Along Came Trouble

by Sherryl Woods

  “That is how you prove you love me,” she said, as she stood up and smoothed down her skirt, then went back to the safety of her seat across the room. “Words alone aren’t going to do the trick, not when I know you have such an easy way with them.”

  King’s pulse began to pound. “I can do that, woman. Get back over here.”

  “Not here and not now,” she said, suddenly prim as she folded her hands atop her desk like some prissy old schoolmarm.

  “When?”

  “Call me. I’ll see when I can fit you into my schedule.”

  King crossed the room in two strides, leaned down across her desk and met her gaze. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six,” he said. “Wear something daring.”

  She began to laugh, evidently delighted with herself. “You sure your heart can take it?”

  “I suppose we’ll have to see,” he said. “But trust me, Frances. I am definitely willing to take the risk.”

  Tucker waited impatiently for Walker’s return from Richmond. Just when he was about to jump out of his skin from all the caffeine he’d consumed, he saw his deputy pull up in front of the sheriff’s office. He was waiting for him when he came inside.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “Can’t you give me five minutes to get something to drink?” Walker grumbled.

  “Here.” Tucker shoved his half-empty coffee cup into his brother-in-law’s hand. “Finish this. I’ve had too much anyway.”

  Walker took a sip, shuddered and handed it back. “I’ll have something that’s meant to be cold, thanks all the same. Settle down. I’ll be right back.”

  “Can’t you at least tell me if you think the woman’s guilty?” Tucker called after him.

  “No,” Walker replied as he disappeared around the corner.

  Tucker took off after him. “No, what? No, you don’t think she’s guilty, or no, you can’t tell me?”

  “Do we have to carry on this conversation out here where anyone can wander in and listen?”

  Tucker glanced around. “There’s not a soul in sight.”

  “But there are reporters lurking in the bushes outside,” Walker pointed out.

  Tucker crossed to the window. Sure enough, there were brightly marked television vans on the street and strangers with cameras and microphones jockeying for position in front of the building and across the street on the courthouse lawn. “Geez-oh-flip,” he commented with disgust. “What did you do, lead them right on back to town like the Pied Piper?”

  “Apparently so. Someone had Cynthia Miles’s house staked out. When I came out, there were half a dozen television satellite trucks and reporters waiting. They didn’t seem to like my refusal to comment, so here they are, ever hopeful.” Walker retrieved his can of soda and headed back to his office, where Michele was waiting.

  “The natives are getting restless,” she pointed out, sounding decidedly cheerful about the prospect of being involved in another confrontation. “They’re calling every five seconds requesting a comment. A few have ventured inside, but I had Deputy Williams escort ’em right back outside. And Richard is right in the thick of it. He looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel, which would probably upset Anna-Louise.”

  “What do you expect me to do about that?” Walker grumbled.

  “Ever heard of a pool reporter?” she asked. “Invite Richard in. Tell him what you want the hordes to know, then send him back out.”

  “Brilliant idea,” Walker said. “Except I don’t think the TV guys are going to be happy without film of an actual sheriff’s department spokesman.”

  Michele looked disappointed. “You’re probably right. You’ve got to give ’em something, though, or they’ll hang around out there all night. Not that I would mind. That guy from the CBS station is awfully handsome, and he’s the first guy I’ve met in ages I actually have to look up to. Better yet, I think we really hit it off the last time he was here.”

  Tucker shook his head. “Sweetheart, I don’t think this is the time for you to be making friends with a member of the media. At some point, you might be forced to question his motives.”

  She regarded Tucker with disdain. “Don’t you think I know that? It doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view and practice my flirting. There aren’t a lot of guys around town who can help me improve my technique.”

  Walker merely shook his head. “Go, keep ’em at bay,” he advised. “Tell them I’ll make a statement as soon as Tucker and I have talked. As for Richard, tell him he can come inside. We can use his input on spinning this.”

  Tucker winced. “I don’t think Richard’s going to be thrilled at being used to spin a story.”

  “He will be if he gets first crack at the information, with a few little exclusive tidbits thrown in,” Walker said confidently.

  “I suppose that would provide motivation,” Tucker agreed.

  Richard joined them then, regarding the two of them with wariness. “Okay, why am I in here, while everyone else is outside?”

  “I need your help,” Walker said.

  “I can’t help you,” Richard protested.

  “Just a little advice,” Walker coaxed. “And in return you get a bit more information you can use. Is the promise of a scoop sufficient to gain your cooperation?”

  “That depends,” Richard said cautiously. “Start talking.”

  Walker nodded. “Okay, but from this moment on, we are off the record until such time as we hammer out what we want released.”

  Richard squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I can go along with that.”

  “Would you rather wait outside with everybody else?” Walker asked. “You’re not working for the Washington Post anymore. This is Trinity Harbor. You’re a part of this community, not just editor of the Trinity Harbor Weekly.”

  “There are still ethical considerations,” Richard said. “I’m a journalist first and foremost. You’re a source, who at the moment is withholding public information.”

  “And I’m asking you to do this as a favor to a friend,” Walker said, “because you are a journalist and know the ropes better than I do.”

  Richard continued to look doubtful, but he finally nodded. “Okay, but if I start getting really bad vibes about this, I’ll stop you and the deal’s off.”

  “But you won’t use anything you’ve heard up to that point, correct?” Walker said to clarify the point.

  “Correct,” Richard said tightly, still obviously unhappy about the deal.

  “Okay, then, I interviewed Cynthia Miles today in Richmond,” Walker told him. “She admitted to having had a relationship with Chandler before and during the first months of his marriage. She also admitted having threatened to blackmail him, but swears that she never followed through and that he never gave in to the attempt. She says it was a ploy to try to force him to start seeing her again.”

  “And did he?” Tucker asked.

  “She says no. She says by then he was involved with someone else, someone serious, someone who really was a threat to the Chandler marriage—and a whole lot more, because she knew too much.”

  Tucker stared at Walker. “Too much about what? His personal shenanigans?”

  “No. There were plenty of women, alright, but this was about his business dealings. Cynthia claimed she didn’t know all the specifics, just that Chandler had played a little fast and loose with his SEC filings. Cynthia said if the information had come out, it would have destroyed not only his company, but also his political future.”

  “If she knew all this and wanted ammunition to use against Chandler, why didn’t Cynthia pursue all this herself?” Tucker asked, not buying a word of what she’d said. “Are you sure she wasn’t making this up just to throw suspicion off herself?”

  “Possibly.” He glanced at Richard. “And here’s where I need your help. Do I release anything at all about having a new lead to follow up, and if so, how much?”

  “You honestly think this lead is credible
?” Richard said.

  “We know there was a woman there the night he was killed,” Walker said, then held up his hand to prevent the question that was clearly on the tip of Richard’s tongue. “I won’t say how, but we have forensic evidence.”

  “And it’s not tied to Mrs. Chandler?” Richard asked, looking at Tucker.

  “We’re waiting for confirmation one way or the other on that, but according to the preliminary reports, probably not,” Walker said.

  Tucker regretted that his deputy didn’t sound more convincing, but at least Walker was beginning to accept the possibility of Mary Elizabeth’s innocence. He glanced at Richard. “What are your thoughts about revealing this new lead? How far should Walker go?”

  “That depends,” Richard said. “If you think this woman is a solid suspect, that’s one thing, but if you’re just hoping to worry her, maybe get her to make a mistake, that’s another thing entirely. I’d be real cautious, if I were you, especially without any concrete evidence.”

  “Cautious how?”

  “No name, no specifics beyond the fact that you’ve been given a promising new lead, a woman with ties to Chandler. That’s vague enough to keep it legal and specific enough to make a guilty person nervous.”

  Tucker nodded.

  “Makes sense to me. Does it work for you, Walker?”

  “I can do that.” He glanced pointedly at Richard. “Especially if I have a prepared statement to read and don’t allow any follow-up.”

  Richard groaned. “I don’t suppose there’s any question about who is supposed to draft this prepared statement.”

  Walker grinned. “Think of it as getting a jump-start on your story for this week.”

  “You guys are too good to me,” Richard said. “Get up. If I’m going to do this, I need your computer for a minute.”

  “By all means,” Walker said, moving out of his way.

  “Tell me again what my exclusive is,” Richard said as he began to type.

  Walker’s gaze met Tucker’s. “That we’ve all but cleared Mrs. Chandler of suspicion.”

  That Walker would say such a thing on the record startled Tucker. “Why would you say that without the lab report? Do you honestly believe it?”

  “You do, don’t you?” Walker asked.

  “Of course, but you wanted solid proof.”

  “And if you’re right, I should have it when that lab report comes in,” Walker said. “Besides, the real killer is obviously hoping that all suspicion points to Mrs. Chandler. Once we’ve ruled her out, it will add to that person’s panic, don’t you think?”

  “In that case, why not make that part of your statement, get the word out far and wide, instead of just here in the county?” Richard asked.

  “Because he doesn’t want to be too embarrassed if he’s wrong,” Tucker guessed, watching Walker’s reaction. The faint tightening of the deputy’s jaw suggested Tucker was right.

  “Okay, yes,” Walker admitted grudgingly. “I should know for sure in a day or two at most. That’s about when that little bombshell will begin to drift down to Richmond. By then our new suspect will already be getting antsy. It could be just the thing to push her right on over the edge.”

  “If she’s guilty,” Richard cautioned.

  “Yeah, well, there is that,” Tucker agreed wryly. “Mind if I run all of this by Mary Elizabeth? Maybe she can provide a name so we can start staking this woman out.”

  “I already have a name,” Walker said quietly. “And before you ask, no, I’m not giving it to either one of you.”

  “Why the hell not?” Tucker demanded.

  “Because I don’t want you charging down to check her out and because I don’t want any leaks that will stir up media scrutiny of this woman. I want her to get jumpy and make a mistake. I don’t want her to panic and run.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Nope, but I have people keeping an eye on her. We’ll know if she so much as sneezes over the next few days.”

  Tucker muttered an oath under his breath.

  “You have something you want to say?” Walker inquired, leveling a look straight at him.

  “Not a thing,” Tucker said at once. “You’re doing this exactly right, even if being left out of the loop does annoy the hell out of me.”

  “Thank you.” Walker frowned at Richard. “You?”

  “Not me,” Richard said with forced cheer. “I’m happy as a clam.”

  “Good,” Walker said with obvious satisfaction. “Then let’s go outside and stir things up. I want to get home in time for dinner just once this week.”

  “Be sure to tell Daisy your conclusions about Mary Elizabeth,” Tucker said. “That will make her day.”

  “I think I’ll save that till after dessert, if you don’t mind. I want to eat my dinner, not wear it.”

  Liz answered the door just before six and found Tucker on the porch. It took all of her willpower not to throw herself straight into his arms. She studied his somber expression, but for the life of her she couldn’t read it.

  “You found out something, didn’t you?”

  He nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “You want to come out here and talk about it?”

  Liz shook her head. “The breeze is nicer out back, and I’ve just made some lemonade. I’ll pour you a glass on the way.”

  “Fine.”

  “Just tell me this,” she said, scanning his face. “Is it good news or bad?”

  “Promising,” he said.

  She clung to that as she led the way into the kitchen, fixed his lemonade with an extra scoop of sugar the way he liked it, then handed the ice-cold drink to him.

  Outside, she returned to her seat on an old-fashioned glider, then watched in amusement as Tucker struggled to decide whether to join her there or sit in one of the nearby rockers. To her disappointment, he chose a rocker, then gazed out over the rolling lawn toward the river.

  “It’s a peaceful night,” he said.

  “It won’t be if you don’t tell me what you found out,” Liz said with a hint of exasperation.

  Her comment drew a grin from him. “Okay, here’s the most important thing. Walker’s finally coming around. He admitted that he has doubts about you being the person who killed Chandler.”

  Liz wasn’t nearly as astonished by that as Tucker seemed to be. “He’s a sensible man, so I expected that,” she said. “But you evidently didn’t.”

  “I’ll be honest, Liz. I don’t trust my judgment where you’re concerned.”

  “Well, that’s certainly blunt enough,” she said, not sure why it hurt so much to have his low opinion of her confirmed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I wish you’d believed in me without waiting for a man who doesn’t even know me to validate your opinion. No one on earth knows me better than you do. How can you not know that I’m incapable of murdering someone?”

  “I do believe that,” he said fiercely. “But there was a time when I believed in your love, too.”

  The bitter comment hit its target. “And I did love you,” she said. “Not that I expect you to believe that. And if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I can’t really blame you. It just…” She met his gaze. “It makes my heart ache.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” She forced aside the anguish. “You said that was only part of the news. What’s the rest?”

  As he described Walker’s interview with Cynthia Miles, Liz’s pulse began to race. “Selena Velez,” she whispered at last. “It has to be. I knew they were involved. I could always tell, but she was always so unfailingly sweet and sympathetic to me that in her case I brushed my suspicions aside.”

  “Are you talking about his personal assistant at the firm?” Tucker asked.

  “Yes. And it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she was the one who planted Cynthia’s letters in the safe, knowing I’d find them and send the police off after her.” She regarded Tucker with excitement. “Does it help that we know who it i
s? Can you interview her?”

  “No,” he said at once. “I promised Walker I’d let him handle this. We don’t want to do anything to scare her off.” He eyed her with worry. “You said she was always nice to you. Did you ever get any indication at all that she had a temper or a dark side of any kind?”

  “No, why? Do you think she might not be the one, after all?”

  “No, I just want to be sure she’s not likely to come after you once she realizes the police no longer suspect you.”

  “If she is guilty, isn’t it more likely that this was a crime of passion, something she did on the spur of the moment?” Liz asked. “I can’t see her committing a premeditated murder, any more than I could.”

  “Unless Larry kept guns in the house, which we know he didn’t, she—or whoever the real killer was—came down here with a loaded gun with one purpose in mind,” Tucker reminded her. “To kill your husband.”

  Liz shuddered.

  “Just be on guard if she calls or shows up, Mary Elizabeth. We don’t know if she’s guilty, but I don’t want you taking any unnecessary chances.”

  “Maybe you should move in to protect me,” she suggested, only partially in jest.

  His gaze turned dark. “And who’d protect you from me?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be protected from you,” she said, keeping her gaze even with his.

  The evening air seemed to crackle with electricity, though there was no sign of lightning in the sky. For an instant, Liz thought she might have cut through his carefully crafted resolve, but then he stood up and set his drink down on the table.

  “I need to get home,” he said.

  “Somebody waiting?” she inquired sweetly.

  He frowned at her. “No, Mary Elizabeth.”

  “Then stay for dinner, at least. I hate eating alone.”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “Bad idea.”

  “Don’t think you can keep your hands to yourself, Sheriff?”