Suspicion of Guilt

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Suspicion of Guilt Page 11

by Tracey V. Bateman


  Oh, Mama. I miss you.

  Suddenly aware of her dad and Ruth’s presence, Denni shook off the gloom. “In response to your question,” Denni said. “I haven’t issued a report for any of them. The fire in the laundry room was contained in the trash can. Luckily, Leigh found it and put it out before it did much more than smoke up the room. I never reported the flooded basement, and the fire investigator officially concluded that the kitchen fire was an accident.”

  Dad gave an old-fashioned Irish snort. “That’s a bunch of blarney. And you’re as aware of it as I am, little girl. There were no accidents here. I want that detective’s name and the number of the police station. Or better yet, I’ll go down there myself.”

  The doorbell rang as if by design.

  Denni rolled her eyes. “You won’t have to go down there. That’s Reece.” And only thirty minutes late.

  Reece stared across the kitchen table into the wizened old eyes of Mac Mahoney and felt suddenly like a rookie cop. No, worse, he felt like Denni’s prom date getting the third degree about where to keep his hands.

  He rubbed his damp palms on the front of his jeans for the third time. He gulped and couldn’t keep himself from addressing Mr. Mahoney as sir.

  Denni seemed more than a little amused at his discomfiture, but at the same time, Reece could feel her own tension.

  “I have several leads,” he admitted, not wanting to upset Denni, but feeling the need to reassure her dad, nonetheless, before he hotfooted down to the station and made a big scene. The less attention brought to the case in front of the chief, the better as far as Reece was concerned. It would be best if the chief could sort of forget about the case until Reece was ready to offer him up a credible suspect, complete with Miranda rights and handcuffs.

  “What sorts of leads do you have?”

  Denni gave a short laugh. “He’s hot on the trail of a houseful of college-aged girls. And one of them is eight and a half months pregnant. She couldn’t have bent over to turn on that water faucet if her life depended on it. She can’t even tie her own shoes anymore.”

  “Oh, dear,” Ruth remarked, obviously either ignoring Denni’s sarcasm or not catching it to begin with. “Do you really think one of Denni’s girls is the culprit?”

  Before Reece could respond, Denni stood up. “Oh, wait. He has another suspect…my next door neighbor. Just because she’s a little leery of the girls.”

  Mac nodded. “That seems likely.”

  “She’s eighty years old!” Denni exploded. “It’s ridiculous even to suggest such a thing. Mrs. James is cantankerous and nosy, but that doesn’t mean she’d do anything illegal to get rid of us. Oh but wait. Let’s take the heat off of her. After all, she does have a fifty-year-old daughter who is a…what did you call her? A nutcase?”

  “I said she was nuts, but that’s beside the point. We have to consider all possible suspects, or don’t you want to solve these incidents?”

  “Nosiness doesn’t constitute guilt.”

  Reece glared at her. “I know her nosiness doesn’t mean she’s guilty, but I’m still investigating. And I don’t care if she’s eighty or a hundred and eighty, if I find out she’s responsible, I’ll arrest her.”

  “And her little dog too?” Sarcasm rolled the words from Denni’s tongue.

  Irritation shot into his stomach and grew to frustration. “You saying I’m acting like the Wicked Witch of the West? I’m trying to save your project. All I get is resistance. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Here, now.” Mac leaned forward in his chair. “No sense raising your voices.”

  Reece glanced back to Denni’s dad. “I’m sorry. But she’s so stubborn. I can’t make her admit for one second that one of those girls could have done those things.”

  “Well, the theft, maybe,” Mac said. “But why try to ruin the house? They wouldn’t have anywhere to live.”

  “Exactly.” Denni’s head nodded with her statement as she jumped on her dad’s support.

  “I agree. And that’s where Mrs. James comes in.”

  “An eighty-year-old woman?” Mr. Mahoney’s fiancée sent him a you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself look.

  Warmth crept up Reece’s neck. “I know it doesn’t seem likely, but she does have motive. She absolutely hates the girls.”

  “Hate is a pretty strong word,” Denni said. “Mrs. James hasn’t quite been won over yet, but I think it’s just a matter of time.”

  Reece shook his head at her infernal optimism. “What are you going to do, Pollyanna? Bake her a pie?”

  Mac snorted in amusement.

  Denni glared at them both. “I’m going to ‘love my neighbor’ like the Bible says, and trust God to make ‘even my enemies be at peace with me.’”

  “Good for you!” Ruth slapped her palm on the oak tabletop. “How’s that for taking the Word and applying it to life?”

  Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Reece looked to Mac for support. The man shrugged. “Sure, honey,” he said and Reece wasn’t sure which of the women present honey referred to. “But the Word also says to be ‘wise as a serpent.’”

  Oh, brother. It ran in the family. All he’d wanted to do was take Denni out for a nice dinner. Maybe stroll through the public gardens, and if the mood was right, kiss her in the moonlight. How had those plans gotten so messed up? He sure hadn’t banked on sitting at the table being grilled like a teenaged kid and getting a Bible lesson at the same time.

  “I’m not burying my head in the sand, Dad. Someone is out to stop us. I can admit to that.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. Reece waited for her to go on.

  “But these girls…” Her voice faltered and tears misted her eyes. That chivalrous guy Reece hadn’t known was buried in his chest until he’d met Denni rose to the surface again, nudging him to reach over and take her hand. He resisted the urge as she continued. “…these girls and I, we’re like family. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Any more than I’d hurt one of them. It’s not like I’m an authority figure that has to be avoided or bested. We’re in this for the long haul. If it fails or succeeds, we’re sticking together and we’ll make it. Even if I have to go back to work full-time.”

  “What about when you get married? I don’t see a guy agreeing to an arrangement where he has to share his wife with a bunch of girls.”

  Reece immediately regretted his words as all three sets of eyes stared at him: Mac, with a confused frown that clearly wondered what difference that made when his daughter might be living with a whacko out to hurt her, Ruth with a big Texas-style grin that didn’t hold back what she was thinking, and Denni…he couldn’t quite decipher her expression. He cleared his throat. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Denni? I thought you had a date…oh.” Denni glanced up to find Cate standing in the door. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve interrupted. I didn’t know you had guests.”

  Ruth jumped to her feet and marched straight over to the girl. “Honey, you look about ready to pop any second. I’d say that bun is just about baked, wouldn’t you?” She took her by the shoulders. “Now, you come right on in here and take a load off those swollen ankles. I’m going to get you a nice cool glass of milk.”

  Bewilderment lit Cate’s eyes and she stared at Denni with a who’s-this-nutso? look.

  Denni smiled. “Cate, you remember my dad, don’t you? And this is my stepmother-to-be-if-dad-ever-gets-around-to-it, Ruth.”

  Mac stood and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again.” His gaze swept over her protruding middle. “You’d best sit down like Ruthie suggested.”

  Cate sat. Whether she wanted to or not.

  Reece stood, figuring now was as good a time as any to make his exit since his date with Denni was pretty much ruined. “I guess I’ll be shoving off now. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mahoney and Ms.—”

  Ruth set a tall glass of milk on the table in front of Cate. The older woman glanced up at Reece. “Call me Ruth. Everyone does. But you can’t le
ave. You and Denni had plans. Don’t let us interrupt those plans. Mac and I can stay here and get acquainted with Cate and whoever else is home tonight. Right, Cate?”

  The girl swallowed hard enough so that Reece could hear the milk go down with difficulty. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered.

  Denni came to her rescue. “Don’t be silly. I’ll order pizza, and Reece can stay and have dinner here with us.”

  She gave him a pleading glance, silently begging him to back her up. Realization struck him that, unless he agreed to the new development, Denni would be forced to leave her girls at the mercy of an overbearingly motherly woman and a man they didn’t know.

  He was tempted to take Ruth up on her first offer and whisk Denni away. Let the girls hold their own. But looking into Denni’s gorgeous eyes, he abandoned the idea as quickly as it flashed through his mind and surrendered like a purring cat.

  “Pizza sounds great. Just what I had in mind.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Denni’s heart nearly stopped when her hand brushed against Reece’s as they each reached for the last slice of pizza. Her cheeks warmed and she pulled back. Reece lifted the slice and dropped it onto her plate. “Never let it be said I’m not a gentleman,” he said with a grin.

  “How sweet,” Ruth said. Denni wished her dad would hurry up and marry the woman so she’d lose that starry-eyed approach to every situation. Didn’t she realize that only a jerk would take the last piece of pizza? Reece knew that and didn’t want to make a bad impression. That was all there was to read into that event.

  She took her knife and halved the slice. “Here, I’ll share. That many fewer calories I have to worry about.”

  Did Ruth just heave a blissful sigh? Reece’s chuckle confirmed that she had. Silently, Denni choked down the last of her food, wishing she’d obeyed her full stomach in the first place and not yielded to the tempting last slice.

  She glanced around the table, happy that so many of the girls were home tonight. Only Leigh had had to work. They were getting used to Reece’s presence at the house and conversation was lively. Not stilted and suspicious as it had been the first few times Reece had shared a meal with them. Denni wasn’t so sure it was necessarily a good thing that they were relaxing when he was around. The whole thing reminded her of coaxing a dog with a bone just so you could catch it and pen it up.

  The thought made her uncomfortable, because if Reece was playing the girls, he was most likely playing her as well. And if that was the case, then the most spectacular kiss of her life meant little or nothing to the man who had shared it with her.

  Unable to sit there another minute thinking about the implications of his likely deceit, she stood and began to gather up the dishes. “Oh, no you don’t.” Denni glanced up in surprise as Ruth snatched the stack of plates from her hand. “Mac and I are doing dishes tonight,” the woman said. “No arguments.”

  Denni couldn’t help but be amused at the scowl on her dad’s face. Dishes weren’t exactly his thing. He loved to cook, but always left clean-up to anyone else. But he looked from Ruth to Denni and then to Reece and nodded. “All right. I’ll help.”

  “Me too,” Cate offered.

  “Honey, you better go lay down for awhile.” Ruth’s motherly gaze rested on Cate’s weary face. “You need to save up all your strength for labor.”

  Cate’s face grew pink, but she nodded and lumbered to her feet. According to her due date, she had two more weeks to go, but Denni didn’t see how she could possibly last that long.

  The phone beeped and Fran answered. “It’s for you, Denni,” she said handing the cordless over.

  Denni walked from the crowded kitchen into the living room. “Hello?” She plopped down on the sofa.

  “Hello, this is Elizabeth Wilson.”

  “Elizabeth?” What on earth could she be calling about? “Working late?” Denni asked, keeping her tone friendly despite the chill coming through the phone line.

  “Yes. We’re going over grant applications. Pastor asked me to call and remind you that tomorrow is the deadline.” Elizabeth’s tight voice held no warmth whatsoever. But Denni was determined not to let that affect her own response.

  “Thank you for calling, Elizabeth. Please tell him that I mailed it off yesterday.”

  “I’ve got to have it by tomorrow’s deadline or I’ll be forced to choose another charity for next year.”

  “I understand,” Denni replied. “If it didn’t get there today, it should by no later than tomorrow. It didn’t really have that far to go.”

  “Yes, well. Provided it was indeed mailed, it should arrive by tomorrow, then. But if it doesn’t arrive, we can’t treat you with any sort of favoritism.”

  Denni bristled at the continued animosity. Was Elizabeth calling her a liar?

  “Look, I don’t know why you would think I didn’t mail it when I said I did, but I assure you I wouldn’t take a chance on missing out on funding from my own church.”

  “You seem to be pretty certain of the outcome for your little project. There are no guarantees even if I do receive it tomorrow.” The tension in Elizabeth’s voice had somehow switched from cool professionalism to anger in midsentence. “Don’t get your hopes up. Remember, I have a large influence over who receives funding.”

  The phone clicked on the other end, leaving Denni to listen to dead air. Elizabeth had actually hung up on her. Unease crept through Denni. Five years was an awfully long time to hold a grudge. She pressed the button to turn off the phone.

  “You didn’t say goodbye to whoever you were talking to.”

  Denni jumped at the sound of Reece’s voice. She jerked her chin up to face him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

  He smiled. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”

  “It’s okay. Want to sit down?”

  Reece crossed the room and filled the space at the other end of the couch, turning his body slightly so that he faced Denni.

  “That was Elizabeth Wilson reminding me that tomorrow is the deadline date for my application. I didn’t say goodbye because she hung up on me.”

  “Why’d she do that?”

  Denni shrugged. “She thinks I am assuming that I’ll get the grant. I guess it irks her.”

  “Is there any reason to assume you won’t get it?” Absently, he rubbed his index finger over the soft fabric of the couch. “I mean did you do anything they didn’t like with the money from last year?”

  “Not that I know of. But this is the first year Elizabeth has been in charge of making recommendations to the committee.”

  “And that’s relevant because?”

  Was it her imagination, or did Reece seem more than casually interested? That look in his eyes was familiar. He was prowling. She fought the irritation rising in her chest.

  Why did everything have to be about the investigation with him? Couldn’t he just listen to her and not make it about floods, fires and thefts? “Because she doesn’t like me. A few years ago I had to turn her down as a foster parent. If she recommends that I do not get a grant, it’s unlikely I will.”

  “Isn’t that a little unusual?”

  “What?”

  “Turning people down in a state woefully short on homes for kids?”

  She searched his face carefully. The look he gave her in return was way too innocent. Reece might be a crackerjack detective, but he was a lousy actor. He knew something about the history between Elizabeth and Denni, but he was trying really hard not to show it.

  Admittedly, Elizabeth could be a suspect. Denni’s heart sank. If the woman was behind all this, Denni had no chance at all of getting the grant.

  Reece tried to remain coolly disinterested, but by the slant of Denni’s eyes, he could see that he’d blown it. She knew something was up.

  “Corrigan, what’s your interest in Elizabeth?”

  Reece sent her a sheepish grin. “All right. I was hoping you’d just tell me. But I’ll confess. I know all about Elizabeth’s drug arrest and th
e state turning her down as a foster mother. I also know you’re the one who had to break the news to her.”

  With a growl, she rocketed up from the couch. “Why can’t we have one single conversation without you having to make it into something about the case?”

  “Because we can’t move forward with us until your case is solved.”

  Move forward? Reece caught himself. Moving forward—what was he talking about?

  Obviously, Denni’s mind was mulling over the same questions. She stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Her mouth opened just enough to soften her lips and make Reece sweat. If she didn’t stop looking at him like that…

  “Hey, what’s all the hollerin’ about in here?”

  Nothing like the sight of a girl’s dad to douse the flames.

  Denni gave a sigh and faced Mac. “Nothing, Dad. Reece and I were just talking about the case.”

  “Ahh, that explains the noise.”

  “Yeah.” Her face showed a war of emotions.

  A vibration coming from the cell phone hooked to Reece’s waistband alerted him to yet another call. He’d ignored all the vibrations during dinner, but now was probably a good time to go ahead and take a call. He stood and lifted his phone from his belt. The caller ID showed it was the police station.

  “Excuse me,” he said to include Denni and Mac. “I have to take this.” He pressed the button. “Hello?”

  “Hey Reece.”

  Reece frowned. The kid. What was Sean doing calling him during Reece’s off hours? For that matter, how had he finagled Reece’s number? His number was not to be given out, especially to rookies. Someone’s head was going to roll.

  “Are you still with Denni?” Sean asked.

  Reece glanced at Denni. Her cheeks darkened as she realized she’d been caught listening in. He winked, enjoying that her blush deepened. She turned and left the room. Mac followed, leaving Reece alone in the living room.

  “That’s right,” he said into the receiver. “Hang on.” He walked toward the door and stepped outside, onto the porch. “Okay, I can talk now. What do you want?”

 

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