Dead By Midnight (17 page)

“There he is,” Derek said.

“Casey Lloyd,” Maleah called out to him.

A Pillsbury Doughboy–round man with puppy-dog brown eyes and fat, rosy cheeks threw up his hand and waved at Derek and Maleah.

“You missed the meeting,” he said as he approached them. “The New Hope group meets on Wednesday nights or you can come back next Saturday. But I’d be happy to talk to you now, if you need immediate help.”

“We’re here to speak to you, Mr. Lloyd,” Maleah told him. “We’re not interested in your SAA group.”

He glanced from one to the other, eyeing them speculatively. “What’s this about?”

“If you would prefer to talk in private—” Derek said.

“I’m good here.”

“Okay. That’s fine with us,” Maleah said. “I’m Maleah Perdue and this is Derek Lawrence.” She explained they worked for the Powell Agency and told him the bare facts about the recent murders. “By any chance you haven’t received any threatening letters, have you?”

“No, I haven’t, but I don’t actually have an address either. I…uh…don’t have a place of my own. I sleep most nights at one of the local church shelters, and during the week, I pick up whatever odd jobs I can find.”

“When was the last time you left Fayetteville?” Derek asked.

“Christmas,” he replied immediately. “My parents sent me a bus ticket and I went up to Bella Vista for the holidays with my family. And before you ask, yes, they’ve offered for me to come home and live with them, but…I’ve broken their hearts and disappointed them too often to risk it again. I take things one day at a time now, but I can’t promise my parents or my sisters that I’ll stay clean and sober and walk the straight and narrow from here on out.”

Apparently Casey Lloyd, like Duane Hines, didn’t have the financial means that would have enabled him to buy plane tickets and elaborate masquerade masks.

“Is there anyone you can think of from when
Midnight Masquerade
was filmed who would have a reason to want to see the actors in that movie dead?” Maleah asked.

“I have no idea. I really didn’t get to know the actors all that well. When I coauthored that piece-of-trash script, I was high half the time.”

“Were you sleeping with any of the actresses?”

“Laura Lou kept me on a pretty tight leash,” Casey said. “The lady was my coauthor, my keeper, my lover, and my drug supplier. She’d have cut off my balls if I’d slept with another woman.”

“Was Ms. Roberts a violent person?” Derek asked. “Would she be capable of cold-blooded murder?”

“That bitch?” Casey laughed. “She’d be capable, but she’s a little long in the tooth to do the job herself. She’d hire a hit man if she wanted anybody killed. But I can’t think of any reason she’d want to kill Dean or Hilary or Charlie. Travis Dillard is another matter. She’d love to see that old son of a bitch six feet under.”

“There was bad blood between Mr. Dillard and Ms. Roberts?” Maleah asked.

“They had a business deal—she wrote the scripts for his movies for a little of nothing and she got a percentage of the take. Then Dillard and his lawyers screwed Laura Lou out of God knows how much, but she kept writing for him because nobody else would hire her until a few years ago.”

“If Dillard was the victim, then Ms. Roberts might be our prime suspect,” Derek said. “But he’s very much alive, at least for now.”

“What do you mean at least for now?”

“Travis Dillard has terminal cancer,” Derek explained.

Casey grinned. “Maybe there is a little bit of justice in this old world after all.”

By late afternoon, the crowd outside Lorie’s house had dispersed, leaving behind cigarette butts, drink cans, and a variety of debris littering her yard and the road in front of her house. The flower beds on either side of her walkway had been trampled and the antique white wrought-iron settee in her backyard garden had been moved directly under a window, used by two peeping Tom reporters trying to see inside her house.

Mike had persuaded most of the townsfolk to leave, but it had taken a warning from Special Agent Wainwright to get rid of the press. At least temporarily.

“They’ll be back,” Wainwright had told her. “One at a time or in small groups. Your story is big-time news now that they know you’re one of the Midnight Killer’s potential victims.”

“The Midnight Killer?”

“That’s what the press is calling him, and it seems appropriate.”

“Then y’all are sure it’s a man?”

“Reasonably sure. Most serial killers are male.”

Most but not all,
Lorie thought. What if they were wrong? And what if, no matter what the FBI and the Powell Agency did, they couldn’t keep the killer from getting to her?

“Lorie? Lorie…” Mike called her name several times before she snapped out of her thoughts and looked at him.

“Sorry, I was…It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you certain that you want to go to Jack and Cathy’s homecoming party?” Mike asked. “It’s only a small gathering, but—”

“I am not going to allow the media or the good citizens of Dunmore to make me a prisoner in my own home. My best friend is returning from her honeymoon this evening and nothing is going to keep me from being there to welcome her and her husband home.”

“Then you’ll go with me,” Mike told her. “Ms. Gilbert, too, of course.”

“That’s not necessary,” Lorie said. “If you show up with me, people will talk.”

“Let them talk. If you’re escorted by the sheriff, you’ll be safer from the press and from anyone thinking about stalking you when you leave the house.” He grinned. “Remember, I have the authority to arrest people, and for most folks that alone is a deterrent.”

“Aren’t you planning to take your girlfriend to the party?” Lorie asked.

Mike hesitated, and then cleared his throat. “Abby can pick up the kids and meet us there.”

“What’s she like?”

“Abby?”

“Yes, Abby.” Not for the world would she tell Mike that his children had practically come out and told her that they didn’t like Abby Sherman, the woman he had been dating on a fairly regular basis for several months.

“She’s a really nice person. In many ways, she reminds me of Molly.”

Molly, the woman who had taken her place in his heart and in his life. Molly, who had given him two beautiful children. Molly, who, in death, had been elevated to sainthood, at least in Mike’s eyes. If Abby Sherman reminded him of his late wife, then she had to be damn near perfect.

“I look forward to meeting her,” Lorie said.

Mike stared at her, a puzzled look in his dark blue eyes.

“If she makes you happy, I’m glad.”

“What about you, Lorie, are you happy?” he asked, then quickly amended his question. “Were you happy before this mess with the threatening letters and—?”

“I was content,” she told him. “It took me a long time to reach that point.”

“I’d like to see you happy. I hate what happened today. I hate that people can be so cruel and unforgiving. In the past, I was one of those people. I wanted to hurt you the way you had hurt me.”

“You did.”

“I know.”

“Mike?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ever settle for anything less than the real thing,” she told him. “Don’t convince yourself you should marry Abby Sherman or any other woman because she’d make a good wife and mother or because she reminds you of Molly. When you get married again be sure it’s for the right reason.”

“For love?” He grunted. “I’ve been in love twice in my life and I lost both of those women. I think the next time around, I’ll gladly settle for something safer. Friendship, loyalty, fidelity, mutual respect.”

The doorbell rang and a loud rapping on the front door followed immediately.

“Stay here,” Mike told her.

Shelley came into the room from where she had been in the kitchen making a private phone call to Powell headquarters. While Mike headed for the front door, Shelley walked over and stood by Lorie.

Mike eased open the door. A uniformed deputy stood on the porch. Lorie sighed with relief. But her relief was short-lived.

“Sorry to bother you, Mike, but I knew you’d want to see this.” He lifted his right hand and held up a single piece of paper. “Somebody has circulated these all over Dunmore. They’re plastered to walls and telephone poles and even street signs.”

Several choice profanities shot out of Mike’s mouth in rapid succession.

“What is it?” Lorie asked, her pulse racing, her gut instinct telling her that whatever it was, it was bad news.

Mike turned and held up the paper so that she could see it. Oh, God, she’d been right. It was bad news. The single sheet was a printer copy of her
Playboy
centerfold. Lorie Hammonds, naked, smiling, posing seductively.

When he had phoned Abby and explained the situation, she had been far more understanding than he’d thought she would be.

“I’ll be more than happy to pick up the children and bring them with me to Jack and Cathy’s party,” Abby had told him. “I think it’s very brave of Ms. Hammonds to actually show up tonight. It’s terrible the way people are talking about her, calling her all those awful names. Even though what they’re saying about her is true.”

He told himself that Abby’s last comment hadn’t been a catty remark about a woman she saw as a rival. If she were any other woman…But she wasn’t. She was Abby. She didn’t have a mean or hateful bone in her body; if anything she was too nice.

Mike knew he could have gotten one of his deputies to escort Lorie and Shelley to the party. Several of the deputies were Jack’s buddies and would be there anyway. What had started out as a small get-together for a dozen or so people had wound up a big celebration with a guest list totaling more than forty.

Standing on Lorie’s porch, showered, shaved, and wearing his best khaki pants and blue button-down, Mike hesitated before ringing the doorbell. Although both he and Lorie knew the real reason he was here to pick her up this evening, the whole thing seemed too much like a date to suit him. Memories from their teen years played in his mind like an old newsreel. Images of Lorie at sixteen when he had taken her to the junior/senior prom. Flashes of other dates over the years, a smiling Lorie eagerly welcoming him.

Steeling his nerves, he rang the doorbell.

Shelley Gilbert opened the door. “Come on in, Sheriff Birkett.”

“Call me Mike.” He walked into the house and glanced around, looking for Lorie.

“She’ll be out in a minute, Mike,” Shelley told him.

He nodded. “Had any more trouble from the reporters?”

“Not so far. I’ve seen several cars slow down as they passed the house, and somebody stuffed the mailbox with those
Playboy
centerfold flyers.”

“Chief Ballard and I assigned crews from his office and mine to clean up those flyers as best they can. And if anyone is seen putting them out, they’ll be arrested.”

“That’s good.” She paused as if considering whether or not to say more. “But you and I both know that the damage has been done. Those flyers have accomplished their purpose.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Lorie emerged from the hallway and glanced from Shelley to Mike. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m ready to go now.”

Mike stared at Lorie. How was it possible that she was more beautiful now, at thirty-five, than she had been at eighteen? She honest to God took his breath away. She’d pinned her hair up, leaving dark rust-red curls framing one side of her gorgeous face. Her sleeveless beige dress hugged every voluptuous curve of her hourglass body and the heels she wore added three inches to her petite height.

Realizing that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since she entered the room, Mike hurriedly looked away and said, “We’d better get going if we want to arrive before the bride and groom.”

“You two go on outside,” Shelley said. “I’ll set the alarm and lock up.”

Mike escorted Lorie to his truck, opened the door, and gave her a hand up and into the cab. He waited for Shelley, and after she settled in, he rounded the hood and hopped up and into the driver’s seat. Lorie sat in the middle, her shoulder brushing his right arm and her hip pressed against his.

God, give me strength to control my reaction to Lorie’s body touching mine. I sure as hell can’t walk into the party with a hard-on.

The three of them drove into town, a quick fifteen minute trip, in relative silence. Idle chitchat didn’t seem appropriate. When they arrived at 121 West Fourth, cars lined both sides of the street. Mike pulled in behind a black Navigator, got out, and helped the ladies from the truck. They barely made it to the front door before Jack’s Corvette pulled into the driveway.

“It’s them,” Lorie said.

The honeymooners emerged from the antique Vette, Jack’s arm around Cathy’s waist, both of them smiling.

“What’s going on here?” Jack asked as he and his bride stepped up on the front porch.

“A welcome-home party that got a little out of hand,” Mike replied as he reached out to shake his old friend’s hand.

Lorie and Cathy hugged each other and then clasped their hands together, squeezing tightly, before letting go.

“You two look great,” Lorie said.

“Apparently married life agrees with both of you,” Mike added.

“Honeymoons agree with us.” Jack grinned. “You should try it.” He glanced from Mike to Lorie.

Ignoring the subtle reference to former lovers reuniting, Mike opened the front door. “We’d better get you two inside before the party moves out here on the porch.”

As Jack and Cathy entered the house, Cathy paused and looked at Shelley. “Hi, I’m Cathy Cantrell…” She laughed. “Correction. I’m Cathy Perdue. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Shelley Gilbert.”

“Shelley works with Maleah,” Lorie said.

“Where is that sister of mine?” Jack asked.

“On assignment,” Shelley told him.

Jack smiled and nodded, but Mike could tell that he suspected something was wrong. “You’ll tell me later, right?” Jack whispered, for Mike’s ears only.

“Sure thing,” Mike said.

Jack clutched Cathy’s hand and led her to the connecting double front parlors where most of their guests were congregated. The moment she saw Seth, she hurried toward him, her arms outstretched. Mike noticed the way Lorie watched as mother and son embraced—with a wistful look in her eyes. Did Lorie want a child? Did she regret—?

Damn it! Don’t think about what might have been.

Mike caught a glimpse of Abby on the far side of the room, trapped in a conversation with Reverend Patsy Floyd, who was no doubt trying to persuade Abby to help with the Interfaith Youth Council that Patsy had founded. The idea was for children and teens from various religions to meet once a month in a social setting that fostered understanding of and tolerance for one another’s religious doctrines. He knew that Abby didn’t totally approve of the fact that he allowed Hannah and M.J. to attend the monthly meetings.

“They’re too young to be exposed to false doctrine,” Abby had warned him. “You don’t want them believing everything they’re told.”

“I’m not worried,” Mike had said. “My children are being brought up in the same church I’ve attended all my life. I have confidence in their ability to choose the right path. But I want them to learn to be understanding and tolerant of people who are different from them. It’s what Molly would have wanted. She had the biggest, kindest, most understanding heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”

Abby had agreed with him, of course. She always did, easily changing her opinions to mimic his. Even though her physical appearance and generally sweet disposition reminded him of Molly, she didn’t possess Molly’s spunk. If Molly believed in something or someone, you couldn’t change her mind easily. In that way, Molly had reminded him of Lorie.

Mike cast a quick glance around the room and noted that Lorie, with Shelley at her side, was talking to his mother. A tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach. What could she and his mom possibly have to talk about? Nothing too serious, he figured, not from the way they were both smiling. He shouldn’t stare too long. People would notice. People would talk. It was bound to happen now that the whole town knew the sheriff’s department was involved in the Midnight Killer case. He figured people were already speculating as to just how involved he was in personally looking after Lorie.

It’s high time you paid attention to your date for the evening.

He made his way across the room and slipped his arm around Abby’s tiny waist. She was almost too thin. If not for her well-defined muscles, achieved through a strenuous exercise program, she would look unhealthy.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed his cheek.

He smiled. “Thanks for bringing the kids.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t bring them,” she told him. “It seems your mother decided to come tonight and insisted on the children coming with her.”

Mike knew for a fact that his mother had not planned on coming to the party. Only yesterday, she had told him that the arthritis in her hips was acting up and she was having to use her cane again.

“I’ll see the doctor Monday and get one of those cortisone shots and I’ll be just fine,” she had assured him.

So what had happened to change his mother’s mind?

“How are you, Mike?” Patsy Floyd asked. “I guess this Midnight Killer situation is keeping you pretty busy. We’ve heard all about it, of course, now that the FBI is involved. I’m terribly concerned about Lorie. Thank goodness she not only has a bodyguard, but she has you, too.” Patsy looked from Mike to Abby. Her face flushed. “I mean in your capacity as the sheriff, of course.”

Mike forced a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m very proud of Mike,” Abby said. “He takes his duties as the county sheriff seriously. We can all sleep soundly in our beds at night knowing that he’s in charge.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, honey.”

“If you two will excuse me, I want to say hello to Jack and Cathy,” Patsy said. “Have you ever seen two happier people in your life? They’re both simply glowing. There’s nothing like being crazy in love, is there?”

Left alone with Abby, Mike managed to keep his strained smile intact. While she talked to him, he tried to listen and respond, but eventually, he allowed his gaze to casually drift around the room. When Abby said something about their plans for Sunday dinner tomorrow after church, he nodded agreement and kept smiling. Once again locating his mother’s whereabouts in the gathering of Jack and Cathy’s friends, he noticed how she held on to the handle of her walking stick and leaned slightly sideways, allowing the cane to help support her weight. She smiled broadly as she watched his son and daughter attach themselves to Lorie, one on either side of her. Lorie wrapped her arms around M.J.’s and Hannah’s shoulders and began talking to them.

Just when had his children gotten so friendly with Lorie? Last year after he found out that she saw them every month at the Interfaith Youth Council meetings, he had warned her to stay away from them. But he hadn’t told his kids to stay away from Lorie. After all, what reason could he have given them? The woman is evil? She wasn’t. That she wasn’t a proper role model for anyone, least of all his young children? That might have been true at one time, but for the past nine years, Lorie had lived an exemplary life.

Dunmore was a small town. His kids were bound to run into Lorie occasionally. And she had told him quite honestly that if and when she saw his children, she would not ignore them. And during the preparations for Jack and Cathy’s wedding—he, his and Lorie both members of the wedding party—he had noticed how much his children liked Lorie. Especially Hannah.

But something else was going on and he felt certain that whatever it was, his mother had something to do with it.

Nell Birkett could be a devious woman when it came to doing what she thought was best for her children and grandchildren. She had always liked Lorie, and as much as she disapproved of the choices Lorie had made in her late teens and early twenties, Nell had never bad-mouthed Lorie. Not to him or anyone else. When Molly was alive, his mother’s allegiance had been to his wife. But after Molly’s death, when he had started dating again, his mom had suggested he give Lorie a call. If anyone other than his mother had made that suggestion, he would have told them what they could do with it. But he had never spoken disrespectfully to his mother and never would.

“That’s not ever going to happen.” He had barely managed to keep his temper under control as he’d made his feelings perfectly clear. “And please, Mom, don’t ever say her name to me again.”

Was his mother using his own children as a means to reunite him with Lorie? He wouldn’t put it past her, not if she had decided that Lorie was the right woman for him. But how could she believe that, especially now when the whole town had been reminded of Lorie’s sordid past?

“I’m going over to talk to the kids,” Mike told Abby.

She laced her arm through his. “I’ll go with you.”

There was no way to get out of taking Abby along with him. When they approached his mother and children, Lorie slowly dropped her arms from around M.J.’s and Hannah’s shoulders.

“Well, there you are,” his mother said. “We were just telling Lorie about Humphrey.”

“Yeah, and Lorie said she had a pet rabbit, too, when she was a kid,” M.J. told him.

“His name was Cottontail,” Hannah added.

“Not very original, I admit.” Lorie smiled warmly at both children, and then her gaze met Mike’s. “Did your dad ever tell you about his pet raccoon?”

“No, he didn’t,” M.J. said, a cocky little grin on his face.

“Tell us, Daddy, tell us.” Hannah tugged on his sleeve.

“Lord have mercy.” His mother laughed. “His dad tried to tell Mike that he couldn’t tame that wild thing, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t catch a disease of some kind,” Abby said. “Most animals are terribly nasty. I’m sure you learned that your father was right, didn’t you, dear?” She snuggled against his side. “Wild animals are best left in the wild.”

M.J. and Hannah frowned at Abby.

Before Mike could respond, his mother said, “Actually, it didn’t take Mike long to have that raccoon eating out of his hand. He’s always had a knack for gentling the wildest creatures.”

When his mom gave Lorie a sidelong glance, Mike could have strangled her. Abby’s perpetual smile wavered. Lorie looked downright embarrassed. And Mike didn’t know what to say or do to ease the tension his mother’s comment had created.

“Tell us about the raccoon, Daddy.” Hannah tugged on Mike’s arm again.

Lorie glanced around the room as if searching for someone, then said, “If y’all will excuse me, I want to find Cathy and bring her up to date on Treasures of the Past business.” Before waiting for anyone to respond, she escaped. Shelley Gilbert, who had been standing nearby and being as inconspicuous as possible, followed Lorie.