“You’re a beautiful, smart woman,” he said without taking his eyes off the road. “You probably know more than you think. I want to hear your gut instincts and impressions of people. When we first talked about it, you told me the house staff probably all knew about the safe. How many people are we talking?”
She made a swift mental count: cook, Willard’s PA, the two gardeners, the two domestics who cleaned and did laundry, and the driver. Cecily refused a personal assistant or maid and Willard’s one time valet quit after some incident. “Seven,” she said and listed them all. “I can’t imagine they weren’t aware although Willard tried to keep it secret.”
“Do you think any of them could be responsible?”
One by one, she imagined them and rejected any possibility. “I doubt it,” she said. “They were all good people, folks like me who grew up poor. None of them were ever anything but nice to me although I think everyone but Max, the driver, couldn’t stand Willard. I’ll give the devil his due—Willard paid them all pretty well.”
“Okay, so they all liked you—did you like them?”
Damn he’s insightful. No one, including Willard, ever asked me that question. Cecily opened her mouth to say she did and then paused. She did like all the staff, all except one—Willard’s PA. From the first day he came to work, something about him made her skin crawl with invisible cootie vibes. “I didn’t like the personal assistant Willard hired,” she said, with honesty. “Johnson’s a creeper.”
Daniel removed his right hand from the wheel long enough to stroke hers. “Is that his first name or last name?”
“First name,” she said. “Johnson Hamilton.”
“What didn’t you like about him?”
“Everything,” Cecily replied. “Sugar, he’d watch me with his greedy eyes, look at me like he thought I was ice cream or something. And behind Willard’s back, he’d make remarks sometimes, hateful ones.”
With an edge in his voice, Daniel asked, “Like what?”
Remembering made her feel both small and icky. “He’d say you can take the girl out of the ghetto but you can’t get the ghetto out of the girl. That was one of his favorites he thought was so witty. And he’d snicker behind my back when I got all dolled up to go to some posh event with Willard, call me Cinderella and things. I caught him more than once in the part of the house where he didn’t have any business to be, like upstairs near the bedrooms, skulking around. If it’d been up to me, I’d have fired the asshole, but Willard liked him.”
“Why didn’t you tell your old man about all the crap he dished your way?”
Her laugh caught in her throat and she had to force it. “Johnson wasn’t stupid. In front of Willard, he treated me so nice, like some fucking queen or something. I didn’t figure Willard would believe me and besides, I never knew how he’d take something. He might have got mad at me instead, say I was trying to get Johnson in my bed. He used to do that, accuse me of cheating or wanting to cheat but I didn’t.”
Old hurts surfaced with fresh pain as she remembered the humiliation of the past. And Cecily realized how very much she wanted Daniel to believe her. She stopped short of asking.
As if reading her mind, he gave the response she longed to hear. “Of course not, querida. You’re not that kind of woman.”
Relief made her want to weep but she didn’t. “Thank you,” she said with dignity. “You know me better than he ever did.”
“Si, mi corazon,” he said his voice deep yet very soft. “I do. And if he wasn’t already dead, I’d be tempted to kill your ex-husband. Do you think this verga, Johnson, might’ve killed Bradford and stolen the gems?”
Until now, she’d never considered it. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe, sugar, it’s possible.”
“That’s enough for now,” Daniel said. “What about any of Bradford’s business associates? What about someone from the store or the company? Bradford Gems and Jewelry was a corporation, right?”
“It was,” Cecily said. That much, she knew. “Willard was CEO and President. The guy who managed the main store, Mark Bishop, served as the director under Willard. Natalie Japonski who managed one of the mall stores got tabbed as secretary, and almost all of the employees of all the stores plus the office headquarters were shareholders. I don’t know what’s happened to any of it since I left and Willard died.”
Daniel’s profile never changed, but his hands drummed a nervous beat against the wheel, the sole indication of agitation. “How many employees, total?”
“Damned if I know,” Cecily said. “I’ll try to give you a count. The flagship store usually had fifteen to twenty, the mall stores—and there were five of those—each had ten to twelve. At the office headquarters, let me think....probably twenty-five or so. I guess a hundred or so, total. Does it matter?”
His shoulders shrugged. “No, I doubt it. You must’ve met the corporate officers, right?”
“Well, yeah, I did,” she said.
“So, did any of them seem capable of killing for profit?” Daniel asked. “Or hiring it done?”
He posed a difficult question and she pondered it for several moments before answering. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What about Johnson Hamilton?” he asked. His harsh tone converted the name into an insult. “Could he? And did he have a way to profit?”
Think, girl, think. Before she answered the question, Cecily considered it in recognition of its serious nature. When she replied, the words came from her soul, leached of any personal resentment. “Yes,” she told Daniel. “He’s got evil in him, down deep. If he took jewels, he’d know where to sell them. As Willard’s PA, he’d know or could figure it out. Besides, Willard kept a lot more in the safe than just gems and jewelry.”
Daniel’s face hardened. “You never told me that before.”
True, she hadn’t because she hadn’t remembered. “I didn’t think of it before, sugar,” she said. “I wasn’t holding back.”
His expression shifted. “I didn’t think you were, querida, but it makes a difference. What else was in there?”
With her eyes shut, she saw the inside of the safe with remembered clarity. “He kept a lot of cash on hand,” she said. “Thousands of dollars along with some stocks, bonds, and some valuable silver dollars, collector’s items, if I remember it all. Did the thief steal the rest?”
“I don’t know, Cecily,” he said. “As far as I know, no one ever reported anything else missing.”
Ice frosted her spine and spread the chill of fear through her body. Outside the truck the late summer sun beat down with enough force to create heat ripples in the air, but Cecily shivered as if it were January. If no one reported the money gone, then somebody took it. The truth hit her hard and she turned to Daniel. “Then somebody took it and the rest of the staff kept their mouth shut about it. And I know only one asshole that could make them keep quiet—Johnson Hamilton.”
The son-of-a-bitch must be guilty, had to be, she thought. And he’d be the one who’d tried to pin it on her. Damn him. He probably planted the bug in the law officer’s ear about me.
“No surprise there,” Daniel said. “After what you’ve told me, I’d say it’s very likely he’s responsible. And, I’d say he went out of his way to suggest you were involved since he apparently resented you.”
“I’d say he hated me,” she said.
“I agree, querida.”
Daniel said nothing more for a long period and neither did Cecily. Her mind whirled in crazy circles as she considered all the details she’d ignored for too damn long, what she would’ve seen earlier if she hadn’t blocked out all thoughts of Willard and his death. Their past haunted her now. Dark thoughts plagued her until she struggled not to cry or act out. Part of her longed to screech or holler, but she didn’t.
Daniel’s stern profile indicated he must be deep in thought, too and as she watched him, Cecily realized without the current situation, she wouldn’t know him or have him in her life. It’s not all bad. I found
Daniel because of this and no matter what, I want him around. Willard’s dying and Johnson’s bullshit may seem like a tragedy, but I’m gonna make it a fucking triumph.
Miles of highway unrolled ahead. As they approached a building built above and thus across all lanes of the turnpike, Daniel nudged her knee. “Do you need to make a pit stop?”
She didn’t but stretching her legs appealed. “Sure,” she said.
He took the exit and parked. Before she could get her shoes back on and climb out of the truck, Daniel came around to open the door. He offered her a hand and she accepted it. As soon as her feet touched pavement, Cecily leaned toward him until their faces were inches apart.
“Kiss me, sugar,” she said. She needed some affection, required reassurance.
His eyes met hers, intense and bright with emotion. “Oh, querida,” he said. “You don’t know how much I need a kiss.”
Their mouths merged, drawn together with tidal force, pulled with the same kind of unspoken need migrating birds have when flying south, and connected. Daniel wrapped his arms around her and cradled her close. His lips moved over hers, caressing with each pull and every stroke. Cecily responded with joy. Whatever attraction existed between them burned high and hot, but she experienced more than just heat. Their bond grew with each intimacy, every kiss, and all the conversations served to draw them closer. Locked in an embrace, they kissed, heedless of the traffic around them, the big rigs pulling in for fuel, the tourist families heading into the building, and the senior citizens who piloted RV’s into the parking lot. If we had a RV, I know what we’d go do.
“We need to go take care of business,” Daniel said, ending the kiss although he continued to hold her. “But just be aware, this is a famous roadside attraction.”
“Is it?” Cecily thought he must be kidding.
“It’s the world’s largest McDonald’s,” he said. “Or at least it was, I can’t keep up. Hungry?”
She shook her head. “Not really. What time is it?”
“Quarter ‘til eight,” Daniel said.
“That’s all?” She’d figured it must be at least ten o’clock.
“Yeah,” he said. “C’mon then, let’s use the can and get back on the road.”
What’s the hurry? She wanted to ask but didn’t because she knew. Cecily nodded and accepted his hand. They walked into the two-story travel plaza holding hands, parted to use the restrooms, and headed back to the truck together.
“See if you can find some decent tunes,” Daniel said as he merged back into traffic on the busy interstate. “All I could get earlier was country.”
Cecily fiddled with the knobs. “You should’ve bought a car stereo for the truck.”
“Never thought about it,” he said. “So find us something we can stand or you can sing to me.”
Somewhere between the static, talk radio, twangy country stations, and dead air, she managed to tune in an oldies station. Most of the rock and roll songs dated before their time, but she liked the sound. “Will this work?” she asked Daniel.
As the sounds of vintage 1980’s Reo Speedwagon filled the truck, Cecily sang along. As the music segued through song after song, she ended up next to Daniel, singing for him, her hand resting on his thigh. Sometimes he sang too or tossed in a comment, but the music carried them through Tulsa in a diagonal across Oklahoma. They skirted around Oklahoma City without seeing much but the usual commercial district and headed out of town. As they drove southwest, the terrain changed until the landscape reminded Cecily of Western movie backdrops. Almost four hours after they left the world’s largest Mickey D’s, Daniel took the first exit at Lawton.
“I’m hungry,” he said. “And it’s still a long damn way to Amarillo. Ready for something to eat?”
“Oh, yeah, sugar,” she replied. Her butt ached from riding the long miles in the bumpy pickup and her tummy yowled with emptiness. “What do you want?”
“A big triple cheeseburger,” Daniel said with obvious relish. “It needs to be run through the garden.”
“Huh?”
He laughed. “Means it comes with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickle, woman. And I’d like some onion rings on the side.”
“Sounds pretty good,” Cecily said. She spent too many years eating some chef’s fancy concoction or salads or something designed for eye appeal rather than taste and craved a simple burger.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to What-A-Burger.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
The orange striped restaurant building boasted a vintage look. The moment she stepped through the door, Cecily liked the place. Delicious smells drifted from the grill and even after one o’clock, the place didn’t lack customers. He ordered his triple and onion rings. She settled for a double meat burger. “I can share your rings, sugar,” she said.
“No, you can’t,” he said. “I’ll order some for you.”
As they waited for their food, Daniel made a phone call. He spoke in such rapid Spanish, Cecily had no chance to follow it. She fiddled with her straw and sipped diet soda while he talked, self-conscious although he didn’t appear to be at all. When he finished, he extended his hands across the table and took her hands in his.
“I called my mama,” he said.
“I figured maybe you did.”
“I told her it would be tomorrow before we show up, that we’ll stop at Amarillo or somewhere tonight.”
“Does she mind you’re bringing me?” The question had niggled ever since he told her his plan. Maybe Daniel’s mother wasn’t pleased about her guest.
“Mind?” he asked with a grin and one arched eyebrow. “Hell, no, she doesn’t mind. She’s planning to cook and the one thing my mama does best is cook.”
“Is it for me or is she killing the fatted calf for you?”
Daniel’s grin broadened. “Both, I think.”
While they ate their burgers, Cecily noticed the bright sunlight outside diminished as dark clouds moved in from the western horizon. By the time they finished, the skies threatened rain and distant thunder rumbled. When they emerged from the restaurant, the close, thick heat swamped her. It’d been hot earlier but this humidity portended bad weather.
“Is it going to storm?” she asked him, a silly question because more thunder growled and she saw the first jagged lightning bolt cut through the gray clouds.
He glanced upward and nodded. “Yeah, a thunderstorm’s moving in fast. Maybe it won’t last long and we’ll run past it.”
Cecily sighed. She hated storms and hated to admit they scared her. “Sugar, maybe I should’ve said something sooner, but storms make me nervous. Maybe we could just wait awhile here.”
“Querida, there’s no need,” Daniel said. “I’ve driven in all weather, it’s not a problem.”
It is for me. “Maybe we could get a motel here for the night,” she suggested. After all, she’d noticed quite a few motels. “Give us a chance to rest and all.”
“Climb in,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. “We need to get going. Don’t worry, Cecily.”
But of course she did.
Chapter Fourteen
Back on the highway, driving through sheets of heavy rain so thick visibility remained limited, Daniel realized three things. They wouldn’t end up in Amarillo but in Lubbock. Distracted by Cecily’s problems and her presence, he’d confused two routes. He also could see they wouldn’t drive out of the storm anytime soon. Instead, he figured they headed into an advancing storm front. And, he saw much the weather scared her.
Cecily’s body language shrieked ‘tension’. She huddled in the seat, arms wrapped around her torso, separate from him and away from the door. With her head down, he failed to realize how frightened she must be until he asked her, “Querida, are you all right?”
Her luscious lips, normally vibrant pink, appeared white as she shook her head. “No, not really—I just get so nervous when it storms. I can deal if I’m indoors, bu
t not out here, not like this.”
In all fairness, she’d told him so, but he hadn’t expected anything so extreme. “I’m sorry, Cecily.”
Softer than he’d ever heard it, she said, “Can’t we stop till it quits?”
He stared through the steamed-up windshield at the showers. “I can barely see the road,” he said. “I can’t see to pull over safely. I have to keep going, but it’ll be fine. I’m a good driver.”
“I know you are.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
“It’s only an hour to Wichita Falls,” he said. “Maybe the rain will let up by then.”
Her eyes met his, wild and huge. “How far is it to Amarillo? You said we could stop there.”
“I made a mistake.”
“Huh?”
Damn, he hated to admit he’d been so wrong. “Amarillo’s on I-40 but I didn’t think about it and headed down this way instead. Don’t worry, we’ll still stop but at Lubbock.”
“How much farther is it?”
He had to think about it and hope his calculations were close. “Just three and a half hours from Wichita Falls.”
Cecily sighed, long and loud. A clap of thunder overhead rattled the truck and she stiffened. He wished he could stop the weather or that they possessed the luxury to hole up somewhere until the storms moved away, but neither was a possibility. If she’d just calm down, it would be fine. His original irritation at her anxiety faded as his concern increased. Daniel wondered if she might be sick, but when he asked, she shook her head. “I’m not,” Cecily said. “I’m just a nervous mess.”
Pink Neon Dreams Page 15