Dead Man's Rules

by Rebecca Grace

  “You tried to run me over.”

  “You were upsetting Lottie...”

  She didn’t know if she believed him, but his shuddering breath propelled her to try again. Her mother would never understand if she left him to die. As she tugged, another arm came into view. Diaz grabbed him around the middle and jerked him away from the side of the building.

  The mayor collapsed onto the ground. “Thanks...” he mumbled.

  Diaz stood over him, a grim look on his face. “I didn’t do it to be a hero. It’s time for honesty.” He prodded the supine man with the toe of his scuffed boot. “Tell us the truth, you bastard.”

  Bradley lifted a shaking hand. “You going to kill me?”

  “If I was going to do that, I’d have left you to broil. I want to hear the truth before God comes for you.” Diaz produced a water bottle from his back pocket and dropped it on Bradley’s stomach.

  The mayor drew a deep shuddering breath and took a gulping drink.

  “You framed that kid, didn’t you?” Diaz asked.

  The question surprised Cere. She thought he would ask about Naldo’s death.

  “Tell her the truth about Marco. You’re the only one who knows it now that the old man is dead.”

  Bradley shook his head. “He committed those burglaries.”

  “Like hell!” Diaz sounded as though he knew. Who was this man? “The first break ins?”

  Foster’s face pinched as though he was in pain. “Not the second bunch...but I caught him…red-handed that first time. He had money. He...couldn’t explain it.”

  “Sure. You never gave him a chance to explain. And then you framed him the second time. Naldo knew. That’s why you murdered him.”

  “He had a gun. Crazy coot was gonna shoot me...if I didn’t tell…we struggled…the gun went off.”

  “You killed Marco too?” Cere asked Foster, her breath catching.

  His tired gaze slid from her to Diaz. “I…didn’t kill…Marco… Shark...”

  “Berto?” She looked at Diaz, expecting him to protest again, but he didn’t.

  He leaned toward Foster, his husky voice accusing. “The two of you framed Marco for the fires, the burglaries and then you paid Shark to kill him.”

  “Why?” Cere asked.

  “He was…no good...but he could talk...and people listened...”

  Diaz grunted and poked a finger at Foster. “You were afraid of his ideas. Afraid he would overthrow the old boy network.”

  “We wanted him gone…” Foster’s voice grew weak as tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks.

  Cere turned to Diaz. “Mr. Clarkson saw Marco. He told Willie and Art his shirt was burned....”

  Diaz shook his head, his face rigid with anger. “Marco caught Shark robbing the pawn shop, taking the coins and setting fire to the place. He tried to put it out and heard Clarkson next door. He saved him and followed Shark out here to meet his benefactor. Isn’t that what happened?”

  “Marco had…burns… Shark hit him in the face with a rifle barrel. I…told him to keep the money, get rid of Marco…and left...” Foster stopped and gasped for breath.

  “And called it suicide,” Cere accused.

  “Everyone wanted it...over. Shark took the money, coins and left. He...knew better than to ever come back.”

  “Sure.” Diaz sounded skeptical. “You sent someone to take care of him too, didn’t you? What happened to those coins, old man? They never turned up.”

  “Crazy story…old man didn’t have coins any more. Shark took ’em.”

  “You took his money box to try to make his death look like robbery,” Diaz charged.

  “Naldo left me a note that he wanted to talk. Is that why you killed him?” Cere asked.

  “You’ll never...prove anything.” Bradley groaned, lifting his hand to his throat. “Maybe...maybe...Shark came back…”

  “We both heard your confession.” Cere straightened as she heard sirens blare in the distance.

  “Tell Lottie…” Foster choked out.

  “Leave my mother out of this.”

  “She was…too good for him… I cared about her when she was young… That kid was no good. She shoulda been mine. Mine!” He wheezed and clutched at his shirt.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning over the portly man. “The ambulance is coming.”

  She could see it turning off the main road.

  “Heart,” he mumbled, and before either could move, he pitched forward.

  Diaz leaned over him, touched his chest then his neck. “He’s dead.”

  She leaped to her feet as the ambulance bumped over the uneven ground toward them. She ran to meet it, directing paramedics toward Foster and Rafe. A fire truck arrived right behind the ambulance.

  As Cere paced the parking lot, firemen set up lines, while paramedics worked on Rafe and Foster.

  Diaz walked over to join her. He showed no emotion as he spoke. “The bastard is gone. You okay?”

  She studied the impassive figure, puzzled by his knowledge about Marco’s case. “What made you say Marco was innocent? How would you know? Exactly what is your interest in this?”

  He rubbed the side of his face, his visible eye focused on the scene at the ambulance. “Maybe I was an impetuous kid too, serving time in an adult prison with hardened guys like Shark. Scared boys like that crazy kid.”

  A wave of surprise swamped her. “You knew them in prison?”

  “Could be.”

  “We never found that in your record.”

  He grunted and rubbed his fingers together. “You should know money talks. Back then it could even get juvenile records expunged.”

  “Do you know what happened to Berto? You said something about not getting away with the money.”

  “He never made it out of this valley alive.” He gestured toward where paramedics were loading Foster’s covered body into the back of the ambulance. “That old man sent someone after him and I’m convinced they took those coins.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch.” Diaz refused to look at her. What else did he know? Did it matter?

  She drew a deep breath. “It’s over. Finally.”

  “Not yet. Thousands of dollars are still missing.”

  “And I repeat, how do you know?”

  He lifted a shoulder in a stiff shrug. “Don’t worry. You have your Marco story. Now you know his death was not suicide. “

  “Shark killed him,” she said sadly.

  “The town,” he said, husky voice filled with sarcasm. “That mixed up kid left prison ready to change the world, and that bastard and this town killed him. There’s your damn story.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t know if I can tell it. My mother loved him.”

  His head swiveled to her. For once he actually appeared to be surprised. “Who the hell said that?”

  “That money Mr. Foster said Marco had…” She sniffled and choked out the truth. “It was hers. Theirs. She was running away with him.”

  “Running away or paying him off?”

  “She was going to meet him…” She stopped, realizing the confidence she was revealing. “I’m sorry. I can’t discuss this. I promised Mom...”

  “I won’t tell anyone. The kid said something about a girl. She was going to write, but she never did, and the idiot kept writing to her.”

  “Apparently her friend who got Marco’s letters kept them and never gave them to her until the day he died. But the letters, the songs he wrote, they’re beautiful... They made her cry.” Her own tears stopped her from continuing.

  “She read them?” Diaz straightened, the gaze of his green eye blazing into her, as intense as the heat from the fire. For an instant she could hear the pain in his voice, similar to her own feelings over the tragedy of Marco’s lost love.

  “I guess you’re right. It isn’t over. See, she loved my dad, I know it…but you never forget the first love of your life.” A lump filled her throat and she jerked around and
sought Rafe. He sat hunched at the back door of the ambulance, watching her. She started toward him.

  “Where you going?” Diaz asked.

  Her heart swelled and the words could barely come out, but she wanted to say them. “To tell someone I love them.”

  “You mean your job?” The emotion was gone, replaced by his normal sarcasm.

  She whirled on him. “You’re a fool, Diaz.”

  His laugh was harsh. “So I’ve been told. See you around.”

  As she approached the ambulance, Cere’s confidence dissipated. Telling what she and Diaz learned before Foster died was an easy alternative and she launched into the details for Rafe.

  “Mr. Foster said Naldo’s death was a mistake,” she concluded, “but I doubt we’ll ever know the truth. I was more surprised that Diaz knew so much about Marco.”

  Rafe contemplated Diaz as the mysterious man limped toward his SUV. “I suppose I should apologize and thank the S.O.B.”

  “He claims Berto never got away with the money but he wouldn’t tell me how he knows.”

  “You’re moving on to another story?”

  “I got my story, but I’m not certain if I’ll tell it.” She drew a deep breath and licked her dry lips. Without further thought, she moved to Rafe, wrapping her arms around his back, leaning her head on his chest. “Thank you for coming to save me.”

  He put his arm around her and held her against him. “You’re far from helpless, sweet Cere. And you saved me.”

  “Maybe that’s the answer,” she whispered. “You can’t keep everyone around you safe, but together we make a good team. I love you. I want to be with you, wherever you are.”

  “Enough to sacrifice for me?”

  She thought of her mother and the sacrifices Lottie had not made. Of Marco’s sad life. Of Rafe who had shown how much he would give. “Yes!”

  “I wouldn’t ask it of you.” His sober eyes gazed down at her. “Do your story. I trust you to do the right thing. And you’re right. Together we can try to keep those around us safe. I love you too, sweet Cere.”

  She looked toward the Palladium. Despite the efforts of firemen, flames licked its foundation and leaped into the night sky. The building was burning to the ground and taking all its secrets. Fire danced in the window where Marco left his bloody hand print.

  “All that’s left of Marco is gone,” Rafe said, wiping a hand across his face, and she realized he was crying.

  Lifting her hand, she stroked the tears away. “No, he lives in you and Ginny. And his writing. If you want to know him, read his songs, his letters. It’s all there.” She looked one last time at the room where Marco died. In the flames she could almost see his eyes, but they no longer glowed with bitterness. Rafe gazed down at her and in his eyes—Marco’s—she saw love. She had helped Marco, but in the end he helped her much more.

  Epilogue

  Raucous noise filled the Matador, but when bright TV lights went on and Cere stepped forward to speak into the microphone, the room grew silent.

  “The political speeches and essays written by Marco Gonzales will be published. To the people who visited the site of his death, he was a ghostly myth built around a bloody hand print. To the people here in his cousin’s restaurant, he was a hero ahead of his time who died too young. Now everyone will know the man who celebrated life with his words. This is Cere Medina reporting for Scope, in Rio Rojo, New Mexico.”

  She handed the mike to Audrey, who stepped from behind the camera. “Great story, babe. It might even be the lead tonight.”

  Wiping her cheek in case a tear edged out of her eye, Cere shook her head. “I doubt it. I had to beg Alan to let me do it as a cold case feature.”

  She had left out any mention of Marco’s doomed romances. As for his love songs, they belonged to Lottie and she wanted to keep them to herself for now.

  Audrey winced as her phone beeped. “Alan wants you to call him.”

  “When are you coming home?” he demanded when she reached him. “Did you hear about Len Perkins, the comedian? His wife drowned in their swimming pool. He claims he was out of town, but someone saw him climbing the back fence the night she died. I need you to climb the wall. Get into the pool area. Talk to the neighbors.”

  Cere tuned out of the conversation. Rafe was beckoning her to a table where he and Ginny sat beside her mother and Tony Gennaro.

  “Alan, I am home. That was my last report.”

  “You’re getting out of the business?”

  “I’ll send you the town paper with my next story.”

  A word about the author...

  Rebecca Grace is a former award winning broadcast journalist who is now writing fiction. She specializes in romance, romantic suspense and mystery novels, novellas and short stories. She is also the co-author of a how-to book on creating characters and teaches writing classes.

  Other Books You Might Enjoy

  When Stacey Moreno goes undercover on Evergreen Island, she's looking for answers to a friend's mysterious death, not trouble. But from the moment she moves into spooky Redfern Manor trouble starts and sparks fly.

  As Stacey digs for answers, she's drawn to her mysterious boss, but he is obsessed with a ghost. With danger drawing near, can Stacey persuade Mack to face the shadows from the past that threaten to destroy their future?

  Read Shadows From The Past by Rebecca Grace to find out.

  http://amzn.com/B007I6G0C6

  Amy Helm arrives in Australia determined to catch her thieving ex-husband. The FBI thinks the trail has gone cold. But who better to catch him than the psychologist who knew him intimately?

  Jake Turner is on Amy's tail. Playing a dangerous game of catch-me-if-you-can deep in the Australian rain forest leads them into a cyclone, a fake marriage, a drug cartel, and maybe, a whole new life. It's a dizzying ride of fear and romance, and one Amy won't soon give up.

  Gone Tropical by Robena Grant

  http://amzn.com/B00HJE3UAC

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  For other wonderful stories of romance,

  please visit our on-line bookstore at

  www.thewildrosepress.com.

  For questions or more information

  contact us at

  info@thewildrosepress.com.

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  To visit with authors of

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  join our yahoo loop at

  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thewildrosepress/