Deadly Summer (Darling Investigations Book 1)

by Denise Grover Swank

  She was high.

  “Hi,” I said. “I think my friend left some dry cleaning here, and I wanted to pick it up for him.”

  “Sorry,” she said in a bored tone. “You can only pick them up if you have the ticket.”

  “Maybe it would help if you knew who my friends are,” I said. I put a five-dollar bill and three ones on the counter. I was pretty sure it would have been more effective with a twenty, but when you’re broke, you’re broke. “I’m lookin’ for a good time.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s not gonna get you much.”

  “There’s more where that came from.” I rested my hand on the counter and paused for several seconds. “This town is just as boring as I remember it bein’, and I’m dyin’ . . . you know?”

  She gave me a look of disbelief. “You want to party?”

  “What?” I asked. “You think I don’t like to party?”

  Her answer was to look me up and down.

  Okay, so Dixie’s church dress didn’t exactly lend itself to the Sweet Briar party scene.

  “Look, I know who you are,” she said. “And I know you’ve got a squeaky-clean image.”

  “The wonders of a good publicist,” I said sardonically. “Didn’t you hear that I punched that guy? I was stoned out of my gourd. Why do you think I’m here now? They’re trying to get me to detox au naturel,” I said, using air quotes around the phrase. “But I snuck a small stash with me, and now it’s gone and I’m desperate . . . What’s your name?”

  She couldn’t have telegraphed her distrust better if she’d been the actress, but she answered anyway. “Christina.”

  “I’m desperate, Christina.” I grabbed the sides of my head. “I’m under all this pressure from this stupid show and everything else, and I’m dyin’ to unwind. So can you hook me up or not?”

  Her mouth twisted to the side. “I’m not sure I trust you. You’re filmin’ that PI show.”

  “Do you see any cameras with me now? Besides, everyone in town knows the show is fake. Are you gonna help me or not?”

  She still hesitated.

  “You don’t even have to sell it to me. Just give me a name of someone I can contact. Surely there’s no harm in that.”

  She sighed and rested her hip against the counter’s edge. “What are you lookin’ for?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, right?” I asked. “I prefer coke, but I’m open to a substitution.”

  “Supplies are kind of low right now,” she said, and instantly looked like she regretted it. “There’s a turf war goin’ on, and I hear a shipment never reached its rightful owner. But I know a guy who’s got some Oxy. Maybe some Xanax. I bet he’d be willing to sell you some.” She gave me a sneer. “Just bat those pretty blue eyes and he’ll give it to you for pretty cheap.”

  “Who?”

  “Tommy Kilpatrick.”

  I did a really good job of hiding my initial surprise, but then I realized he’d told me about the Oxy. I’d just presumed he’d gotten a scrip from his doctor. Maybe he’d give me his source. “Do you have his number?”

  “Yeah. What’s yours?”

  I wasn’t exactly thrilled about giving her my number, but there was no way around it.

  She typed it into her phone, and seconds later, my phone dinged. Sure enough, Tommy’s contact information was on my screen.

  “Thanks, Christina.” I started for the door.

  “Say,” she said.

  I stopped and turned back to her.

  “Do you think I could be on that show?”

  I dug a business card out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Call the office, and maybe we can make something up for you.”

  I headed out into the parking lot, studiously ignoring Bill’s car, and climbed into the truck. Bill followed me as I drove down the street and then pulled into a church parking lot. As soon as we got out, Dixie ran over and pulled me into a hug.

  “That was amazing!” she said.

  “I know a way we can butter up Tommy,” I said. “We need to get one of those photos we took blown up. I’ll sign it, and we can tell him we want to drop by with it.”

  “Oh! Good idea.”

  I only hoped it produced results.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  When we wrapped up for the day, Dixie drove up to Eufaula to pick up the photo. Although we had a working printer in the office, we didn’t have any photo paper. So she sent several photos to the Walgreens in Eufaula and left as soon as she could get away . . . which was sooner than I could. Lauren had insisted on keeping me late to show me some of the footage they’d been sending to LA to use for the show.

  It didn’t take long to realize it was a joke. It ranged from boring to downright campy.

  “I had to up our promotion game,” Lauren said, her mouth turned down. “I thought it best to give you warning . . . and show you why.”

  My heart fluttered with fear. “What does that mean?”

  She didn’t answer, only shook her head and walked away, but I saw what looked like worry in her eyes.

  Oh, God. What had she done?

  She’d sent Bill off to get B-roll of several of the places we’d gone, so I headed to Maybelline’s Café while I waited for Dixie to come back with the truck.

  I slid into a booth and pulled a small notebook out of my purse to organize my thoughts. I’d already written down several points when I heard a man say, “Are you really investigatin’ Otto’s death?”

  I looked up into Mayor Sterling’s worried face.

  I nonchalantly moved my hand over what I’d written. “Mayor Sterling! What a wonderful surprise. How’re you doin?”

  Maybelline appeared at the table with a glass of tea in her hand. “Good evenin’, Mayor. You’re not usually in here for dinner.”

  “Myra’s not feelin’ well, so I thought I’d pick something up and take it home. Why don’t you give me two of your meat-loaf specials?”

  “Sure thing,” Maybelline said with a grin. “And what about you, little miss? Your usual?”

  I couldn’t stop my grin. She’d always called me little miss when I was a kid. “As tempted as I am to say yes, I’m gonna have to go with your house salad. Too much good food is making all my dresses snug.” I patted my waist to prove my point.

  She laughed. “Then I’m doin’ my job. You’re too damn skinny. I’ll have it right out.”

  As she walked away, I realized the mayor was still standing next to me. I could definitely use this opportunity to talk with him. “Mayor, would you like to sit with me while you wait?”

  He looked surprised. “Yes, thank you.” He sat across from me, and seconds later, Rachel, the young waitress from a couple of days ago, brought him a glass of water.

  I was scrambling to figure out how to ask my questions, but he said, “Tomorrow night’s the parade. Are you excited?”

  I’d completely forgotten about the parade. “Of course!”

  “It starts at five sharp, but we’ll need you at your float by four thirty. Your float will be the last one, of course.” He grinned, but it was shaky. “The best for last.”

  “Mayor Sterling? Is everything okay?”

  He reached for his water, but when we both saw his quivering hand, he shoved it under the table. Then he looked up at me. “Are you really lookin’ into Otto’s death?” he asked again.

  I wasn’t sure how to answer, but there was really no point in lying. People talked in this town. “I’m askin’ some questions for Gretchen.”

  He nodded, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “I’m sure she appreciates that.”

  “Did you know Otto very well?”

  He looked surprised. “We all knew Otto, but I don’t think anyone really knew him. He was a troubled man.”

  “Sounds like he got a new job before he died.”

  His eyes widened. “Otto?”

  “He told Maybelline he was a courier.”

  His head jutted back, and he gave it a slight shake. “Otto didn’t drive.�
�

  “On his bike.”

  He blinked and picked up his glass, his hand tremor free. “Well, good for him. I always told him he needed a purpose.” He took a sip of water before lowering the glass. “We all do, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your purpose, Summer? What do you want deep down?”

  I wasn’t planning to bare my soul to this man, especially since I didn’t trust him. I flashed a grin. “Isn’t that the eternal question everyone asks themselves?”

  He frowned. “Such a California answer. Maybe there’s nothin’ left of Sweet Briar in you.”

  I gasped at his bluntness.

  His gaze held mine. “Are you involved with Luke?”

  I bristled. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “There’s no doubt he’s still very interested in you. It’s all over Maybelline’s Facebook page.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her post anything new about it.”

  “Not Maybelline. The posts the townsfolk have been putting up.”

  Crap. I hadn’t thought to look at those.

  “Just be careful,” he said.

  “What’s that mean?” I asked. Was he threatening me?

  “Yeah,” Luke said, sliding into the booth next to me. “What does that mean?” His question felt ominous.

  How much had he heard?

  The mayor looked flustered. “Nothin’. We’d just hate for her to get injured again. She gave us all quite a scare.” Then he slid out of his seat. “If Maybelline shows up with my food, could you tell her I had to go to the restroom?” With that, he disappeared down the hall.

  I turned to look at Luke, trying not to gawk. He was dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a T-shirt that clung to every muscle of his upper arms, shoulders, and chest. Damned if the bad-boy look didn’t suit him every bit as much as his uniform.

  Rachel was openly gaping at him. Poor girl.

  Fighting my own urge to throw myself at him, I said, “What are you doin’? Why are you here?”

  “Getting dinner. Of course.” He didn’t seem phased by me in the least, but he cast a suspicious look at the mayor.

  My temper was rising. “Why are you sitting next to me?”

  He grinned, that sexy grin that had always made me melt, and just like Pavlov’s stupid dogs, I was practically a puddle. “I can’t believe you,” I said in a whisper-shout, refocusing all that heat to my anger. “You accuse Teddy of murder, then you think you can just sit next to me and pretend like everything is okay?”

  But it also reminded me that I still hadn’t talked to Teddy. He’d texted earlier and said he was tied up and would call me later. I was still waiting.

  Luke lowered his head next to mine. “I never accused him of murder, Summer. I said he was a person of interest, and I needed to talk to him. Did you tell him?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I want to tag along with you and your film guy.”

  I snorted. “No. No way.”

  “Come on. This way I can make sure you’re safe and suggest any follow-up questions.”

  “Really?” I asked, turning in the seat to face him. “So you can take what I find and twist it into something you can use against Teddy?”

  “Summer.” He said my name in a husky voice that sent a shiver down to my toes. “Did you ever stop to think maybe I really do want to help Teddy?”

  I wanted to believe that, but I wasn’t sure I could take the chance. Even if I did, there was no way I could bring the chief of police with me to buy a Schedule II controlled substance. But I decided to change the subject in the interest of avoiding an argument.

  “Do you have a house in town?”

  He grinned. “You wantin’ an invitation to see it?”

  “Maybe,” I answered honestly, to my chagrin. Dammit. I could not start something with Luke Montgomery. But I’d always found him so hard to resist. “So, do you?”

  “Yeah. I like bein’ closer to the police station.”

  “How long have you been chief?”

  “A couple of years.”

  “You, Cale, Willy . . . none of you are much older than thirty. That seems . . .”

  “Strange? It’s no wonder. The job doesn’t pay much. Hard to raise a family on our salary. All three of us have to find ways to supplement it.”

  That sobered me. While all the money I’d made hadn’t defined me, I’d never been a fan of scraping by. “Especially if you insist on your wife stayin’ home to raise your kids,” I said with a hint of attitude.

  He looked surprised, then laughed. “Jesus. I knew that conversation would come back to haunt me.”

  “You remember that conversation?”

  “How could I not?” he asked, his gaze firmly on my mouth. “That was the night I first kissed you.”

  A wave of lust washed through me.

  He paused. “Wait. You don’t think I still believe that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because I was a seventeen-year-old idiot trying to impress you. Hell, you’d just confessed to how much you hated living in LA, but you said you had to do it to earn money for your momma. I was trying to prove that you wouldn’t have to keep working out there if you were with me.”

  I gave him a dubious look. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

  “Okay . . .” He grinned. “So maybe I did believe it, but my momma stayed home, and my dad was damn proud of it. You know most families around here scrape by on two incomes. So saying my wife would never work was my way of trying to show I could take care of you.”

  I shook my head. I was treading on dangerous ground.

  Maybelline appeared with a big bowl and a white bag. “What happened to Mayor Sterling?”

  “He said he had to go to the restroom. He’ll be right out.” But I had to admit he’d been back there awhile. Luke looked like he was thinking the same thing.

  “Huh.” She set the bowl in front of me. “I made a batch of shrimp and grits tonight. I remembered how much you loved ’em, so I couldn’t bring you a salad. But I’ll bring the salad if you try ’em and don’t want them.” She turned to head back into the kitchen before I could stop her.

  Luke laughed. “Maybelline.”

  “She didn’t take your order.”

  “I suspect she’ll be bringing me a bowl in a minute. She knows how much I love ’em too.”

  I picked up my spoon.

  “So who are you planning on interviewing next?” he asked.

  I snorted. “Do you really think I’m gonna tell you?”

  My phone vibrated on the table next to me, and I picked it up when I saw Dixie was calling. I considered letting it go to voice mail since Luke was sitting next to me, but I knew she’d worry.

  “Did you get it?” I asked.

  “And a few extra copies . . . just in case.”

  “I’m scared to death to see which one you picked.”

  She laughed. “It’s not like I had a ton of options. Are you still eatin’?”

  “I’m almost done. Do you want me to get you something?”

  “I picked up Popeyes in Eufala. How about I text you when I get there?”

  “Perfect.” That meant I’d have a chance to ditch Luke.

  “Dixie?” he asked as I set the phone down. “What did she pick up?”

  Rather than answer, I scooped up a spoonful of grits and a shrimp, took a bite, and moaned.

  Luke lowered his mouth to my ear, whispering, “You used to moan like that for another reason.” His warm breath on my neck sent a shiver through me.

  I blushed. “We were underage minors, so I’m not sure you should be talkin’ about that. Especially in public.”

  “I was talkin’ about when you used to eat Momma’s peach cobbler. Get your mind out of the gutter, Summer Baumgartner.”

  Just for that, I scooped up another spoonful and placed the tip of the spoon on my lip, licking the edge of it. “Mmm . . .” Just
like I’d done for a yogurt commercial promoting good bowel health about two years ago. But Luke didn’t seem to make the connection. Okay, so maybe I’d put a little bit more innuendo into this performance. Or a lot more.

  His eyes darkened as his gaze fell to my mouth.

  I slowly slid the spoon into my mouth and released a slightly louder moan.

  Luke’s breath turned shallow.

  Leaning closer, I pulled the spoon out. “I bet you want some now.”

  He shifted in his seat, but his gaze didn’t stray from my mouth. “You have no idea.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about the grits. He started to lean toward me, and I was sure he was about to kiss me when Maybelline came back out with his plate. “Here you go, Luke. Gotta keep you big and strong.” Then she winked at me as though to tell me, Congrats on snagging your man again.

  “We’re not together,” I called after her, but she lifted her hand and waved it in dismissal.

  “Is it such a terrible idea?” Luke asked as he picked up his spoon.

  “Luke . . .” My heart skipped a beat, and my body flushed. Part of me was fully on board with this idea.

  “I’m serious.”

  “We’re not the same people. You just said so yourself.”

  “But from what I can see, we’re not all that different either.”

  “Luke.”

  “I know you’re goin’ back to California, so I’m not lookin’ for something long term here,” he said, ignoring the food in front of him. “Aren’t you curious to see if we still have chemistry? From where I’m sitting, we have enough to provide the Fourth of July fireworks show.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How many times had I fantasized about getting back together with Luke, moving back to Sweet Briar, and trying again? So to hear him say it like that—to cheapen it like all the other guys who’d wanted a fling with Summer Butler just to say they had—made me sick to my stomach.

  I scooted closer to the wall in disgust. “Let me get this straight—you’re looking for . . . what? A one-night stand?”

  “Summer,” he said defensively, “it’s not like that. More like a fling. You know, until you leave.”