3 Dime If I Know

by Maggie Toussaint

  “How’s the investigation going?” Charlie asked casual-like, rubbing Ariel’s tummy.

  Suspicion narrowed my gaze. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m here to offer my services.”

  “We’re doing fine on our own,” I said.

  “Great!” Jonette said at the same time. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Charlie smiled at her, his dimples showing. “Where are we? Bring me up to speed.”

  “We’re doing a recon this afternoon, asking around Starr’s trailer park,” Jonette said. “We need to figure out why someone wanted her dead.”

  Charlie finally glanced my way. “I could check out her financials.”

  Damn. “That would be helpful,” I admitted with reluctance. “But won’t that raise red flags with the cops? Surely they’re looking into her money as well.”

  “I’m very good at what I do. No one will even know I was sniffing around.” He released Ariel, who chased after a late butterfly. “Anyone else you’d like me to run? What about lover boy?”

  Ice sleeted through my veins. “Rafe?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to know if he’s got financial ties to the dead woman.”

  “Me, too,” Jonette said.

  He had me at dead woman. “Me, three.”

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  As trailer parks went, Deer Pines Mobile Home Park looked presentable, though the sun-faded trailers were pockmarked with grime and hard wear. Clunkers and pickups were parked near the front doors. We drove down every street looking for the manager’s office, but every block had the same tired and worn-out look.

  “A sign would be nice, people,” I said. “I was expecting an office with a vacancy sign. How do we tell who is in charge?”

  Jonette pointed to a person shuffling around his postage-stamp yard as I slowed the Gray Beast for another right turn. “Let’s ask that old dude over there.”

  Nodding, I pulled up next to the white-haired man in a dull brown jacket, baggy pants hitched to his ribs, and scuffed slippers. He eyed us with suspicion.

  “Can you tell us where to find the manager?” Jonette asked.

  He took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “Manager ain’t working today. The office is closed on the weekends.”

  “Darn.” Jonette batted her eyelashes. “We heard there might be a place open here. That a resident who lived here passed away.”

  Usually men responded positively to Jonette’s bedroom eyes and sassy manner. This guy didn’t perk up one bit. Must be time to recharge his testosterone.

  Time for me to try my luck. I leaned around Jonette. “We’re in a tiny place over near Frederick, and we read about Starr Jeffries in our newspaper. We’re sorry for her misfortune, of course, but we need a bigger place to stay. Figured we’d see if her place was available.”

  “Nope.”

  I sighed with as much tragedy as I could muster. Even threw in a little shoulder action. “I thought sure we wouldn’t be too late. This looks like such a nice neighborhood. Quiet and all.”

  “That it is.”

  Man, my luck was as bad as Jonette’s. Why wouldn’t this guy open up? I bet even his dentist had a hard time getting him to open his mouth.

  “In case the other tenant backs out, could you point out the place for us?” I asked.

  “No harm in that I suppose.” He stubbed out his cigarette and approached my ancient sedan. He leaned into the window, his heavy gaze resting on our breasts. “It’s the tan and white singlewide a block over on the right. Say, are you ladies looking for a little something-something?”

  I choked out a denial. “Just looking for a new home. Men aren’t our thing.”

  He licked his lower lip. “Darn. I always wanted to do a threesome with a red-hot mama and a steamy brunette.”

  I gagged on his unwashed body stench, and Jonette made a show of looking at her watch. “Can’t stay. Gotta go.”

  The guy held out his hand. “I’ll hang onto your phone number for the manager, if you like.”

  “Never mind.” I edged back in my seat and shifted the car into gear, anxious to put distance between us. “If we can’t get Starr’s place, we still have to find a new place to live. We’ll be back next week if we can’t find an opening elsewhere.”

  I sped away from the curb, wanting to stomp on the gas and get far away from that lecherous old man. “Gross.”

  “He was. But you, my friend, were super at lying. He believed you and not me.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “He gave you the information we wanted, didn’t he?”

  “So?”

  “He bought your story. Sure you wouldn’t like a run at politics? You’d have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “No politics in my future, except for helping you win your election.”

  “I appreciate the support. I know Darnell is one of your clients, and I hope you don’t lose his business on account of me.”

  “I’m not worried about what Darnell does.” I slowed in front of the tan trailer. There wasn’t so much as a cigarette butt on the neatly manicured lawn. No flowers. No shrubs. Not a single toy. “Doesn’t look like any kids live here. No bikes or anything.”

  “Maybe the kid is too small for bikes. Maybe crackheads steal everything in the yards after dark.”

  “Crackheads? Are you serious? There’s no one here, except for that sleazeball. This place looks run down but not abandoned.”

  “You got me there.” Jonette stared at the trailer. “Now what?”

  I jammed the lever in park. “Now I’m going to knock on the door.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what we came here to do.”

  Jonette followed me out of the vehicle, clutching her oversized purse to her tummy. “Let’s do it.”

  “You got a gun in there?”

  “Nope. Pepper spray.”

  “Isn’t that illegal in Maryland?”

  “I wasn’t planning on announcing it to the world.”

  “Good. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail again. It’d look bad for the mayoral campaign.” Despite our light and easy banter, my dry throat and somersaulting tummy told me I wasn’t calm about any of this. If Starr’s sister was home, I had no idea what I’d say to her. I needed to do something to feel like I was moving forward.

  Heart thumping, I knocked on the door. There was no sound from inside. I waited a bit longer. Still nothing.

  Jonette gazed at me expectantly. “Now what?”

  Not willing to give up, I gazed up and down the empty street. What would the police do next? They’d canvass the neighborhood. I could do that. “Now we knock on a few more doors.” With that, I took off for the nearest door quickly, before I lost my nerve.

  “Wait. Is that wise?” Jonette asked. “We don’t know anything about these people.”

  “They don’t know us either.” I marched up the steps of the house next door. A rust-colored sedan with a child seat in the back seat was parked three steps away.

  A young girl with dark under-eye circles who looked to be Charla’s age peeked around the edge of the door. “You cops?”

  “I’m an accountant. Cleo Jones, and I’m here with my friend, Jonette. I’ve been making some inquiries about a client of mine, Starr Jeffries, and working on her estate. Do you have a minute to talk to me? Did you know Starr?”

  The door opened a little wider. The young girl exhaled visibly. “I knew her. We were neighborly, but we weren’t best friends, if you know what I mean.”

  There wasn’t an ounce of extra skin on this young woman’s frame. I wanted to take her home and fatten her up. Where were her parents?

  Not my problem, I quickly reminded myself. I was here to keep Rafe out of jail. “I don’t have the name of Starr’s next of kin.”

  The young girl relaxed more, her shoulders bowing down instead of up. “You mean Jenny?”

  I fumbled in my purse for a pen an
d a scrap of paper. Found a receipt from a fast-food restaurant. I scribbled the name. “Does Jenny have a last name?”

  “Kulp. Jenny’s last name is Kulp.”

  “What’s her address? How do I get in touch with her?”

  “Don’t know her phone number. She has a cell like me. Not a landline. Those are too expensive, you know? And they’re not very practical. I can take my cell everywhere I go and use it, but what can you do with a landline except sit on your butt at home and wait for it to ring?”

  “Do you have Ms. Kulp’s address?” Jonette asked.

  She cut her eyes over to Starr’s trailer. “She lives next door. With Kylie.”

  Another name. My eyebrows rose in inquiry. “Kylie?”

  “Starr’s kid.”

  I nodded as the memory resurfaced. “That’s right. I forgot about Kylie. How old is she now?”

  “Five. Starr had a party for her a month ago and invited me and my baby over. There were five candles on her cake.”

  A baby explained the young woman’s eye circles. This neighbor was proving to be very helpful. I probed again. “Anyone else come?”

  “Nah. Just us.”

  “Starr didn’t have any friends?”

  “Not really. Her sister came by every now and then. And the guy in the flashy car.”

  Uh-oh. “Flashy car?”

  “Red convertible and a growling engine. He came around once a month. Every time he did, Starr asked me to watch Kylie. That’s how I remember when he visited. Starr brought Kylie over. I watched Kylie some other times too, when Starr had too much to drink or wanted to go gambling.”

  The bad news kept on coming. Rafe routinely visited Starr. I wanted to fold up and cry, but I soldiered on, as if I hadn’t heard the most devastating news of my life. “She was an alcoholic?”

  “She hid it most of the time, but she always smelled like booze, even when she drank vodka. She kept saying one day her ship would come in. I wished she spent more time with Kylie instead of bitching about everything. Kylie is such a cutie. She always helped me with my baby.”

  As if on cue, a child cried in another room. The teen’s face lit up. “I have to go.”

  “Thank you.” I searched for her name but she hadn’t said it. I needed her name for thoroughness. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  The girl eased the door closed, but stopped when there was only room for her thin face to appear. “Maddy. My name’s Maddy Trace.”

  “Thanks for helping me, Maddy.”

  “I’d do anything to help Kylie.”

  With that, the door closed in my face. I tried to speak and couldn’t. I tried to move and couldn’t. I shot a desperate glance at my friend. Jonette grabbed my arm, levered me into the passenger seat of the Gray Beast, and burned rubber out of Starr’s driveway. The acrid scent stuck in my nostrils.

  I kept thinking about Rafe and Starr. What was he doing with her? A woman who drank too much and didn’t take good care of her kid. A woman who gambled away money. A woman who didn’t buy toys for her five-year-old to play with.

  Was Kylie Rafe’s kid?

  What kind of father only saw his kid once a month?

  “There has to be a logical explanation,” Jonette said on the expressway ramp.

  Logic had no place in my ugly thoughts. “He’s a cheater.”

  “You don’t know that. Don’t you drive to your clients’ houses?”

  I gave Jonette a wry look. “Somehow I doubt this drunken, gambling, child-neglector was in the market for golf lessons. I don’t know any other way to interpret the facts. Rafe cheated on me. He’s been cheating the whole time I’ve known him.”

  “Cut the guy some slack, Clee. Until you know what’s going on, don’t be so quick to judge. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The guy’s in love with you.”

  Her words rankled. “Listen to you. Since when are you the voice of reason?”

  “I know.” Jonette frowned and darted around a slower moving vehicle. “I hate it. I’d much rather manifest emotional outrage. But you’re giving a good performance.”

  “Nothing about this is a performance. Rafe Golden has some serious explaining to do.”

  “You’re telling him about our investigation?”

  “He thinks he has nothing to worry about. I’ll give him the opportunity to explain. He doesn’t, and he’s toast.”

  “God help us all.”

  CHAPTER 18

  * * *

  Vintage cars dotted the parking lot at Hogan’s Glen Golf Club. Shiny chrome gleamed under the noonday sun, accenting lustrous garnets and midnight blues, dotted among the classic whites and stately blacks. As I circled through the forest of big fins and whitewalls looking for a parking spot, I remembered why these older cars were here.

  Today was the day of the local car club’s invitational Hit and Run tournament. A nasty shiver crawled down my spine. I didn’t want anything to do with hit and run, even if it had nothing to do with a car accident.

  I snagged an empty space at the far edge of the lot, grabbed the bag of lunch, and hurried inside before I lost my nerve. I’d come straight from church. My skirt and heels weren’t golf attire, but I didn’t have time for a wardrobe change, so this would have to do. A gust of wind caught the door, and it swung open with a loud bang.

  Rafe and his whipcord-thin assistant, Jasper, glanced up in surprise. My golf pro’s eyes warmed at once, which heated my blood. Stupid hormones. I was here on business, not for fun and games. “Sorry about that. The wind ripped the door right out of my hands.”

  Jasper nodded in greeting. “Hey, Cleo.”

  “Hey,” I managed to say as Rafe bounded over and drew me into a spinning hug.

  “You smell good enough to eat,” he said as he nuzzled my neck.

  The shivers cascading down my spine had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with passion. I steeled my resolve. I was here for answers, not a nooner. “That would be our lunch. I took the liberty of bringing something over.”

  “Lunch sounds great. Let’s head back to the office.” Rafe grabbed my free hand and tugged me past a grinning Jasper. “You’re in charge for thirty, buddy. Don’t screw up.”

  “I got you covered, boss,” Jasper said.

  We stepped from the carpeted and heated shop into the storage area of bare concrete floors and bags upon bags of members’ golf clubs. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t clear this with you first,” I said.

  “I love the way you took the initiative here.” He drew me into his office, locked the door, and gave me a thorough, claiming kiss. My thoughts pinged wildly.

  He cheated on you.

  He’s not cheating now. He makes me feel good. He makes me feel alive. What would it hurt to enjoy what he’s offering?

  Make up your mind, Cleo. You either trust the guy, or you don’t. Oh, God. I’m weak. I want sex, and I want it now.

  I wiggled closer. He took that as an open invitation for more, and so did I. The man had great hands, after all. Despite the doubts I had about him, I loved him and he cared for me. We fought each other for the embrace. I couldn’t get rid of his pants quick enough to suit either of us.

  Then we were skin to skin, and my hands stroked him as he enjoyed my assets. “You do things to me, girl,” he whispered against my throat.

  “The feeling’s mutual.” I ran my fingers through his golden locks, down his muscled back, and clasped him close. Sensing my urgency, he slid into home base, and we gave ourselves to passion.

  Reason dawned slowly, and I covered myself with my hands, blushing with the knowledge of what we’d done in his office. My golf pro caressed my skin reverently as I sat in his lap. “For the record, you can surprise me like this anytime you want.”

  “I can’t believe we did that. Jasper is right outside.”

  “My assistant knows how to be discreet.”

  “Oh.” His assurance sent my thoughts careening in a different direction. The direction I meant to pursue before we got nak
ed. “You do this often?”

  He leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose. “Not as often as I’d like. What’s for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” I grappled with the notion of sex for lunch two days in a row. I hopped off his lap and began dressing.

  “This is one appointment I’d never miss,” he said, his voice in its lowest, sexiest register.

  Doing my best to ignore his innuendo, I slipped the heels on my feet and straightened. “I came here with lunch and to talk.”

  “Lunch.” He stretched like a cat and reached for his clothes. “Yeah. I could eat. What we got?”

  I scanned the office for the food bag. It was over by the door, where we’d started. I retrieved the paper sack. “Meatball subs. Though I don’t know if they’re any good now that they are cold. The bread’s probably soggy.”

  Rafe opened his sandwich wrapper and dove right in. “This is great. Thanks.”

  I was hungry, too, and I was hesitant to talk about the case when we were still in accord, so I ate my sandwich in silence. A few bites later, Rafe opened the mini-fridge under his desk that he kept stocked with bottled water. He handed me one and took another for himself.

  We finished, gathered the trash, and tossed it in the garbage.

  Rafe leaned back in his squeaky desk chair. “Talk.”

  How could I be tough and demanding now that I had sated two of my basic appetites? “You’re driving me crazy.”

  His deep laughter rumbled through the room. “That’s the way it works, sweetheart. You do the same thing to me. Although I’d be a lot less crazy if you brought me lunch every day.”

  Heat flamed my cheeks. “Good grief. I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the case.”

  “Pity.” His eyes narrowed, and an odd tension filled the room. “What case?”

  With the hair on the back of my neck stirring, I had no choice but to stand my ground. “Starr Jeffries. Britt needs to shift his focus to another suspect. Got any suggestions?”

  “Britt can focus on me all he wants. I didn’t do anything.”

  “You had a relationship with Starr.”