Maybe she should offer Naomi some of her grandmother’s hats. With the funeral, trying to find Dorsey’s murderer, and her retirement, Barbara hadn’t packed up the house yet. Dorsey had a million hats around the place and someone should use them. Barbara would keep only one or two.
Barbara was finally headed home. It was rather pleasant outside. The church was more inland and it was a little warmer than near the water. She rolled down her window to enjoy the warmth.
Harper had called her Saturday while he was still at work and they’d talked for half an hour, but he didn’t stop by and she doubted she’d see him today. With a murder case to solve and only a handful of people in the sheriff’s department, he had no time to spare. Maybe that was a good thing. Less chance of him sticking his nose in her business. Besides, the Stones were enough to keep her busy.
Barbara got up too late for breakfast. She drove to the Greasy Spoon for lunch instead. At least seven cars pulled into the parking lot right after her.
Inside, the first group she saw was Elliot, Minerva, and Andrew seated at a table eating. It was the first time she’d seen them since Andrew attempted to get her money. Andrew’s arm was in a cast. Barbara ordered her food to go.
She was glad she’d worn a rich-looking ensemble, with Chanel jewelry, too. Another of her New York bargains.
She debated whether she should approach them. That and the dead woman had been the talk of the congregation. She’d been quiet about Andrew’s attempt at robbing her. At least she could keep the communication open.
“Hello,” she said, on her way out. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was about your break-in. Was anyone hurt?” Barbara made sure her diamond-studded watch was showing.
“No,” Elliot said, rising from his seat. “We were very lucky.”
“That’s good, at least.”
“Andrew told us he borrowed money from you,” Elliot said, digging into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He selected some bills and handed them to Barbara. “Here you go. Will this cover it?”
Barbara counted. “Exactly. You’re a good man, Elliot,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve always paid my debts and I can see you do, too. That’s the mark of someone who’s gotten somewhere in life.”
Elliot nodded. “Me and Minerva do our best.”
“I know. But there are bad influences everywhere. What can you do?”
“You got that right,” Elliot agreed. “Looks like you’ve been to church. You look very nice, doesn’t she, Minerva?”
“It’s a very pretty outfit,” Minerva said, smiling.
“You have a wonderful day,” Barbara said. “Good seeing you again, Minerva.”
Elliot stopped his wool gathering to speak. “You, too, Barbara.”
When the door closed behind Barbara, Andrew said, “Daddy, why you give her all that money? I could use some myself. And you had that big doctor’s bill for my arm. We don’t have insurance.”
Sitting abruptly, Elliot took a quick look around and leaned across the table. “We have to appear to be good citizens,” he whispered. “Folks in small towns talk. You want them saying we don’t pay our debts? You’ve given us a bad enough reputation as it is.”
“I was just trying to teach her a lesson,” Andrew defended himself, scowling.
Elliot leaned closer as not to be overheard. “How many times have I told you, you lay low where you live? You don’t want folks yakking and wondering. You got the sheriff suspicious now. Boy, does anything I tell you sink in to that brain of yours? We’re lucky that what you did hasn’t spread all over town.”
Andrew frowned at his sandwich.
“We won’t be able to stay here too much longer. I’ve got to think about where we’re going from here or what we can do to salvage this situation.”
They resumed eating. Maybe they should send Andrew away, or at least let the boy keep a low profile for now. Elliot shook his head. He didn’t know what Minerva was thinking to bring him to lunch with them. But he couldn’t send him away. If Sonya snatched him, their futures were doomed.
He spotted Detective Alyssa Claxton’s boyfriend walking in wearing an Armani suit. There was a lot of talk going around about how wealthy Jordan Ellis was. He was probably the only man in town wearing a suit that expensive.
Every time Elliot drove by that big house Ellis was building, jealousy roared up his spine. Even with all the money they’d stolen, they’d never be able to afford a house like that.
Elliot wished he could come up with a scheme to relieve Jordan of some of that money. But he was too young and sharp. Definitely not the type to be played for a fool.
The word was, he was building the castle to impress Alyssa, but she’d thumbed her nose at him until lately. Some folks had all the luck. Elliot had a good mind to plan something to lighten Jordan’s pockets anyway, but he’d have Alyssa on him then. Alyssa had a reputation for being a hard ass, and they couldn’t afford to have the law chasing them across the country.
“Hey, Jordan,” someone called out. “Alyssa make any progress with finding her grandma’s golden bowl?” someone asked.
“Not yet, but she’s still searching.”
The guy shook his head. “She’s not going to give up on that.”
Golden bowl? Elliot perked up. What about this golden bowl? How valuable was it? Was it solid, heavy gold? He tossed that idea out of his mind. He’d come up against Alyssa again. She wasn’t just a deputy. She was a detective. Computers. ID checks. FBI crime info. That would bring on more trouble than he wanted to think about. He didn’t want people tracking them down after they left. For the most part, they’d tried to stick to families with women in charge of them. Women were easy marks. They weren’t coming after them like men would, too embarrassed to admit having been scammed.
He’d have Minerva visit Mrs. Claxton, though. Cover all the bases at least. Maybe the old biddy would open up about that bowl. If she didn’t have it, maybe they could find out who did. He was thinking they weren’t exactly acting like good neighbors, even when Mrs. Claxton offered neighborly gestures.
“Let’s go,” Elliot said.
They stopped at the door. The sheriff was talking to Barbara all intimate like. Elliot frowned. What was that all about?
“What is she doing with him?” Andrew asked.
“You’re the one who messed up a good thing.” Elliot felt like popping his son upside the head. All that money Barbara had—they could’ve made out like bandits. Hairdressers make a killing. Black women spent a fortune on their hair. Barbara charged fees like she was still in New York. He knew because Minerva went there and his pocket felt lighter every time. And that place stayed packed.
Elliot shook his head. His son never took advantage of opportunities. “You’re such a fool, boy. When are you going to learn to think?” That’s why Elliot couldn’t give Andrew jobs. He messed up every time. Boy acted half simple.
He should go after Barbara himself. Men could always get away with dating younger women. He was only twenty years older. That wasn’t so bad. Elliot crimped his mouth. Too bad it was too late now.
Before Barbara got into her car, Harper approached her, closing the distance between them with purposeful strides.
“Hey, pretty lady. Don’t you look lovely today? And without me.” Slowly and seductively, his gaze scanned her from head to foot. Barbara’s heart jolted and her pulse pounded. When most men spoke that way to her, she waved it off as “some fool with a lame come-on,” but when Harper spoke those words, it was as if they came from the heart and she was by no means blind to his attraction.
She laughed but couldn’t stop the flash of desire flowing through her.
“You’re full of stuff, you know that?”
“I tell it like I see it.” He bent over her as his mouth hovered over hers a second. He kissed her softly with fluttery nips, slipping his hands beneath her coat to grasp her waist. This was far from the quick little peck he gave her the other morning, she thought as
the butterfly strokes urged her to open up to him.
And when she opened to him, his hot tongue caressed hers, drawing a moan that reached her core. She was lost in the sensations he produced until she heard tires squeal.
She glanced up. One of the deacons was approaching the Greasy Spoon. “Take it home, Sheriff. Take it home.”
“See what you’re doing to me?” Harper asked, his gaze drilling Barbara.
“Me? I didn’t…”
“You take away all my common sense and reasoning.”
“I was perfectly fine until you invaded my space.”
“I want to invade more than that,” he said, leaving no doubt what he was referring to. Before Barbara could recover from that, he said, “This doesn’t nearly make up for leaving you on your own to finish breakfast.”
“Duty calls.”
He wore a suit that fit as if it was tailor-made for him. It was obvious he went to services at another church. “I should have invited you to church with me,” he said.
“You should have,” she murmured, still recovering from his touch.
“Why don’t I take you to dinner to make up for breakfast?”
“You don’t have to. I still have your leftovers.”
“I want to. Besides, leftover French toast just doesn’t turn me on.”
Barbara nearly groaned. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I invite you to dinner?”
“Even better. What time?”
Barbara told him and left. She didn’t have a clue of what to prepare. As she drove away, her conscience started bothering her. At church, she’d discovered the retired deputy, Scott, had interrogated the bartender at the local bar.
Was it possible Elliot didn’t kill Sarah? Was her death a coincidence? Could one of her boyfriends have murdered her? Barbara doubted it. She was pulling straws to make her feel less guilty for withholding information.
Barbara sighed and pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store.
She couldn’t tell Harper about these people yet. No one else was in danger of being killed by the Stones. As far as she knew, except for her grandmother, they usually didn’t kill their marks. Dorsey was a fighter. She went after them. If only her grandmother had waited for her.
It usually took a few months for a scam artist to gain a mark’s trust. She still had time on her side.
She hoped.
CHAPTER 6
Harper watched Barbara drive away. At least she wasn’t fighting him.
He slid into his car just to people-watch. Sooner or later, most strangers in town ended up at the Greasy Spoon. So far all the faces and vehicles were familiar, and he went back to thinking of Barbara.
She looked so good in that burnt orange outfit. The color matched the fall leaves. One thing he could say about Barbara was that she always seemed effortlessly put together. Even when she was in her shop or just grocery shopping. Come to think of it, even in her walking clothes, with the cute hat that was still sitting on his dresser. He should give it back to her. He was holding on to it until later.
He was so accustomed to moving at his own pace, he’d completely forgotten to ask Barbara to attend church services with him. Have to do better than that.
After his divorce, he’d dated, but none of the relationships amounted to anything. It was a pretty crushing blow to find your wife in bed with another man. If he’d been some half-cocked crazy, the results could have been disastrous. He had just taken his jacket and shoulder holster off, and the thing was dangling from his fingers when he’d heard a masculine grunt and the mattress springs shift.
When his wife looked over the guy’s shoulder and saw him looming in the doorway, she’d screamed. He’d never forget it. She thought he was going to shoot her. He’d just come from the scene of a drive-by shooting where an eleven-year-old had been killed. And he’d just witnessed the wrenching tears of a mother’s agony.
He admitted to being an ass when he wanted to be. He’d stayed right in the doorway while the guy dressed and left, and he didn’t even have to ask his wife to leave. She left on her own, all the time begging him not to shoot her.
She didn’t have to worry about him shooting her. She wasn’t worth the bullet or the effort. After that, he didn’t expect or search for love. Just sex, thank you, to scratch an itch.
When he moved back to Paradise Island, he steered away from the local women. There were too many problems associated with dating in an old community with several generations of families. It was safer in Norfolk and Virginia Beach. But he got tired of that scene, too. At one point, he wanted more. But as hard as he searched, he could never find anyone he thought of as a partner. Someone he could settle down with, could trust.
Lately he’d been solo. The senseless dating scene wasn’t cutting it and his mind had moved in a different direction. He was holding out for all or nothing. He wanted to be with someone who offered him more than an itch to scratch.
He’d been alone for a year now. He was beginning to think he’d never find that perfect match. And then Barbara blew into town like a tropical storm and knocked not only him, but the island women off their feet. The women wanted her new hairstyles. And him, well, he wanted her in every way imaginable.
Only she wasn’t interested.
He was still sitting and watching when the Stones made their way to their car. Nothing to stand out. A regular American sedan.
Andrew seemed disturbed about something. Elliot, as always, seemed to be calling the shots. After Andrew attempted to hold Barbara up, Harper had been keeping an eye on the family.
Something about them made his neck itch. An indication something was off kilter. Andrew was thirty-five. Why was his sixty-something aunt working while he sat at home watching the tube and playing Nintendo? Now, he knew households where the parents tried to kick out grown sons who wouldn’t budge, but why did Elliot put up with it? It was reasonable that Elliot was retired, but hadn’t the man worked during his lifetime? Why would he let his grown, healthy son live off them? What was he teaching him? He’d spotted Andrew half-drunk walking off the ferry a couple of times. He was withering away to nothing. And his family let him.
Here strangers were nothing new. People needing to get away from their everyday, hectic lives. An example was the guy who’d been rubbing on Barbara’s legs. There was something nagging at Harper about Trent, too. But he allowed for his prejudice. If only men knew what went on in nail salons.
Harper gritted his teeth. He hoped the guy had enough good sense not to go feeling up Barbara’s legs again.
The Stones drove off, Elliot at the wheel. A minute later, John tapped the top of his car and he rolled his window down.
“Got somebody under surveillance?” John asked.
“Just watching. See who’s coming and going. The Stones just left. They’re a weird bunch,” he said. The window sill of their house had been wiped clean when they’d dusted for fingerprints. And he’d pulled nothing up on the computer. Not a traffic ticket, nothing. “Afternoon, Jordan.”
Jordan nodded on his way to his SUV.
“Is Ben back in town?” Ben was the bartender John had gone to interview several times. His employer told him that he still hadn’t returned from his vacation.
“I’m going by there in a couple hours. He’s working this afternoon. I talked to the investigator in Virginia Beach. Nothing new there.”
“I’m looking at the money angle.”
“We’ll see.” John tapped the top of his car. “Check you later,” he said.
Harper couldn’t help wondering if they were missing something vital. A sudden surge of crimes usually had some common factor. And they were missing pieces here.
Harper stayed for another fifteen minutes before he headed home to change clothes.
Barbara decided to prepare the dough for the fruit croustade first. For the filling, she used canned peaches Naomi had given her at the end of the summer, and added fresh blueberries and plums she’d picked up at the store.
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Lambert Hughes has a daughter and a son. The daughter lives in California and the son in Chicago. Couldn’t find out if they knew Minerva was taking care of him,” she said and rattled off the phone numbers. Barbara picked up the pen near the phone and scribbled a note.
“Thanks, Liane.” Barbara was getting nervous about Minerva, especially with the robbery. If they got desperate, they would move.
“So, how are things going with the sheriff?”
“Can you believe I actually invited him to dinner? What on earth was I thinking?”
“Wow. He doesn’t waste any time, does he? I’m dying to meet him.”
Barbara moaned. “You probably will. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I’m committing an illegal act and dating the sheriff at the same time. I could end up in jail.”
“With what you have in mind, we both can,” Liane reminded her.
Barbara’s anger surfaced. “We’re just acting on the same principles the Stones use. And they get away with it every time.”
“That should be a great bed warmer when we’re in jail. Think we’ll be roommates?”
Barbara chuckled at Liane’s dry sense of humor. “You can pull out anytime you want to.”
“No, I’m in until the end. Just so you know, we both had better be prepared to return to work afterward, since we’re going to spend our life’s savings on lawyers.”
“That’ll take care of future years of boredom. We’re too young to retire anyway. What were we thinking?”
“Sunny beaches, perhaps? A trip around the world? The temperature hit thirty-five here yesterday. I could soak up some Hawaiian sun.”
“Haven’t you heard? The dollar is down. The worst possible time to travel,” Barbara assured her.
“Bargains are everywhere. I just saw discounted tickets to Hawaii for a steal. Keep me posted, woman. I’ll see you soon.”
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