Candy Apple Dead (29 page)

“You need something?” he asked.

I thought about ordering drinks and trying to engage the man in small talk, but Wyatt didn’t need more alcohol. “Did you see who just left here?”

“Besides you and Wyatt? Nope.”

“There aren’t that many people in here,” I pointed out. “You didn’t notice one of your customers getting up and walking out?”

Slowly moving the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, the bartender picked up a glass and wiped it clean. “Nope.”

It was obviously a lie, and I felt my nerves twitching. “So you saw Wyatt and me leaving, but you didn’t see anyone else?”

“That’s right.”

He was probably holding out for a bribe, but I didn’t think he’d be interested in the handful of butterscotch buttons rubbing together in my pocket. “This is important,” I said. “I
know
you saw whoever it was. You must have. And if you didn’t, all you need to do is take a look around and tell me who’s missing.”

He gave me a long, slow once-over. Judged and found wanting by a loser. My night was complete. “And just why would I want to do that?”

“Because I think those people know something that might help my brother.”

“Yeah? And who’s your brother?”

I jerked a thumb in the direction of the restrooms. “Captain Courageous.”

The bartender actually laughed at that. “You’re Wyatt’s sister? Well, I’ll be damned.” He held out a hand, shook mine once, and released. “The name’s Scotty.”

“Pleasure.” So I lied to him. It just seemed like the thing to do. “So, Scotty, what do you remember?”

“Couple right over there left a few minutes ago,” he said with a nod toward a table near the door.

“A couple?” I thought back and felt my blood rush. “She was a brunette, right? The guy with her was blond?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know who they are? Have you ever seen them before?”

“No idea. But, yeah, I’ve seen ’em once or twice.”

This was important. I just
knew
it was. “When? Do you remember?”

The more agitated I became, the calmer Scotty seemed. He leaned against the counter behind him and folded his arms. “They’ve been in a few times in the past week or so. Why?”

“I think they may have known a friend of mine,” I said, finally remembering why I’d come to the Gaslight in the first place. “As a matter of fact, I think my friend might have been in here last week. Maybe you remember him.”

“Lots of people’s friends are in here all the time,” Scotty said with a tired smile. “You’ll have to give me more than that.”

“His name was Brandon Mills. Tall. Dark—”

Scotty cut me off before I could finish. “Brandon? Sure, I knew Brandon. Damn shame about him dying that way.”

His answer surprised me. “Did
he
come in here often?”

Scotty shrugged and came out from behind the bar. “He wasn’t a regular, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He walked toward the table the couple had vacated, talking over his shoulder. “But, yeah, he came in sometimes.”

I followed behind him. “Do you remember the last time you saw
him
?”

“Sure.” Scotty emptied an ashtray and gathered glasses from the table. “He was here the night before he died.”

“Do you know why?”

“There’s two reasons people come into a place like this, sis. One’s to get a good drunk on. The other’s to get a good drunk on where nobody’s gonna see ’em.”

“Which of those was Brandon after?”

“Which one do you think?”

It was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t bother answering. “Did he meet anyone while he was here?”

“So what are you, a cop or something?”

“Just a friend.”

“Why all the questions?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened to him. He was supposed to meet me the night he died, but he never showed up. Now Wyatt’s suspected of murdering him, and I’m suspected of being an accomplice. Not true, by the way. Anyway, someone told me that he was here on Sunday, and that he had an argument with someone while he was here. I thought maybe you’d know what he was doing.”

Either Scotty felt sorry for me, or my story appealed to his sense of the dramatic. Bartenders enjoy a good story as much as the next person. “Yeah, he met somebody,” he said. “And yeah, he had an argument.”

“Do you know who the other man was?”

“I’ve seen him around. Don’t know him by name. Short, maybe two-twenty. Dark hair.”

That description could have fit Griff Banks, so maybe Duncan had been telling the truth. “Do you know what they argued about?”

He gave his shoulder another hitch. “I didn’t pay attention.”

I didn’t believe that for a minute, but I decided not to argue with him and cut off the flow of information. “How angry were they?”

“You wanna know if I think the other man was angry enough to commit murder? No, I don’t. They had words, but it wasn’t anything to write home about.”

“If you didn’t hear what they said, how can you be sure?”

“I know people. I see arguments in here all the time. It’s not hard to tell when somebody means business and when they’re just blowing off steam. The other guy? He was blowing off steam.”

I don’t know what I’d expected, but I was disappointed anyway. “Well, that figures.”

“Yeah, but that guy wasn’t the only person pissed off at Brandon that night.”

My head popped up as if somebody had pulled a string. “Oh?”

“Lady over there,” he said with a nod toward the table.

“The brunette?” I tried to process that, but I could swear I actually felt the cogs in my brain freeze up. “The one who just left? She met Brandon here?”

“Came right in and walked over to his table like she knew where to find him.”

“Who is she? Do you have any idea?”

“Nope.”

“And I suppose you didn’t hear any of her conversation with Brandon?”

“Not much.”

“What part did you hear?”

“Just the part where he told her to save her breath. The truth was coming out whether she liked it or not.”

I stared at him for a long moment while I shuffled that around in my head. That was the same thing Lucas had overheard at Man About Town, which meant that she and her blond companion were probably in this together. But
who were they
?

“He knew something about her she didn’t want made public? Was he blackmailing her?”

“I wouldn’t know that, but she was fit to be tied, I can tell you that.”

“Do the police know about this?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“You haven’t told them?”

Scotty treated me to a snaggletoothed smile. “What can I say? The cop wasn’t as pretty as you.”

Be still my heart
. The people you meet when you don’t have a gun . . .

To my relief, someone at the end of the bar ordered another beer, and Wyatt finally reappeared before Scotty came back. I herded my brother outside, relieved to see that he seemed a little more steady on his feet this time around.

“So what did you find out?” he asked as the door closed behind us.

“There was a couple here earlier,” I said. “The woman has dark hair, the man’s a blond. She met Brandon here the night before the fire, and they had an argument. I think the man with her is the one Lucas heard in the store that day.”

Something flickered in Wyatt’s eyes. Hope? Relief? Maybe a little of both. “So what now?”

For the first time in more than a week, someone had asked me a question I could answer. “Now I’m going to call the police.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

“He’d better.” I pulled out my cell phone, stalked around the parking lot for a while until I got a few bars of service, and punched in the number. While I did that, Wyatt managed to manhandle my fender off the ground far enough for me to drive home.

Jawarski wasn’t in, so I left a message asking him to call me as soon as possible and stressing that I had information about Brandon’s murder. The fact that I’d called at all should get his attention.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket just as Wyatt got to his feet again. Deep lines of worry had etched into his face and, now that my own anger had faded, I could see in his eyes what a toll the past week had taken. I had the urge to put my arms around him and tell him everything would work out, but I refrained for two reasons. One, we’ve never had a huggy kind of relationship. Two, I wasn’t sure things
would
work out between him and Elizabeth.

“So what happened, anyway?” I asked. “Why’d you do it?”

The lines in his face seemed to deepen right in front of my eyes. “Hell, I don’t know. I was drunk.” He shot a glance at me and tried to smile. It didn’t work. “I was upset about Lizzie. We had all that trouble a couple of years ago, and I thought it was over. And then Nate called and said he saw her with Brandon outside the diner, and I flipped. I wasn’t thinking straight. Otherwise, I never would have—”

“Does Elizabeth know?”

He nodded. “Why do you think I’m not living at home?”

“But I thought—”

“Yeah, well, she’s a good woman. She doesn’t want the kids to know until we decide what’s going to happen between us.”

“So she took the blame herself?”

“She told the truth. She just left out one minor detail.”

“The one where you slept with somebody else.”

He turned and took a couple of steps away, then whipped back to face me. “I didn’t ask her to, Abby.” His voice caught, and misery seemed to pour off him. “I didn’t ask.”

I was angry with him, but something inside me shifted. “Where have you been staying?”

“Charlie’s cabins.”

“Nora lied to me?”

He managed a thin smile. “She’s a friend.”

I hated to think of him alone in an isolated cabin, so I started up where we’d left off. “Come and stay with me. The couch folds down into a bed.”

He shook his head, but his smile grew a little wider as he rubbed his chest with one hand. “Not on your life. You’re stronger now that you’re all grown up.”

I laughed, but the sound came out sounding kind of choked. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and turned toward his truck. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Yeah. Right. If only it were that easy.

Everything was dark when I pulled into my park
ing spot next to Divinity. I hadn’t been home since early morning, so I hadn’t bothered to turn on the light outside my door. Clouds covered the stars and blocked the moon, and only a little light spilled into the parking strip from the street.

Yawning, I opened the back door to let Max out. He was calmer than he had been, but he was still agitated, so I held tightly to his leash. I didn’t want any surprises. Just as I turned toward the door, I heard a whisper of sound behind me.

Heart pounding, I wheeled around to see who was back there, but the parking strip was empty, and I couldn’t see anyone on the street. I laughed nervously and turned toward the stairs, but when Max stiffened at my side, I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Someone was out there.

Words filled my mouth, but I bit them back. What person in their right mind expects an answer to, “Who’s out there?” under circumstances like these? Instead, I clutched Max’s leash tightly and tried to decide on my best move.

Before I could do anything, a murky figure moved out of the shadows in front of Picture Perfect and stepped into the light. Max growled again, and it felt as though my heart jumped into my mouth, wiping out any chance of coherent speech. I told myself to move, but I guess my feet weren’t getting the signal.

“Here, Max.” A woman’s soft voice floated out of the gloom, followed by a soft whistle. “Come on, boy.”

Max? She wanted
Max?
What in the—

The growling stopped, and he tilted his head from one side to the other. He’d practically torn my car apart at the Gaslight when he saw her. Now, with no one else around, he decided to be calm. The reason came to me with the very next breath I took. He knew her.

“Come on, boy. Come see Mommy.”

Pieces clicked together all at once. I still couldn’t get my feet to move, but somehow I found my voice. “You’re Brandon’s wife.”

She looked at me strangely, almost as if she’d forgotten I was standing there. “Widow,” she said, her voice soft and low. “He’s gone, remember?”

Like I could forget. “Did you kill him?” Not a smart question, but my body was working on its own now. Nothing my brain came up with seemed to be getting through.

“Did
I
—Of course not. How could you even ask such a thing?”

“Then your friend. The blond guy I saw you with tonight at the Gaslight. Is he the one?”

The expression on her face changed abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only came to collect my late husband’s effects. I believe that’s my dog you’re holding.”