Hot Water (15 page)

Glen Foxworth rose to shake Wyatt’s hand. “You the arson man?”

“I’m the arson investigator.” Wyatt sat beside Laurie Ann on the concrete bench. There wasn’t room for more than a deck of cards between them.

Laurie Ann edged over a bit, needing to maintain her personal space. Wyatt had used her. He’d taken advantage of her feelings and pumped her for information. She didn’t know if she was madder at him or at herself.

God, she’d been a fool.

Men made the rules and changed the rules to suit their own devices. Wyatt’s arsonist had blinded him to anything else.

Except sex.

He appeared to be able to focus keenly on sex.

Donna brought out two sweet teas for Wyatt and Laurie Ann. “Would you like to order off the menu?” her friend asked.

“We’re fine,” Laurie Ann said, her face feeling hot.

“We’ll have two pieces of that cake,” Wyatt said at the same time.

Donna beamed. “Coming right up.”

It was all Laurie Ann could do not to shoot him a dirty look. She did want that cake, even though it would ruin her lunch. And Donna needed the money, so she wouldn’t countermand his order, but they needed to clear the air after this.

“Tell us about your plans for the restaurant,” Laurie Ann prompted the Foxworths.

“This is a setback,” Glen said, his round face tightening into a grimace. “That place had such history. I wanted to set up a whole pirate-themed series of businesses down there. Pirate-guided birding tours, pirate boat rides, pirate games, a pirate playground for the kiddies, that sort of thing. If it caught on, I was gonna talk to the forestry folks and see if I couldn’t scare up a theme park out there. Now we don’t know what we’re going to do, do we, sweetums?”

“You’re my burly pirate,” Ellie chuckled.

“You’re my snuggly-wuggly,” he said, pulling her close and giving her a big smacking kiss on her icing-dotted lips.

Laurie Ann’s face froze at the cooing between this older couple. Like Ellie, Glen had a few extra pounds on him and dressed casually. These people didn’t care that they weren’t acting their age. And they certainly didn’t dress like they were millionaires.

Donna walked out with the cake slices and favored Wyatt with a sassy smile. She glanced over at Laurie Ann and mouthed “call me” before she strolled back inside.

Like she would tell Donna anything about Wyatt. Donna made no secret of the fact that she was on a manhunt. She’d gone after Roxie’s Sloan a few months back and from all appearances, she was interested in Wyatt as well.

She could have him, Laurie Ann decided as the cream cheese frosting melted in her mouth. It was all she could do not to sigh contentedly at the rich, decadent aroma and the sweet nutty taste. No one did carrot cake better than Donna. She’d make someone a great wife one day.

Plus, Donna longed to travel. Wyatt would be a good match for her. They could wander the state on his cases, and she could fatten him up with all her desserts. Soon he’d look as round as Glen Foxworth. It would serve him right.

“Will you rebuild?” Wyatt asked.

“That’s up to Miss Ellie,” Glen said. “She’s my banker.”

“I know how much you like pirates, love,” Ellie said, patting his hand. “We’ll find the money to build your pirate empire. Starting from scratch gives us more options. We can get that architect fellow to draw up new plans.”

“What about my pirate ship?” Glen asked. “Can we still afford that?”

“We should do the pirate ship first and try it out. I always wanted to be delivered up to my captain. And a pirate captain would be so much more fun. I can’t wait for you to shiver me timbers.”

Laurie Ann ducked her head. Wyatt crowded closer. She sensed his coiled tension and the laugh burning to get out of him. Darn it. She swallowed her laughter. These people were too funny. If she made eye contact with Wyatt, she’d burst out laughing.

Despite her best intentions, she pictured the Foxworths in pirate garb and a snort escaped her nose. She tried to cover her gaff by coughing. Wyatt pounded on her back, making her eyes water. “I’m okay,” she said.

His dark eyes twinkled dangerously. “Just making sure.”

“How long you lovebirds been dating?” Glen asked.

Before Laurie Ann could voice a denial, Wyatt slid his arm around her shoulder and cinched her close. “Not long enough, I tell you. A good woman is all any man needs.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Glen said, bumping fists with Wyatt over the table.

Once again, he was taking over, saying things about her, about them, that weren’t true. His audacity brought her inner fire to a rolling boil.

Laurie Ann showed them the key she and Wyatt found at the site. “Do you recognize this key?”

Ellie retrieved a wad of keys from her bulging purse and flipped through the ring until she came to its twin. “Your key matches the one I have for the Pirate’s Cove front door.”

“Did you change the locks after you acquired it?” Wyatt asked, leaning forward.

Glen shrugged. “Didn’t seem to be any point. Nothing there to steal, or so we thought. We planned to change the locks once we started renovating the building. I guess the previous owner didn’t have a handle on all of his keys.”

Old man MacMillan was always losing keys. “It could have been tucked in a cabinet. Or he might have left a spare key with someone in case he misplaced his. We don’t know if the arsonist or the victim came across the key.”

Disappointed that the key was a dead end, Laurie Ann pulled out paperwork for the Foxworths. They reviewed and signed their written statement for her while Wyatt went inside to pay for their food. She put the papers away and escorted the rambunctious couple to their luxury car.

Turning, she saw Wyatt pocket a piece of paper smaller than the sales receipt. Donna’s phone number, no doubt.

It made her mad that he’d kept the number. But it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t care whose phone numbers he collected. Wyatt wasn’t her problem.

In less than a week, he’d wormed his way into every aspect of her life. How was that possible? Did she have an I’m-a-sucker sticker on her back?

He strolled back out, a genuine smile on his face. “Feel better?”

“We need to talk.”

He clutched his chest and staggered theatrically. “You wound me.”

She glanced around, worried that someone would see him cutting the fool. “I did no such thing.”

“I plied you with your favorite food and now you’re going to fuss at me? Unfair.”

“The carrot cake was great. Thank you for that, but it isn’t my favorite food, not by a long shot. You don’t know me at all. You think you do, but you don’t. We have a job to do. Let’s look in all the hidey-holes of Tidewater County so that you can get back to your life in Atlanta.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. Not with an active suspect list of locals. Speaking of which, we haven’t located a single one of them today. Did someone warn them to leave town?”

His question stung her pride. “My father is the only other person who knows the names on your list. He didn’t tell anyone.”

“You’re forgetting someone else was there when we spoke with your dad.”

Laurie Ann swallowed around the lump in her throat.

He was right.

Someone else knew the names.

Her cousin.

Chapter 30

Laurie Ann needed to get this investigation back on track. The sooner Wyatt had a real target to investigate, the sooner he’d forget about her cousin being one of his arson suspects. Lester was many things but he wasn’t bad to the bone.

She turned toward the passenger side of the squad car. “I can find Jacob Whitman. My sources say he doesn’t range far. A little police work, and we’ll have him.”

Wyatt’s gaze sharpened momentarily. “Let’s do it.”

With a nod, she cranked the car and eased out on the state road. She didn’t want to find an arsonist within the borders of Tidewater County, but the best way to clear her residents was to prove that they had alibis.

“You think the Foxworths hired someone to burn the place down?” she asked.

“Based on what we just saw, I’d say no. They appear to be enthralled by the idea of role-playing in Pirate’s Cove, which they could have done easily in the old place. My gut says they’re clean.”

“Do you think they wear costumes?”

In her peripheral vision, his cheek twitched and a smile flashed across his face. “I’m sure they have costumes. Props, too.”

From his unspoken reaction, she believed he would relish the role of pirate lord to her captive wench. His knowing chuckle unnerved her.

“You’re thinking about it,” he said.

She chewed her lip, not willing to admit anything. “What?”

“Playing pirates. Umm. I can picture it now. A sunny bower rocking gently in the sea. You, in my bed. A crimson gown straining to contain your magnificent breasts, white petticoats frothing around your bare legs. Your hands tied to the corner posts, a spitfire look in your eyes.”

Two could play at this game. “You’d stroll in clad in skin tight leather trousers, a flowing white shirt unlaced in the front, a cutlass in one hand, a dark patch over the eye.”

“A patch, eh? No hooks, peg legs, or parrots?”

“Not in my fantasy.”

“I’m liking this more and more. Wanna play pirates tonight?”

The fun fizzled. His voice was sexy and teasing, and she was attracted to him, but she was a job to him. A means of information to an end, and he’d get the information any way he could.

Like a pirate.

“Not happening.”

His phone rang. He reached for it and said, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

But she did blame him. For trying. For sleeping with her. For accusing her cousin of murder. She wasn’t ruled by sex. She was a cop, and she believed in her family. They were honest, decent people.

She rolled past the Jiffy Store, the church, and Marshview Realty as Wyatt scribbled notes during his call. From the sound of things, he was being called away today. Taking the initiative, she turned toward the hotel and his truck.

Wyatt ended the call. “There’s another fire. West of Rincon. A country singer’s homeplace burned this morning. They suspect arson. I need to go look around.”

Rincon was northwest of Savannah and a little more than an hour’s drive.

If he left for the day, she would have a chance to poke around on her own. She’d track down everyone in one day, if it would clear her family and her town.

“You think it’s your guy?” she asked.

“Looks like a structure fire with an accelerant. It could be my arsonist.”

“That would mean he’s moved on, right?”

“Don’t sound so hopeful. My suspect list stands.”

“I’ll run down the folks on your list today, and check their alibis for the Pirate’s Cove fire.”

“Check their whereabouts for the other fires, too. Let’s make damned sure we’re certain about eliminating suspects. This guy is wily. He hides in plain sight.” His voice softened. “Be careful out there.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

Chapter 31

Jacob Whitman didn’t answer his door, and his car wasn’t in the driveway. Laurie Ann drove to the convenience store a mile away, a clatch of gossipy old men if she’d ever seen one, and learned Whitman had gassed up his car first thing this morning. According to Tubby Styles, the clerk at Gas ’N Goodies, Whitman had driven to Savannah today.

Savannah was a big city. Whitman could be visiting hospitals, medical specialists, friends, shops, fishing stores, restaurants and more, but his alleged destination made her wary. Savannah was only a few minutes away from Rincon, where Wyatt had gone this morning to assess another fire.

She didn’t believe in coincidences.

Jacob Whitman could be Wyatt’s arsonist. The thought of having a murdering arsonist at large in her stomping grounds sent a chill down her spine. But she had to keep an open mind. She didn’t know if Whitman was involved. Innocent until proven guilty. How many times had that maxim been drilled into her head?

She asked Tubby to call her when Whitman returned.

Since she was already in the north end of the county, it was a quick jaunt over the county line to Bird Prince’s place on Starfish Alley. Tempting as it was to head to his house, she drove to the Freedom County Sheriff’s Office first.

Sheriff Nate Westerly, one of her dad’s former poker buddies, rose when she entered his office, wrapped her in a bear hug, and gestured for her to sit in a guest chair. “Look at you. Little Laurie Ann all grown up and wearing the uniform. What brings you my way?”

“Business, I’m afraid. I’m detailed to an arson investigator, and he’s looking at one of your residents as a suspect. I hope you can help us read between the lines of the official stuff.”

The sheriff scrunched up his craggy face and leaned back in his chair. “Who we talking about?”

Before he’d moved to Freedom County, Nate had been a regular at the Saturday night poker game. He’d played his cards close to his vest, and he’d been a champion bluffer. She noticed he didn’t divulge any information. Shrewd of him to find out who she was investigating before he committed to anything.

“Bird Prince. What can you tell me about him?”

The sheriff beamed. “Always knew there was something fishy about Prince. Lots of comings and goings at his place. A few years back we thought he was running drugs out there, but we couldn’t prove a damned thing. Slippery bastard.”

His words encouraged her. “He isn’t an upstanding citizen, then?”

“He’s one of those guys who always has cash, and it doesn’t flow through his bank account. His small pension from the mill and his Social Security are direct deposited in his checking account. They pay for his basic living expenses. On paper, there’s no issue with his finances, but my gut tells me he’s up to something.”

Laurie Ann trusted her gut, too. And she trusted Nate. “What’s he driving?”

“I saw him in a white panel truck pulling a trailer a week ago. Lemme pull him up on the computer.” The sheriff tapped a few keys and cursed. “This damn thing doesn’t like me very much. Oh, looka there. It went through on my first time. Who says an old dawg can’t learn new tricks? Says here Prince owns a green Pontiac sedan. No truck or trailer is registered to him.”