Dead Man's Rules (39 page)

“Can’t you let work go for a while?”

Was he trying to stop her from getting information? If his family was to blame, would he let her tell the story?

“I’ll be by later, really.”

“Sure,” he snapped.

Tears clouded her eyes as she hung up. Maybe she should go to Taos and link up with Freeda. A couple of crazy days might be just the cure for the doldrums. Or heartbreak. Maybe she should simply leave. She didn’t think she could prove anything about Marco without hurting Rafe’s family or her mother. She’d already come between her and her new boyfriend.

Marco’s burning eyes popped into her head, as though reminding her of her promise. What about Naldo? His killer should be found. BJ Foster was in no rush to solve the crime. Even Rafe’s attempts seemed half-hearted, though now she knew why.

Lottie came back into the room. “Why don’t we get away? We could drive to Taos and look for Freeda.”

Shopping held little appeal but Cere needed time to think. “Sure, but I need to get back early in case Riggins arrives this evening.”

****

Rafe sat at his desk, reading the report on the broken watch and the bullet shells. As expected, there were too many fingerprints on the envelope, and the shells were easily obtainable in any hardware store. They were still running prints from the watch.

The words swam before his eyes. He glanced at the clock. Nearly three. Where was Cere? If only he’d been awake when she got up. He had not been surprised to find her gone. As wonderful as the night had been, the situation remained awkward. He wanted to tell her so much, yet he had no idea if he should.

Was he in love with Cere? During the moments that led to their passion, he had been convinced of it. Making love to her had been everything he’d hoped it would be. Guilt about being unfaithful to Carmen disintegrated in the face of her beauty and the sheer explosiveness of her desire. Something special had burst forth between them. Carmen would have wanted his life to continue with someone special. Cere filled the bill. Full of life, stubborn and unpredictable, she might not be what he needed, but she was what he wanted.

His father peered inside his door and then entered with a wave. “Hi, guy. Wanna grab a beer?”

He set the report aside. “I’m finishing up some work.”

“You work too damn hard. Take the rest of the day off. You can catch up later.”

“I was going to see BJ in case there’s anything new on the Sanchez case.”

Art frowned and dropped into the chair across from him. “You think there’s gonna be a break? Willie told me that Cere is writing a story about Naldo. Do you think that’s a good idea? There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

“It’s a feature.” While she could still make dangerous discoveries, he was no longer certain what she would do if she discovered everything. He was beginning to trust her.

“Is that the cop talking or the man who’s been looking at her legs?” His voice carried a doubtful edge.

“It makes a difference when you have a personal stake in it. I think of murders I investigated so clinically. Then I think about how hard it was to face Carmen’s death. Cere’s learning the same lesson.” At least he hoped she was. He couldn’t imagine the soft, loving woman returning to the tabloid shrew he’d first met. She had changed, or was he wrong thinking he could trust her?

“If she comes up with a sensational story, I’ll tell Willie not to publish it. As long as our name is on the masthead, we won’t print anything that embarrasses the town.”

“It will be fine.”

Art ran a hand over his bald head as though he had hair. “You in love with this girl?”

Rafe rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Who was he kidding? Cere wasn’t coming by. “It’s never going to work.”

His father’s voice softened, the earlier cool traces gone. “It can if you want it to. Sure, she’s from the city, but so what? You lived there, you could go back.”

“I won’t live there. I want Ginny in a safe environment.”

“You can’t always protect those you love. Life isn’t that easy. Carmen could have been hurt here. It was her time to go.”

A sad smile crossed Rafe’s face. He was used to small lectures from both his parents. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Art stood and jerked a thumb at the door. “I’m going over to Lucky’s. Come by if you get the urge.”

Rafe watched through the window as Art sauntered down the sidewalk, stopping to talk to people. A fierce feeling of protective instinct came over him. He wasn’t certain about Cere, but one thing he knew—Art loved his family and would do anything to protect them. Could he do any less?

****

Cere sat on the back porch, fuming. The trip to Taos had been a debacle. First, Freeda wasn’t even there. She’d moved on to another small town. Second, Cere couldn’t focus on clothing selections. Shopping normally proved therapeutic, but her mind kept going back to her wonderful night with Rafe followed by her terrible discoveries.

Then there was what she’d learned about Naldo. He’d wanted to talk to her. He might have used blackmail to earn money. Where did Rafe fit in? He’d been at Naldo’s the night of the murder. Perhaps he’d used the money box to throw off suspicion and then hid it and pretended to find it later. Could he be part of a conspiracy? Or was she putting him in that position as a way of putting a gulf between them?

Her mother was inside talking to Bradley. He’d called as they arrived home as though he’d been watching the house. Sensing her mother wanted privacy, Cere retreated to the porch.

Seeing the guitar leaning against the railing, she touched it, thinking about Rafe singing his father’s songs. The burning eyes appeared in front of her. She recalled the first day she saw Rafe, when she thought his eyes belonged to her ghost. Now she knew why.

Lottie came out the door holding Roxie’s leash. “I’m taking Roxie for a walk. I may stop at Bradley’s.”

Cere nodded, watching as her mother disappeared through the gate. The evening stretched in front of her, but she knew she couldn’t call Rafe. Not yet. Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it. The number was unfamiliar.

“Cere, it’s Gary Riggins. Listen, I’m sorry but I can’t make it tonight. I’ll get there tomorrow early, okay?”

She sighed. She’d actually hoped he would show up. “Sure, I understand.”

“We’ll go out to the Palladium, okay? I really want to study those words. Maybe you’ll see something.”

The dance hall.

Suddenly Cere knew what she had to do. She hopped to her feet as she said goodbye. She wasn’t going to wait for him. Naldo had said he should study the words. That was exactly what she was going to do.

****

Tired of working, Rafe shoved his paperwork aside. He checked his watch and popped an antacid wondering for the tenth time in three hours if he should call Cere. He had gone by the newspaper office looking for her in the late afternoon only to be told that she’d called, told Willie her story was on hold and she was going to Taos to shop. What did that mean?

The phone rang, and he grabbed it, hoping Cere was calling back.

“Rafe? Jack Landis at the State Crime Lab.”

“Hi, Jack. What’s up?”

“I got back the info you wanted on Diego Diaz. I know you said he came up clean in Texas, but I got an interesting result when I ran the name through our state records. By the way, I also got prints off that shell you brought in.”

Diaz got his immediate interest, but so did the shell. “If the prints aren’t on the shells, he can wait. I thought the shell prints came up blank. I have the report right here.”

“I didn’t find anyone with a criminal record. But I started going through everyone we have on file. I don’t know if it means anything, but...”

Rafe listened with a pounding pulse. He called Cere as soon as he was off the phone. No answer. He tried Lottie’s number.

“Is Cere there?”

“Hi, Rafe,” Lottie said with a laugh. “Isn’t she with you? I came to get her for dinner but she’s gone.”

A terrible thought hit him. “She didn’t go to the Palladium, did she?”

“I hope not. She’s been preoccupied all afternoon, but I thought it was because that Santa Fe reporter called her. She said something about Naldo blackmailing someone. Maybe she went over to talk to his neighbor again.”

Rafe hung up and rushed to the door. All he could think of was finding Cere.

****

What was that? Cere paused on the steps leading to the second floor of the Palladium, letting the echo of her footsteps die. A board creaked, but it was the step on which she stood.

Creee-aaak.

There it was again. It came from the back of the dance hall. She wanted to call out, but if someone was in the building, they would know where she was. No, she was being foolish. She had nothing to fear. If Marco was her guardian angel he would not let her get hurt.

She proceeded up the steps, stepping carefully around the broken stairs. Another squeak, but it sounded like the settling of the old wooden and stone structure. On the second floor she used light from the fading sun that filtered in through broken windows to walk to the back of the building.

Her flashlight and lantern were reserved for the hand print. She wanted get a look at the room in bright light. The doorway yawned black and forbidding. Stepping through, she flicked on the flashlight. It felt like an eternity since her first visit. She knew more about Marco, but little about why he had come to his bloody demise. Was the answer in this room? Drawing a deep breath, she scratched a match on the floorboard and lit the lantern. A harsh light flooded the room, casting eerie shadows.

She studied the hand print and the words below it. “All for love.” What had Marco been thinking when he wrote that? Who was the woman he meant it for? Rafe’s mother? Rosalie? Lottie? Why did Naldo say to study the words?

As she stared at them, the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. Marco had not written them. She’d seen his letters. This was not his handwriting.

Her breath caught. This resembled the block printing on the envelope containing her watch. Was that who killed Marco? Who wrote like that? Art? Stella? She played the light around the room one more time, looking for anything that might hold clues.

Another creak startled her, and Cere whirled toward the door, the flashlight falling from her hand. A dark shadow loomed in the door way, and she gulped. Fiery black eyes came from the glow of the fallen flashlight.

“Cere?”

“Rafe! You scared me.” As she fought to bring her pounding heart under control Cere gazed at his black eyes. Marco’s eyes. The eyes from her dreams. “What are you doing here?”

“Just a hunch.”

“I found something.” The words exploded from her lips and she pointed at the wall. “That isn’t Marco’s writing. He was more interested in peace than love when he got out of prison. There was no mystery woman; that’s why we can’t find her. He didn’t commit suicide, but someone wanted this to seem like a suicide note. He was murdered, Rafe.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Rafe crossed to the wall and studied the words. He turned to her, wiping a hand across his face. Again she was stricken by his resemblance to Marco. Maybe she would have realized it from the beginning if not for the beard.

“Did you find out anything else?” he asked.

Her heart rose to her throat, and her voice came out as a squeak. “I know the truth about your mom.”

He became very still, eyes still on the wall, his gaze avoiding hers. “And me?” he finished, jerking his head up, rising to face her. “Did you uncover the truth about me?”

She nodded slowly.

Rafe’s eyes blazed with something unreadable. “Now what? Are you going to report it? Drag those dirty secrets out into the open to appease your damn ghost? Or because you think it’s your job?”

A knot formed in her throat and she stepped toward him and touched his arm. “What if I ask you to trust me to do the right thing? Could you do that?”

“Yes.” The flame that burned in his dark eyes was no surprise. She had seen it the previous night in his bed. The flame of love. “Do you trust me?”

All day she had doubted him, but now she saw the truth. It had been there all along, just like the message on the wall. She nodded. “I understand why you’ve hidden so much.”

Turmoil wreathed his face, hardening into chiseled lines. “You don’t know what it’s like to discover you don’t know who you are. All those years I thought I knew my dad. He was good, always there for me. He still is. He will always be my dad.”

“How did you find out?”

“After I learned the truth about Mom seeing Marco, I went to her. She didn’t realize what I was asking and it all came out. I guess she never got a chance to tell him the truth. He never knew.”

Tears filled Cere’s eyes. One more tragedy in Marco’s young life. “But she told your dad.”

He sighed heavily and nodded. “He took her back and claimed me as his own. I’m not even sure why, but he’s been as good a father to me as he was to my sisters.”

His words were the final piece of her jigsaw puzzle. But it only confirmed her earlier suspicions. She feared she knew the truth about Marco’s death. And she doubted she could tell Rafe. He obviously didn’t know his father once betrayed Marco.

Before she could say anything, the door slammed shut, shaking the building. They moved toward the door in unison, but an ominous click stopped them. A shiver of fear rippled down her back. Beyond the door, floorboards creaked.

Rafe yanked on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. Cere pounded on the door as the odor of gasoline filtered into the room. Her eyes met Rafe’s.

“You don’t suppose he’ll burn the place down?” she asked. Would Art harm the man he’d raised as his son? Did Rafe even guess?

Rafe banged a fist on the sturdy door. “Foster! You’ll never get away with it.”

“Foster?” Shock ran through her. “Bradley Foster? What makes you think it’s him?”

“They found your fingerprints on the shell casings and her watch, Foster.” He pounded harder on the door.

She choked back her terror and joined the pounding. The Mayor? Could Rafe be right? Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. Whoever was out there was running away. She fell to her knees and peered through the old fashioned keyhole. Tiny as it was, it afforded a frightening glimpse of flames starting to leap up the walls. The building itself might be constructed of stone, but the wooden moldings and floors were tinder dry and would burn in minutes.