Daddy used to say that time healed all wounds, but time hadn’t healed the wound Charlie had inflicted on my heart. Time had eased my anger level. Had my ex-husband truly changed his stripes, or had this romantic pursuit been prompted because I’d told him flat-out no?
And my boyfriend. Rafe was walking around on borrowed time. Granted, there was no smoking gun in Starr’s homicide case, but the circumstantial evidence against Rafe looked bad. He’d been seen with Starr on the evening of her death. He’d routinely called her and given her money. He’d been involved in a fatal shooting accident years before. He was familiar with guns.
I shivered at the thought of Rafe pointing a gun at anyone. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t match his face with that action. It couldn’t be real. It didn’t seem probable, though it appeared to be possible.
When I looked at Rafe, I saw a man bewildered by all the fuss, a man who proclaimed his innocence.
In the three months I’d known him, he’d eaten Mama’s crazy dinners, dealt with squabbling teenagers, accepted my limited availability for recreation, and even delivered puppies. Any one of those things might drive a person to extreme measures, but he’d kept his cool under fire.
He’d given me a key to his house, and I’d given him my heart.
But the child.
I kept coming back to little Kylie, Starr’s daughter. Though Rafe claimed to be unaware of her existence, she was living proof of an intimate liaison. He swore Kylie wasn’t his daughter, but she looked like a Golden to me.
My temples ached. I massaged them, closing my eyes to clear my head. Think, Cleo. If Rafe was right, and I believed him, then Kylie had been fathered by another Golden. Possibly Rafe’s dad, brother, or uncle. They all patronized the country club where Starr had worked. They might have known her.
Did they know her in that other sense? And why would it matter now, years later? Was Kylie a motive? Did a Golden want custody of her? Or, worse, was Kylie in physical danger? Surely, no one would harm a child.
But another child had been hurt. Rafe’s baby sister. His brother and sister had been part of that death. Their parents had covered up the matter.
His family was up to their blue-blooded necks in this.
One of them could have poisoned Rafe with arsenic. Rafe claimed he’d thrown up a lot as a kid, leading both of us to think that the poisoning had been habitual.
Come on, Cleo. Put it together.
Rafe. If I shifted the focus from Starr to Rafe, what did I get?
Someone wanted to hurt Rafe.
He was the only financially solvent Golden.
Did the killer want him dead? Was this about his money?
His brother was broke, his sister heavily into risky ventures. His parents were over their heads in real estate debt.
But to kill your own flesh and blood? For financial gain? That was cold.
In the distance, a car backfired, startling a lone crow from nearby shrubs. The bird’s eerie squawking echoed down to the valley floor. I blinked against the strong sunlight and tried to rearrange the order of facts, hoping to make a new connection.
Starr died of a gunshot wound to the head. Her secret child might be a motive.
Rafe had been poisoned.
He was rich.
Starr and Rafe’s sister were shot to death.
Rafe’s poisoning wasn’t a single incident.
This rock was hard. I shifted my weight, bringing one leg up underneath me so I could sit on it. I kept coming back to Rafe and his family. What did I know about his blood kin?
I started with his parents, Amanda and Shep Golden. They’d kept a lid on their youngest child’s tragic death. They were land poor. Since they had a shooting range on their property and encouraged their children to shoot, I believed they knew how to handle guns. They had the means. They might have a hidden motive in protecting their family, but did they have the opportunity to kill Starr?
His older sister, Regina, knew how to shoot, and she’d staked her entire inheritance on a risky venture. How desperate for money was she? Would she and Hill inherit Rafe’s assets? She definitely had the intellect and the calculating personality to be a ruthless killer, but I didn’t know about her whereabouts the night Starr died.
Hill. The smooth-talking, fun-loving brother. What secrets lurked in those mischievious blue eyes? How had he blown his inheritance? His liquid assets included a sports car and a five-thousand-dollar monthly stipend from Golden Enterprises. He lived at home and was engaged to Rafe’s former fiancée. Was that by chance or choice? Had he gone after Starr when she was Rafe’s girl? Could Kylie be his child? Did Hill resent his brother? Or did he envy Rafe’s independence?
It galled me that I couldn’t answer those questions about his immediate family, but I hadn’t covered my entire suspect pool yet.
His cousin Ashley had been at the house when Rafe was poisoned. She had a daughter of her own who was the first official member of the next Golden generation. Her family’s estate adjoined the property where Rafe’s family lived, so she had ready access to Rafe and the household. What motive would she have to hurt Rafe? She’d decorated his place in Hogan’s Glen and kept his secrets. Gauging by her upscale business location, she wasn’t hurting for clients, but I didn’t know for sure. Even if she was a killer, I could see her going after another Golden for financial gain, but why kill Starr? It didn’t make any sense.
Mary and the housekeeper had been in the Golden house when Rafe was poisoned recently and in the past. Both women had handled the glassware for the drinks. One of them could have put something in Rafe’s diet soda glass. Except Mary and her mom depended on the Goldens for their income. If they brought the Goldens to the point of ruin, they’d hurt themselves and gain nothing. Another dead end of information.
Clearly, I didn’t have enough facts.
The only way to get them was to make a pest out of myself with Rafe. From previous conversations on this topic, I knew he valued his privacy. Would he hate me for putting his family under suspicion?
I couldn’t get answers sitting here on a rock. Time to go home and call Rafe.
But when I walked back to the car, my orderly thoughts once more dissolved into chaos. My Volvo sedan commanded the empty lot, but something had happened to it. Something bad.
I tried to speak. No words came out. Shuddering, I crouched to the ground and glanced around. Each tree seemed dark and threatening.
I knew two things.
Someone watched me now from the woodline.
My windshield had a bullet hole in it.
CHAPTER 35
* * *
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I fumbled for my purse strap on my shoulder, couldn’t manage the zipper to open it up. Should I run? Should I hide?
Was I the shooter’s next target?
I crouched beside the car. The shot must have originated from the direction of the path I’d trod. That was the only way the hole could go straight through the windshield and into the driver’s headrest.
I listened for rustling in the bushes, but I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in my ears. Finally, my fingers closed on my cell phone lifeline.
Detective Britt Radcliff’s voice came on the line. I cried out my need, “Help.”
I hugged the fuzzy blanket around my shoulders as the tow truck hauled my car down the mountain. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t warm the chill in my marrow. Someone shot my car. If I’d been sitting in the driver’s seat, the bullet would have gone right through my head.
Britt had confirmed the bullet was a .22, the same caliber that killed Starr. He’d collected the bullet from my car as evidence and stuffed me in a squad car.
“You didn’t see or hear anything?” he asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Nothing. Except for the car backfiring and the crow taking flight. That backfire was the gunshot, right?” At his nod, I shuddered. “I needed time to think about the case. Overlook Park seemed like the pe
rfect place.”
“Thinking almost got you killed.”
The condemnation in his eyes caused my voice to hitch. “Ya think I don’t know that? I can’t stop thinking about where they shot my car.”
His thick brows arched. “You believe it was two shooters?”
“I don’t know anything. They was a slip of the tongue. But this incident was no slip up. They meant to shoot my Gray Beast. They were sending me a message.”
“It’s the same message I’ve been giving you since you started acting like you were a crime fighter. Stay out of this. Whoever this is, he or she plays for keeps.”
“I don’t understand why I’m a target. I don’t have much in the way of information.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Rafe didn’t do it. You know that, right? If Rafe had killed Starr, there’d be no reason for anyone to come after me.”
“Unless Rafe is the shooter.”
“You’re wrong. Rafe wouldn’t shoot anyone.” Too late I remembered the tragic shooting death of his baby sister, Brenna. “He wouldn’t shoot me.”
Britt’s stern visage didn’t relax. His silence weighed on me.
“Okay, okay.” I told him about the credit history search, the DNA test for paternity, about the arsenic discovered at the hospital, and my list of Rafe’s potential poisoners.
“Stay away from Rafe,” Britt said. “Stop poking around in his life. It’s full of scorpions.”
“I can’t.”
“Cleo.”
“I can’t. I believe he’s innocent. If he didn’t kill Starr, someone else did, and that someone else is scared because we’re getting close. Where were Rafe’s family members when Starr was killed? Do you know? Did you even check them out as potential suspects?”
“I can’t answer those questions.”
“You should. And you should be prepared to move forward on other persons of interest when the DNA test rules out Rafe as Kylie’s father. I don’t know what the motive for Starr’s murder was, but I’m guessing greed, since so many people in Rafe’s family need money.”
“You can’t guess about homicide. You need facts. I have no evidence leading to any of those people. The evidence points to Rafe. He’s also the only one with clear opportunity.”
My teeth clamped together at Britt’s insistence on Rafe as the killer. How could a police detective be so blind? “We don’t know that. Any of them could’ve had an opportunity. Starr kept her daughter a secret from the Goldens. Was she paid to keep quiet? Would a Golden born out of wedlock be worth killing for in this day of unwed mamas?”
“Jenny Kulp got custody of the child, not the Goldens. Kulp has an alibi. I checked her out.”
My chin jutted out at his pat answer. “If I were you, I’d double-check her alibi. Starr’s sister profited from her death. Whether it was Jenny who killed Starr, or a Golden or a stranger, Rafe’s been framed for the deed. I’m certain of that. He didn’t kill Starr, but someone went to a lot of trouble to make him appear guilty.”
Britt shook his head, his lips turning down. “Hon, I know you mean well, but you’re stirring people up. You’ve hit a nerve. Murderers come in all shapes and sizes, but there’s only one Cleopatra Jones. Your mother would skin me alive if anything happened to you.”
I waved off his concern as another idea occurred to me. The brazenness of it warmed me, and I shucked off the blanket. “We need to strike back at his powerful family, now, while they think I’m helpless. They won’t be expecting an offensive move.”
“You need to go home to Dee and the girls.”
“That’s what the Goldens expect, but I won’t roll over and play dead. That house in Potomac is where I need to be. I’m gonna drive down there and shake the family tree.”
“Now I know you’re nuts. Stay away from the entire Golden family.”
“Not happening.” I studied him for a long moment. “But you could go with me.”
He studied me back, as if he were deciding something important. “You can go with me, but I have something to show you first.”
Britt drove me to the police station and parked me at his desk. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
The Law Enforcement Center bustled with buff-looking young men. Three officers had people sitting at their desks, as I was doing. A female officer strolled by. All of these people risked their lives every day to keep the peace.
Kudos to them for that. One bullet hole in my car, and I’d fallen apart.
But I shared with them a need for justice, a need for the real story to be told. Would I have made a good cop? My head said yes, but my gut said no. I couldn’t get past the whole shooting thing.
Give me an accounting nightmare any day. The cops could keep the armed criminals.
Britt returned, manila folder in hand. He withdrew a page. “Take a look at this.”
I read the first line of the formal-looking document with growing interest. “Brenna’s death certificate? How’d you get it?”
“I requested it, same as you. Only my request got bumped to the head of the line.”
I read the coroner’s statement describing the death of Brenna Golden. It wasn’t pretty. Over fifty wounds. My stomach turned at the words.
“Poor kid,” I whispered. “What were you doing behind the target?”
Britt nodded. “Valid question. One I wondered myself, so I also requested the coroner’s detailed report. I didn’t learn much except to see a schematic of the wounds.”
“I don’t need to see that.” I had a perfectly good imagination. “What about a photo of Brenna? Was that in the coroner’s report?”
“If there was, it was removed before I accessed the file.”
Not that I wanted to see the corpse, but the omission seemed downright odd. “What does that mean?”
He held up his palm. “Before you go getting crazy ideas, it might have no meaning at all. The picture could have been lost or misplaced. Happens all the time.”
Chagrined, I studied the death certificate again. “The time of death is given as seven in the morning. That’s precise. How’d the coroner pinpoint it so exactly?”
“I believe he took the time from the police incident report. The kids began firing at the range at that time.”
“Does this seem right to you?”
Britt leaned closer. “Everything seems neatly tied up, but it feels off for some reason.”
I felt a flicker of hope. “You don’t trust the report?”
“Never said that. But I’m willing to hear more from the family about this cold case.”
That was something, at least. If I couldn’t flush Starr’s killer from the field of suspects, perhaps understanding Brenna’s death would shed light on how the Goldens operated.
CHAPTER 36
* * *
Britt drove us to Potomac. Knowing I wasn’t alone bolstered my courage. Deep in my bones, I knew this was the right thing to do. There were answers in that house, answers that had been kept secret for way too long.
Florie opened the paneled door. In her tidy uniform and owlish-looking glasses, she seemed like a caricature of a housekeeper. “Yes?”
“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I need to speak with the family,” I said in a rush of words, hoping against hope she wouldn’t slam the door in my face. “My car’s in the shop, so an old friend drove me down. This is Britt Radcliff.”
Florie bobbed her head in Britt’s direction as she clung to the front door. Indecision crossed her face like a passing shadow from a hawk’s wing. Then she invited us into the foyer.
“Please wait here,” Florie said before melting into the house. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound on the ceramic tile floor.
“Kinda like a tomb in here,” Britt said, hands jammed in his pockets.
“Keep your voice down,” I warned. “We don’t want to get thrown out before we even begin.”
He grinned. “You have no idea, do you?”
His question caught me off gua
rd. Was he talking about the killer’s identity? I brazened it out. “What do you mean?”
“The Goldens will treat you with kid gloves. You’ve got something they want.”
“The truth?”
“No. They don’t care about that. They’ve got their own version of the truth. They want Rafe.”
“They’re not going to get him. I mean he doesn’t want to be gotten. Oh dear, that still didn’t come out right. He’s never felt comfortable here. He won’t return to the family fold.”
Britt rocked his weight forward onto the balls of his feet.
“He won’t,” I asserted. “He told me about growing up here, about what it was like to be different. I understand what that’s like. He may have the same last name as them, but he’s his own man.”
“Blood will tell.”
“Hush. You sound like Mama.”
“Delilah is right. I’ve seen it over and over in my work. No matter how dysfunctional a family is, they band together to face an outside threat. Your action to come down here and prove Rafe’s innocence is a wonderful, loyal gesture. However, Rafe won’t see it that way, and it’s likely his family will resent the intrusion. You should at least call your boyfriend, and tell him what you’re doing.”
“I didn’t want to call earlier because he might tell me to turn around, but now that we’re here, I don’t mind texting him.” I pulled out my cell phone and entered a brief message.
In Potomac with your family. Will prove you are innocent. Love, Cleo
Message sent, I turned off the ringer on the phone. “Satisfied?”
He shrugged.
I was saved from replying as Florie hurried back. “Mr. and Mrs. Golden will receive you in the library.”
Britt’s head swiveled to take in the jewel-toned artwork, the crystal vases with freshly cut flowers, the elegant drapes, and the upscale furniture. Shep Golden stood by the wet bar, drink in hand. His white polo had a large sailboat logo, his trousers looked as if they’d just come off the ironing board. Amanda Golden stood beside the crimson and gold drapes, the sun radiant on her lithe body. Next to her was Ashley, the supermom cousin who lived next door. They both turned at our approach.
3 Dime If I Know Page 18