The Ex Who Wouldn't Die

by Sally Berneathy

  Amanda nodded. "I really appreciate your doing that for me. I'd like to 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 about five minutes."

  "I insist. If not dinner, then how about lunch?"

  Sunny smiled and 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

  When Amanda checked her bike on Monday morning, everything was still intact. Kimball had left her no further messages, and she hadn't seen anyone else spying on her. For the entire day on Sunday, she'd 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 assure her that she had spoken with Frank Sturgess, and there would be no more problems with him. To Amanda's dismay, Sunny said they had not discussed why he'd been following her, but Sunny was absolutely certain 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.

  Probably not, but it was nice to think like that for a little while after being so stressed for so long.

  Amanda rose from the inspection of her bike, dusted her hands and started back to the house.

  Irene appeared on the front porch. "Amanda, you've got a phone call." She stood holding the screen door open, unsmiling.

  The call must be on the Randolph's 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 that 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?"

  He ignored her sarcasm. "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 her told Amanda that Irene had overheard her angry outburst. Damn! She'd been so focused on Kimball, she'd forgotten her mother-in-law was in the room.

  "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, it was something she needed to do if she was going to figure out how to prevent his killing her. He wouldn't have requested a meeting if things weren't coming to a head.

  "Lunch is okay," Charley advised, "just 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 her head once, woodenly.

  "Yes," Kimball replied. "Shall we say around noon? 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.

  He chuckled superciliously. "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."

  "Or we can go somewhere else where my dress will be appropriate."

  "I'll meet you there at noon." His voice had lost its cordial tone. "You won't be able to enter the restaurant until I get there to escort you in. Members only."

  "I'm familiar with country club restrictions. I'll wait at the restaurant entrance."

  She hung up.

  "Good job! Now we're getting somewhere." Charley gave her a thumbs-up.

  Irene walked slowly to the sofa and sat down close to the spot where Amanda stood. Amanda considered for a moment if she should run upstairs and try to avoid this conversation. But only for a moment. She could do that sort of thing to her mother, but not to Irene. She sank down on the cushion beside her.

  "My mama raised me and my three sisters with an iron hand," Irene began. "We went to a very strict church, and Mama made sure none of us girls could go against the church teachings." She shook her head. "I loved my mama, but I didn't like being clamped down like that. I raised my kids with a lot more freedom. I always tried to let them make their own mistakes and learn to fly on their own. And that's worked real good, most of the time. But I've often wondered if I should have been stricter with Charley, insisted on knowing what he was doing instead of respecting his privacy. If I'd clamped down harder on him, laid down the law, maybe—"

  "No," Amanda interrupted. "Don't do that to yourself." She glanced toward Charley, expecting him to be gone, but he still stood beside the phone, watching her and his mother. He looked a little sad. "If you'd tried to rein in Charley, he'd have figured out a way to get around you and do what he wanted. Trust me. Been there, done that."

  Irene sighed. "I'm sure you're right." She turned slightly and looked Amanda directly in the eye. "But I should have tried anyway. And now, even if I make you mad, I'm going to stick my nose in your business. What's going on with you and the mayor?"

  "I'm meeting him for lunch today." It was a weak attempt to avoid the question. A useless attempt, Amanda knew.

  "People don't usually go to lunch with somebody who tried to kill them and then threatened them. Isn't that what you said he did?"

 
"Don't tell her!" Charley said.

  Amanda shot him a hard look. It was, she thought, a little late for him to be worrying what his mother would think about his bad behavior.

  She sat quietly for a moment. She didn't want to hurt Irene, nor did she want to worry her. But there was no way around it since the woman had overheard Amanda's comments. Drawing in a deep breath, she told Irene everything…Charley and the blackmail, Dianne's death and the possible murder in college, the confusion with the guns and Charley's death, the man who'd been outside her window.

  Tears welled in Irene's eyes, and her hands clenched in her lap. "That no-good rich kid killed Dianne and my son, and he's not in jail?"

  "There's no evidence. I have only the, uh, phone call from Charley letting me know Kimball was in his apartment to kill him, and the police don't believe me. They think I killed Charley."

  Irene wrapped her arms around Amanda and held her close. "Nobody who knows you believes that."

  Amanda returned the embrace, finding her own eyes strangely moist. "You don't know how much it means to me that you believe me."

  Irene drew back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then sniffed indignantly. "Your husband's dead and those idiot police are trying to blame it on you instead of doing their job and finding the murderer. That's just not right."

  "His neighbors overheard me threaten to kill him. But it wasn't a real threat. We were just having a fight."

  Irene nodded. "Husband and wives fight."

  "Not you and Herbert."

  Irene laughed. "Yes, me and Herbert. In the early years. Before we settled into each other. You and Charley would have got through the fighting if that sorry excuse for a human being hadn't killed him."

  Amanda said nothing. She didn't think that would have been even a remote possibility, but she thought it best not to tell his mother.

  "Blackmail," Irene said softly. "Charley was blackmailing him."

  Amanda looked over at Charley. He had the decency to flinch.

  "He wanted money to come to Dallas, the big city."

  "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Herbert and I came up with all kinds of wild ideas to explain why Charley left town so suddenly, why he was hiding, why we couldn't tell anybody where he was. We knew he'd done something wrong, made the wrong person mad. And I reckon I'm not really surprised about what Kimball did. I've never liked that man. He's grown from a rich, spoiled brat to a rich, powerful bully."

  "I'm sorry about Charley."

  She drew in a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something unpleasant. "Was my son a good husband?"

  Amanda fancied she could feel Charley's gaze on her as he waited for her answer.

  She shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to say anything that would make Charley feel better about their marriage, but not wanting to tell Irene how bad it had been. "We had fun at first."

  "I see. So you really were going to divorce him?"

  "Yes."

  Irene took Amanda's hand. "I reckon it's my turn to say, I'm sorry."

  "No," Amanda protested. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

  "If I'd raised him better, if I'd been stricter…" She shrugged. "Like you said, he was fun. He'd do something wrong, but then he'd get me to laughing. It's hard to punish somebody who's making you laugh."

  Amanda looked toward Charley to see his reaction. For an instant, she thought maybe she saw an expression of contrition on his face, but probably not. He smiled, shrugged and said, "Everybody likes to laugh."

  "I know," Amanda agreed, thinking of the times she'd forgiven Charley because he made her laugh, the problems she'd overlooked because they had so much fun. She shot Charley a final glare, then turned her attention back to Irene. "Trust me, there's absolutely nothing you could have done to change Charley."

  "Maybe not, but his murderer has got to be punished. Charley didn't do right, but that didn't give that awful man the right to take his life."

  "I agree. That's why I'm going to lunch with him. Somehow, I'm going to get evidence against him."

  Irene bit her lip. "You're dancing with the devil, you know. You need to be careful. I don't want to lose you, too."

  Amanda's heart swelled, and again she found her eyes suspiciously moist. "I'll be careful. You're not going to lose me, not for a very long time."

  Her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket. "Dawson, at the shop," she said, heading toward the stairs and the privacy of her room. "I better take it."

  "I found something," he said as soon as she answered. "An unsolved murder."

  "The night Kimball and Dianne broke up?"

  "Yes. Somebody killed a homeless man in one of the parks out by Lady Bird Lake. The man had been drinking, and it appeared he'd settled down for the night on a bench. An unknown assailant beat him to death with a rock. Weapon of opportunity. The murder has never been solved. The police had no suspects."

  "That's the last piece of the puzzle," Charley said.

  Amanda sank into the small desk chair and gazed out the window, trying to wrap her mind around his latest atrocity.

  "I have one more thing that may be of interest," Dawson continued. "I checked phone records, and Dianne called Kimball, for the first time since college, a week before she was killed. They talked three times, the last time being a call initiated by him at three minutes after ten o'clock on the morning of the day she was murdered. This would seem to verify your theory that he killed Dianne because she was going to confess to their murder. She must have warned him. I believe this Roland Kimball is a sociopath. Perhaps you ought to stay away from him."

  "Probably. But I'm meeting him for lunch."

  "I don't think that's a good idea, Amanda."

  "Probably not, but it's the only one I've got at the moment."

  "I have some information on Frank Sturgess, too." She listened as he told her what Sunny had already told her. "Is he still following you?"

  "I don't think so. I talked to his lawyer, and she got on his case about it. Maybe you could get some information on her. She's a strange character. Sunny Donovan, a lawyer here in Silver Creek." Amanda dug through her pockets until she located the card Sunny had given her. "Looks like her real name is Suzanne. I guess everybody calls her Sunny because she's the self-appointed purveyor of sunshine in this town." She read off Sunny's office address, phone number and cell number.

  "Got it. You haven't asked how business is going, but I am getting some work done in between my detective work."

  Amanda smiled at her assistant's conscientiousness. "Thank you, Dawson. For everything. If I survive this, you're getting a raise when I get home."

  She disconnected the call and turned to Charley. "What—" The word stuck in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. "What do you think?"

  "I think we've landed in one hell of a mess."

  "Of all the people you could have blackmailed, you had to pick Kimball. You couldn't blackmail a cheating husband or an accountant who was skimming money or a high school teacher with porn on his computer. Oh, no, you had to pick a sociopath killer to blackmail."

  Charley shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

  Just as marrying Charley had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  ***

  Amanda arrived at the Round Rock Country Club a few minutes before noon. If this place wasn't ready for a leather jacket, blue jeans and motorcycle boots, they'd just have to get ready. She did remove the jacket in deference to the heat and carried it, along with her helmet, as she strode up the wide steps that led to the entrance.

  "There he is," Charley said, pointing toward the top of the steps.

  Kimball stood beside the door, waiting for her. The midday sun sitting directly overhead blinded Amanda and obscured his features. Instead of a broodingly handsome man, she saw only a tall, black, faceless shadow looming above…ominous, threatening. She hesitated halfway up the steps, Irene's words ringing through her head…dancing with the devil.

  She drew i
n a deep breath. If she could tangle with an amoral ghost, surely she could survive a dance with the devil.

  Chin thrust forward, back straight, she continued up the steps until she stood on equal footing with him. "Good afternoon, Your Honor." Then, because she was nervous and determined not to let him know, "Or should I call you Roland, and you call me Amanda like the other night when I visited you at your house?"

  Kimball smiled tightly. "Please call me whatever you like."