Dead Air (5 page)

And just maybe, if she made a good enough impression, her job wouldn’t be in jeopardy. If she kept her position, she was almost guaranteed to become syndicated. If that happened, she could afford the down payment and mortgage on her dream home. It wouldn’t fix what had happened to Howard or Robert, but at least her life would make sense again.

“So you’ll be coming into the station in the morning?”

“Yes. I want to meet with Mr. Masters to discuss some changes.”

Personnel changes? Her heart tightened. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”

His smile did strange things to her. “I do have some ideas I want to run by you, but not on your time off.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I appreciate it, but I have a firm policy to not invade on employees’ personal time.”

Yet, he’d asked her out to lunch. As an employee? For all she knew, he intended to take everyone out to lunch one-on-one to get to know them better. The thought should’ve reassured her. Sadly, disappointment wormed into her heart.

Gabby took a final sip of her tea, then pushed to her feet. “I really enjoyed lunch, Mr. McKay, but I need to be heading back. I’m expecting company soon.”

He stood.

She held up her hand. “No need. I know my way.” She forced a smile. “Thank you again. It was a pleasure.”

Before he could reply, Gabby spun and marched out of the diner. Her stride quickened as she headed for the church. She trembled. Everything was happening so quickly. The attack. Howard dying. Finding out KLUV had a new owner. Changes.

She turned right on Shannon Street, spying the church’s steeple. The tower cut through the skyline. Seemed fitting, somehow—a very visual reminder every day that God lived with people, not merely an omnipresence in some lofty position who didn’t care about His children.

Gabby reached her car and started the engine. She took a deep breath. Driving past
her
house would calm her nerves—it always did. She drove toward the residential section of Mystique. Not quite in the city limits, but close enough to be in the town’s hub within minutes. A perfect place to have a house. Not only had she been saving her pennies to put down on the place, but she’d been unable to resist some household items she’d found on sale she knew would look beautiful in her home. Excitement built in her chest. As long as she kept her income, she could realistically move into her house in less than six months. Sooner, if her show was syndicated.

If Mr. McKay didn’t replace her.

She hung a right on Bridges Street. Gabby perked up in her seat as the house crept into sight. Someone had cut the grass. Strange, since the yard hadn’t been mowed in months. Maybe the Realtor had finally gotten around to having it done.

Gabby swallowed a deep breath, her gaze drifting over the top floor of the house. Perfect. As always, the house was perfect. Her scrutiny shifted to the driveway.

She slammed on her brakes. Right in the middle of the street.

The shingle swinging from the bottom of the For Sale sign swayed in the Gulf breeze. The shingle which said, in big, red letters Sold.

She’d barely heard the cell ring. She scrambled to flip it open. “Hello.”

“Have you heard the news?” Eric asked.

“What news? I’m not home yet from church and lunch. What’re you talking about?”

“Robert.”

“He’s awake? That’s awesome.”

“No, he’s still unconscious. And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay that way. If he wakes up, he’ll be arrested.”

Arrested? She slumped back in her seat. “Whatever for?” Eric had to be wrong. Maybe he’d been listening to Lion Boy’s far-fetched alien-abduction theories a little too long, making him daft in the head.

“For Howard’s murder.”

“T
he sheriff wants to arrest Robert for murder?” That didn’t make any sense. “Why would Robert kill Howard? That’s just stupid. He was injured in the attack. Knocked unconscious, remember?”

Eric sighed, long and loud. “According to Sheriff McGruder, Robert and Howard fought in public before the murder. The gun that was beside Robert? It’s the one that killed Howard. And Robert’s prints are on it.”

“Has the sheriff gone dotty?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Hard. This was bad, way bad. Almost as bad as her house having been sold out from under her.

Eric gave a little cough. “You know Howard used to be partial owner of the station, right? Well, the sheriff says Robert bought Howard out a few months ago. I didn’t know that. Did you?”

“Y-yeah,” Gabby stammered. “I heard something about it at Minnie’s a while back.”

“This is why I never know what’s going on. I don’t spend enough time at Minnie’s.”

“This isn’t the time for joking, Eric. What does Robert buying out Howard have to do with anything?”

“Apparently, Howard got upset that Robert was going to sell the station to Mr. McKay. They argued about it. That gives Robert motive.”

No. The police had to be wrong. “This is absurd.”

“I don’t know, Gabby. All I know is they are ready to arrest him as soon as Robert wakes up, which the doctors say is anytime now, and the sheriff will haul him off to the county courthouse.”

What was happening to Mystique? She chewed her bottom lip, questions racing through her mind faster than a hurricane in September. “Have you talked to Amber?”

His sharp intake of breath all but hissed against her eardrum. “No. I called first to let you know.”

“I appreciate that, Eric. I’ll call her.”

“Sure thing.” He cleared his throat. “I caught Mr. McKay on your show Friday night. Did you know he’d bought the station before he announced it when Howard was murdered?”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I knew Robert was talking about selling, but I didn’t know he’d already signed the paperwork.”

“Me, either. Well, I need to run.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Gabby hung up the phone and stared into space, but didn’t focus on anything. How horrible. Robert arrested. Amber would surely be a basket case. Gabby dialed her friend Sheldon’s number.

The librarian answered on the first ring. “Hey, Gab. How was lunch with your boss?”

It seemed years ago. “Listen, Shel. The sheriff has decided to charge Robert with Howard’s murder.” Gabby’s mind could barely process what Eric had told her.

“Oh, no! Why?”

“Listen, I’ll catch you up to speed on the road. I think we should be with Amber. I’m sure she’s devastated.”

Devastated
was putting it mildly.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot. Rayne’s here and will come, too.”

“I’ll call the others.”

For the millionth time since Clark had returned home from Ms. Minnie’s, the image of a sultry dark-haired woman flitted across his mind.

Gabby Rogillio.

Clark slammed the brakes on his thoughts, bringing them to a skidding halt. He clenched his teeth till his jaw ached. This was ludicrous. He was a grown man, experienced in life—there wasn’t a single reason why he should feel so drawn to a stranger, a woman he hadn’t known existed mere days ago, especially after all his promises to keep his distance from people in Mystique, not get emotionally invested the way he had in Philly. Yet, drawn to her he most certainly was.

The intensity of the attraction was bewildering and…infuriating.

He stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window into the massive backyard. That so much property came with the house had been a major factor in his decision to buy the house. Now that spring had arrived and the temperatures were balmy, he could divide his time between working on the house and landscaping in the back. He’d spent the better part of yesterday morning mowing the front yard.

Clark couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy as he moved around in his new house. It was probably too big for him alone, but something about the old homestead whispered to him.

Calmness. Serenity. Peace.

Things he’d longed for, but that had eluded him.

Not really feeling like working, he plopped down on the couch in the living room and flipped on the television. Might as well get used to the local channels—he didn’t have any cable outlets nor did any satellite dish sit on his roof. He’d have to order that soon.

His finger hovered over the remote to change the channel when a newsbreak interrupted the home and garden show. The news grabbed his attention, holding his breath hostage.

Robert Ellison—accused of murder?

Clark stared at the television, his mind blocking out the rambling of the commercial. Mr. Ellison was now the leading suspect in the murder of Howard Alspeed.

The whole situation made Clark uneasy. Robert Ellison hadn’t struck him as someone who would commit murder. Especially not at the station. And how had he been knocked unconscious? It’d been obvious he’d hit his head on the stairs, but Clark had assumed the assailant shoved the man, rendering him unconscious, then made his getaway. Probably when Clark and Kevin met at the front door.

This felt wrong in a way that set all his news sensors on high alert. He’d wanted to figure out what was going on, and every instinct he had told him this didn’t fit. The sheriff was making a mistake.

But just how much would Clark have to commit to set things right?

As Gabby steered toward the Ellison home, she went through mental excuses. Maybe the sheriff was trying to throw off the real killer in order to trap him. For all that was holy, she prayed that was the case.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Immy asked.

“Eric said McGruder announced his intention to arrest Robert. From what we’ve heard, Robert’s prints were found on the gun that killed Howard.” She slapped the side of her palm against the steering wheel. “But Robert was a victim himself.”

“Just calm down, Gab. It’s going to be okay.” Immy’s voice was calm, steady.

Gabby inhaled deeply, willing the oxygen to soothe the anger roaring inside her, and repeated what Eric had told her. It just wasn’t fair. Robert Ellison was a good man, an honest man. A man she loved like a member of her family.

But so was Howard.

She took a right on Shannon Street, passing through the center of town. A gusty March breeze filtered in from the windows lowered about two inches, filling the truck with the promising scent of a spring shower in the very near future.

“I still don’t understand. How does McGruder explain Robert’s injuries?” Sheldon adjusted the seat belt.

“I haven’t a clue.” Gabby pressed the brakes as the traffic light turned red at the intersection of McArthur Lane. “Just the fact that Robert and Howard argued isn’t enough reason to make him a suspect. At least not to most people.” She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But there’s no explanation for how Robert’s prints got on the gun.”

Robert wouldn’t hurt a soul. Not the man who’d hired her right out of college and given her the chance to make a name for herself in the industry.

The Good News Fellowship Church sat on the corner of Shannon and McArthur, nestled among magnolia trees. Gabby stared at the open doors as she waited for the light to turn green. She should call Pastor Lum. He could minister to Amber Ellison. Who knew? Maybe this would be what led the woman back into the fold. Goodness knows Robert had tried hard enough over the years to get his wife to attend church with him.

“That light ain’t gonna get any greener, sistah,” Tonna said from the backseat, jarring Gabby from her thoughts. Tonna, a woman in constant motion, always thought everyone else should be busy as well. No wonder her hair salon, Tonna’s Tresses, was so successful. Then again, she was the only salon in town. Still,
Gabby chose to believe it wouldn’t matter if there were ten hairdressers inside Mystique’s city limits, Tonna’s would still be the choice spot.

She pressed the gas, heading into the residential area.

“I still say something’s not right with all this.” Imogene sliced the air with her hands as she talked. “Robert Ellison’s been a member of this community for as long as some of us can remember. There’s no way he would do such a thing.”

Rayne leaned forward, laying her hand on the center console. “Gabby, you know him better than any of us…could he have done this?”

She didn’t know what to believe. She knew what her heart told her—no way would Robert murder anyone, much less someone he considered family—but her mind kept going over the facts of the case. “I really don’t believe Robert capable of murder, no matter if he had motive or not.”

Conversation halted as Gabby turned into the driveway of the Ellison home. Decades-old magnolia trees lined the long and winding driveway. A wide flower bed trimmed the entire front of the antebellum house, full with greenery of the spring flowers about to burst into full bloom. The lawn appeared lush and well manicured. The hint of wisteria filtered in through the air conditioner. It made a perfect picture, if you didn’t know about the tragedy facing those who called it home.

Gabby put the gear in Park and released her seat belt, then let out a long sigh. “Okay, gang, let’s go reassure Amber.”

God, please let this all be a horrible mistake
.

The doorbell chimed the tune of “Dixie” when Gabby pushed the button. The door opened and Amber peered out, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Gabby instinctively patted the woman’s back. “Oh, Amber, I just heard. We’re so sorry.”

Amber sniffed, then moved to let the girls enter. She pushed
the door closed behind them and led them to the sitting room. Imogene wound an arm around Amber’s waist and walked with their hostess. Gabby followed, then took a seat on the Queen Anne wingback chair. She stared at Robert’s wife sitting on the couch beside Imogene. “Eric called and told me. I’m so sorry. What did the police say?”

More tears and sniffles erupted. Imogene patted Amber’s leg. “It’s okay. We understand.”

Amber smiled politely, but Gabby could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “Sheriff McGruder wants to arrest my Robert. Said Robert had murdered Howard.” Her voice cracked with sobs. She lifted her gaze to meet Gabby’s. “You know he wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Of course not.” At least she prayed it wasn’t so. “I don’t understand how the sheriff arrived at such a ridiculous conclusion.”

“Well,” Amber began, shredding the tissue she clutched, “Robert and Howard argued about the sale of the station. Howard didn’t want Robert to sell, but Robert wanted out. And just last week, KLUV lost two big advertisers, making Robert even more desperate.” She swallowed, audibly. “But that’s Martin Tankersly’s fault, not Robert’s.”

“Martin Tankersly?” Tonna asked from the other side of the room.

Gabby shifted through her mental filing cabinet again. “He owns KROK.” The rival radio station, the only other one in Mystique. He’d tried to woo Gabby to his station several times over the past years.

Amber’s head bobbed, her brown hair grazing her shoulders. “He undercut advertising prices. The sponsors who went to KROK were the biggest advertisers for Howard’s time slot. Sheriff McGruder said that’s even more motive for Robert to have killed Howard since he had another year on his contract.” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

Even though Gabby knew Amber was only forty-seven, with streaked makeup and puffy eyes, the woman looked well into her mid-fifties. Ordinarily, she was an attractive woman. Funny what grief and despair could do to a person. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have.” Amber dabbed her fading brown eyes with the strip of tissue left. “Robert didn’t want anyone to know.”

“So, the sheriff plans to arrest him?” Tonna inched to the edge of the designer couch.

Amber nodded. “As soon as he wakes up. They have a police guard watching him at the hospital That gun…his fingerprints on it…none of it makes sense to me. Robert’s innocent.”

“Of course he is,” Imogene crooned while patting Amber’s shoulder.

Gabby stood and paced.

Amber sobbed harder. Imogene patted her hair. “Don’t worry, Ms. Amber, God is with Robert.”

Lifting her tear-streaked face, Amber studied Immy. “Do you really believe that? Truly?”

“With all my heart.” Immy nodded serenely.

Amber’s gaze darted from one girl to the next, who each nodded in agreement. Then Amber stared at her lap. “I hope you’re right. All of you,” she whispered.