Secrets for Sale

by Jerri Kay Lincoln

  “Quick! Lay him down and elevate his feet!” Billy took off his coat and laid it on Todd.

  I eased Todd onto the pavement and didn’t know how I would elevate his feet. Since Billy sacrificed his coat, I would sacrifice my favorite dark blue dress and let Todd put his dirty boots in my lap. Yes, even I could sacrifice for the greater good, and right now, Todd needed the greater good. Before I could move down there—since I was still putting pressure on his arm wound—someone from Grizelda’s came out the door with a big rock, that might have been used as a doorstop, and a couple of two by fours, and put those under his feet. Thank you. I was willing to ruin my dress but glad that I didn’t have to.

  “Lorry, stay here with him until the ambulance comes. It should only be a couple of minutes.” And then Billy ran off in the direction the shot was fired. How did I know which direction that was? I saw the way Todd fell forward from the impact of the bullet. And I knew something else, too. The bullet was not meant for Billy. Whoever fired the gun had a clear shot at Billy and didn’t take it. Normally at a time like this, I would say, color me disappointed, because I was wrong—again—about the killer. But I felt so happy Billy didn’t get shot that I couldn’t say that.

  Todd moved and moaned under my pressure on his arm. Then he opened his eyes and looked around.

  “Don’t worry, Todd. The ambulance will be here in a minute. You’ll be fine.”

  “What about Billy? Is he okay?”

  What a strange thing to say, I thought. He must be deep in shock. I put my hand on his neck and felt his pulse. It was weak but there. “Yes, of course. You’re the one who got hit.”

  Todd coughed. I half expected blood to come out his mouth, but he had gotten hit in the arm, not the lung. So none came out. “Billy got hit, too,” he said. “The bullet went right through my arm and hit him. Not sure where. Is he okay?”

  Looking down at the ground where Billy had been standing, I saw not one drop of blood. And when Todd had moved forward, he had moved right into Billy. But Billy get hit? Could it be true? I looked around to see who could take over for me putting pressure on Todd’s arm, so I could go after Billy. Not only was there no one—well, there were plenty of people around, but no one who I would trust to do it—but Billy had told me to wait for the ambulance. When I agreed to that, though, I didn’t know he could be wounded himself.

  Still, I couldn’t go traipsing around after Billy when someone was out there shooting people. That was stupid. Speaking of which, where was my purse? Glancing down, it hung from my shoulder where I had left it. At least I had the gun with me, but I still couldn’t go after Billy. Just because I had a gun, didn’t mean I knew how to use it. As much as I didn’t want to stay there, I’d have to wait. “I think he’s okay, Todd. I hope he is. I don’t see any blood.” My fear-tinged words tumbled out of my mouth.

  “That’s good,” he said before closing his eyes again.

  Looking anxiously in the direction Billy had run off, I saw no movement and had heard no more shots. That would probably be a good thing. I began to hear the ambulance in the distance coming closer. Briefly, I took the top cloth off Todd’s wound. It wasn’t bleeding as much as before. Either the pressure was working, or he was running out of blood to leak out. Not knowing which, I was grateful the ambulance got closer every second.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  THE AMBULANCE CAME and carted Todd off, saying they thought he would be okay and that I had done a good job staunching the flow of blood. I picked up Billy’s jacket and looked down at myself. Miraculously, I had gotten no blood on either my jacket or my dress. I walked to my car and saw Billy’s patrol car still parked there. So he’s still wandering the streets searching for the shooter, I thought. The only natural course of action was to drive over to the Sheriff’s Station to see if he’d called in.

  They were probably getting tired of seeing me over there, but as long as bullets kept raining down on Rutledge, I needed to keep track of my new husband. Vanessa was nice as usual when I walked in there. “I’ve got a message for you, Lorry. Kind of, anyway.”

  “What do you mean, kind of?” I asked.

  “Billy radioed in a cryptic message that I’m sure he meant for you. He said, ‘Tell her I’m fine.’ I know he’s out looking for the shooter, but why would he say that?”

  “The shot went right through Todd Fenton—”

  “Wait. Todd Fenton, the guy whose father was killed?”

  “Yes, same one. The bullet went through his arm and hit Billy. But I couldn’t find any blood where he was standing. Still, I’m glad he told you he was okay. That makes me feel a little better.”

  Vanessa nodded. There had been no more bullets fired, so she didn’t need to worry if her brother was okay, because he had been here, or somewhere else safe, when the first shot was fired. I wished Billy and Nick would walk in again as I stood there, but I had a feeling this would be a longer wait than the last time.

  “Do you want to come back here and wait?” asked Vanessa.

  “You know, I think I should go home. He said he was fine. Thank you for asking, though. I’ll see ya later, Vanessa.”

  “Bye, Lorry.”

  Feeling dejected and more than a little scared, I walked out the door to my car. Bingo wagged his tail when I slid into the seat beside him. Leaning over, I kissed him on top of his head. “Daddy will be home soon, Bingo. I just know he will.” I said it to make myself feel better, although I wasn’t sure I believed it.

  As I drove home, I looked down Church Street, and Billy’s car was still there, but Billy was nowhere in sight. Sighing to myself and to Bingo, I drove home and pulled into the driveway behind Billy’s truck—the one Mason and I would use the next day to move the boxes to the new house.

  After changing clothes and heating up some leftover frozen pizza—my go-to meal when I was alone—and often when I wasn’t, I knew I needed something to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn’t worry about Billy. I tried one of Aiden’s science documentaries, and that didn’t help at all. So I decided since Mason was coming to help me move, I should get as many boxes packed as I could.

  Billy had somehow dropped off more boxes between chasing killers, and this was a perfect time to fill them. And so I began. A couple of hours later as I sat on my butt admiring my handiwork, the phone rang. I raced up to get it, but it wasn’t Billy.

  It was Vanessa, though, with a message from Billy. The message was that he was going to the hospital, but he was fine and was just going to see Todd Fenton. The bullet had luckily hit his bullet-proof vest and didn’t cause his body any damage. He’d be home in a while. Don’t worry and don’t wait up. But it was the last part of the message that I liked the best. He had told Vanessa to tell me he loved me very much. I thanked Vanessa and sat there in our office thanking the universe for bringing such a great guy into my life. It did much better than when it brought Eddie Keeley into my life, but I won’t even go there. I’ll feel grateful for what I have now.

  Then I finished labeling and sealing all the boxes, so they’d be ready for Mason to load into the truck. Although I hoped Aiden would call, it didn’t surprise me when he didn’t. Not only had he called me earlier, but then we ended up eating dinner together.

  And I didn’t want to call over there acting like the over-protective mother that I was—because I didn’t want to appear that way. Such is the life of a parent. I loved that life! As much as I wished Aiden was home with me, I understood Billy’s concern that this murder had gotten personal. And I appreciated Billy being extra cautious with our son. Maybe he was over-protective, too? In this case, I think it was justified. Especially considering what happened next.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  KNOWING BILLY WOULD be home soon, I tried to stay up for him, but fell asleep on the couch instead. I knew Billy would understand. And he did. Even though he told me not to wait up for him, I think he appreciated it when I did. Next thing I knew he was sitting beside me on the couch, cuddling me, and telling me he was fin
e. Thank goodness. Maybe I was wrong about the direction of the bullet, and it really was meant for Billy.

  “I’m home now, sweetie, and safe.” He rocked me gently in his arms. “They were aiming at Todd, and the only reason I got hit at all, was because it went through Todd’s arm. Look at this.” Billy undid his shirt and showed me where the bullet hit the vest. “Another inch, and it would have hit me in the arm, too. This was a lucky shot, though.” He shrugged. “Well, lucky for me, not so lucky for Todd, but he’ll be fine.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Billy shook his head. “No, I don’t mean lucky that I’m okay. I think the person who did this aimed the gun so we couldn’t find the bullet. Todd’s back was an easy target—and bigger than his arm—but they wanted the bullet to go down the street never to be found. Since my body impeded its trajectory, I have the bullet! That’s lucky! And it’s safely delivered to Coyote Moon for ballistics. I put a rush on it. I should know tomorrow.”

  By that time, I was half asleep, and Billy helped me into the bedroom. Next thing I knew, it was morning. Billy kissed me good morning and goodbye at 6:30.

  “Gotta run, hon. Good luck on the move with you and Mason. Today’s the day I catch the killer! We’ll celebrate tonight when I get home.”

  And he was off and I was back to sleep. Two hours later I woke up suddenly to a gunshot. It took me a minute to realize it was a dream. Still, it felt disturbing. Then I got frantic that Mason would be there any minute, and I wasn’t ready. When I checked the clock, I still had more than an hour to shower, breakfast, and get dressed. And I could do it at my leisure, and so I did. With plenty of time before Mason arrived, I made myself fresh as a bouquet, dressed in my jeans and tennis shoes, and ready to move boxes.

  The kitchen phone rang. “Hello! . . . Yes, Bryan, how are you? . . . I’m doing great! Billy and I are moving into a ranch! You and Ryan will be invited to the housewarming! . . . Oh! It’s a done deal, really? . . . Everything I wanted? . . . You da man, Bryan! . . . Great. Thank you, and I’ll let you know when the party is. . . . Bye!”

  Bryan O’Keefe had perfectly handled all the lawyerly stuff I had given to him, as usual. Now everything was set.

  Mason rang the doorbell at ten o’clock sharp, but he was in a glum and uncommunicative mood. “Hey, Lorry,” he said when I opened the door, “let’s do it.”

  “Is everything okay? Is Petra all right?”

  “Everything is peachy-keen. Come on, let’s get it done, so I can get back there.”

  After moving my car, I carried out the first box and opened the back door of Billy’s truck to put it in there. Sliding the box onto the seat, I noticed a big, old leather suitcase. “What’s this, Mason? I don’t think it’s Billy’s.”

  “Hugo asked Petra to pack him a suitcase. With Petra at the bed and breakfast, he’ll stay with Martha for as long as it takes.”

  “Billy said the case will be closed today.”

  “We can only hope,” said Mason.

  “Will Petra move back into her own home?”

  Mason looked at me like I had insulted his manhood. With narrowed eyes, he gave me a curt reply. “Petra will never set foot in that house again.” Then he turned away from me and marched into the house for another box.

  His comment surprised me, but what surprised me more was his emphatic delivery. It shocked me. Petra didn’t want to return to the house where her father committed suicide. That made perfect sense—except she hadn’t wanted to go to the house even before that happened, which was why she was staying at the bed and breakfast to begin with. Nothing about the situation made much sense. But I followed Mason into the house, picked up another box, and forgot about it. We finished loading the truck in silence.

  After we finished loading the truck, and Mason was about to back out of the driveway, I said, “Wait! I have to get my CCP purse or Billy will shoot me!”

  I told Bingo to stay, and as I exited the truck, I heard Mason say, “Yeah, right.”

  When I returned to the truck, I patted the purse. “All set now.” Then I placed the purse on the floor of the truck.

  “What’s a PPC purse and why is it so special?” asked Mason. “It looks like a regular purse to me.”

  What an innocent, I thought. Then I chided myself for being judgmental again because before a couple of days ago, I didn’t know, either. “It’s CCP. Concealed Carry Purse. It’s got a gun in it. After Billy got shot at the other day, he said it’s getting personal, so I should have a gun of my own. You know, just in case.”

  Mason glanced down at the purse and started the truck. “Whatever.”

  I chuckled. “Now you sound like me, Mason.”

  “Whatever,” he repeated.

  When we pulled out of the driveway, he said, “Nice truck,” and he didn’t speak another word until we reached the spot where I thought Hugo’s car had been.

  “I wonder what happened to Hugo’s Cadillac.”

  “It’s at your new ranch.”

  “How’d it get there and how do you know?”

  “Billy and Nick came out, got it unstuck, and delivered it to your ranch. Billy mentioned it to Petra.”

  I shook my head. I’ll never know how that man got everything done, plus his job, plus taking care of me and Aiden.

  Mason stole a quick glance over at me and then moved his eyes back to the dirt road. “Lorry, I have to tell you something.” Another quick glance at me. He was about to continue when I had to interrupt.

  “Turn left here, Mason.”

  The moment passed and Mason didn’t say another word until he asked which road to take when we drove through the gate and into the ranch. He took the middle road and pulled up into the driveway. “We’re here,” he said as he stepped out of the truck.

  The first thing I noticed before I was even out of my seat was Charlie and his mangy dog coming out of the apartment on the other side of the garage. What was that man doing in there? I didn’t trust him, I didn’t, I didn’t.

  I was about to open my big mouth and tell him off when I heard Hugo say, “Mason, can you take the suitcase you brought me into the apartment over there? All of Martha’s stuff is already in there. Charlie has been kind enough to bring it over there for us.”

  I slammed my mouth shut so fast and so hard that it made a noise and the mangy dog raised his head and gave me a dirty look. He probably growled, too, but I couldn’t hear him. Charlie gave me a curt nod and walked by. When he got to Hugo and Martha, he shook hands with Hugo, exchanged a few words, gave Martha a kiss on the cheek, and then walked toward the bunkhouse in the barn with the dog following behind him.

  Could I be wrong about the guy? No, I didn’t think so. There was something about him besides being unsteady on his feet that day. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. It was something he was hiding. I just knew it. Martha loved and was kind to everyone. And if Martha liked the guy, Hugo wouldn’t argue.

  Mason picked up the suitcase and toted it over to the apartment. I picked up a box from the backseat and carried it toward Martha and Hugo. Martha, since she couldn’t hug me, kissed my cheek. By that time, Mason had delivered the suitcase and had another big box is in his arms. Martha followed him into the house.

  I stood in front of Hugo, balancing the box on my hip. “You guys don’t like the bedroom?”

  “Oh, sweet Lorry! We love your bedroom! But it’s your bedroom, and we don’t want to impose any longer.”

  “Billy said he’ll solve the case today, so it wouldn’t be much longer.”

  Hugo’s smile disappeared. He looked serious and leaned toward me whispering. “This whole episode has upset Martha so much that she has decided to take some time off. She’s taking a leave of absence and may never return. I’m hoping she doesn’t. But she also doesn’t want to return to Rutledge for a while. Petra and her mother will run the bed and breakfast for now. So Billy said we could stay here in the apartment. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, of course not! You
’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You’re family! Aiden will be thrilled!”

  Mason came out then and without asking, took the box off my hip and carried it into the house. Martha emerged from the house, saying to Hugo as she walked by us, “I’ll be in the apartment, straightening up.”

  Hugo watched her go and then put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right there, Martha!” He winked at me and followed her into the apartment. I heard him singing as he walked off, “You know that everything we share, so you must know I’ll be right there!”

  Mason and I finished unloading the boxes. Martha must have told him where everything belonged, because he dropped the boxes off in their respective locations and never said a word. The boxes were labeled, but he wouldn’t have known where the rooms were without Martha’s help. When we got back in the car, the first thing I did—after I patted Bingo—was make sure that Charlie man didn’t steal my CCP purse. He didn’t. It was still on the floor where I had left it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  MASON STARTED THE truck and drove out the way we had come in. I hoped he would open up and tell me what he wanted to tell me before, but he didn’t. He seemed fidgety but stayed silent. And so did I.

  During the ride back on the rough road, my mouth stayed silent, but my mind zoomed in high gear reflecting on my suspect list. I wished that I had brought my notes with me. But I didn’t realize that talkative Mason would suddenly become so taciturn.

  After all my deductions and crossings out, I only had four people left on my list. And now I had to cross off Todd Fenton, because someone—presumably the murderer—had shot at him. I wondered if Billy had gotten the ballistics back yet and what it showed. But I couldn’t call to ask. The last three people on my list were Brent Lindsay, Russ Tabor, and Christa.

  Why was Christa even still on my list, I wondered. Then I remembered the conversation we had when she came into the historical society to visit. She asked some weird questions about the bullets. That was strange. When I thought back to the conversation, I concluded she was subtly, or not so subtly, pumping me for information. I knew that because I had done the same thing to other people. I was good at it, I thought, giving myself a virtual pat on the back.