Dead Man's Rules (23 page)

Her mother’s pleasant request to leave a message came from the other room, then a rough voice set her skin crawling.

“Quit snooping, bitch, or you’ll end up like Naldo. Next time I’ll aim for your head.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“What are you doing?”

Cere almost squealed, but instead, she forced a benign grin to her lips to hide her shaking hands. She had not heard her mother and Ginny come into the house. Only moments earlier she had erased the horrible message.

“I’m looking over some old information.” She wanted to shield it from her mother, but Lottie’s sharp gaze had already zoomed in on the scrapbook.

Her eyes widened as her face grew pale under her tan. “Marco? Where did you get that?”

“Frank let me borrow it. Want to go through it with me?”

Her mother whirled away. “No, and I wish you’d get over this craziness. It’s...”

“Not dangerous, is it?” She tried to sound calm, despite the threatening messages and gunshots.

“If I say yes, will it stop you?”

Cere’s gaze rested on Marco. What was it that drove her on? Her quest for a major story? No, she could pursue other ideas. The ghost in her dreams begging justice? Maybe. At times she felt a palpable presence beside her, pushing her forward.

“Only you can help me.”

“Maybe this scrapbook will answer my questions, and I’ll give it up.”

Lottie’s lips pressed together until they formed a white line of disapproval. “I wish you’d give it up now. You’re playing with fire, and if you don’t stop this ...”

“Miz Lottie, can I wash the cages now?” Ginny’s high voice interrupted the tension.

Lottie’s pained look dissolved, and she forced a smile to her lips as she turned to the girl. “In a minute...” She licked her lips as though she didn’t know what to say. Fine frown lines etched her mother’s jaw and cheeks.

A wave of guilt swept through Cere. “Mom, why don’t Ginny and I clean the cages? I know you need to start dinner preparations.”

“Thank you.” Lottie’s blonde curls shook as she pointed at the book and clippings. “And put that away.”

“I’ll be right out.” Cere smiled at Ginny, folded up the clippings and shoved them into the book. She took it to her room and stashed it in her empty laptop case, which she then shoved under the bed.

As she headed outside, she stopped to kiss her mother’s cheek and murmur an apology. In the back yard Ginny kneeled in front of the cages, dark eyes intent on the animals.

“Whatcha you doing?” Cere called

The grave look on Ginny’s face was heart wrenching. Six year old girls should be having fun. Her small hands opened to reveal palms of crushed greens. “I’m feeding dandelions to the bunnies. Do you want to help?”

Cere drew back, fearing stains on her beige shorts. Perhaps she should change before she helped her clean the cages. “I may need your help. I’ve never done this before.”

“I’ll get the hose,” Ginny said. She dashed to the side of the house, turned on the water and tugged a lime green hose toward the pens. Its weight sometimes brought her to a standstill as water shot into the air.

Cere was torn between smiling at Ginny’s efforts and feeling sympathetic. She took the hose, frowning at its muddiness. She should have changed clothes. She settled for removing her sandals. “Do you have friends, Ginny?”

“Your mom.” She sank onto the grass to take off her tennis shoes and socks so she was also barefoot.

“It must be rough with your dad working all the time. Do you always stay at the restaurant?”

“And my grandma and Aunt Lou, but her kids are older.”

“I bet you miss your mom, huh?”

Ginny’s face grew more somber, and for an instant, Cere feared she was going to cry. “All the time.”

“I’ve missed my mom too since she moved here.”

“My mommy didn’t move. They shot her and she died.”

A jolt ran through Cere, as though the gunshot pierced her heart. How much did she know about her mother’s death? She gave the girl’s thin shoulder a gentle squeeze of support. “Show me what to do next.”

Ginny’s grim face relaxed into a childish grin. “You move that bunny into the other cage while you wash his cage, and then you move them both into the clean cage. I’ll hold the hose.”

The playful smile was reminiscent of Rafe’s, and Cere’s heart lurched. Momentarily distracted, she missed grasping the rabbit and it hopped past her. Ginny squealed and dropped the hose, dashing after the rabbit. The untended hose took on a life of its own, becoming a stalking snake as it squirted first Cere and then Ginny, sending them into squealing gales of shouted laughter.

“What the hell...” Rafe stepped through the back gate, surprised to see Cere and Ginny at the mercy of a jerking hose. Cere grabbed the hose and whirled in his direction, but she didn’t spray him. Every male hormone jumped to life, and his uniform trousers grew tighter. He barely recognized her. Her hair was an auburn helmet plastered to her head, and her silk shorts stuck to her tanned legs like a second skin. Water drops glistened on her heaving chest and for an insane instant he imagined what it would feel like to lick them off. Every line of her delightful body was visible through the thin material stuck to her, including her erect nipples. This was a sight he didn’t need to see, one he doubted he could soon forget.

Ginny was soaked too, but what struck him about her were her giggles—wild and uncontrolled. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard her laugh like that.

“What are you doing here?” Cere asked, still wielding the hose. Ginny dashed for it and Cere showered her with a weakened spray. Ginny screeched with laughter and threw herself to the wet grass and rolled away.

“I was looking for my daughter. That is my daughter, isn’t it?”

Ginny spied a new defense and darted to Rafe. She took shelter behind his legs, clinging to his knees, shaking from the cold water. “Save me, Daddy!”

Cere pointed the hose in their direction, but still didn’t squirt. She adopted a fake tone of warning. “Okay, Sheriff, get off my land. You can’t evict me or use that innocent child as a hostage. “

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, ma’am. I’ll let you stay, but put down the weapon, okay?”

Ginny still clung to one leg, her high toned laughter filling the air. “Yeah, put it down.”

“What started this?” he asked Ginny.

She watched Cere who feigned one way and then the next. “She was cleaning cages, and the hose got away and I squirted her. Now she’s after me.”

Cere advanced, stepping around him to get a clear shot at Ginny who released him and ran laughing to the cages.

“You girls cut that out!” From the back door, Lottie appeared, waving towels. “Cere, don’t you dare squirt him.”

Her smile was open and daring, and he again felt heat shoot through his loins. Her expressive eyes looked him over as though considering how much she could douse without retaliation. Her gaze lowered and she seemed to realize what her drenched clothing was doing to his male anatomy.

She whirled, sprinting toward Ginny wielding her hose. “I’ll get you!”

Before she could reach her, Lottie shut off the water. She approached and handed him a towel. “I hope she didn’t get you wet. One minute they were working and the next they were behaving like kids.”

He was pleased to see Ginny’s playful antics. “Come here, Gin.”

Ginny ran to him and let him wrap her in a towel. Her teeth chattered from the cold but she was still giggling. “We’re just playing.”

“Give her to me. She’s going to get you wet,” Lottie said.

He tipped his hat toward her. “I’ll go home and get Ginny some dry things. I wanted to see if you could keep her a little longer. I have to help out at the paper.”

“We’d love to have her. Millie, Norm, and Bradley are coming to dinner. Why don’t you come by when you’re finished?”

“Maybe.” He wanted to get out of the yard before Lottie saw his sorry state and he embarrassed himself. Starting toward the gate he found Cere next to him, a beach towel draped around her wet body.

“I need to talk to you.” Her voice was low, all jovial traces gone as she fell into step with him. Water drops shimmered on her shoulders, giving him a crazy urge to touch her.

“Sure, later.” He stepped through the gate. He needed to get away from her. He felt like he’d escaped a danger worse than the gunman who fired at them hours ago.

****

“I don’t want this Marco business to come up tonight, do you understand?” Lottie’s voice was high and spots of pink dotted her cheeks as she carried a covered beef roast to the oven. “I want that book out of sight. I don’t want it suddenly turning up.”

“But Mom, they were all here when Marco died...”

“Cere, please stop.”

The oven door slammed, and Cere jumped. They were alone. Ginny, exhausted after their water fight, was asleep on the sofa in fresh, dry clothes.

Lottie fanned her face with her hand and drew in a slow, deep breath as she removed her pot holder glove. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry, but sometimes you’re so stubborn.”

Sitting at the table, Cere flicked potato peelings from a peeler. She had been debating whether to ask her mother if she might invite Mr. Foster or her uncle Norm to go through the book, but Lottie brought it up first.

“This story is taking up too much of your energy. I know it’s your job, and I respect your work, but I’m asking you to forget it for now.”

“Sure, Mom. Mr. Foster was sheriff then, wasn’t he?”

“See? Will you stop? This is supposed to be a fun dinner. I don’t want my guests questioned like interview subjects. Bradley would be unhappy enough, but Norm would go right through the roof.” Lottie’s face flushed and again, Cere noted a few wrinkles across her mother’s forehead she’d never noticed before.

“Uncle Norm? Why would he—”

“Enough! I want your promise. No questions about that story tonight.”

She had no wish to anger anyone, but her mother had raised another question with no answer. What connection could Norman Winslow have to Marco? She didn’t ask. Instead she decided to change the subject.

“Say, Mom, do you know a man by the name of Diego Diaz? He looks about your age. Drives a big black SUV?”

The tension in her mother’s thick body lessened as her brow furrowed in thought. “Diaz? No. I don’t remember any Diaz family in town. Is he from here?”

“I don’t know where he’s from. His SUV has Texas plates, but Rafe says that old man Naldo knew him. Is it okay if I ask Uncle Norm or Mr. Foster about him?”

“Why?”

“He was at the Palladium the other day. Apparently he broke into the place.”

Lottie’s hand came down hard on the table. “There you go! No, no Palladium questions.”

“Okay, okay, but have you seen him around? He has an eye patch.”

Lottie sank down at the table and began cutting up the peeled potatoes. “Eyepatch? Wait, yes, I might have seen him in the Matador a few times. He tipped his hat to me once. Hmmm. I guess I should tell Bradley. I saw him talk to Naldo.”

Cere almost dropped the potato peeler. “Really? Like they knew each other?”

“I don’t know. But now that you mention it, Naldo looked uncomfortable, like… I don’t know, he didn’t want to talk to him. I figured he was someone who had moved to town after I left. I didn’t realize he was new or from Texas. Have they questioned him?”

“Last I heard they can’t find him.”

Her mother stopped cutting the potatoes and leaned toward Cere. “What’s your interest in him?”

She could sense her mother’s interest, but didn’t want to admit he had scared her or that he had seemed to know who Lottie was. “I just wondered if you knew him. He’s got a strange voice. Anyway, did Rafe say if he was coming by for dinner?”

The change of subject was welcomed by her mother. Lottie visibly relaxed and she reached out and tapped Cere’s hand. “I hope so. He likes you and he’s the only person who can make you behave.”

“Right.” Her cheeks grew hot at the thought of him. Yes, he liked her, as witnessed by the fire in his dark eyes when he saw her sopping wet. The worst part was that her bones had grown weak at the sight of his open desire. She’d wondered what it would feel like to toss her wet body at him and have that hard body touch hers.

She shivered slightly and noted that her mother was watching her and ready to laugh. “Oh, Mom, stop trying to pair me up with him. He’s just a part of this story.”

“Sure, and Ginny is simply another little girl, even though you brushed her hair and played with her. I’ve never seen you behave that way. Normally you run from children.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She waved the potato peeler at her mother. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Just like you’re helping me cook?” Lottie chided. “I’ve never seen you hold a potato peeler before, much less use one. Are you sure you’re not trying to impress Rafe with your skills? Making garlic mashed potatoes was your idea.”

“What skills? I’m skilled at picking up food or ordering it delivered. But I am a gourmet chef compared to Freeda. She’d burn the place down if I let her cook.”

“Speaking of your wayward cousin, when is she getting back?”

“Anytime, unless she figures out a way for Nena to send money directly to wherever she is. She needs to get over this search for her father. If Fergie wants to see her, let him make the effort.”

Lottie’s smile was slow and sad. “Oh, hon, she’s driven by a desire to spend time with him. Kind of like you are always driven by a desire to get the next story.”

****

“You can’t even get up there now,” Millie said, her plump face scrunching into a frown. “The road past the Palladium is no longer maintained and with old Mr. Hollister dead, I’ve heard his heirs are talking about turning that whole area into a health spa and bringing the road in from the north.”

Cere jerked to attention at the mention of the dance hall. Across the table, her mother’s eyes narrowed into a warning look. Until now she’d been half listening to the memories her mother and aunt shared about how they once loved to spend summers at nearby cabins near the base of the mountains.

Naldo’s murder was mentioned, but only briefly. Lottie adopted her best school teacher voice and told her guests she wanted more pleasant dinner conversation than murder, especially with Ginny present. She and Millie guided the conversation to talk of the past and their teenage summers at a nearby lake.