A One-Woman Man

by ML Gamble

  Let him think she was pathetic.

  She needed to talk with Tommy Lee.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tommy Lee’s housekeeper, Sissy Lane, answered Elizabeth’s knock. She did not seem the least bit surprised to see the young woman standing, unannounced, on the porch at eleven-fifteen at night.

  “Miss Monette,” she said with her flashing, goldaccented smile. “Please, come in.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering, from the cold and her nerves. “I need to wake Tommy Lee up for a few minutes. I know he’s probably still recovering, but—”

  Her speech was cut short by Tommy Lee throwing the door fully open and staring at her as if she had come all the way from Venus instead of across the bridge from Belle Fleur. “Elizabeth,” he stammered, tucking in his shirttail. “You’re here.”

  She pulled her coat around her tighter, hoping he couldn’t see how the blood was speeding through her veins at the sound of his voice. “Yes. May I talk to you for a few minutes?”

  “Yes, of course, please come in,” he urged, taking her arm while he closed the door.

  He was moving slowly. Elizabeth saw gauze peeking above the open collar of his shirt. He looked thinner, and the patch of hair they had shaved off in the hospital was odd looking, but her heart told her she had never seen a more wonderful sight than Tommy Lee McCall walking, talking, and breathing on his own.

  “You look great,” they both said in unison, then compounded the awkwardness by replying, “Thank you!” at exactly the same moment. Their voices were shaded through with tension.

  “I’ll make some cocoa, Miss Monette,” Sissy yelled over her shoulder as she disappeared toward the kitchen. “It’ll be a few minutes.”

  “Let me try this again,” Tommy Lee said, offering Elizabeth a seat on the couch. She sat down, then he realized she still had her coat on.

  “Let me hang up your jacket for you first.” Elizabeth popped up like a jack-in-the-box and nervously let him help her out of it, then sat down and smoothed her hair.

  Tommy Lee crossed in front of her and sat down on the other end of the sofa. He winced a bit when he draped his arm across the back of the couch, but smiled as if he were sincerely glad to see her.

  They sat in silence for a moment. “I got your card. I tried to call you a couple of times, but…” he finally said.

  Suddenly Elizabeth regretted her decision to come and see him. She wasn’t sure she could bear him saying aloud what his inaction had so clearly communicated. “Let’s not discuss all that,” she said. “I’m really glad everything went well with the operation. But the reason I’m here tonight is because I wanted to get your advice, your ex-policeman’s view on it—”

  “Soon-to-be-reinstated policeman,” he interjected.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” Tommy Lee grinned. “Another month and I’ll be back where I belong.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Elizabeth replied. Hurriedly she moved on. “Anyway. I spoke with Mayor Prince tonight, and he said something about the day Luvey was killed that I think is really important.” The mention of Tommy Lee’s deceased ex-wife brought a look of grief into his eyes, so she quickly related what Luvey’s neighbor had heard the morning she was killed. “So it just seems to me that someone else had to have been in Luvey’s house that morning, Tommy Lee.”

  He was staring at her with admiration. “You make an excellent point, Elizabeth. But why did you come to me?”

  Why had she come? she asked herself. “Because I think I remembered my father,” she blurted out. “And I think you may have been right to think he is the person behind all this mayhem.”

  Tommy Lee sucked in his breath and leaned forward. “Who is it?”

  Elizabeth told him what Prince had said about Marylynn Gibbs and her suspicions that her father was none other than, “Dr. Bennett Heywood. Younger, thinner, with a small mole that was probably removed. But it was him.”

  “Wow,” Tommy Lee responded.

  “So what would you suggest now?” Elizabeth asked. “Should I confront Dr. Heywood?”

  “Elizabeth, my God! Do you know how dangerous that could be if—”

  “If he killed my mother,” she finished. Elizabeth closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the couch. Her stomach was tied in knots. It was an unsolvable mess. She couldn’t think why she had bothered to come here and hash it over with Tommy Lee.

  She felt him move, and suddenly he was next to her, his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. Maybe we should call Chief Foley now, let things fall where they may. It’ll be painful for you, but if Heywood is behind this, then he must be punished.”

  “I know. Maybe it really is India who is behind it, though. She’s so obsessed with this Queen of Midnight thing. If she had a grudge against my mother because of what my grandmother, Elaine Gibbs, did with India’s father, then she could be behind the whole thing.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, eh?”

  Elizabeth stiffened. He was so close she felt his breath on her skin, smelled the warm, spicy scent of his soap. Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away and moved from the couch and across the room. She raised her chin in the air. She wasn’t sure she could stand that he didn’t care for her.

  “I’m going to let you get some sleep, Tommy Lee. Give me a call if you can tomorrow. I understand Chief Foley is in early. I think I’ll go over and see him, just tell him everything and let the fur fly. The Queen of Midnight Committee voted tonight to go ahead with the Pageant, so I don’t need to worry about keeping myself out of the rumor mills.” She opened the closet and pulled out her coat, then hurried into it before he could help her.

  “I can’t believe they’re going ahead with it,” he said, his voice dark and unreadable.

  “A matter of priorities. Tradition comes first. A few bullet-riddled corpses can’t stop that.”

  Sissy Lane bustled into the room, two steaming mugs and a plate of cookies on a tray in her hands. “You two ready for some refreshments?”

  “None for me, thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Good night, Tommy Lee. Miss Lane. If I don’t see you before then, have a happy Christmas.”

  “Elizabeth, wait—”

  But she rushed out the door before he could say another word.

  Tommy Lee stood at his window and watched her drive off. It was true. He had kidded himself that it wasn’t, but it was. She didn’t care for him. For whatever reasons, stress—uncertainty—Elizabeth wanted nothing more to do with him on a personal level.

  The note she had sent had devastated him. But he told himself it was for the best; she needed her space. And he didn’t care.

  But he did. “Damn it,” he said aloud to his empty room. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let her slip away without an explanation. He limped across his living room and picked up the phone. The number he called was a familiar one. Chief Foley answered on the eighth ring.

  “Chief, I need to talk with you. I’ll be right over. It’s about the murders. I may know who killed those people—”

  “Tarnation, Tommy Lee!” the chief yelled. “I know it’s hard to accept, but your ex-wife must have—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Luvey didn’t kill those people. But I think I can prove who did.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas day was cold and icy; a cutting wind blew off the river. Tommy Lee stepped from his pickup truck and raised his arm to ward off the worst of the wind, hurrying around to the passenger side to hold the door open.

  Katie Smiths jumped down, two shopping bags in her arms, and they both ran for the Monettes’ front door.

  Miss Lou welcomed them warmly, as Tommy Lee had hoped she would, and the judge gave him a bear hug when he entered the family room. A roaring fire was crackling, and the festive, skirted table in the kitchen groaned with the spread of traditional fare.

  “Katie Smiths, I do say you are more beautiful every time I lay
eyes on you,” Baylor boomed. “Your mama, Miss Hattie, is a fine, fine-looking woman, but I do think you are even prettier.”

  Katie Smiths grinned and poked the judge in the ribs. “If I tell Mama that, she is going to make you pay, Your Honor.”

  “You better cool it, Baylor,” Miss Lou admonished, handing Tommy Lee a mug of hot buttered rum. “Miss Hattie does not come cheap as it is. If she starts tacking on an insult charge, you are never going to get her bill paid down.”

  The foursome exchanged small talk, and Miss Lou made them all sit before Tommy Lee got the nerve to ask where Elizabeth was. “She’s out with Clay, Mr. McCall. Mr. Willow has been ill with a bad cold, and since he refused our invitation to join us, she took some food out to him and said she would sit awhile.”

  Tommy Lee nodded toward the bungalow beyond the yard, visible from the back windows. “I see he’s got a fire going, too. Which is great. You folks know how much he helped me last week, and I never really got a proper chance to thank him.” He stood and shot Katie Smiths a pointed look. “Why don’t you keep the judge and Miss Lou entertained for a few minutes, Katie, and I’ll take the package I brought along for Mr. Willow out to him.”

  “I’ll do it. You go ahead,” Katie wiggled her hands like she was shooing away a bad puppy.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said, not missing the look that passed between Miss Lou and Katie. He knew they would gossip about him, but Tommy Lee found he didn’t care. Katie was a good friend—maybe his best friend—and he had spent at least a part of Christmas Day with her for the past twenty years. Katie knew his reasons for stopping by unannounced, both to thank Clay Willow and to see Elizabeth. Katie was all for him sharing his pain with Elizabeth. “She’s the one who needs to know how you feel, Tommy Lee. I’m convinced the girl thinks you don’t want her in your life.” When he had protested that he did want just that, Katie had smiled. “Don’t tell me, bubba. Tell her.”

  Tommy Lee had convinced himself that fear had led Elizabeth to her coolness. Fear. After losing both parents, and a chunk of her own identity, she was afraid to lose any more people in her life. Which was why he couldn’t wait to tell her how he was doing.

  That he was well. That he loved her. That she could depend on him.

  Tommy Lee stopped, his fist in mid-knock at the small door of Clay Willow’s home. He felt like a kid courting a beauty queen. Well, damn it, that was what he was. He knocked, forcefully. It wasn’t like him to have pussyfooted around Elizabeth without telling her how he felt, and he was mad at himself for his hesitation.

  Until Katie had told him, Tommy Lee didn’t know Elizabeth had stopped by his hospital room for hours every night for the week after his operation; nor had he known that Clay Willow had assisted in the CPR at Luvey’s home. It had been a blow to his ego to receive that card from Elizabeth. But her lack of attempts to see him, or to return the three calls he had left on her parents’ answering machine, had been a bigger blow to his heart.

  “Damn fool,” he said aloud, knocking a second time. It was time to face the music. He was ready. He had a bottle of whiskey for Clay Willow and a small red box for Elizabeth. Which she might just throw at him, if the anger he had read in her eyes the last time he saw her was on the level. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made a beautiful woman mad. Or the last, he hoped.

  At the sound of the lock turning, Tommy Lee pulled his coat up around his neck.

  A moment later Elizabeth pulled open the door. She was dressed in a soft gray cashmere dress, with a silver and gray scarf knotted at her neck. He sucked in his breath when her eyes narrowed at the sight of him. He didn’t give a damn that she was mad. Or standoffish. Or defensive.

  “Merry Christmas, Elizabeth. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.”

  She moved back as if he had pushed her, her blue eyes full of wonder. “Merry Christmas to you, too. With a line like that, I guess you’d better come in.” He brushed by her and his body felt as if he’d been too close to the fire.

  Clay Willow was sitting in a rocking chair by the woodstove. He looked ill and pale, but content. Tommy Lee strode across the room in four steps and held out his hand. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Willow. I apologize for busting in on you like this, but I wanted to thank you.”

  He put the bottle down beside the small evergreen plant on the table, then gripped his hands together.

  “You are very kind, Mr. McCall,” Willow replied. “But I would have done the same for anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, this ‘anyone’ wants to thank you.” Tommy Lee let his gaze roam around the neat little cottage, then rest on Elizabeth. “How are things going with the ball? Are you ready for next week?”

  “Yes. All ready. Miss Hattie, my mother’s dressmaker, was here yesterday fussing with the dress. I still think it’s in poor taste, after Luvey’s death, but this Queen of Midnight thing is really bigger than all of us. My father, who usually thinks its bunk, talked me into staying in the Pageant out of a need for civic solidarity.”

  “Sounds like you’ve decided to make Farquier County your home on a permanent basis,” Tommy Lee said.

  “Actually, no, I haven’t. I’ve accepted a job in Austin, Texas. It starts in February. Daddy’s doing much better, and—” Elizabeth’s voice became strained “—I think it’s time for a change of scenery.”

  Tommy Lee felt like someone had once again thrown him from the second-floor window. “When are you leaving?”

  “First week of January,” she replied. “I need to find a place to live, settle in. I’m really looking forward to a new town.”

  Tommy Lee just stared. Finally Clay Willow cleared his throat. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Mc-Call?”

  He took a step back. “No, thanks, I’m going to run back to the house. My friend Katie Smiths and I usually do our visiting on Christmas Day. It was Katie’s idea to come out, and she probably is ready to push on, and all…”

  “Running off again, Tommy Lee,” Elizabeth said curtly. “So anyway, Merry Christmas.”

  Tommy Lee turned. He didn’t even kiss her. Before he got to the door, Clay called out, “Wait, you can escort Elizabeth back. She was just going.”

  Elizabeth frowned at Clay. “No. I thought we were going to play a game of cards and you were going to eat something from the plate Miss Lou fixed.”

  The two men standing at opposite ends of the small room looked uncertain. “Actually, Elizabeth, I think I’m going to take a nap,” Clay replied.

  “Oh. Of course. Please, rest,” she added hurriedly. She squeezed Mr. Willow’s arm. She felt an affection for the soft-spoken man, but she didn’t want to impose. Besides, one last short walk to the house with Tommy Lee McCall couldn’t be that painful.

  “Thank you for taking time out for me, Elizabeth. It was really kind,” Clay said. He cleared his throat, then added to Tommy Lee, “I see from the newspaper that Chief Foley feels his murder cases are all solved. Do you agree that Luvey Rose was behind all that went on, Mr. McCall?”

  The question was so unexpected, Tommy Lee was speechless. He glanced at Elizabeth, who was standing like a statue. “No, Mr. Willow, I don’t.”

  “Are you still working on that case?” Elizabeth demanded.

  “Nothing official. I won’t be a member of the Belle Fleur Police Department again until January, but I’m keeping my hand in.”

  “I see,” Mr. Willow said. “Well, I was hoping that since your operation, you might be going back on the force. I’m sure they could use a good man like yourself.”

  The three stood silent for five seconds, then abruptly said their goodbyes, Clay Willow adamantly refusing to come meet Katie Smiths.

  Tommy Lee and Elizabeth ran across the lawn and into the Monette kitchen. Except for a recording of The Nutcracker playing softly in the background, the family room was empty.

  “Judge?” Elizabeth hollered up the stairs, more than aware of Tommy Lee’s eyes on her body when she took off her coat.

  “We’ll
be down in a few minutes, honey,” Miss Lou called down. “You and Mr. McCall sit a bit and chat. I’m showing off Miss Hattie’s work on your ball gown.”

  Tommy Lee watched her digest that unlikely bit of information. Her face didn’t show much, but the straight line of her back and shoulders said she was not amused at being left alone with him.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked him carefully.

  “Starved,” he replied against his better judgment. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “How about you?”

  “No. No, I’m fine,” Elizabeth lied, crossing her arms and looking him directly in the eye. “So why don’t we quit pretending. What are you doing here, Tommy Lee?”

  He wanted to make a joke, but the rawness in her voice stopped him. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “To thank you. To find out if you’d talked to Foley about your theory about Bennett Heywood, and if he was following it up. To thank Mr. Willow.” His voice felt ragged. “To tell you how I feel…”

  The sounds of voices drifted downstairs as Baylor and Miss Lou and Katie Smiths made their way toward the kitchen.

  “You already told me how you feel,” Elizabeth reminded, “that day in the hospital. I appreciate your honesty. I hope you appreciate mine. There’s no need to say anything more.”

  He saw the emotion in her face, the tension in her stance. She was hurt. What had he done? “What are you talking about? What did I say to you—”

  “Please, Tommy Lee, just go.” Elizabeth turned away from him and hurried into the family room as Katie came in holding an envelope of pictures. They were of Baylor and two horses he kept at a farm nearby.

  “Look at this, Tommy Lee,” Katie said. “The judge has an old brood mare just like the one we had at—” She stopped and put her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”