by Honor Bound
The answer wasn’t long in coming.
Kelly’s withdrawn expression as she answered his knock that evening made it clear they wouldn’t be sharing a bed. She needed time, but knowing that didn’t help the grinding ache in his groin. Strange, now that they had made love the ache shouldn’t have been so bad. Instead, he wanted her more.
Forget it, Ben ordered himself. It wasn’t reasonable to expect their problems to vanish simply because they’d had sex.
AS THE WORKWEEK STARTED Kelly did her best to avoid Ben, but she couldn’t get away from him in her thoughts. If going to bed with him had been a mistake, it was the most enjoyable mistake of her life.
And the most troubling.
She couldn’t even blame it on being upset after Simon’s memorial service. She’d known what she was doing and made the decision in spite of her doubts.
“Hizonor wants you,” Viv said, breezing into the office. “How many times have you been down there this morning already?” she asked.
“Four.” Kelly made a face and got up.
The mayor had questions about the Kite and Blackberry Festival Committee’s final report and she answered as patiently as possible. It boiled down to him wanting to divert the funds earmarked for the senior center to buy a new traffic light.
“I don’t think the voters would like it,” she said bluntly.
The mayor looked crestfallen, but he didn’t argue. He never pursued something the voters wouldn’t like.
Disgusted, Kelly took an early lunch and went out for a walk. Her relationship with Mayor Stone was tenuous. He’d backed himself into a corner by being so vocal about the so-called “smut” in her novels. If he switched gears he would seem capricious; if he said anything else negative, he’d make an enemy of Max Lawson and Henry Jefferson. Max and Henry still carried weight in Sand Point and the mayor knew it. She suspected they’d both told him to keep his mouth shut or risk the kind of political damage he couldn’t afford.
Kelly wandered to the end of the commercial boat slips and drew a deep breath of sea air as gulls squawked and swooped low over the water. A pelican sat on one of the pilings giving her a mournful look, while fronds of seaweed rose and fell in the bay currents. It had been weeks since she’d visited this part of the waterfront.
“Remembering Simon?” Ben asked and she spun around, startled.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” Kelly said, putting her hand on her throat.
“I made plenty of noise walking on the dock.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” She kept her arm crossed over her body and wished the “morning after” wasn’t so awkward. Not that it was the actual morning after. She’d eased out of the bed on Saturday, careful not to wake Ben. And she’d studiously avoided him ever since. In retrospect it might have been cowardly, yet it wasn’t a situation she had experience handling. “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw you leave City Hall. So, was it Simon who had you staring into the distance?”
“In a way. I used to really enjoy coming down here.”
“Until he was killed.”
“It doesn’t feel the same anymore. I never realized how much I enjoyed our talks, and now something important is missing.”
Ben touched her cheek. “I’m sorry we haven’t found his killer yet. You’ll feel better when it’s resolved.”
“That won’t bring him back.”
“But justice will have been served.”
Kelly glanced at the restless water of the bay. “Ben, even if my novel was copied for Harvey’s murder, why would the killer care who wrote it? A deranged fan is something a Hollywood screenwriter would think up. And please don’t tell me you’ll figure it out and not to worry.”
“I wasn’t going to. Hell, I don’t know. My instincts tell me it’s too coincidental for someone to start prowling around your house at the same time we’re investigating the murders. The same with the threats against the mayor. They must be connected.”
“I know.” Kelly hesitated. It would always be terrible to think she had innocently written the script for a murder. “What if someone was so angry about the strike, that after Simon was murdered they decided they could kill Harvey and make it look like my novel? Or they killed Simon first to set up Harvey’s murder.”
“I thought of that. Initially there was nothing in the news about how Harvey’s death resembled the one in your novel. Then the mayor’s hate mail deliberately mentioned Deep Sea, and suddenly that’s all anyone can talk about.”
“Misdirection,” Kelly murmured.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you’re safe and should be wandering around alone. Desperate people will do almost anything to protect themselves. Come on,” he said, hooking his arm through hers. “Let’s get a cup of coffee at the SP Donut Hut, unless you’d rather not hang out at the place you used to work.”
“I enjoy going there.” The owners of the Donut Hut had been good to her, willing to hire a sixteen-year-old kid when other places wouldn’t.
The shop was crowded with locals, chatting and laughing. She waited while Ben headed to the counter. He returned with two cups. “No lattes, I’m afraid,” he said over the cheerful racket, handing her one.
“The SP doesn’t believe in newfangled fads.”
“I’m no fan myself, but latte is hardly a fad. I think it’s here to stay.”
“Don’t tell Mark. He’s old-fashioned. He still believes eight-track tapes will make a comeback.” By unspoken agreement they headed outside again and the noise level dropped dramatically.
“You sound fond of him.”
“I am. Mark and Laura were nice to me.”
Once the Donut Hut had represented the best and worst moments in her life. In her mind she could see Ben swaggering up to the cash register, eighteen and cocky, teasing her to quit her job or take off early so they could “play.” And when he left Sand Point she could remember the despair of thinking he wouldn’t ever come back again. But times changed, and so did people. Ben wasn’t a cocky teenager, any more than she was an uncertain girl, pining for an absent boyfriend.
“Um, I suppose we should talk about the other night,” she said, ignoring her misgivings.
Surprise showed in his eyes. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“To be honest, I’d rather not, but it’s like the cliché of a three-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.”
“Okay. Let’s talk. You obviously haven’t done that for a while.”
Trust Ben to be blunt and to the point.
“I’ve dated since losing Mitch, but it didn’t get to that level.”
“Why? I know he’s a symbol of everything brave and wonderful in Sand Point, but surely nobody expected you to bury yourself with him.”
“Of course not. I just wasn’t…ready.” How could she explain what she didn’t understand herself? Ben had never understood how big a step sex was to her.
“It’s been three years. How could you wait so long?”
“I’m not on your schedule, I’m on my own,” she said dryly, taking a sip of coffee. She might miss the intimacy she’d shared with Mitch, but making love was only part of it.
All at once Kelly stumbled, realizing they were nearing the fire station. She didn’t usually travel that street because of the memories, but now she stared at the firemen polishing one of the fire engines in the driveway and realized the sharp pain of loss was duller—a sort of sad melancholy that might never go away, but could be handled.
“Hey, Kelly,” called Adam Travers, the fire chief. “You did a great job on the festival.”
“Tell the committee. They did the work.”
Adam straddled the ladder on the back of the engine and smiled down at her. “You’re too modest. I know you helped with publicity and planning. And, Ben, my appreciation for helping judge the kite contest.”
“Any time. Thanks for letting me dunk you.”
“We keep the dunk tank stored in the back. Whenever you feel like letti
ng me practice on you, just let me know.”
“Next year.”
Kelly glanced at Ben as they continued past the firehouse. “Did you pick this street deliberately? As a test, to see how I’d react?”
“Possibly.”
Definitely.
He wanted to know if he’d been a substitute for Mitch when they’d gone to bed, but she didn’t see why. They’d just had sex—no promises or strings attached. Considering his attitude toward women and marriage, that was surely the way he preferred things to stay. Of course, maybe the explanation was as simple as basic male ego.
“It’s unusual to see such a young fire chief,” Ben murmured. “Some of the firemen are much older than Adam. Didn’t they have seniority?”
“Sure, but Adam’s father used to have the job, and his grandfather before him, so he practically inherited the position.”
“Small-town nepotism. Like the mayor hiring his brother.”
Kelly caught Ben’s arm and swung him around. “Don’t be so smug. Why do you think you’re here? You wouldn’t have been hired if you weren’t Henry’s nephew. Phillip Stone would probably have bulldozed the City Council and we’d have Frank as our permanent police chief.”
Ben’s stunned look was priceless. “You’re serious, aren’t you? That’s not how I wanted to get the job.”
“Too bad. You were hired because you’re highly qualified and because you’re Henry’s nephew. Otherwise there could have been nepotism based solely on family connection. So live with it. I had to live with Henry getting me the job at City Hall, but keeping it was up to me. I needed to prove myself, the same way you’re doing.”
“Henry does have a habit of taking care of everyone,” Ben said after a lengthy silence. “I guess it’s a question of give-and-take.”
Kelly nodded slowly. She wanted to be self-reliant, except she was no longer certain what being self-reliant meant. Her in-laws had gone into shock after their son died. Max had resigned as mayor and barely functioned for months. They’d needed her, and being needed had pulled her through, as well. But at the same time Henry had convinced the City Council to give her the Public Affairs position because it paid better than the part-time job she’d gotten after marrying Mitch. Where did the circle start and stop?
“Adam Travers mentioned the other day that he’s single,” Ben said out of the blue. “Is he one of the guys you dated?” Kelly grimaced. There it was, the male ego. “Not that it’s any of your business, but nobody from the firehouse has asked me out. If you must know, I dated one of Henry’s detectives, Chris Palmer.”
“I wasn’t fishing for names.”
“You could have fooled me.”
Ben sighed. “Fine. Why didn’t things work out with Chris?”
“He was a nice guy, but I realized I couldn’t handle him being a policeman. Not after losing Mitch to his job.”
“I’m a policeman.”
“I know.” Kelly turned in the direction of City Hall. She more or less managed her own hours at work, but her lunch had lasted too long…and become charged with far too much emotion.
“Palmer and the other detective accepted jobs in Portland after Henry retired,” Ben said, following her.
“So? Chris didn’t leave because of me.”
“That’s not what I…” His voice trailed off and he looked distracted.
“What?”
“It’s not important. Let’s go back, I need to make some phone calls.”
Men. Kelly lengthened her stride to match his sudden urgency, but there was no way they were going into City Hall together. There were too many wagging tongues to speculate about what was going on between her and Sand Point’s sexy police chief.
BEN WAITED TO BE SURE KELLY safely entered a side door of the city buildings and continued around to the police station. He couldn’t decide if the havoc she’d created in his personal life was making him lose his edge as an investigator, or helping him come up with possibilities he wouldn’t normally consider.
A trip to the personnel office provided contact information for Chris Palmer and Greg Jakobson and he dialed their new precincts. Luckily they were both on duty and able to get together on a conference call within an hour.
“We heard there was a new police chief,” Greg Jakobson said when Ben introduced himself. “How is Henry doing? I hope he’s fully recovered.”
“He needs surgery on his knee, but otherwise hale and hearty.”
“Great guy, Henry,” Chris Palmer contributed. “I’d still be in Sand Point if he hadn’t retired.”
Did his wanting to stay have anything to do with Kelly? Ben wondered. He’d never suffered from jealousy—even his ex-wife’s infidelity had largely prompted disgust—but there was a first time for everything. Chris might have hoped he could change Kelly’s mind about being involved with a cop.
“Same here,” Jakobson added. “I really hated leaving.”
“Any particular reason you left?”
“Frank Stone,” they announced in unison.
“That guy was worthless,” Jakobson said. “Always sending us down blind alleys, telling us to investigate little stuff while more serious crimes went ignored, not wanting any official records. We couldn’t take it any longer.”
Ben jerked forward in his chair and switched from speakerphone to the more private handheld receiver. “Why didn’t he want official records?”
“Some bull about it looking bad for tourism.”
That didn’t necessarily mean anything besides poor judgment and the fact he was the mayor’s brother. Phillip Stone seemed to live and die by a “we have to do what’s good for tourism” mantra.
“Was the rest of it because he doesn’t have a law enforcement background and didn’t know how crimes should be investigated?” Ben asked.
“Uh…hard to say,” Chris muttered.
Jakobson snorted. “No, it’s not. He was playing us. We just couldn’t figure out why.”
“Is that simply an opinion, or do you have any proof?”
“Opinion, but take my word for it, Frank Stone is a sleaze. You could tell by the way he looked at any woman who walked into the station. It’s not as if I don’t appreciate women myself, but come on, be subtle.”
Ben rubbed his forehead. He’d already gotten an earful, and he hadn’t asked yet about the murdered men. “Okay, Frank is a question mark. I wanted to ask if you remember a homeless man who used to hang out on the docks, mostly sketching pictures and watching people. His name was Simon, but that’s all we’ve got on him.”
“I remember that guy,” Chris said. “I wasn’t comfortable with him being friends with Kelly Lawson, so I checked him out. He’s civil and pretty alert for an alcoholic, and he never caused any trouble in town. There didn’t seem to be any reason to worry. Why?”
“He’s dead. Knifed on the waterfront. Harvey Bryant was killed a couple of days later. That one looks like a pro job.”
Chris swore. “Son of a bitch. Kelly must be really upset about Simon. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”
Quit talking about Kelly, Ben thought irritably. He still didn’t know what he wanted with her, or if he wanted anything, but she’d made it very clear that she wasn’t planning a future with him. There was nothing new about that; lots of women didn’t want to get serious with a law enforcement officer. He ought to be glad she hadn’t started smelling orange blossoms and hearing wedding bells.
“Yes, I’ve met Mrs. Lawson. Do either of you have an opinion of Harvey Bryant? Could he have been mixed up with something that got him killed? Or was there any cheating or abuse in the marriage that you know of?”
“He was a jackass, but that usually isn’t a motive for murder,” Jakobson replied. Of the two detectives, he seemed the least concerned about political correctness. “Your guess is as good as mine on the cheating, but I don’t think we ever had any calls for domestic disputes.”
“The Bryants had a doozy of an argument at the Farmers Market,” said Chris.
&n
bsp; Ben perked up his ears. “When was this?”
“A year ago, give or take. Nothing physical—it was mostly screaming and yelling about who lost the car keys and being late for dinner with the wife’s family. The department wasn’t called. I was there on a date. Ask Kelly, we were both surprised that Mrs. Bryant was so vocal since she’s the quiet type.”
A pencil snapped in Ben’s fingers. “I’ll bring it up with Mrs. Lawson when I see her. Did you know about the labor strike against H. Bryant Industries? It was settled shortly before the murders.”
“Yeah, I understand it got nasty, with threats going back and forth between management and labor. Do you think that had something to do with the killings?” asked Jakobson.
“Maybe. It might also explain why Mayor Stone has been getting death threats. The workers feel he should have intervened in the labor negotiations, both as the mayor and as one of Harvey Bryant’s friends.”
“There’s nothing like a strike to stir things up,” Jakobson agreed.
They spoke for a few minutes longer, filling in details that, for the most part, were consistent with Kelly’s observations about the dead men. The differences didn’t bother Ben; no two witnesses remembered things the same way. There were always discrepancies. If stories matched exactly, or were too well rehearsed, it was a reason for suspicion.
Still, it annoyed him that Kelly hadn’t mentioned the argument between Bryant and his wife. On the other hand, she hated gossip, and telling tales about a year-old fight between a woman and her dead husband probably smacked of the worst kind of gossip in her eyes.
Ben threw the broken pencil in the trash and looked into the squad room. The two detectives his predecessor had hired were conferring by the photocopier. Uncle Henry had said it was hard to attract experienced candidates to a place like Sand Point, but there must have been uniformed officers from other areas looking for an opportunity to become a detective. He found it hard to believe that green, police academy recruits with limited practical experience were the only applicants available.