Dead Man's Rules (35 page)

“I saw your name in the paper,” Bradley said to Cere after their order was taken. “Are you writing for Willie?”

“I was helping.” She beamed at Rafe, a sudden surge of heat flowing though her body. “You can tell your uncle I’d be happy to volunteer while I’m here. I liked seeing my name in the paper.”

“He’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“How’s everything in your department?” Foster asked Rafe after approving the wine Tony had brought. “Things seem pretty quiet.”

“That’s the way I like it,” he said.

Tony glanced at the mayor as he poured wine. “Pardon my intrusion, but what about the murder, Mayor, Sheriff? Is there anything new on that?”

Foster flicked him a condescending glance. “Don’t worry, BJ’ll catch the boy who did it.”

“How do you know it was a boy?” Cere asked.

“Boys keep digging up his yard. BJ has to keep sending deputies over to chase them off. Naldo was killed by someone who believed the story he had money. They almost got it.”

Cere chewed on her lip, wondering if she should ask what was on her mind. She couldn’t help herself. “Mayor, do you think that money in Naldo’s box was Marco’s money? I hear there were letters in there from Marco.”

Lottie gasped, and under the table Rafe nudged her knee. The touch was electric, and her eyes flew to him. He shook his head slightly.

“Money?” Tony asked. “What money? What box?”

The mayor froze Tony with a cold look. The tall man drew back as though he realized he’d intruded. He excused himself and moved to another table.

“Talking about that boy having money is foolish,” Bradley said in a low, demeaning voice. “He never had a cent to his name.”

His dismissal of Tony and his tone irritated Cere. “But if he looted those stores before he died, shouldn’t he have had some?”

“Probably spent it. Blew it on drugs. He never had any sense. I don’t know why you’re still asking questions about him.” His eyes flashed at Rafe as though this was his fault.

She refused to back down. “I think someone is hiding information. Someone’s trying to scare me into stopping my questions.”

All three focused on Cere. She could sense their doubt. Rafe shook his head, but only Bradley protested. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Feeling trapped Cere poured out details of the phone messages, the smashed watch and then told them about the van that nearly hit her.

Lottie gave out a little cry. “Cere, you need to stop. You could get hurt. If whoever killed Naldo—”

“Naldo’s killing had nothing to do with that boy’s suicide,” Bradley interrupted. “Sounds like someone wants you to stop being nosy. But Lottie’s right. You better stop this right now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Rafe asked.

“It’s not your jurisdiction. Do you think Len would have done it? I saw him driving a white van today.”

“Did the van have a dent on the left side?” Rafe asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it belongs to Frank,” he said. “He leaves the keys on a hook just inside the back door. Anyone could have taken it at any time.”

“Half the people at City Hall borrow that van when we need to deliver supplies,” Bradley said. “I even use it at times.”

Cere laughed, attempting to be good natured. “Mr. Mayor, were you trying to run me over late last night?”

His blue eyes twinkled as they fixed on her. “If it made you stop upsetting your mama, I might throw a scare your way.”

Cere drew back, despite the twinkling eyes. There was something sinister in his words. Could Mayor Foster be involved? But that was silly. He was the mayor. Why would he kill Naldo? Or try to scare her?

She turned to Rafe. “Would one of the Gonzales men do it?”

“Why? You’re trying to prove he didn’t commit suicide. Your story would only vindicate him. Besides, they’re helping you. They gave you his songs.”

“Maybe they know he committed the burglaries. They want to sell his songs, and while the works of a tortured soul might sell, who wants love songs from a petty thief?”

“Love songs?” Bradley’s voice was louder than normal.

Lottie twisted in her chair, and Cere immediately realized her mistake. No one had known about the love songs.

“There was talk there might be love songs,” she said quickly. She did not want to embarrass her mother.

“Let’s forget this,” Lottie said, patting her lips with her napkin. “Didn’t you say you’re giving up on that story?”

“Thinking about it,” she said, wishing her mother had not brought up the subject like that. She could feel Rafe’s eyes on her, and she refused to look in his direction.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bradley said.

Perhaps if he had not sounded so smug, Cere might have agreed. “Even if I don’t pursue the story for air, it doesn’t mean I won’t continue to investigate. I’m not convinced he committed suicide.”

Bradley stiffened and he gripped the edge of the table so hard his pudgy hands turned white. His blue eyes grew frosty as icicles. “That was my conclusion as sheriff and that of the coroner. Are you saying we were wrong?”

“Maybe you didn’t have the proper information to uncover the truth,” she offered, trying to appease him.

“The truth was right in front of us. Same as with the burglaries the first time he went to jail. I knew that boy did it, no matter how much he protested his innocence.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “What was the evidence? Were there fingerprints?”

“He was seen near the jewelry store and he had cash and a diamond ring. Where else would he have gotten it? There were no fingerprints. I bet he wore gloves.”

“Can we change the subject please? It was so long ago. This isn’t why we came to dinner,” Lottie protested in a high voice. Her face was pale except for two pink splotches on her cheeks.

Guilt swept through Cere. In her haste to battle the mayor, she had ignored her mother’s wishes. A quick glance at Rafe told her he felt the same way.

“Mayor, tell us about Tres Padres,” he said, changing the subject. “I keep telling Cere it would make a much better story.”

Bradley drew back, the tension lessening. “Yes, it would. I talked to those folks this morning, in fact. That project could bring good things to the valley.”

Cere forced herself to show interest, making a few notes and the conversation got them through dinner. When Lottie excused herself to go to the ladies room Cere went with her.

“I’m sorry for bringing up Marco,” she said, taking her arm as they entered. “Did Mr. Foster know he chased you?”

Lottie’s arm was tense, her voice dry. “Of course. Everyone knew. When we were juniors, that nut spray painted ‘Marco loves Lottie’ across the side of the Palladium. Dad had a fit and Bradley made him clean it.” Despite her tense answer her face broke into a sad smile.

“Do you ever dream him?”

Her mother blinked rapidly. “What a strange thing to say. Why would I dream about him?”

She pressed her lips together, unable to reply and simply shook her head. “No reason.”

As they stopped to wash their hands, seeing her mother’s sad eyes in the mirror she decided to cheer her up. “What do you think of Mr. Gennaro?”

Lottie’s brow wrinkled. “No more Marco. I told you he was too afraid of him to stop him from chasing me. All the boys were.”

“I mean now.” Cere grinned at her mother. “Haven’t you noticed how he keeps hovering around the table?”

Her cheeks turned vibrant pink but she laughed. “You and Freeda. Stop playing matchmakers. But...well, don’t take this the wrong way... I may not be home tonight.”

“You’re going to spend the night with Mr. Foster?”

Lottie glanced around as though someone might be listening. “It’s not like that.”

Her mother’s face flushed brilliantly, and Cere felt a lump in her throat. She refused to contemplate her mother and Bradley as lovers. It seemed disloyal to her father. But after her earlier behavior, all she could do was squeeze her mother’s hand.

“Do whatever you would do if I wasn’t here. Rafe will take me home. I promise not to tell Freeda. She’d never let you hear the end of it.”

Lottie’s smile was one of gratitude. “You behave yourself.”

“I have to, and you don’t?”

“That isn’t what I meant. Rafe doesn’t want you investigating any more than I do. You should have seen his face when you were talking about threats. He cares about you.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“You should have told me about the van,” Rafe said as they strolled along Main Street and turned onto the block where the van had shone its lights on her.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She kept her tone light, as though she considered the matter inconsequential. “This is where he backed up and that’s the tree I ducked behind.”

“You knew it would worry me.” He leaned down for a look at the street surface, but the pavement gave up no information they could use.

“Maybe I hoped it would,” she said, attempting to banter.

“Cere.” He straightened and took her hand. The moonlight was all the light they had, but in its silvery glow she could see the flame of desire in his dark eyes as he spoke in a soft, intimate voice. “I do worry about you. Believe me, I’d rather not. You’re quite a handful.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she protested.

“Caring about someone makes you want to take care of them.” He tugged her hand, pulling her toward him. “Damn, I’m not sure what I want to say.”

Her senses buzzed as her heart skipped. He was saying he cared about her. Cere reached up and stroked his face with her free hand. She was beginning to care too. Did things happen that fast? Could it be possible she was falling in love?

He leaned down and kissed her quickly, just a soft touch but it quickened her breathing and set her pulse on high-speed.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, unless you want to go back for the car.”

“Let’s walk. Mom’s not coming home tonight.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with a chuckle. Playfully he caught her in his arms and held her loosely against him.

Cere leaned against his chest, inhaling his clean scent. Her insides grew jittery, and all her senses leaped to life. Hot sparks heated her skin. “What do you think?”

“You claimed to be too much for me to handle.”

She leaned back to look up at him. Shadows hid his eyes, but she could feel he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She touched his feathery lashes with her fingertips. “That’s true.”

“I’m not into games, Cere. I’ve always played for keeps.”

Her stomach did a wild flip flop, and her knees felt weak. But as she reached up to kiss him, he drew a deep breath, released his hold and stepped back.

“Unfortunately I don’t think we’re ready for that.”

Cere tried not to let her disappointment show. “Oh.”

“Let’s do something fun. Want to take a drive?”

“To the Palladium?”

“No!” He took her arm and tucked it under his as they resumed walking toward the house. “You enjoy going out, don’t you? I bet you miss the noisy atmosphere, the swanky clubs.”

“I like going out, but I seldom have time. I used to meet friends for dinner, but it’s become a chore. Traffic is horrible, everyone lives miles apart. Did you and your wife go out a lot?”

“Carmen wasn’t much for the social scene. She was a teacher and dedicated herself to her students. She’d have tutoring sessions at all hours of the day and night. That’s...” Rafe stopped and shook his head.

Cere regretted mentioning his former wife. She kept doing that, and it put him into a thoughtful mood. Had his wife been on a late night tutoring session when she’d been killed? Maybe a change of subject was in order.

“What do you think of Bradley Foster?” she asked.

“Full of himself. Like his son.”

“He’s very smitten with my mother.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “Does that bother you?”

“I never thought my mother might get involved after Dad died. Mr. Foster doesn’t seem her type, but she says she had a crush on him when she was young. Mr. Gennaro is closer to her age and seems to like her, but she thinks of him as a brother.”

“Isn’t that how it always is?” he said with a gentle laugh.

“I guess. Poor Marco had a crush on her and she probably didn’t notice him either. Did you hear Mr. Foster? He’s so certain Marco committed the burglaries, but I read the letters to his sister. Why would he lie after he’d been convicted?”

“I wondered how long it would take to get around to Marco.” Rafe cast a glance at his watch. “Two hours. I’m impressed.”

“Stop it. You looked interested too.”

“Maybe a little.”

They turned onto Lottie’s block and she leaned her head against his arm. “Want to come in for coffee? It might keep me out of trouble. You know if you leave me alone I’ll go to the basement and start reading through letters again.”

“Let’s sit in the back yard and talk.”

Rafe wasn’t certain if he was doing the right thing agreeing to stay. As he stood in the back yard, lighting a torch at one end of the patio he could see her inside the kitchen, pouring glasses of port. She turned on her mother’s stereo, which was still set up to feed music outdoors, and came through the door with glasses in hand. She put them down on a table at the edge of the patio and playfully grabbed his hand.

“Dance with me, Tafoya. I need to keep moving.”

“I don’t dance well.”

Cere was not to be denied. She pulled his hand until he was against her. The touch of his chest and thighs against her body shot a bolt of electricity through him. She leaned her head against his chest, and he thought about what he’d told her—he didn’t believe in casual sex. Did she? His body was coming alive in a way it hadn’t in years and he could feel the thud of her heart beneath his hand which enfolded hers against her upper chest.

His palm gripped her back, and he could feel warmth penetrating through her thin dress. What would it be like to feel his hand against her bare skin or maybe his lips? A hot wave of desire splashed across his lower regions.

Closing her eyes, Cere gave in to the music, her body swaying against his. All too soon the song ended. Rafe’s lips nuzzled the top of her head, and Cere lifted her head for a kiss.