“At the moment, Lemon, there’s little to go on. We don’t have a suspect or a motive and no-one saw anything of any significance and this VT doesn’t give us any clue either. You are our only lead.”
She rests back and her eyes wander down my neck and over my top. As much as I want to cross my arms and cover myself, I have a fire in my belly because of her shitty attitude, so I don’t. I maintain my stare.
“Okay, we’ll wrap it up now. You’re obviously still emotional from what happened.” She leans forward, rests her forearms on the table and with an overacted look of empathy says, “And that’s understandable.”
I sway my head at her audacity. “How I am and what I wear—”
“Please—”
I hold my hand up and she presses the stop button on the machine recording the interview.
I snort. “Unbelievable.” I mumble as I push my chair back.
“I’m sorry, Lemon, that’s not what I meant.” Her tone is genuine this time but the earlier look on her face when she traced a line over my clothing told a more honest story.
Patiently, I wait for her rationale to convince me she isn’t acting like a bitch, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll contact you as the investigation develops. And if you remember anything else, please call me.” She pushes a contact card across to me that I leave on the interview table.
I stride down the hallway, past Carson and fling open the door on to the street. I suck in a breath of Gunner Ridge air. Why do I feel guilty? Like I should remember more than I do. Officer Jones’ insinuations aside, I feel worse than I did when I left the hospital and the sooner this entire ordeal is over with the better.
“Lemon Corrigan?”
With a troubled mind, I scowl at the woman stood below me. She has a familiar face, but not enough for me to put a name to it. She’s stood strangely, with one arm resting on her stomach and the other bent at the elbow and a phone held out toward me.
“Excuse me?”
“How are you, Lemon?” she asks, cocking her head on a side.
“It’s Gillespie. Lemon Gillespie.” I squeeze my purse under my arm. “Sorry, do I know you?”
“Mel Goodwin from the Visalia Herald, I heard of your terrible ordeal at the Green Parrot.”
“Oh.” The local paper. Might’ve known they’d come snooping.
“Can I buy you coffee?”
I scurry down the stairs.
“It must have been awful for you.”
I glare at her.
“Do you know who attacked you?”
“Nope.”
“Was it something to do with Blue Corrigan getting married?”
I frown at her and try to sidestep but she grabs hold of my elbow. What is it with everyone today?
“We understand that you wasn’t at the wedding. Any reason?”
I shake off her hand, turning away from her, and notice Carson stood in his office window. “Get off me and stop asking such stupid-ass questions.” I flick back to Carson. His hands now on his hips. “Of course I didn’t go to the wedding, I’m his leper ex-wife.” I snap, still distracted by my onlooker watching on while this woman shames me.
She shouts after me as I scurry back to my car with my head hung low. I don’t want to see anyone else I might know before I reach the safety of my car. Today sucks.
With relief, I blow out a lengthy breath as I slump on the safety of the driver’s seat and ride out of town.
I need to indulge in unrestricted air and an absence of walls before I go home to my sanctuary. So, I drive toward the mountains. I zoom recklessly on the narrow road that skirts past the Corrigan pastures, too fast to find music to listen to and drown out my overactive mind. The landscape flashes by. The usually green grass is brown after the extended period of drought. Threats of a storm passing overnight; leaving the creek low and silent.
Ahead, the little town chapel glistens white against the blue sky.
And pink and white confetti blows up into the air as I drive by.
My hands clench the steering wheel until my knuckles protrude.
Confetti.
From Blue and Josie’s wedding.
I pull over as tears mist my vision. The car engine rumbles like a protective Rottweiler and my grip sticks to the vinyl covering of the steering wheel.
Am I such an ugly person that life is treating me this way? Everyone wants me to fail. My shoulders slump and I close my eyes until I have my breath, if not my emotions, under control.
I feel so alone. And persecuted.
The attacker. That bitchy police officer. The stupid-ass reporter. And Blue.
There was a time that when Blue was near he made the greyest of skies blow over, song-birds chirp, and everything right with the world. Now, even on a calm day, the clouds grow heavy and thunderstorms roll in. Despite everything else that has happened to me, that is the one thing I always come back to. I hate that I love Blue Corrigan and no matter how hard I try, I can’t change that.
My ringtone startles me and I clear my throat before answering, wiping the back of my hand across the tears that smear make up onto my cheeks.
“Carson?” I scurry to find a tissue in my purse.
“Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. Was everything okay?”
I swipe my nose. “Yes, fine.”
There’s a pause, just long enough for me to grab ahold of myself.
“Lemon, I just want you to know that I’ll do whatever I can to help.” I close my eyes on his kind words. “I’m here for you. Remember that?” His soft tone floats through to me and washes over my frazzled nerves.
“Thank you, Carson.”
“It’s no problem. No problem at all. I hoped Officer Jones would help, but…, I’m sorry.” A noise in the background has him pause. I stuff the tissue in my purse, and I spot my gun.
“It’s okay. Look, Carson, I’m sorry, I forgot to pick up the gun license application form.”
“That’s okay, I can drop it off if you want?” he whispers. Someone must be with him now.
A smile grows on my face. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
I hold the phone long after he has gone. It’s a lifeline.
Eventually, I sigh and fish in my purse for another tissue to wipe away the sting of the mascara from my eyes. The gun stares back at me. Cautiously, I pick it up and explore the cool weight of it in my hand. My breath hitches and a flash of something I can’t grasp surges through me. A heaviness presses on my chest. Could it have been me that shot this gun at the Green Parrot?
I drop it into my purse and squeeze shut my eyelids.
Of course not. I checked the cartridge, no bullets are missing.
Seven
Lemon
While I’m still confused about the events of recent days, I’m proud of not escaping into the bottom of a bottle because there’s no happy end to that route. And, as I peer through the curtains, I imagine that’s why Penny has stopped by with no warning. And I love her for it.
With a scrunchie in between my teeth, I scrape my hair up and walk to the door.
“Hey, babe.” I greet her with a breezy smile.
“Ooh, girl, look at you.” She steps over the threshold and hugs me tight. “You’re looking so much better. I thought you were pulling my leg when you said you were fine.”
I widen my smile and pull my hair through the scrunchie.
With excitement, she lifts a bag up to her face. “I’ve brought caramel cups from Alma’s, it’s a fresh product line and they’re delicious.”
She follows me through to the kitchen where I turn the coffee machine on and notice her checking out the place as she sets the bag of treats on the table.
“Wow, someone’s been busy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, getting my shit together.”
“Bout time,” she mumbles. Pulling out a chair to sit on, she draws the bag toward her.
“Yep. Suppose. Have I been a letdown as a friend recently?”
She snaps to me, the bag still in her grip. “No. And don’t you go having a guilt trip on that too.” She swats the air. “I didn’t mean anything by that remark.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not having a guilt trip, but I’m not taking you for granted either, babe.”
She cocks her head to one side and smiles. “You’re good, girl.”
I’m more relaxed knowing that. I need Penny right now. Being holed up in this goddamn place too long and without my usual escape to the Green Parrot has me turning stir crazy and dwelling unnecessarily on the attack and what might have happened.
“Anyway, you can be a friend by meeting that flash guy with me.”
I pass over a coffee cup and rest against the counter while my cup fills. “What flash guy?”
“You remember. The one dripping with money. Said he was looking for girls to dance at his high-class club in Fresno. He was all over you like a rash. You said you’d think about it. Remember?”
“Oh, that guy.” I groan. I’d forgotten about that guy at the Green Parrot getting all handsy. I shiver.
“Yeah, well, it’s this Saturday he said to drop in. So, if we all go together, we can split the cost of the gas.”
“I’ve been thinking about that and I’m not sure; it’s too soon.” I turn away to doctor my cup with a heap of sugar, hoping the interruption will pull Penny off track. While I love to dance, I don’t want to go anywhere right now, let alone a Fresno nightclub. After spending a few days in the safety of my home, I’ve decided dancing is not a career. If I’m looking for change, I should try a different vocation, not a different place. “Anyway, what if he was the guy that attacked me?” I freeze. “Babe, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“No. It wasn’t him. He was still inside when you disappeared for your break. In fact, he gave me his card just before it all went down.” She scrabbles in her purse and pulls out a black, gold-tipped card. “There.” She hands it over.
Reluctantly, I take it from her, glance at the cheap silhouetted images of girls bending in all kinds of weird positions, and hand it back. “You should show the cops this.”
“Already told them, they said it checked out.” She shrugs and stuffs the card back into her purse.
“Anyhow wasn’t he wanting all us girls to strip—sorry,” I chuckle, and she leans across the table to playfully slap my arm. “dance for him, so you’ll have Maria and Lola to go with, won’t you?”
“Suppose.” She furls her bottom lip out in fake sadness, and I stick my tongue out at her.
She sips at her coffee and with it hugged in her hand, asks, “So what’s happening with you? Apart from going all Martha Stewart around this place. I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
I shrug. “Not a huge amount. The cops are making their enquiries, but they don’t have much to go on, so not sure anything will come of it.”
She rolls her lips. “Yeah, they’ve interviewed me twice now. Don’t you think it’s kinda strange? There’s no motive, but it also doesn’t seem random. D’ya know?”
“Why? What did they ask you?”
She cocks her head and looks at the space above my head when she recalls her interview. “Just who was in the club, what time stuff happened, if there was anyone out to get you.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“Oh just the whole town, especially the Corrigans.” She laughs.
“You are joking, right?” I wide eye her.
“Of course.” Her tone softens. “Seriously, Lemon, no-one has a bad word to say about you. Not even a Corrigan. There must be a perfectly good explanation for what happened. Mistaken identity maybe?”
“Not sure. I don’t remember any of it.” I murmur, chewing on my lip. Not knowing what happened and why I was attacked has left me a nervous wreck. “And now Carson has handed the case over to the sheriff’s office.”
“Yeah, I’d heard that.”
“Oh? What else have you heard?” The insinuations Officer Jones threw at me are heavy on my mind.
“Oh, nothing much, you know how some are in Gunner Ridge.”
“Hmm.” Don’t I just; memories of yesterday slash through me.
“Oh, apart from Mrs. Mulligan. There’re rumors going around that she camped out in the parking lot on Saturday night, noting who was coming and going, and calling their wives to come get them.”
“Wow.” I gasp. “Some people.”
She laughs. “She claims her car was stolen, and she didn’t go near the place. Tucked up at home reading the Bible or some such shit. But…” she leans closer. “Jenny Littlewood came and hauled Harry out on Saturday night.” She leans back and taps the table.
We both laugh at that. “Yeah, actually, the cops asked me about her car.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, just if I noticed it.” I roll my eyes in my head. “Like I’m being attacked by a maniac and I do a quick check on which cars are parked.” I tut.
“What else did they have to say?”
I shrug. “Not a lot. It was a female cop from Visalia. She showed me a VT and asked a bunch of questions.”
She shuffles on her seat. “Yeah she interviewed me too. What was on the VT?”
“It didn’t make good viewing. A guy appeared from nowhere, tried to drag me away and after a tussle he pushed me to the ground and then a gun fired.” I shake my head. “It was the first time I’ve been attacked, and it’s has left me kinda… vulnerable, you know?” I take a sip of my coffee, wincing at the overly sweet taste.
She nods and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I’m so sorry for you, babe, you weren’t in a good place before this happened.”
And that’s all it takes, a little sympathy, and I straighten my spine. “I’ll get over it.” My mood masked by a chirpy voice and a sweet smile.
She picks out a caramel cup and a plastic spoon and tosses the bag across the table. “Good. That’s my girl.” She sinks the spoon into the gooey caramel. “Even more reason to come to Fresno and move on from this shit.”
I shake my head, not dropping my smile.
“Why not? It’s hella rich offer.” She hums around the spoon.
“I’m not interested in that line of work.”
She blurts out a laugh. “How can you say that? You’ve been shaking your ass for four years already.”
“But I want to do something different with my life.”
“Yeah, I get that, but at least say you’ll come along with me. I don’t want to go on my own.” She coos, ignoring my earlier comment about Lola and Maria going with her. “And anyway, I need to find something else, what with the Green Parrot closed ’til God knows when.”
I blow out a breath. “Sure, I’ll come along with you.”
There’s a knock at the door and I freeze.
“You not expecting anyone, babe?”
I shake my head, heading to the window to peek from behind the curtains at a car parked on the street.
“It’s Carson.”
“I thought you said he’d dropped the case?”
“Yeah,” I drawl, wondering why he is here too.
Penny laughs.
“What’s so funny?” She stands and drains her coffee and screws shut the paper bag. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“What? Wait, there’s no need to go.”
“But y’all have stuff to talk about.”
“What do you mean, ‘stuff’?”
She pats the bag. “Here, share these with him.”
“Penny?”
“Oh, come on, babe. Everyone knows he’s got the hots for you.”
“Do they?” My voice panics.
She tsks. “Sure they do. It’s a hang up from high school.”
I frown at her comment. “We were friends in high school. Nothing more.”
She shrugs. The looks Carson Perrins has given me recently and how we were as teenagers crowd my already dysfunctional mind.
He knocks on the
door again. “Lemon? You okay in there?” His deep voice booms through the wood.
“Coming,” I shout out, stepping between Penny and her escape. “Not so fast, lady, just tell me what everyone is saying about me and Carson.”
She shrugs, snagging her car keys out of her purse. “Just how he gave up the case so it didn’t compromise anything with you.”
“Uh? Rewind.”
He knocks again.
“Hang on,” I call back and lean into Penny. “That’s bullshit and you know it, babe. It’s outside his jurisdiction. He’s got no resources. He can’t pick and choose cases because of personal reasons.”
She huffs. “Believe what you will. Now Blue is off the scene, for good, I reckon Carson Perrins has decided to make his move.”
“No, but he can’t, he’s running for sheriff’s office, he can’t drop a case just like that?”
She smooths her hand up her neck, pushing strands of hair into her updo, then takes ahold of the doorknob. “Anyway, it’ll be good for you and he’s the only decent catch left in Gunner Ridge these days. Well, him and that new veterinarian. And I’ve got my eyes on him.”
I roll my lips as I’m unsure who she is referring to. She flaps her hand not to detract from the main point about Carson Perrins with an explanation of the ins and outs of the new guy in town. “Anyway, if you’re not planning on leaving Gunner Ridge, you need to build some bridges.” With that, she flings open the door before I can protest anymore about her assertions.
“Officer Perrins. How nice to see you,” she gushes.
I fold my arms at her obvious flirting, rolling my eyes and shaking my head so Carson can see that I don’t agree with her manner. I’m also hoping he didn’t hear the conversation from the other side of the door.
“Penny.” He tips his hat. “Is now a bad time?”
“No. Penny was just leaving.” I wide eye her a warning.
She laughs. “I’ll pick you up Saturday at five. Unless you’ve got other plans.” She flicks a teasing look at Carson. “Either way, make sure you’re dolled up, babe.”
“Don’t forget I’m not auditioning.” I hold a relaxed palm up to her. “Oh, never mind.”
Broken in Love (Studs in Stetsons Book 2) Page 6