Dead Air (9 page)

“The letter said Back Off?” He fought to concentrate on his driving.

“Yep. They left it under my wiper. And slashed all my tires. That’s a message I’m on the right track.” She gripped the strap of her purse. “And I intend to find out what someone’s trying to stop me from learning.”

She would put herself in danger. What had the sheriff been thinking, goading her like that? And had Clark contributed by going on air with her and pledging his support to Robert? Surely Gabby understood the difference between encouraging people to
turn evidence over to the police and actively seeking out a killer. Clark cleared his throat as he turned onto Sea Swept. “Maybe you should let the police handle the investigation, Gabby.”

She jerked to face him. “Are you kidding me? Sheriff McGruder doesn’t even think this is connected. The jerk.”

“Well, he might have a point.” Clark wanted to swallow back his reply as soon as he saw her expression.

“What?” Gabby shook her head. “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. What kind of man
are
you?”

Ice ran through Clark’s blood as he whipped into the apartment complex. “Which way?” He held the steering wheel in a death grip.

She nodded toward the back of the complex. “If you believe that note has nothing to do with Howard’s murder and my looking into it, then you really
are
a dumb Yankee.”

“Guess everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.” Clark brought the car to a halt and hit the button to unlock the doors.

She opened the door, her eyes narrowing. “I suppose so. Thanks for the ride home.”

“Would you like me to take you to the station tomorrow to pick up your report?”

“No.” She stood on the pavement of the parking lot. Her arms trembled as she got her footing. “I’ll find my own way, thank you very much.” She slammed the door before he could say anything more.

Although he could pinch her head off right now, he waited until she’d climbed the outer stairs to the second-story landing and moved from his line of sight before he spun out of the parking lot.

As soon as he got home, though, and saw his broken patio door, his mood changed. He was worried about Gabby’s safety, that’s why he’d wanted her to step back from investigating, but
Gabby didn’t see it like that. She’d promised to help her friend and to her way of thinking, that meant doing everything in her power to clear Robert’s name. Normally, he’d admire such loyalty…if he wasn’t so worried about her putting herself in danger. And how had Gabby felt? He’d backed her before in her support of Robert. She must feel he’d abandoned her now. No wonder she’d lashed out.

He could feel guilt rising inside him. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Shouldn’t have let his own feelings lead his words. He’d have to figure out a way to apologize to her.

Properly.

B
uzz!

Gabby rolled over and batted her hand around the nightstand. She made contact with the alarm clock, hit it again for good measure, then buried herself back under the covers.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

She bolted upright, knocking the pillow to the floor. Gabby teased her fingers through her hair, her mind staggering to shove aside the cobwebs of sleep, the dreams of intense hazel eyes with amazing gold flecks mingling with the memories of Blake’s deception. She shook her head. Hadn’t she just silenced the alarm? She cut her eyes to the clock—ten o’clock, and yep, it was most assuredly off.

Buzzzzzzzzzz!

Oh, good gravy, it was the doorbell. If it was the rental car representative again, she’d scream. It’d taken the better part of two hours to file her insurance claim and arrange to have a rental delivered this morning. But she’d stressed they were to drop off the car and leave the keys under the floor mat. If they were waking her up to give her the keys…

Gabby shoved off the bed, and immediately fell to her knees. The soft down comforter twisted around her legs. “Hang on, I’m
coming.” After untangling herself, she tottered to the living room and peered through the peephole.

A huge bouquet of white roses filled her line of vision. Surprise squeezed her chest. Flowers? She’d been woken for someone who didn’t even have the right apartment? Nothing like starting her day with such luck.

She flipped the dead bolt and whipped open the door, just as the delivery man’s finger punched toward the buzzer again. Gabby stiffened. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. Delivery for…a…” He stared at the white envelope hanging from the vase. “A Ms. Gabby Rogillio.” His eyes darted back to hers. “That you?”

“Y-yes.” That squeeze tightened a notch as she held out her hands for the vase. She almost lost her grip as she took it, the weight unexpectedly heavy. “Thank you.”

Kicking the door closed behind her, Gabby carried the arrangement to the glass dinette table and set the vase in the middle. She leaned over and inhaled deeply, the back of the padded chair digging into her abdomen. Sweetness infiltrated her senses, and she smiled. Her fingers caressed a single silky petal as she mentally counted the buds. Twenty-three…twenty-four. Two dozen Confederate roses. Wow.

She carefully pried the card from the envelope, her heart colliding with her stomach.

Her heart did a somersault while she pressed her lips together, her gaze drifting from the roses to the card. The man knew how to make a statement, she’d give him that much. She took another deep breath over the flowers. The subtle fragrance tickled her nose. Not too shabby for a Yankee.

With a trembling hand, she laid the card on the table and leaned her shoulder against the doorway, staring at the flowers. They were beautiful. Very beautiful. It was thoughtful of him to have sent them. When was the last time she’d gotten flowers, roses nonetheless, from a man? Her high school prom? Her sorority days? She couldn’t even remember. Certainly not ever from Blake.

She might just have gone off half-cocked on Clark this morning. When had her life gotten so complicated?

Brring!

Gabby jumped at the phone’s ring. She grabbed the cordless from the kitchen. “Hello.”

“I thought you might be awake.” Imogene’s smooth voice slid across the phone line and over Gabby’s tormented mind.

“Hey. How’d you know?”

“Something just told me to call you. So is everything okay?” Immy’s voice cracked with concern. “Did you sleep okay? I’d have had nightmares if I’d received such a threatening letter.”

“No, I slept just fine.”

“So, what’s not right?”

Gabby smiled. How like her friend to be so in sync with the hearts of others.

“Aww, Immy. I think I may have made a harsh judgment against someone.” The confession, once it passed her lips, eased Gabby’s conscience just a tad. She slipped into one of the cushy dinette chairs and stared at the flowers.

“What’d you do?” No condemnation, no discrimination, just love and sympathy in Immy’s sweet voice.

She recounted the horrible way she’d snapped at Clark this morning. After ending with the delivery of the flowers, Gabby held her breath.

A long silence loomed. Then finally, Immy’s full chuckle
erupted. “Oh my stars, Gabby, that man’s sure got your feathers ruffled, doesn’t he?”

“This isn’t funny,” Gabby said, but the corners of her mouth tickled as she fought to keep the smile out of her voice.

Immy’s laughter screeched to a halt. “No, it’s not. You owe him an apology.”

“What?” Sure, she might have acted hastily in word and deed, but apologize? Gabby touched the edge of a rose petal. The smoothness caressed her back.

“You were rude to him, unfounded I might add, and he’s made this big gesture toward you. You owe him an apology.”

“I’m not so sure about that. He bought my house, Immy. My house.” Gabby took a sip of her café au lait, then set the mug on the table. Her gaze locked on the card lying on the table, and the coffee soured in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, Gab, I’m so sorry, hon. But there’s no way he could’ve known.”

“But Immy…” She knew she whined, but couldn’t stop the overflow of emotions.

“Come on, Gab, it isn’t his fault Howard was murdered and Robert arrested. He had his car vandalized and his house broken into.” A heavy pause hovered through the connection. “Sweetie, he’s not Blake Riggsdale, you know.”

“So you keep reminding me. But I think he
is
keeping things from me, like Blake did.” Gabby ran a finger around the lip of the mug. The pain of Blake’s actions still hurt, even though it’d been years since he’d used her.

“He’s only known you a couple of days,” Immy said. “Give him time to open up. And such a big gesture with the roses. Great day in the morning, Gabby, are you blind? The man’s totally smitten with you, and you’re giving him the brush-off. You’re acting like a silly little nitwit.”

“Yeah, the roses were a nice touch. But I can’t help wondering why.”

“No man can know the heart of another, Gabby. Only God can. And He’s also the only one in a position to sit and pass judgment.” She let out a loud sigh.

Now Gabby’s stomach really roiled. The bile of self-condemnation inched up the back of her throat. She pressed her lips together tightly, then swallowed. A lump stuck in her craw. Her gaze focused on the roses again.

Immy’s voice softened. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty or bad, but to make you see what you’re doing. You don’t know why Mr. McKay’s sending you flowers. But you can’t just assume to know. That’s not your place.”

“I know,” Gabby squeaked out. Her heart jumped. “You’re right. I need to call him and apologize.”

“That’s my girl.” Immy chuckled. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. God knows you’re under enough stress and you’re just trying to help Robert. You just need to make sure you don’t hurt other people in your crusade.” A long pause followed. Then, “And that he bought your house, however unwittingly, probably added to your annoyance with him.”

Boy, had she ever hit the nail on the head with that one. “Thanks, Immy.”

“No worries. I’ve got to run. I need to go check on Mr. Tobias. His Alzheimer’s is getting worse.”

“Oh my. I’ll say a prayer for him.”

“Thanks.”

Gabby stared at the dead phone in her hand. She should call Clark, her heart reverberated Immy’s words.

No, she needed to do more than that. She had to go to Clark to talk. This apology deserved to be made in person.

Had she received the flowers yet? Clark opened another spreadsheet on his laptop.

Uneasiness nestled tight in his chest. Gabby seemed positive of Robert’s innocence and if she was going to put herself in danger by investigating, he was going to help. How else could he protect her? Besides, having been a journalist for years, Clark agreed something didn’t seem right. Oh, he believed the Ellison marriage was in trouble—that much he’d detected. Poor Robert. He was a deacon in the church—a divorce wouldn’t sit well with the elders, especially in a small town. But a murderer? No, Clark was with Gabby on this one—he couldn’t believe Mr. Ellison was a cold-blooded killer.

A knock rapped on his front door, startling him. He hadn’t had a single visitor aside from Aunt Beulah. Who’d be coming now?

Clark shoved to his feet and swung the door wide-open. His heart fell to his toes.

Gabby stood on the threshold, looking better and fresher than any woman had a right to. “Hi, Clark.”

“Hi.”

“I wanted to thank you for the roses. They’re lovely.”

An in-person thank-you. That had to be good news, right? “You’re most welcome. Would you like to come in?”

“Um.” She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I need to apologize to you, as well.”

“Whatever for?”

“I was rude. I’m sorry.”

Her honesty was his undoing. “Then we’re both forgiven?”

“I guess we are.”

“Would you like a tour of the house?”

Darkness passed over her expressions. “I can’t.” Were those tears forming in her eyes?

Maybe she knew the previous owners and was sad they were gone. The reason didn’t matter. He needed to get back on the even footing from a moment ago. “Let’s prove there are no hard feelings between us. Bury the hatchet once and for all.”

“How’s that?” Her eyes widened, suspicion dancing in their depths.

“Have dinner with me. Tonight.”

“Supper. Your Yankee tendencies are showing.”

“Excuse me?” Would his place of birth and raising always be a punch line to her?

“In the South, we refer to the night meal as supper, not dinner.”

“Supper, then.”

“I work the nightshift at the station, remember? I go on at ten.”

He chuckled. “I’m not likely to forget. Could we maybe eat before you have to go to work?”

“I—I guess so. Do you want to meet at Ms. Minnie’s?”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Sam’s Steakhouse.”

Her lips pursed as she debated. Finally, she let out a breath. “What time would you like to meet?”

“Why don’t I pick you up at eight? I’ll make reservations.”

Gabby grinned. “You don’t need reservations at Sam’s on a Tuesday.”

“Oh. Is eight good for you?”

“Sounds fine.” She moved toward the door.

“I’ll pick you up then.”

Her voice cracked. “Uh, Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you again for the flowers.”

Gabby pulled the rental car into the VanDoren Bed & Breakfast parking lot and killed the engine. She stared through the
windshield at the valets milling around their outpost, not really sure what she was doing. Why’d she come here?

Because Rayne was her most fashionable friend and, in spite of herself, she really wanted to look nice for Clark.

She headed to the front entrance. People moved about the grand foyer area. Lots of people. Way too many for this time of year. Was Rayne hosting some kind of event? Guilt that she’d been so wrapped up in her own issues and emotions lately that she hadn’t even thought to inquire about her friends’ lives pushed her toward the front desk.

“Hi, Gabby. Here to see Ms. VanDoren?” the young girl behind the counter asked.

Gabby couldn’t even remember her name. “Yes. Is she in?”

“Go on back.”

She headed down the hall and paused outside of Rayne’s office. The door sat ajar, and she could detect Rayne’s I’m-not-pleased-with-you tone in her voice.

Gabby ducked her head inside. Rayne sat at her desk, looking like a dark-blonde Barbie doll propped in a massive leather chair behind an oversize desk. The phone stuck against her ear, Rayne spied Gabby and waved her in. Gabby dropped into one of the three Queen Anne chairs facing the desk as Rayne wrapped up her call.

Rayne hung up the phone and studied Gabby’s face. “So, what brings you by?”

She couldn’t even voice her concerns. “Nothing. Just wanted to drop by and see how you were. How the B and B is doing.”

Rayne’s smile lit up the dark-paneled room. The office didn’t suit her—it was too dark, too masculine. No wonder, her father had designed it for himself. “We’re holding our own. Right now, we’ve only got two vacancies.” Her excitement showed in her eyes.

“That’s great.” She hoped Rayne hadn’t picked up on the cracking of her voice.

Rayne studied her a bit more intently. “But that’s not the real reason you came by. What’s up?”

Busted. “Uh, I was wondering if you could suggest something for me to wear tonight.”

“Tonight? Where to?” Rayne’s eyebrow shot up.

“Clark’s taking me to Sam’s Steakhouse for supper.”

“Oh my. I didn’t know.”

“He just asked me today.”

Rayne moved to sit on the edge of the desk, her legs dangling in front of Gabby’s. “Today? Do tell.”

Gabby explained about the letter, the slit tires and Clark being a rock during the stressful time. “He sent me flowers.” She smiled, and heat fanned her face.

“Flowers? Really.” Rayne crossed her arms over her chest. “What kind of flowers?”

Gabby swallowed. “White Confederate roses.”

“Oh, I see.”

“It’s just supper.”

Rayne laughed. “Sure it is. And white roses, excuse me, white Confederate roses, too.”

“Okay, okay. It’s a date. A real-live-I’ll-pick-you-up date.” Gabby snorted. “Happy now?”

“Happy for you.” Rayne moved to peer out the floor-to-ceiling window. “Let’s see, Sam’s Steakhouse. Hmm.”

“It’s just a restaurant, you know.”

“How about that black dress you wore to the Cotillion?” Rayne faced her.

Gabby shook her head. “Lost three buttons and haven’t had a chance to get replacements.”

“The red dress with the gold piping?”

“Long sleeves. I wore it at Christmas, remember?”

“That’s right.” Rayne paused for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “The purple sundress?”

Possibly. “You don’t think it’s too casual?”

“For a spring supper? Nah. It’s just a restaurant, you know.”