Hot Enough to Kill (17 page)
He grumbled and looked away.
I hadn't intended to steer the conversation back to this topic, but since it had happened I figured we might as well get it over with. "What she is or isn't has nothing to do with you, you know that. She seems like a good-hearted person and that's what counts. I can't believe she'd deliberately hurt you."
"No, she didn't mean to hurt me. I knew years ago that things weren't right--that I wasn't giving her what she needed--but good Lord, Jolene, how could I have not noticed something like
that
?"
"How could you know when she probably didn't?" I reached over and rubbed his arm. "We don't get to choose who we're attracted to or who we fall in love with. I'm reasonably sure you couldn't force yourself to be attracted to men."
He looked up and smiled, just a little. "You're right. I think she just tried to be who she thought she should, but she just couldn't."
"It's a trap we all fall into in one way or another--at least until we learn better. I'm glad she had the courage to tell the truth. She seems like a good mom and you have two beautiful children. You can't beat yourself up forever about something you had nothing to do with. Those kids need you. Don't let your resentment of her interfere with that. In time, you might even wind up being friends with her."
The look on his face said that was as unlikely as fluffy snowflakes falling from the 114-degree cloudless sky, so I let it drop.
"Like you are with Danny?" he said, with a very un-Jerry-like smirk.
"Touché. I made it work when the kids were younger, but now I don't have to, and yes, I'm glad about that."
"He still married to the blonde?"
I knew what he was doing. He wanted the spotlight off his own emotional bullshit so he was turning it onto mine. I laughed, although it was a little forced. I've had eight years to find my ex-husband humorous, and time has helped a lot. But I'd be lying if I said the old resentment didn't flare up every now and again. But, I no longer took it personally that he'd latched on to a series of brainless twenty-somethings to make himself feel young and virile--his deal, not mine. "Bambi turned twenty-five a month or so ago," I said sweetly. "I heard he threw her a big party with balloons and pony rides."
Jerry grinned a little and shook his head. "Amazing."
I shrugged. "Hey, who am I to cast stones? Danny is losing his mind right along with his hair, but it seems he'll die a happy man. What more could a guy want than youth, beauty, big boobs and a Baywatch body? That she can't speak in full sentences and giggles as a second language is kind of a non-issue."
"Still a little riled, are we?"
Okay, he'd caught me. Maybe I wasn't as evolved as I pretended. "It really doesn't bother me except in the general sense of things. I don't care if he has fifteen bimbos to play with. I made a mistake with Danny, a big one, and I've paid the price for it. But I'm older and wiser now. I wouldn't go back and be twenty-five again for anything. Besides, I don't want to be anywhere else than where I am right now."
He smiled and reached toward me.
A knock on the door and a shuffle of feet derailed what might have come next.
"Sorry to interrupt, Boss," Leroy said, strutting into the room like a fat, one-eyed rooster. Glancing at me, he added, "I knew you'd be here, climbing all over him, just like back in high school."
"What is it now, Leroy?" Jerry said, unable to hide his annoyance.
The acting sheriff huffed and shuffled to the end of the bed, tucked his thumbs in the top of his pants and said authoritatively, "Well, we had to turn ol' Dee-Wayne loose. Turned out there was a spider's nest in the barrel of that shotgun and ol' Dee-Wayne had some kind of story for being somewhere else during every single one of the shootings."
"Wow, who could have seen that coming?" I muttered.
Leroy glared at me, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
"We'll be lucky if Schuman doesn't sue us for stupidity." Jerry said, growling and sighing all at the same time. "If he does, I'll testify for the plaintiff."
Leroy frowned and scratched his head above his patch, apparently trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Giving up, he said, "I still think he's guilty and I'm gonna be keeping an eye on him."
"No, Leroy, you're on medical leave until next week. Go home and stay out of everyone's way."
"Can't, I'm needed on the case."
Jerry closed his eyes and sighed again. After a minute or so of strength-gathering, he looked up at Leroy." I'm going to say this one more time, so pay attention. Bob Travers is in charge of administrative issues while I'm off duty and Pam Marshall is handling scheduling. Any information or leads go directly to Detective Rankin in Redwater. Understood."
Leroy puffed up. "The commissioners made it real clear they want me on this case, and I sure don't need no Redwater city boy looking over my shoulder telling me what to do."
"I've got to get out of here," Jerry mumbled.
"Look, Leroy," I said. "In case you hadn't noticed, Jerry's had a rough few days, and you're not helping anything. Stop playing Barney Fife on a power trip and do what he said."
"You can't talk to me like that."
"Just do what you're supposed to, Leroy, and don't cause anymore grief. Please." I glanced at Jerry who still had his eyes closed. "He thinks he's superhuman, but he's not, and I don't want anything causing him any setbacks in recovery. Okay?"
Leroy blinked a few times and seemed almost contrite. "Well, I guess that's all I got to say anyway." He turned and waddled to the door. "But if I gotta leave, you ought to have to, too."
The door closed behind him and I turned back to Jerry. "He's right. I've talked way too much, and worse, I've made you talk too much. I better go," I said, gently touching his cheek.
"No, not yet," he said, exhaustion heavy in his voice. "It feels good when you touch me."
It felt good to me too. I lightly rubbed his arm and shoulder, staying clear of the bandaged area on his chest. The touch seemed to relax him almost instantly. After a few minutes, it looked like he'd dropped off to sleep, so I started to move away.
He grabbed my hand. "Don't jerk Leroy's chain too hard," he said, trying to open his eyes and look up at me. "He's not second in command because he's the best man for the job. Commissioner Calhoon J. Fletcher is his uncle."
Well, now that cleared up a few things. Bowman County doesn't have a corner on the nepotism market, and it isn't the only place where everybody is related to everybody else in one way or another. "I remember my dad talking about him back when. He's been commissioner for quite a while." Then it hit me--another Fletcher connection. "And, that would make ace reporter Kimberlee Fletcher, what, granddaughter?"
Jerry nodded. "Leroy's her second cousin. He's got a big crush on her."
In certain circles, marrying one's first cousin was frowned upon, but a second cousin, well, that was just keeping things in the family. "Heaven help us if they reproduce. Don't they know inbreeding between idiots only producers bigger idiots, although that's hard to imagine."
He squeezed my hand. "There are some things you just have to accept if you're going to live around here, Jolene."
I jerked reflexively. "Which is one of about four thousand reasons why I don't live around here." I instantly regretted my outburst, but I didn't retract it.
Jerry looked away. "I can't leave my kids, Jolene."
I knew that, and had I asked him to? He was going to stay here with his family and I was going back to Colorado just as soon as I put gas in the car. Some things never changed. So why did I always feel like our non-relationship was my fault? No matter how much we wanted it, things just never seemed to work out to where we vaulted past the really good friends stage. With nothing more to say about the sorry state of affairs in our lifelong attraction, I figured I could quiz him about the sorry state of affairs with the lunatics in Kickapoo. "So if Dewayne is free and loose, does that mean I'm back under house arrest when I get home?"
"You should be, guarded that is. I wouldn't have approved dismissing the deputy until we had more facts. Frankly, I can't come up with a single good reason Schuman would shoot any of us other than BigJohn."
"The fact is, if Mother hadn't stood up at the absolute precise moment that the bullet came through the window, you wouldn't have a scratch and she would be very dead right now."
"Just like you would have if Leroy hadn't been doing what he was."
Well, yes, there was that. I'd successfully ignored the realities of that pesky detail and preferred to keep it that way. "True, but I have nothing to do with anything around here other than poor judgment in spouting off speculation and innuendo to Kimberlee Fletcher, which she promptly printed for the whole world to read. I can make a better case for killing Leroy."
"Well, don't," he said, as if he could see that the wheels that had already started turning in my head. "Don't be doing anything, Jolene."
Nice thought, but we both knew he was wasting his breath. I wasn't going to sit around and do nothing. "So, who's this Detective Rankin and what's his role in all this? He hasn't talked to me."
Jerry rubbed his hand across his face. "He's been out at all three sites during the forensics work, which was also handled by Redwater personnel. Rick's good and he's working with Pam Marshall, my unofficial second in command. As you know, she's sharp and professional."
"I guess she told you she talked to me."
"Of course," he said, sighing. "I'd sure feel better if she were officially calling the shots, but that's out of my hands. The minute I became incapacitated, politics took over."
I didn't need any explanation for that one. In these parts, blood is definitely thicker than either water or common sense. "Then I guess it's good that Ranger Rick from Redwater is handling things."
"Yes, although he's still figuring out how to deal with the locals. He moved here from California a few months back and is still in a bit of culture shock. But, he's good at his job and he'll make sure you're protected. I've already made the calls."
"Aw, Jerry, I'll be okay."
He reached up and ran his fingers along my cheek. "I know. You've always taken care of yourself just fine, but just once I wish you'd let me do it for you. Now, go home so I don't have to call him to come get you."
His strength was long gone and even his bravado was running low. And since the conversation kept steering back to highly intimate ground that neither of us was ready to explore, I decided it really was time to leave. Actually it was about 20 minutes past time, but knowing he'd be asleep as soon as I walked out the door helped ease the guilt for talking so much.
I gave his hand a squeeze and scooted off the bed. After a quick peck on the cheek, I said, "I'll be back tonight to check on you."
His eyelids drooped down, but he managed a weak smile. "No, Jolene, you won't."
As I pulled out of the hospital parking lot--air conditioner on max--I replayed the bits and pieces of what I knew about the various situations. The information from Jerry about small-town politics taking over wasn't a great revelation in and of itself. However, when you started linking Commissioner Fletcher and his apparent power to Leroy, who couldn't spell nepotism but certainly understood the concept, it did bring up some interesting possibilities.
I couldn't see how or why Leroy would be involved in the shootings, having almost been killed himself. But I certainly saw how it would be handy for the killer to have him as an inside law enforcement connection. Was that why Uncle Fletch had ordered him to stay on the case? Having more than a smattering of facts and details, would certainly make it easier to speculate.
I mulled over several interview possibilities from Calhoon to Dewayne to Gifford to Leroy, but why would any of them talk to me? Obviously, they wouldn't. And, here's the twist--I wasn't eager to ask them to. I don't want pushy people calling me out of the blue and asking nosy questions, so why would I want to be that kind of person? Yes, it was that kind of thinking that doomed my future as a reporter.
That wasn't what was holding me back now, though. I had a long list of great questions that I was perfectly willing to ask each and every person on my list. I just couldn't find a single reason they'd answer, not to mention that my skills for tricking a potential killer and/or accomplice into explaining what they're up to and why were a little rusty. Besides, there was another unpleasant community service I needed to perform--find Lucille. Since I'd been ordered home, I figured I might as well save everyone some grief by rounding her up and herding her in that direction as well.
Before I could face that ordeal, however, I decided I could use a snack. I wasn't that hungry, but I could definitely use a distracting jaunt down memory lane. The old drag in Redwater Falls that I frequented twenty-five years ago is still the same general loop the kids make today. There are more fast food places and fewer vacant spots to attempt loitering, but most of the old hangout spots are still there. An old favorite, Burt's BBQ, caught my eye, so I zipped in for a chopped beef sandwich and an iced tea then wove the Tahoe through the lot and parked at the edge of the street like I used to.
In my younger days, my best friend Kat and I spent a lot of nights in this very spot, watching the cars go by. Kat was also watching the boys go by--and fearlessly flagging them down. I didn't much think it was a good idea, but she didn't much care, and insisted that I not act like a stuck-up prude and spoil her fun. I did not appreciate her assessment and explained that I wasn't stuck-up, just shy. She'd laughed hysterically at that one since I was anything but shy in non-boy-related situations. After my confession, however, she made it her mission to embarrass me--or try to help the ice princess get dates--depending on whose version you want to believe. Whatever the case, her antics translated into some interesting double dates and one pretty serious infatuation.