Dead Giveaway

by Brenda Novak

  Cut it off as soon as possible, and then do your best to survive the bleeding.

  He should be taking his own advice. Sooner rather than later. But he didn’t attempt to contact Allie until Thursday night, after he’d already gone to bed, when he couldn’t put it off any longer. Since he didn’t have her cell number, he had to call the police station while she was at work.

  “Stillwater Police Department. Officer McCormick.”

  Glad she’d answered the phone herself, Clay muted the television, shoved his pillows behind his back and sat up. “It’s Clay.”

  “What’s going on?” She sounded pleased to hear from him, which made him even more reluctant to cancel their plans for the following night.

  “Nothing much.”

  “No late-night trips to Let the Good Times Roll?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “The farm’s looking nice. I couldn’t help noticing when I was out there,” she said.

  “Thanks. How’s your father treating you?” After his mother had told him how unhappy Dale was, Clay had worried that Allie’s father might take his displeasure out on Allie. He’d wanted to call her just to see, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it, anyway.

  “He’s been in a bad mood all week,” she said.

  “Who told him you were with me?”

  “I did. We weren’t doing anything wrong. I didn’t see any reason to lie.”

  She wasn’t ashamed of being with him, and that made Clay feel better. He didn’t want the fact that they’d gone out to cause problems for her, but neither did he want to be her guilty secret. “What did he say?”

  “He said I’d ruin my future and that I had to think about Whitney. That was about it. To be honest, he didn’t say as much as I thought he would. He seems a little…preoccupied these days.”

  “With what?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m actually worried about him.”

  Had Irene’s decision made more of an impact on Dale than Clay had expected? Was that the reason for his preoccupation? “Why?”

  “He hasn’t really been himself since I got back.”

  “From the cabin?”

  “From Chicago. But this week he’s been worse than usual.”

  A trickle of unease made Clay kick off his blankets and get out of bed so he could wander over to the window. “In what way?”

  “Gruffer. Highly irritable. I don’t know what’s bugging him. Danny’s noticed it, too, when he’s talked to Dad on the phone.”

  “Danny’s your brother, right?”

  “Yeah. In Arizona. He says Dad’s been distracted. But what really has me frightened—” She stopped as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to continue.

  “Is…” he prompted.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

  Clay hated the fact that he probably already knew the reason behind her father’s strange behavior—and hated pretending he didn’t. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said and sort of hoped she wouldn’t.

  There was a long pause. “I’d like to tell someone I can trust.”

  He pressed his forehead to the cool glass. She wanted to trust him? “What is it?” he asked, closing his eyes.

  “I found a tube of bright red lipstick under the seat of my father’s car.”

  Clay gripped the phone more tightly and began to pace. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. His mother had broken up with McCormick—but had she done it in time? If news of the affair came out now, it’d cause just as much damage. “It doesn’t belong to your mother?” he asked.

  “No. She’s never worn such a flamboyant color. She rarely wears any lipstick.”

  “Was it in his squad car?”

  “Yes.”

  Clay pivoted and headed back across the carpet. “Then it could belong to almost anyone, right?”

  “Conceivably, but…I don’t know. That’s not all. This is going to sound silly, but…there’s this cute bear mug my dad uses. At first I assumed he grabbed whatever cup he saw. But no. He goes for the teddy bear every day. And he has the number of a florist in Corinth written on his Rolodex.”

  “Why’s that so odd?”

  “I don’t remember him ever sending my mother flowers.”

  “Maybe he’s planning to do it in the future.”

  “No. Something’s not right. My mom covers it well, but I don’t think he’s giving her the attention he used to. When he’s home he barely acknowledges her.”

  “They’ve been married a long time.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  Cursing to himself, Clay pivoted again. “What are you going to do about the lipstick?”

  “Keep it until I can figure out what’s going on. I’m thinking about searching the cabin when we go there tomorrow night.”

  “We were just there,” he said. “Wouldn’t you have noticed anything unusual?”

  “I didn’t really look. But if my father’s having an affair, he has to be meeting the woman somewhere. Maybe it’s at the cabin.”

  Clay imagined combing through the place with Allie, shoving any proof he might find in his pocket, and decided he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want what his mother had done to hurt his sisters—or Allie—and would carry Irene’s secret to his grave. But he couldn’t pretend to be Allie’s friend, let her believe he was there for her when he was actually serving his own purposes. Maybe he wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t going to abuse her trust like that, either.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you,” he said.

  A couple of seconds ticked by before she responded. “You’re canceling?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ve got a conflict.”

  “No problem,” she said, but he could tell she was only being polite.

  “Why don’t you take a friend,” he said. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”

  “No. This isn’t something I want to share with anyone else. I’ll do it myself.”

  He dropped his head in his hand and massaged his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said, even though an apology wouldn’t improve matters.

  “Don’t worry about it. We were never meant to be together, anyway.”

  She wasn’t speaking in anger. It was an acknowledgment. And she was right. “I know.”

  “Is that the real reason you’re not coming tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  He heard her sigh and wanted to tell her how badly he wished it could be different. But what was the point?

  “Can I say one thing?” she asked.

  He braced for the worst. “What’s that?”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said and hung up.

  Allie sat in her father’s chair, staring glumly at the teddy bear coffee mug that seemed so damn out of place on his desk. She’d taken that cup to the sink every night for the past week, thinking her father would use another one when he came in the following morning. But every time she returned to work, she found the cute “Life would be un-bear-able without you” cup sitting beside his calendar. Obviously, it was a cup he deemed his own and not one to be shared around the station. But where had it come from? And why did he like it so much?

  Allie wished she knew. On second thought—she sank lower in her seat—maybe she didn’t. She felt bad enough. She had to admit that she was better off accepting the fact that she and Clay had too many secrets between them, secrets that could have devastating effects on any relationship, let alone one involving a cop.

  But since last Friday, she’d thought of little besides seeing him again. Not only was he breathtakingly handsome, he’d been through enough in life to make him interesting, layered, unique—not shallow and selfish, like her ex.

  The door swung open, and Allie barely hid her grimace as Hendricks walked in. She’d sent him out on patrol an hour ago, and he was already back. Not that it surprised her.

  Taking one look at her, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  The question caught Allie off guar
d. She hadn’t managed to hide her real feelings? “Nothing, why?”

  “Normally you’re in the storeroom, digging through the Barker files as if you plan to strike gold. Don’t tell me you’re getting discouraged.”

  Reluctant was a more accurate word. When she’d talked to Madeline earlier in the week, she’d gotten excited about the case all over again. Clay’s stepsister was so sure that he and his family weren’t involved. Allie had wanted to solve the mystery just to prove Clay was as innocent as she hoped. To finally dispel the doubt and suspicion, so there was nothing to fear.

  But then she’d begun to read the reverend’s pocket Bible, which Madeline had dropped off at the station the day before. Judging by the notes in that Bible, the reverend seemed obsessed with sins of the flesh and, simultaneously, with his new stepdaughter. She wasn’t sure the two were related in Barker’s mind, but if so, what that Bible revealed made for some unsettling possibilities. Madeline attributed her father’s words to his zeal for righteousness and his love of Grace. But whenever Allie began to puzzle out the most likely scenario, she immediately lost her enthusiasm for pursuing answers. She hoped Barker was living in Alaska, like Lucas Montgomery, or in some other remote place. Or that he’d been murdered by a stranger.

  It was possible, she told herself. But in her more pragmatic moments, she had to admit the chances of that weren’t high. In her experience, random murders were rare, especially when theft wasn’t a motive. Homicide was almost always committed by someone who knew the victim, and it was generally the person who had the most to gain.

  The Montgomerys had the most to gain in Barker’s disappearance….

  “I’m giving it a rest tonight,” she told Hendricks. She couldn’t think about the case right now. She was too disappointed about not seeing Clay tomorrow night, even though it was for the best. And she was too worried about her father. Was Dale having an affair? Betraying her mother? Betraying the whole family? If so, with whom?

  The door opened again and Joe Vincelli strode in. Beth Ann Cole was hanging on his arm, but Allie wasn’t surprised to see them together. Last night, around midnight, she’d stopped in at Let the Good Times Roll, just to make sure there weren’t any fights or folks needing a ride home, and found Beth Ann sucking on Joe’s tongue and grinding herself against him right there on the dance floor. It was such a flagrant display that Allie had nearly cited them for public indecency.

  She wished she had….

  “Hello, Joe,” she said. “Beth Ann. What can I do for you?”

  “We dropped by to see how you’re coming along with my uncle’s case,” Joe said.

  As Allie stood, she placed the teddy bear cup behind her father’s standing file folders. She knew moving it was probably unnecessary, but she instinctively wanted to hide it. “It’s slow going. Cold cases generally take lots of time.”

  “Is my statement going to make a difference?” Beth Ann asked.

  “It’s in the file,” Allie said.

  Hendricks’s shoes creaked under his weight as he made his way over to them. “It should be a big help.”

  “What does ‘in the file’ mean?” Joe demanded, ignoring him.

  “It means it’s there with everything else, and I’ll take it into consideration,” Allie responded.

  “Will it get some attention?”

  “If it warrants attention. But the case isn’t even officially open, so don’t expect too much.”

  Joe’s expression darkened. “What are you talking about? Clay confessed. If that isn’t enough to reopen the case, what is?”

  “Last time I talked to Beth Ann, she didn’t seem too sure of anything,” Allie said.

  “I was sure of Clay’s confession.” Beth Ann looked to Joe, who gave her an encouraging nod. “And I remembered something else.”

  “What is it?” Hendricks asked anxiously.

  “Clay told me he buried the body right there on the farm.”

  Hendricks rubbed his hands together as if he believed every word, but Allie had to grit her teeth to stop from calling Beth Ann a liar. She couldn’t let this case get any more personal than it already was. She had to allow people to prove what they really were.

  Reminding herself of that, she managed to reel in her temper. “He did?” she said, trying to sound neutral.

  Beth Ann flipped her long blond hair out of her face. “He did. And I said, ‘Aren’t you afraid the police will find it?’”

  “What did he say?” Hendricks asked.

  Beth Ann flashed Allie’s fellow officer a smile for his eagerness. “He said, ‘I’m not worried about that. The cops around here aren’t smart enough to catch me.’”

  Obviously, Beth Ann and Joe were hoping to provoke Allie into acting against Clay, whether she had justification or not. “That’s an interesting and very detailed conversation,” she observed. “It’s a wonder you didn’t remember it when I had you in here a week ago.”

  “I was upset.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” Joe chimed in, slinging his arm around her neck. “That bastard threatened to kill her if she told anyone.”

  “That’s right,” Hendricks breathed, enthralled by the drama.

  “That’s why I didn’t come forward before,” Beth Ann said. “I told you that, didn’t I, Allie?”

  Allie folded her arms. “That’s Officer McCormick.”

  Beth Ann blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “I’m Officer McCormick to you.”

  She stiffened, but Joe was already talking. “So what are you going to do about it? Are we finally going to see some action against the Montgomerys?”

  “I can’t do anything until I figure out who really killed your uncle,” Allie said. “If anyone did.”

  The frown between his eyebrows deepened. That, together with his narrow face and pointy eyeteeth, made him appear more wolfish than usual. “You’re saying it’s not Clay?” he nearly shouted, ignoring her qualification.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, but Allie wasn’t sure if the facts supported her opinion or she just didn’t want to accept the possibility.

  “You’re crazy,” he told her scornfully. “Who else could it be?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that yet.”

  “See?” Beth Ann looked smugly up at Joe. “She’s hoping to get with him. She wants Clay.”

  “I’ve contacted him regarding the investigation. Like I’ve contacted a lot of other people,” Allie said, trying to stem the accusations.

  “But you’re not hoping to sleep with those other people,” Beth Ann said.

  Anger drove Allie forward, until she stood mere inches from Beth Ann’s face. “You’ve lied to me on several occasions,” she said. “Unless you have something truthful to say, get out. Now.”

  A muscle flexed in Joe’s cheek. “I’m going to the mayor.”

  Mayor Nibley was a friend of Joe’s family, and she could cause problems for Allie, and for Allie’s father, which wouldn’t help their relationship. But Allie refused to let Joe intimidate her. “You do what you have to,” she said. “And I’ll do what I have to. Now leave before I arrest you both for disturbing the peace.”

  “You’re the one who’s disturbing the peace,” Joe said.

  “Because I won’t pile on when it comes to Clay?”

  “Because you won’t do your job!”

  “You can’t prove something that didn’t happen,” Allie said. She was taking a big gamble, assuming so much. All the circumstantial evidence pointed to Clay. But she couldn’t imagine him doing what everyone thought. At least not in cold blood.

  Joe gave her a look of utter contempt. “This isn’t over.”

  Allie had more to say but, fortunately, Beth Ann managed to drag Joe outside. The door swung closed behind them, then a long silence fell, during which Hendricks gaped at her.

  “I don’t think you want to be on Clay’s side,” he said at last.

  “Maybe it’s time someone was,” Allie responded and stomped into the bat
hroom where Hendricks couldn’t follow her.

  11

  Dale shot up out of his seat the moment Allie walked through the station door the next morning. The veins protruding in his neck told her he was every bit as angry as she’d figured he’d be.

  “You wouldn’t listen to me. You wouldn’t keep your head down and stay out of the line of fire,” he shouted.

  Allie didn’t know what to say. When her mother had nudged her awake and told her she was needed at the station, she’d known it was time to face the backlash from Joe’s visit. But her father’s reaction was even worse than she’d expected.

  “Calm down. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.” She took a seat across from him, but she knew Dale wouldn’t relax until he was good and ready. They were alone, so he could yell all he wanted without fear of being overheard.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Being seen around town with Clay Montgomery. Getting drunk with Clay Montgomery. Sleeping with Clay Montgomery.”

  She hadn’t told her father they’d gone to his cabin. He assumed she’d gone to Clay’s farm, and she planned to leave it that way. “Maybe I had a little too much to drink the night we played pool,” she said. “But I didn’t get drunk with Clay. Not the way you think. And Clay didn’t even touch me when we were out last weekend. We fell asleep, okay? Nothing happened.”

  “But you know everyone around here believes he’s guilty of murder. And you’re a police officer, for God’s sake!”

  “No one’s been able to prove Clay was responsible,” she said. “Besides, like I just told you, nothing happened.”