“I don’t know. The cops said they’ll pull the records for the landline, but I could tell they’re just humoring me. They think I’m lying. After all, I was holding the gun.”
“But I saw them swab your hands for gunshot residue. That’ll prove you didn’t shoot her.”
Bree crumpled in the seat, her shoulders hunched over in pure misery. “The residue test was positive.”
I slammed on the brakes, causing the driver in the car behind me to lay on the horn and swerve around me. The driver threw me the finger as he sped away. I pulled the van to the side of the road, parking it in front of Dalliance’s new natural birthing center.
“Did the stupid crime tech guys mess up?” I demanded.
“No. I did shoot the gun.”
“You what?”
“I shot the gun. I just didn’t shoot it at Kristen.” Bree slapped her hand against the dashboard. “It all happened so fast.”
“Okay, walk me through it,” I soothed.
“The little train car was making its way through the ride. Kristen was trying to talk to me from her seat in front of me, but I don’t think she figured it would be so loud in there. I couldn’t hear a word she said. But she looked mighty pissed, and she kept shaking her head.
“When we pulled into that last room, there was a crack, the train car suddenly jolted to a stop, and the music died. The detective I talked to told me it looked like a bullet hit a power box, shutting down parts of the ride. Anyway, I freaked. I hit the dirt. I mean literally, down on the floor of that grimy car. The only thing I heard was the crash of the saloon doors swinging open and that zombie cowboy sliding in on his track. Then there was a pop, like a shot, and someone screamed. I think it was me. I think.”
Bree hugged her arms around her body, and I reached out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I heard a clatter, and from where I was in the bottom of the car, I saw that gun skitter across the floor. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I scrambled out on all fours, grabbed the gun, and when I peeked over the poker table, I saw a man. Or I thought I saw a man. Maybe it was just the dummy zombie. But I was scared, so I shot at him.”
She looked at me. “I fired the gun, Tally. Away from Kristen, but the cops don’t believe that. The gun’s a revolver, so there aren’t any shell casings to prove where anyone was standing when they fired the gun. Every shred of physical evidence points to me. And the whole dang fair saw her serve me with papers just yesterday.
“Tally, I’m scared.”
I leaned across the seat and hugged her tight. We were too close for lies. “I’m scared, too, Bree. But I’m right by your side, you hear?”
That night we left Kyle and Beth working the booth at the fairgrounds and the whole family—Bree, Alice, Peachy, and I—retreated to the A-la-mode and holed up, waiting for a siege.
Sure enough, just before eight, Sonny Anders and his new lady friend paid us a visit.
Bree’s close call had triggered an early truce in the mother-daughter conflict, and Bree and Alice were in the back of the store, their arms tangled in a needy hug as they watched ice cream form in my special vertical batch freezers. Peachy had camped out on a chair in the back, unwilling to take her eyes off either one of them.
That left me to serve as welcoming party.
Ha.
They took their time strolling into the store, Sonny making a big production of looking around, so I took my time sizing them up.
I was particularly interested in Sonny’s female companion. I have to admit, the woman had it going on: copper hair piled atop her head, porcelain skin, legs up to her armpits, and a body like a men’s mag centerfold, all perky peaks and seductive valleys. She wore a twilight gray suit that clung to every curve, a wide belt of creamy leather cinched at her waist, and impossibly tall heels. I knew that look drove men crazy, all prim and proper but with the suggestion that pulling just one hair pin from her tidy French twist would unleash a total vixen.
When I met her gaze, I saw a mix of curiosity and calculation.
Sonny’s new girl wasn’t just arm candy. There was a brain behind all that beauty. I could see it in her eyes.
“Hey there, Tally,” Sonny said, a big ol’ grin spreading across his face like an oil slick. “I see you’ve spruced up the Dippery.”
For years, an ice cream parlor had occupied our spot on the Dalliance Courthouse Square. During my lifetime, it had been Dave’s Dippery. It just happened that David Thompson decided to move to San Antonio to be closer to his grandkids at about the same time I split with my ex, Wayne Jones. I took over Dave’s lease, bought most of his equipment, supplemented it with my specialty French pot ice cream makers, and the A-la-mode was born.
“What do you want, Sonny?”
He shivered. “Brrrr. Must be all that ice cream. It’s mighty chilly in here.”
I swallowed a cussword. For Alice’s sake, I needed to be civil to this slimeball. “Sorry. I’m just guessing you aren’t here for a banana split.”
His eyes narrowed for a second, but then his grin cranked up to full power. “You guess right. I was hoping to see my g—”
The redhead knocked her hip into Sonny, cutting him off.
He cleared his throat. “Is Alice here?”
I didn’t answer him directly, because I wasn’t sure how Bree wanted me to play this. “Just a minute.”
I hustled to the back of the store, where Alice and Bree were packing pints with a batch of our Rusted Roof ice cream: cinnamon ice cream dotted with slivers of smoked almonds and flakes of dark chocolate.
I dragged Bree aside as discreetly as I could and whispered in her ear, “Sonny’s here. With the woman. Wants to see Alice.”
Bree’s arm tensed beneath my fingers. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
She pulled away from me and returned to Alice’s side. “Honey,” she said softly, “your daddy’s here. He wants to see you. But if you want us to send him away, we will.”
Alice’s body grew utterly still, but she looked her mama in the eye. “I told you I want to see him.”
“I know. I just thought you might change your mind.” I could hear the hope in Bree’s voice, the quiet prayer that her daughter would stay away from Sonny Anders.
Alice shook her head and headed for the front of the store with Bree, Peachy, and me right behind her.
Sonny froze when he saw Alice. Even from across the room, I could see his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he studied her. Although her hair and eyes were lighter, and her frame was a bit more petite, Alice had her mama’s looks. For Sonny, seeing her must have been like seeing a pale reflection of the Bree he had married all those years ago.
Alice stared at her daddy the way she stared at a particularly intractable math problem. Her sweet, childlike features remained utterly expressionless, but her clear aqua eyes blazed with determination.
I could only guess what she was looking for in his face. An echo of something familiar. A primal recognition of kinship. A glimmer of sorrow or regret. Something to make sense both of his absence and his return.
“Hey, baby.” Sonny managed to smile as if this were no big deal, just another “howdy” in his busy social calendar, but his voice betrayed his nerves. Apparently he wasn’t totally heartless after all.
“Hello,” Alice answered, carefully formal.
“Uh. . .” Sonny rocked back on his heels and dug his hands in his pants pockets. He puckered up as if he was gonna whistle a tune, but then tipped his head toward the woman at his side. “This here’s Char.”
Alice’s mouth got tight as if she was trying to hold something in. Then a little burble of laughter escaped. “Cher? Sonny and Cher?”
The redhead’s mouth, held in a carefully neutral smile, tightened at the corners.
“Ha!” Sonny barked, as if he’d never hear the joke before. “No, no, not Cher. Char.”
“Charlize,” the redhead clarified, her tone and accent as neutral as Switzerland
. “Like the actress.”
“How you been, baby?”
Alice frowned. “How’ve I been? You mean recently? Or all my life?”
Oh boy.
Bree reached out, grabbed my hand, and squeezed. I did the same to Peachy. We all braced ourselves for the coming storm.
Sonny’s smile faltered, then hardened. “Show your daddy a little respect.”
“Of course,” Alice snapped. “You seen him around?” She swiveled her head around as if she were looking for something, then straightened up in mock surprise. “Oh, you mean you!” She snorted. “I thought my daddy was the subject of litigation.”
“I’m just making sure, baby. That’s the smart thing to do. I hear you’re a real smart girl, so I’m sure you understand. Let a judge figure everything out.”
Alice laughed. “You’re right. That is smart. And until a judge tells me you’re my father, you’re nothing to me.”
A flush licked up Sonny’s neck. “Yeah, well, I may not be your daddy, but right now I’m the closest you got.”
“Not true,” Alice said. “Mr. Harper’s been more of a dad to me than you could ever be.”
Bree nearly crushed my fingers in her grip. We’d both seen plenty of Alice’s righteous indignation and raw fury, but it was always directed at her mom and we knew it was just teenagery hormones. But this was the real deal, our girl’s deepest pain on display. It was as if she’d opened a vein in the middle of the A-la-mode, and it was brutal to watch.
“At most you gave me your DNA,” she continued. “And that’s fine by me. I don’t want anything else from you. So you can drop your stupid lawsuit, because I wouldn’t take one red cent from you. Not now, not ever.”
Alice’s chin ticked up a notch. “It was nice meeting you, Miz Charlize. Welcome to Dalliance.” She whirled around, pushed her way between me and Bree, and retreated to the back of the store.
Bree and Peachy exchanged a look, and Gram limped after Alice. It was a good call on Bree’s part. As worked up as Alice was, Peachy’s stolid presence would be a better comfort than Bree or me.
“Nice work, Sonny,” Bree said. “You handled that like a pro.”
“Listen,” he said, “I’m doing the best I can.” He glanced nervously at Charlize. “Darlin’, could you give us a minute?”
A muscle twitched at the corner of her right eye, but Charlize batted her lashes and smiled. “Sure thing, sugar. I’ll just go powder my nose.”
She looked at me with an eyebrow raised in question, and I pointed toward the hallway leading to the ladies’ room. She sashayed away. Bree hadn’t lied: Beneath the fine wool suiting, there was a hypnotic sway to the woman’s hips. Just a hint of something a bit improper.
As Char disappeared from view, Sonny sidled up to the counter.
It was as if a mask had slipped from his face. Suddenly he appeared earnest, worried. “Was Alice serious? Y’all don’t want any money?”
A stillness settled over Bree’s features. “Why?”
“Look, I don’t want to make waves for you and Alice. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see either of you get hurt. If you’re not looking for a handout, I don’t see any reason to drag us all through the courts.”
“Are you serious?” Bree asked.
I could hear the edge of outrage in her voice, clear as a summer day, but apparently Sonny couldn’t.
“Absolutely.” He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’m real glad you’re here. If you’ll just sign this paper, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“And what exactly would I be signing?”
Dang, if Sonny couldn’t hear the river of ice in Bree’s tone, he was a bigger idiot than I thought.
He licked his lips in a way that made me think he was starting to understand his error. But he soldiered on.
“It’s just a promise that you won’t sue me. You don’t sue me, I won’t sue you. Sounds fair, right?”
“Mmm.” To me, that noncommittal hum sounded like the vibration of a teakettle right before it blows.
“I’m serious, Bree. I have to protect my interests, but if you’re not going after my money, then me claiming Alice doesn’t do no harm.”
I took a step back out of self-preservation. Mount Bree was about to blow.
She drew herself up, her chest swelling with indignation, her nostrils flaring with fury. Despite her strappy gold sandals and skimpy lavender polka-dot sundress, she was a Valkyrie, an Amazon, a warrior of pure feminine power, her flaming hair and arctic eyes burning with elemental rage.
“Wouldn’t do no harm? You no-good, dried-up piece of cow crap, that girl is the only good thing you’ve ever done in your whole entire life. You should fall down and kiss the ground in gratitude that you get to ‘claim’ Alice as yours. God knows, you don’t deserve her.”
“I—”
She leaned forward on her toes, crowding Sonny and forcing him back a step. “No, sir, you just keep your lips zipped. It’s my turn. I was hurt—hurt as hell—that you would question whether Alice was your child. But heck, I wasn’t a saint. Maybe, just maybe, you were justified in questioning me. But now, come to find out, this isn’t about anything other than money? Sonny Anders, I never figured you’d be so low. How dare you?”
Sonny’s eyes darted to the side, as if he was worried about someone else—Alice? Charlize?—coming in and hearing his scolding. He sucked his teeth.
“Listen, Bree, you’ve got a right to be mad. But I worked hard for what I’ve got. Char and I, we’ve both worked hard. We’re fixin’ to get married, so any claim on my money is a claim on Char’s, too. She stuck by me through some tough times.”
“Oh, and loyalty means so much to you, huh?”
Sonny closed his eyes, silently accepting the gibe. “Look,” he said, his voice lower, more reasonable, “I owe her. I have an obligation to protect her interests. You gotta understand that.”
Bree snorted. “I don’t gotta understand anything. I just have to hold your feet to the fire and make you be a man. Your first, last, and only obligation is to your child. Alice has gone without so many times—she couldn’t go to science camp, she couldn’t go on the class trip to Washington, D.C., she had to buy her prom dress at a secondhand store—and she’s never complained. Not even once. And now she’s managed to cobble together the scholarships to go to a fancy private college, but even so, she doesn’t have the fast computer she needs or the chance to study abroad.
“You’ve never given her a damn thing. Alice may want to keep it that way, but it’s not her call. It’s mine. And I’ll let you drag my name through the mud until the cows come home if it means prying some cash from your wallet so that child can have the education she deserves. The freakin’ life she deserves. Because that girl is better and more important than you and I put together could ever hope to be.”
Bree drew back her head, and for a second I thought she was going to spit in Sonny’s face. But, instead, she turned on her heel and stalked away as fast as her stilettos could carry her.
“Sonny, I think maybe we should go.”
Sometime during Bree’s tirade, Char had slipped back into the room. A smile still graced her perfectly symmetrical face, but there was an unmistakable edge in her voice. She had to be completely mortified at her man acting like such a petty scuzz-bucket.
Sonny cleared his throat. “Sure thing, sugar.”
Char sashayed forward, that wicked wiggle in her walk, and looped her arm through the crook of Sonny’s elbow. “See ya, Tally,” he said as they headed for the door.
He paused on the sidewalk, his hand still on the knob, the door still ajar. I watched him pat Char’s arm, then gently pry her fingers from his sleeve.
He hustled back to the counter, Char watching him through the glass with narrowed eyes.
“Tally,” he whispered. “Try to talk some sense into Bree. Get her to sign that release.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Look, I know you pr
obably hate me. That’s fine. But trust me. It’d be better if she signed that release.”
I didn’t respond, just crossed my arms over my chest.
He rolled his lips between his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “You two are peas in a pod, aren’t you? Stubborn as a rusty pump.”
He hitched his hands in his pockets and left again. As he walked away, I turned my attention to Char. Her eyes were fixed on Sonny, her guard down. Her lower lip sagged in a bit of a pout, and the angle of her brows looked anxious to me.
I wondered again at their relationship. Sonny was a good-looking guy, in his own unctuous way, but Char seemed way out of his league. Yet she seemed strangely dependent on him, clinging to him, touching him, clutching him with her greedy gaze.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Sonny had managed to seduce Bree—who was way smarter than she let on. Despite her big brain and rockin’ bod, my cousin had fallen hard for Sonny. His sly, bad-boy charm worked.
“Is he gone?”
Bree’s question startled me.
“Tell me what you saw in him,” I demanded.
“Sonny? Lord, I don’t hardly remember.”
“You remember Dillon McBride? He was cute, had a good job, and had the hugest crush on you . . . but you looked right through him and winked at Sonny.”
Bree laughed. “Dillon. Wow. Blast from the past.” She sighed. “Dillon just didn’t have an edge.”
“Edge is overrated.”
She elbowed me. “Are you kidding? Didn’t you just pass over a gorgeous, steady, loyal hunk of a man in favor of a bad boy?”
“Touché.” I cut my eyes in her direction. “So you think Cal McCormack is gorgeous?”
A blazing blush burned her cheeks. I couldn’t believe Bree, my brash and rowdy cousin, was blushing over a boy. “Oh, hush. You know what I mean.”
“Mmm-hmm.” It was true. Cal was a mighty fine man. But I had never realized Bree had noticed.
Curious.
“Well, I was crazy when I fell for Sonny. But at least I got Alice out of the deal. And now maybe she’ll get a little something to make her life better, too.”
A Parfait Murder Page 5