About That Man (22 page)

Before he'd left D.C., he'd studied some of the material available on drug cases along the Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay. He'd seen the reports about boats slipping into out-of-the-way, less-heavily-policed coves along the river to deliver to distributors who would carry the illegal substances up and down the East Coast. Trinity Harbor was ripe for such activity.

Unfortunately, he suspected there were too many inlets and coves for his surveillance to be effective. He was going to have to concentrate on the marina itself, since Bobby was convinced that at least one of the boats involved was docked there, the same boat Walker had initially suspected of being too fast for a mere pleasure boat. Even though the owner's record looked clean, it didn't mean he was innocent. It could mean only that he'd never been caught. Or that he'd changed his name.

Just to be sure, the other night Walker had managed to get a set of prints from Craig Remington when he'd bought him a drink at the marina. He'd sent those up to Andy and asked him to have them run through the computer to see if a match turned up.

“You're not wasting any time getting into the thick of things, are you?” Andy asked, sounding amused when Walker called to follow up on the prints. “Are you sure you didn't create this case just to give yourself something to do?”

“Actually, I dreamed it up to lure you down here. I'm in cahoots with your wife. She really, really wants to get that store up and running.”

Andy groaned. “You don't need to tell me. She's been bugging me to death about it. So what's the deal? Is something going down or is Tucker overreacting?”

“There are definitely drugs around. And Bobby overheard some kids out on the dock bragging that they were going to be able to lay their hands on all the pot they wanted pretty soon.”

“And you think this Remington guy could be involved?”

“He's got the kind of boat a drug smuggler would love to own. It can outrun anything the authorities have.”

“How did he seem when you talked to him? Nervous?”

“Not at all,” Walker admitted. “He was as friendly as everyone else around town.”

“Maybe I'll come down next weekend and you can lay it all out for me. Might help you to talk it over.”

Walker chuckled. “I have plenty of people I can talk it over with right here. In fact, Tucker is the talkingest man I've ever met. He dissects everything. Listening to him wears me out. Not that I wouldn't be glad to have another perspective, if you're headed this way anyway.”

“Oh, I am,” Andy said, sounding resigned. “Gail's itching to get to work on that house she bought last time we were down. The garage is already filling up with mys
terious boxes and the kitchen table is littered with catalogs. I haven't checked the bank account, but I'm pretty sure I'm heading for the poorhouse. She seems to think she's going to open a business there by Fourth of July weekend. Apparently I get to commute if I want to see my wife at all after that.”

“It's gone that far?”

“Oh, yeah. Gail might seem flighty and impulsive to the casual observer, but once she gets a notion into her head, there's no stopping her. She's so organized, it makes me regret she's not a cop. I could use someone down here who pays that much attention to details and paperwork.”

“I think that particular ship has sailed, pal. In fact, it sounds as if your own days as a cop are numbered.”

“Could be.”

“And?”

“I'm actually getting used to the idea. I've been at this thirty years. Maybe that's long enough. That doesn't mean I don't need a little mental stimulation, and you're the one I'm counting on to supply it. Because if I don't find a way to hide out with you, I'm going to be spending every weekend from now until she gets this place open painting and plastering and fixing a roof. And if that's what I'm doing, guess who's going to be working right beside me,” he said ominously.

“I actually like to paint,” Walker said. “It's good, mindless work that allows me to think about whatever case I'm working on. Many a case has been solved while I have a paintbrush in hand.”

“Not me,” Andy said fervently. “The fumes cloud my brain. But you have my permission to spend all the time you want with my wife helping her out with her little
project. I suspect you might have trouble convincing Tucker that you're working on his case for him at the same time, though.”

Walker laughed. “I imagine you're right about that. See you this weekend.”

“I'd like to say I'm looking forward to it, but I can't,” Andy said. “In the meantime, if I get anything on these prints, I'll let you know.”

“You know, Andy, maybe you should stop fighting this. You're the one who said it—Trinity Harbor is not a bad place to be,” Walker reminded him.

“You're honestly not bored yet?”

Walker thought not of his current case, but of Daisy. “No,” he admitted. “Granted I haven't been here full-time that long, but I'm definitely not bored.”

In fact, the most positive aspect of this smuggling investigation was that it had given him such a reasonable excuse to delay moving Tommy out of Daisy's house. Granted she had managed to make sure that she and Walker seldom crossed paths, but one of these nights, soon, he was going to fix that. The anticipation of their next intimate encounter kept him going. Whatever was going on between them wasn't over, not by a long shot.

In fact, in recent days he had concluded that delayed gratification had its benefits. He'd never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Daisy. He'd never had one get under his skin and into his head the way she had.

Walking into the house after she'd just taken off, he was greeted by the scent of her perfume. The still-steamy bathroom filled his mind with amazingly erotic images of her soaking in the tub, bubbles up to her chin, foaming over the tips of her breasts.

The signs of her presence were everywhere, overshadowing Tommy's careless scattering of schoolbooks, jackets and toys. Walker had discovered that Daisy's neat-as-a-pin image—the only one she had allowed him to see up till now—was a fraud.

Now that he was dropping in whenever he could catch a quick break, it turned out that she was the one who left a trail of provocative silk in her wake, a kicked-off pair of heels inside the front door, an open jar of lavender-scented hand lotion on the kitchen counter. The house was a minefield of sensual images that made getting to sleep back at the hotel all but impossible.

If his days were restless and uncomfortable, the nights were worse. The air had turned balmy, heavy with humidity and the hum of crickets and the mournful sound of doves. Being on the calm, moonlit water was just a little too romantic. It made him wish he were out there with Daisy, gazing at the stars, talking about anything and everything, maybe making love on deck.

The fantasy made his body hard, but the cold reality was that he was out there all alone in a borrowed boat with only a pair of night-vision binoculars and his gun for company.

And at the rate things were going, he didn't see that changing anytime soon.

“I
thought you were going to get that man out of your house,” Evan said, practically quivering with indignation as he faced Daisy across his desk. “Look at this, just look.”

In his hand was an inch-thick stack of letters and pink message slips. “I spend all my time lately talking to parents.”

“Isn't that your job?” Daisy asked flippantly.

The principal scowled. “This is not a joking matter. Your career is on the line. Don't you get that yet? I have tried to protect you.”

“Oh, really?”

“I did. When the president of the school board called me, I told him we had talked and that you understood that this behavior would not be tolerated.”

Up until now Daisy had managed to keep a tight rein on her temper, but she was rapidly losing her grip on it.

“What behavior would that be?” she demanded, concluding that it would be a waste of her breath to explain that Walker was not actually living with her. “We're not back to S-E-X, are we?”

Evan's cheeks flamed. “I warned you—”

“I know, that this is not a joking matter. Trust me, I am
taking it very seriously. In fact, I am thinking of suing the lot of you for slander.” She stood up, then leaned down until she was in his face. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a final exam to give.”

“You can't walk out on me,” he protested. “We're having a conversation.”

“Not anymore.”

By the time she reached her classroom, her fury had subsided, only to be replaced by a sense of inevitability. She gazed around at the displays she and her students had worked so hard to create about the American Revolution and the Civil War, at the exam questions she had written earlier on the blackboard. The smell of dusty chalk assailed her, filling her with an odd sense of nostalgia. The bell rang, followed by the explosion of students into the corridors, shouting as they raced for their next classes or to their lockers for a forgotten paper.

She could lose all of this, she thought, because of the small-mindedness of people she'd considered her friends, people who didn't know all the facts and chose to believe the worst.

But even if it had been true, even if she and Walker were having a torrid, passionate fling, what possible difference could it make as to whether she was qualified to do her job? She would fight any attempt to oust her, she decided, fight for her right to a personal life, fight for the happiness she'd experienced these past few weeks, even if it was only meant to be fleeting.

One day, when the drug case was solved, Walker would take Tommy away from her. They would become their own little family with her as a friendly outsider, someone who'd once done them a kindness. She would be alone
again, but she wouldn't trade the time until then for anything, not even for the job she loved.

Given her mood, the last thing she wanted to do that night was entertain, but she had invited the Finches over. It had taken several weeks to work out a date, but she had been determined to get to know Tommy's friend and his parents better.

When the three of them arrived right on the dot of six, she plastered a smile on her face and went to greet them. Tommy already had the front door open.

“Come on, Gary. We can work on the boat.” He glanced at Daisy. “Dinner's not going to be ready for a long time, right?”

“A half hour,” Daisy said. “And try not to get too filthy, please.” She turned back to greet Paul and his wife. “I'm so glad you could come. I should have had you over long before now since Tommy and Gary are such good friends.”

Maribeth Finch looked vaguely uncomfortable. In fact, Daisy thought she might be ill. Her complexion was pale, her eyes a little too bright.

“We don't have a lot of time for socializing,” Paul said, his voice oddly tight.

“Then I'm doubly glad you could come tonight. Let me get you something to drink.”

Though she'd had a lot of experience entertaining King's friends over the years, nothing had prepared her for the stiffness of Maribeth's responses and Paul's gruff demeanor. She was relieved when he wandered outside to take a look at the boat the boys were working on.

Daisy smiled at Maribeth. “How do you like living in Trinity Harbor so far? I hope you've had a chance to make some friends.”

“Not really,” Maribeth said. “There's just so much to do after a move.”

“I'm sure as a military wife, you've had more than your share of experience with that,” Daisy said. “It will probably be good to stay in one place.”

“Yes, I'm sure it will be,” she said, though she sounded as if she weren't a bit certain of that.

Something was off here, Daisy concluded. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it went beyond her inability to spark the right conversational note. Maribeth seemed nervous, and Paul wasn't at all the friendly, outgoing man who'd greeted her that night at the marina when he had inadvertently taken Tommy fishing without her permission. Even under those tense circumstances, he had been more pleasant than he was as a guest in her home.

Dinner didn't go any more smoothly. Other than Daisy and the boys, no one made any attempt at small talk. When Maribeth pleaded a headache right after dessert, Daisy wasn't the least bit surprised. And only Gary looked dismayed.

“Can Gary spend the night?” Tommy asked.

Gary shot a hopeful look toward his father, but Paul was already shaking his head. “Not tonight.”

Before Tommy could protest, Daisy rested a hand on his shoulder to silence him. “Another time, then.”

As soon as they'd gone, Tommy looked up at her, his expression puzzled. “How come everybody was acting so weird tonight?”

“I wish I knew,” she said. Her instincts told her something was very wrong within the Finch family, and while it might be none of her business, if Gary continued to be Tommy's best friend, she would keep a close eye on their
activities. She was glad they were working on the boat over here—the thought of Tommy going over to the Finches to play with Gary made her feel decidedly uneasy.

 

King was hot and sweaty and foul-tempered. He'd just lost one of his best bulls. Seemed like nothing was going the way he'd intended lately. And finding Anna-Louise and Frances on his doorstep was not designed to reassure him that the day was going to get any better before sundown.

“What do you two want?” he growled, leading the way inside and heading straight for his office. He wanted a drink and, by golly, he intended to have one, whether the two of them were offended or not. He poured a splash of whiskey into a glass, then downed it, before looking at them. Truth be told, the two women looked more worried than offended. “Oh, sit down, why don't you? I'm not turning into a drunk yet.”

“Never thought you were,” Frances said. “Would you mind if I went into the kitchen and made some iced tea? It was hot as blazes waiting on your front porch.”

He waved her off, then frowned at Anna-Louise. “Something's on your mind, I imagine.”

She grinned at him. “What was your first clue?”

“You know, for a woman of the cloth, you have a mighty sassy mouth.”

She laughed at that. “I pride myself on it.”

“Thought pride was a sin.”

“I try not to indulge too often. Can you say the same?”

“Woman, if there's something on your mind, just get to it. I'm soaking wet and filthy and I need a shower. Plus, it's already past dinnertime and my stomach's rumbling. I'm in no mood for word games.”

“As soon as Frances gets back, we'll be brief.”

“Can't talk unless there's two of you ganging up on me? Must be something you know I'm not going to like.”

“You aren't,” she agreed.

“Then spit it out. Don't keep me in suspense.”

“Okay, then. Have it your way. The school board's going after Daisy's job.”

King stared at her as if she'd suddenly started speaking in tongues. “You explain to me how the devil they think they can get away with that.”

“Despite your influence, they do have the power to hire and fire.”

“On what grounds?”

“Exactly what you feared. They say she is setting a poor example,” Anna-Louise said, watching him closely.

King frowned at her scrutiny. “And you think I might agree with 'em about that, don't you? That's what you and Frances are over here all worked up about. You want to know if I'm going to back my own daughter or join the idiots who want to tar and feather her, is that it?”

“You have been pretty vocal about your objections to her inviting Walker into her home and about Tommy staying on there,” Frances said as she returned with a pitcher of iced tea and three glasses. She poured the beverage and pointedly sat a glass in front of King, then removed the whiskey glass.

“I was vocal because this is exactly what I thought might happen. If I told her once, I told her a thousand times that she was courting disaster.”

“And now you get to say you told her so,” Frances said. “That's definitely the kind of help she needs.”

“Oh, blast it all, woman, I don't intend to tell her that—
or them, either. Do either of you know Dave Higgins's phone number? By the time I'm through with him, the school board will think again about messing with King Spencer's daughter.”

Frances handed him a slip of paper, a smug smile firmly in place. “I told you he'd take care of this,” she said to Anna-Louise.

King frowned at the pastor. “You doubted it?”

“You can be a stubborn cuss,” she pointed out. “I wasn't entirely sure you weren't behind it.”

“Don't think too much of me, do you?”

“You have your good points,” she said politely, then added, “and your bad ones.”

“Not when it comes to family,” he said fiercely. “Spencers stick together, and that's that. No matter what I might think of Walker myself, I wouldn't set out to hurt Daisy. She's my own flesh and blood, for goodness' sakes.”

He snatched up the phone and dialed the school board president, who also owned the local John Deere Machinery dealership. King spent a lot of money with the man and brought other customers his way as well. He could just as easily take that business elsewhere, and Higgins knew it. He could tell it the second he heard the false joviality in the man's voice.

“Let's cut to the chase,” King told him. “You take on my daughter, you take on me. Daisy doesn't need that job of yours, not half as much as you need her. She's the best teacher in the district, and you know it.”

“Of course she is,” Dave said. “If it were just about her teaching—”

King interrupted him. “Would you mind telling me what it is about if not her teaching?”

The question drew silence, just as he'd anticipated. The man was not about to start leveling charges about Daisy's morality, not to her father.

“I thought you might see it my way,” King said with a huff. “Do I have your word that this ends here and now?”

“I can't promise you that,” Dave said. “The board—”

“Does what you tell 'em to do.”

“Not on this,” he said with what could have been real regret. “You know I admire Daisy, King, but she's been flaunting her relationship with this man all over town. People are up in arms.”

“What people, I'd like to know? One or two people who've always had it in for the Spencers, I imagine.”

“I'm not about to name names, but enough have come to me and the others that the board has to ask questions. Frankly, I'm amazed that Social Services hasn't taken that child away from her. You using your influence with Frances to stop that?”

King sputtered, filled with indignation, then got control of his temper. It wouldn't help the situation. “You ask your questions,” he said slowly and evenly. “Then I've got a few of my own that I intend to ask. We'll start with your affair with that woman over in Kinsale.”

“I never…” Dave said.

He sounded shaken, which was exactly the way King wanted him. “You were over there every Saturday night, weren't you? Till all hours?” He went on. “And there's the time Maureen went off to Atlanta with that fellow from Richmond.”

“That was her cousin,” the man said, on the defensive all of a sudden now that the tables had been turned. “King, you know that.”

“Do I? Appearances can be mighty deceiving, can't they? Think about that before you start slinging mud on my daughter's reputation, okay? Think long and hard about it.” He slammed the phone down with satisfaction. “That ought to do it.”

He caught Frances and Anna-Louise exchanging a look. “What?” he asked.

“Was Dave Higgins really having an affair?” Frances asked, her expression shocked.

King chuckled. “Who would have him? Even his own wife took off.”

“But you said—”

“I said that things could look a certain way without being true. Now will you two go on and get out of here? I have things to do.”

“What things?” Anna-Louise asked suspiciously.

“I'm going to go hire me a moving van and get that boy out of that house before there's a ruckus I can't solve.”

“Daisy's going to object,” Anna-Louise warned.

“You think I don't know that? That's how this mess came to be in the first place. This time I'm not asking or suggesting. I'm going to make it happen.”

“With Walker on these nighttime stakeouts, Tommy can't be left alone,” Frances warned. “I'd have to step in.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake, I'm not going to put him on the street,” King snapped. “I'll move him and Walker in here.” He shook his head. “Never thought I'd see the day I'd have a damn Yankee sleeping under this roof.”

Frances suddenly began to chuckle and couldn't stop. “Oh, King,” she murmured between guffaws.