Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3 (3 page)

“Are you trying to hide? You’re not exactly dressed to blend in, you know.” His tone was hard but he didn’t appear angry.

Ava shrugged. “I know.” Her pink dress clashed with the rich earth tones of the room. It pretty much clashed with everything, if the truth be known. “And I’m not trying to hide. I’m just trying to stay out of your way.”

His frown deepened to a scowl. “You need to go into the kitchen so I can get your statement.”

His voice was commanding and a part of her thought about moving, but she wanted to stay more.

“I don’t have any evidence. I didn’t see or hear anything. I only found out from the other guests.”

Logan put his hands on his hips and exhaled. “Then what are you doing in here? You need to go back to the party. I’ve got deputies out there who need to account for everyone at the wedding and what they were doing at the time of the murder.”

Ava stepped forward eagerly. “That’s exactly what you should do. I can help you with that.”

“I have deputies to help me,” Logan said flatly. He wasn’t being receptive, and it appeared she needed to make things clear to him. She took another step forward.

“I want to help. I know about solving a murder.” Ava held her breath as Logan chewed on her offer.

He barked in laughter that didn’t sound amused. “What do you know about solving murders?”

“I’ve solved six of them,” she replied indignantly. “One was a real doozy, too. You’re lucky that your pool of suspects is contained. It should make solving the case much easier. First, we need to go over the guest list and talk to each person. We can create a map of where they were when Bill Bryson was shot. That will give us a visual look at who had opportunity. Then we can look for motive.”

A few men in work overalls came into the room, and Logan held up his hand. “Stop right there. Don’t move. I need to talk to these people. Then you and I will finish this conversation.”

He turned his back and spoke low to the men. They nodded and began opening what looked like toolkits. Ava had enough crime education to know they were forensic investigators. They would gather and analyze the physical evidence.

Logan finished with the men and walked back to her, placing his hand under her elbow. He leaned down close to her ear.

“Come with me. Don’t touch anything. Don’t say anything. Just follow.”

His grip was tight and she didn’t so much follow him as simply try and keep up as his long legs ate up the distance to a bedroom down the hall. He closed the door behind them and spun her around before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Ava, I am trying to be very patient with you tonight.” A muscle worked in Logan’s square jaw. His blond hair was ruffled and he was getting a faint shadow of a beard. “This isn’t one of your books. This is real life. A man is dead and I need to find his killer. Do you understand that?”

He was speaking to her as if she wasn’t very bright, and she understood why. Everyone knew she lived inside the stories running through her head. Mary had always been the practical one. Grounded and efficient, although annoyingly superior.

Ava was the opposite. She’d missed more meals than she could count either reading or writing a book. Her house was perpetually messy when she was working on a new story, and her head was filled with characters talking to her and telling their stories. If she hadn’t written them down, she would have surely gone mad.

“I do understand.” Ava nodded. “I know you think I don’t. I just want to help. Let me help you, Logan.”

He nodded to the door. “This doesn’t bother you? There’s a dead body down the hall, Ava. He’s not going to hop up and join everyone on the dance floor. Your sister’s father-in-law is dead.”

His bald statement made her swallow hard. Actually, now that he was mentioning it, her stomach was a little queasy. The smell of copper had hung in the air, assailing her nostrils. The blood spilled on the rug had looked almost black in that light. It was a haunting image that would stay with her whenever she wrote a murder scene.

“I’m okay,” she denied. “I’ve seen lots of crime scene photos in my research.”

“Is that what this is? You think this is something for one of your books?” He looked aghast at the idea and she vehemently shook her head.

“No. This isn’t for a book. I just really want to help you.”

“I am sending you back out to the reception. You are not to interfere with this investigation, do you hear me?” Logan shook a finger at her, his blue eyes icy. He was clearly pissed. “This is not a game. A respected man of this community is dead. I won’t let you turn this into some kind of circus for your entertainment.”

Ava gritted her teeth. “I would never do that. God, I hope you know me better than that.”

His expression softened slightly. “Listen, I know you mean well. You’re a good kid and I know you think you can help. But this is the real world, Ava, not one of your books. Now I want you to go join everyone else.”

“Fine.”

She wasn’t going to win this argument tonight. She needed to live through this battle to fight another day. Turning on her high heels, she headed straight for the exit, stopping just as she reached the doorway.

“I’m going to help you, Logan. I’m not sure how, but I will.”

“This isn’t
Scooby Doo
, Ava. Leave this to the professionals.”

On that insulting note, she twisted the doorknob, pushing it open hard and almost knocking a deputy walking down the hall in the face. She muttered an apology and flew toward the back door.

She continued fuming as she headed for the tent to check on her sister. Logan had always been an arrogant SOB, but he’d never been hurtful. In fact, his easy laidback charm was what endeared him to the town. That and the fact that he was a total badass who kept their little burg relatively crime free.

She would find a way to help him. Solving a crime in one of her books was fine, but she knew she could do it for real. She’d been honing these skills her entire life.

Just for a moment like this.

*   *   *   *

Logan didn’t need this shit in his life. He stalked back to the library, his temper simmering. He didn’t get angry often. He had a long fuse, but when it was tripped it wasn’t a pretty sight. Luckily, tonight he’d managed to hold on and not let it fly on Ava.

She hadn’t meant any harm, he kept reminding himself.

She’d only been trying to help, which in and of itself wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it was really sweet. And naive. She simply didn’t realize that investigating a murder wasn’t like writing one. After all, she’d known the murderer before she wrote the book. It sure as shit probably made things a hell of a lot easier.

Ava needed to turn her attention to making cookies or brownies or whatever the church ladies did when someone died. He wouldn’t let her interfere with this investigation. It was too important.

Logan stood outside the kitchen and beckoned to Drake, his deputy.

“Is everything okay? You look pissed,” Drake said, leaning against the wall.

Logan rubbed his chin. “I’m not happy, that’s for sure. Have you talked to them?”

Drake nodded. “Preliminary stuff from Wade, Aaron, and Lyle. I thought I’d leave George Bryson to you.”

“Is he drunk?” Logan asked, already knowing the answer.

“He ain’t sober. But drunk? Not really. Although he might have been an hour ago when the murder took place. You thinking his direction?”

Logan shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know. George and Bill had their moments, but murder? Seems extreme.”

Drake’s eyebrow arched. “Who inherits if Bill’s out of the way?”

“The three sons, I assume.” Logan shrugged. “George has his own money and business.”

“I remember Mrs. Bryson died here in this house under mysterious circumstances.” Drake looked around at the opulent luxury surrounding them. “I think I’d put the house on the market.”

“Who would be able to afford it?” Logan replied. “Bill built this house for his wife. I don’t think it’s leaving the family any time soon.”

“Just bricks and mortar.” Drake didn’t look impressed by the display of wealth. “This house feels kind of cold and lifeless if you ask me.”

Logan couldn’t argue. The home had never felt warm or drawn people in during his memory.

“I’m going to talk to George. Why don’t you talk to one of the other deputies and have them get with the bride or the mother of the bride? We need a guest list. And a vendor list as well.”

“Will do. Want me back here?” Drake turned to leave.

“Yes.” Logan sighed. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Want me to have one of the catering staff make you some coffee?” Drake offered.

“If they can. I think we’ll be here into the morning.”

“I can stay as late as you need.” Drake knew that Logan suffered from insomnia. “You should try and get some sleep tonight. Me and the guys can handle this, Logan.”

“Sleep won’t happen.” Logan shook his head. “I already know. The opportunity has passed me by. Besides, this is more than just a murder.”

“I’m afraid to ask you what it is. I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

Drake’s voice had a note of warning, but Logan was long past heeding it. He turned to enter the kitchen.

“It’s personal. What was done here tonight was very personal.”

Chapter Three

“W
here are you going, Ava?”

Bruce Hayworth’s voice boomed from the family room. Ava had been trying to get out of the house without her father noticing but it was not to be. He seemed to have a sensor underneath the rug by the front door. The minute anyone stepped on it, he was instantly alert, giving the escapee the third degree.

Ava sighed and closed her eyes, praying for patience. It wasn’t her father’s fault he still thought of her as a teenager. He hadn’t evolved much the last fifteen years or so. He didn’t carry a cell phone, didn’t use the Internet, and talked longingly of “the good old days”, whatever they were.

“Out, Dad. I have a few things I need to do.”

Deliberately vague. She could be going to the grocery store or knocking over a bank. Ava crossed her fingers and took another step toward the door.

“Out where? When will you be back? Who will you be with?”

Just thought I’d hang with the Manson family.

Hissing out a breath, Ava juggled the folders she was carrying to her other arm. Setting boundaries with her parents was proving to be quite a chore. She was staying with them to attend Mary’s wedding, and despite leaving home twelve years ago at the age of eighteen, her bedroom was still frozen in time.

It was kind of creepy.

The same posters, the same bedspread and curtains. It was as if some clone had been living in that room all this time while Ava went to college and started her career. She would have thought her parents would have turned it into a home gym or a craft room, but instead it stayed a shrine to her adolescence. That was a time of her life Ava could honestly say wasn’t the greatest.

“I’m not sure, Dad. I have several things to do.”

Her dad’s footsteps on the carpet made her heart sink. He did this to everyone as if leaving the house was an insult to him and her mother. He walked into the foyer wearing a frown.

“There’s a killer on the loose, Ava. Be home before dark. And call me when you get there. And when you leave.”

She was thirty-frickin’ years old and she was not going to do any of that.

“I doubt the killer has any interest in me,” Ava said soothingly. “I’m not sure if I’ll be home by dark. It will be okay. I’m a grown woman.”

She might as well have said she was a Swahili voodoo healer for all the notice her father took.

“Promise me you’ll be back before sundown. It’s dangerous out there.”

“Corville is not dangerous. Sheriff Wright runs a very orderly town.”

At the mention of Logan, her father nodded. “He’s the best sheriff we’ve ever had but wild as a mustang. I’ve never see him with the same woman twice.”

Ava had heard the gossip about how hot Logan was between the sheets. Women actually sighed when they said his name. Sighed, for heaven’s sake. Like he was some god or something. No man was that good in the sack.