoke a cigarette.”
“Go with him,” Charley said.
“A cigarette,” she repeated. “Good idea. Mind if I join you?”
“Sure.”
Together they slid off the stools and moved toward the door. Dub politely opened and held it for her.
Again she felt relief at breathing the clean night air. A person could get lung cancer from just hanging out in that bar.
She followed Dub to the side of the building where she’d seen a man retching on Friday night. Watching the ground carefully, she moved into the shadows with Dub, stopping when he stopped.
Slowly he reached inside his faded denim jacket and withdrew a small package wrapped in brown paper.
From the pocket of her motorcycle jacket Amanda withdrew an envelope containing the amount of cash they’d agreed on. She handed her envelope to Dub, and he handed his package to her.
Dub turned aside, opened the envelope and flipped through the bills, then closed it again and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Nice night.” He took out a package of cigarettes and tapped the bottom until one slid out.
“Yes.” She peeked into her bag. It was a gun.
“Take it out,” Charley demanded. “I want to see it.”
Amanda looked around the parking lot and didn’t see anybody else. She withdrew the revolver, bending over to shield it from the sight of anyone who might drive up.
Charley peered at it closely. “Yeah, that should pass, at least for our purpose
s. Only way he’d know the difference is if he had the serial number.”
“Great. That makes me feel so much better,” she whispered.
“What?” Dub asked.
“Great gun,” Amanda said. “Makes me feel so much better to have protection.”
Dub smiled. “I loaded it for you. Unloaded gun’s ’bout as useful as a screen door on a bass boat.”
Amanda smiled. “True. I don’t want to get close enough to pistol whip somebody. Thank you.”
“Unload it, Amanda,” Charley said. “I don’t trust you with a loaded gun.”
“You let me know if you need anything else,” Dub said. “I hope ole Charley, wherever he is, knows I’m taking good care of his wife.”
“I believe he knows,” Amanda said.
“Hello, Amanda.”
Amanda whirled at the sound of a familiar woman’s voice behind her. Sunny Donovan stood there.
“The gun!” Charley shouted. “Hide the gun!”
Amanda realized she still had the .38 in her hand. She shoved it inside her jacket, hoping it hadn’t been visible in the darkness. “Hi! Sunny! What are you doing here?”
“I just stopped by for a drink. How about you?”
Amanda studied the woman standing before her. Regal, even in blue jeans and a blue cotton shirt with a classic black leather purse hanging over her shoulder. Sunny did not belong in the Shade Tree Inn. What was she really doing there?
“Hi, Dub,” Sunny greeted. Amanda wasn’t surprised to find she knew him. Dub had probably used her services. Sunny likely knew more about the secrets in this town than even Irene.
“Hey, Sunny. Buy you a beer?”
“Thanks, Dub. I could use a cold one after spending the day in that hot courtroom.”
“Air conditioning on the fritz, or was it just all that hot air from them lawyers?”
Sunny laughed. “A little of both.”
Amanda waited, poised to run as soon as Sunny and Dub went into the bar, but Sunny placed a slim hand on her arm. “I’ll meet you inside in five minutes, Dub. I need to talk to Amanda first.”
The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (Charley's Ghost Book 1) Page 22