Hot Enough to Kill (7 page)
He smiled. "Does that mean you won't hang out the window on the way home and yell obscenities at any female I've ever spoken to?"
I laughed, but it was a little forced as visions of drooling little high school girls romped and squealed in my brain. "Find me one, and let's give it a try."
He chuckled. "Maybe next time, when I'm not in uniform, and you're not exhausted from driving all night plus dealing with your mother all day."
"Okay, fine, spoil all my fun." I reached for my wallet to pay the check, but Jerry stopped me, his big tanned hand resting on mine. "It's already taken care of, Jolene."
The touch of his skin against mine was about as sharp a sensation as I could experience at the moment. Words weren't forming quickly either. "Thank you, but next time it's my treat."
He just smiled and stood, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to the car. He opened the car door for me and I had the good sense not to object.
Jerry has always been a gentleman--a tall, handsome, old-fashioned gentleman. Only he wasn't a relic of the past, more a blending of Old West marshal and New Age thinker, although I doubted he'd offer the same description of himself. Regular guy would be his words.
He started the car, then turned to me and grinned. "They've put up mercury vapor floodlights at all our old oil field parking spots."
"So where does the latest crop of lusty teenagers hang out?"
"There's a nice spot down by the creek. Willow bushes hide a car pretty good."
The image was instant and I couldn't help but remember my own times--with Jerry--in a car in the dark. "I hope you're not too hard on the kids."
He laughed. "I have to admit I've had a little fun scaring them every now and then. Making the rounds on the back roads always reminds me of you."
"Yeah, like you never went parking with anyone else."
"Never." He grinned. "At least never where I went with you."
Thinking about Jerry Don Parker doing anything with any female other than me only served to turn me into a sniping jealous beast, and I'd done enough of that for one night. I glanced at the dash just as the red LED lights flashed to one minute after 11, my old curfew. "Oops, guess I'm late again."
"Then I suppose we should make the most of it." He touched his fingers to my chin and leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine. "It's been too long, Jolene."
Oh, yes, God, hadn't it. My little heart was thumping like a 15-year-old's on a first date. He had no idea how much I enjoyed being with him, had always. And I felt like such a fool for walking away from him before. I wasn't likely to be feeling any better this time around either, considering the circumstances. As much--and it was very much--as I wanted to fling myself at Jerry and have my way with him, I didn't like the possible repercussions. The headline "Sheriff Arrests Lover's Mother," or something to that effect, was not what I wanted to ever see. I reached up and ran my palm along his cheek, letting the stubble scratch against my fingers. "I'd like nothing better than to find a nice little room somewhere and pick up where we left off...."
"But?"
"But you have a job to do, and it may very well entail arresting my mother for one thing or another. She's trying awfully hard."
He sighed and leaned back. "Lucille is a character, but she's harmless. Still, you're right. Until this case is tied up, the most we'd better share is dinner."
Jumped on that one like a drowning rat, hadn't he? Not even a little argument for the possibilities. He was fresh from a divorce and I hadn't been in a steady relationship in years, which translates to no sex for either of us, at least me. And in my beer-stained mind, it seemed perfectly logical that we should just take care of both our problems and be done with it.
But it wasn't really what I wanted. Sex had a nasty way of literally screwing things up at times. And I was pretty sure that I'd rather have Jerry Don Parker as a lifetime friend than a onetime lover. Not certain, mind you, just pretty sure.
"Well, my friend," I said, emphasizing my resolve to myself and trying not to be bitter, spiteful or just plain sick over the whole deal, "I guess we'd better head home then."
"After this is over, Jolene, you owe me a real date."
"Then do us both a favor and get it over with quickly."
"I'll do what I can," he said, none too optimistically. "But we don't have the staff to handle something like this. We're getting some help from Redwater on the forensics but it looks like it's going to be a slow one."
Okay, fine, I was up for a change in topics. "You didn't find Mother's key, did you?"
"No."
"From what I've gathered, there weren't many people in the county who had a fondness for Mayor Bennett."
"Which is why I'll be spending the day in Kickapoo again tomorrow interviewing."
"Interviewing, you say." I grinned. "I could help you out. I didn't get that journalism degree for nothing." Actually, it had been for nothing, but hopefully Jerry didn't know that. Rather than get a job as a reporter or glamorous TV anchor like my mother wanted, I'd started a little card company with a friend and had lots of fun. Sales were only fair, but somehow or other one of the major companies found out about us and we wound up selling out for big bucks, relatively speaking.
Danny, my ex, was kind enough--or guilt-ridden enough--to leave me my own money in the divorce. And likewise, I was kind enough to leave him breathing so he could continue acting like a fool with his twenty-something-year-old. But that's another story.
"The media here isn't known for being overly zealous," Jerry said, turning into the drive. "But we don't get many murders, and certainly not ones that involve public officials and scandals."
I knew that one of those scandals was my mother, but I didn't take offense. Lucille Jackson was actually proud of her quasi-flagrant reputation. She'd succeeded in stirring up a sleepy little town with nothing more to gossip about than who dozed through Sunday services. "I take it that means I need to keep my nose out of things."
"Your mother's in the middle of this. I'm not sure you could be objective."
He was right, I probably couldn't, but that didn't mean I wasn't getting a really big desire to help. "Mother said something about a problem with the water being cut off in a lot of homes. Did you know about that?"
He turned off the car and nodded. "Yes, but it doesn't seem quite enough to kill somebody over."
"I don't suppose that homebuilder whose project was shut down would be mad enough to kill either, but the new city permit thing sounded strange."
He shifted in the seat and turned toward me. "I hadn't heard about that one."
"Well, maybe you better quiz my mother again. She's got plenty to say about BigJohn's dealings. I think she said the guy's name was Dee-Wayne something or other. I assume that would be spelled kind of like Duh-Wayne with an 'e,' but I can't be sure. He's some homebuilder who moved here from I-way Park, which I also assume is Iowa Park, but I can't be sure of that either."
"You ought not make fun of your mother, Jolene. She means well." He paused for a second then added, "Most of the time."
I didn't bother reminding him how well-meaning my mother could be. He'd already been up close and personal with Mother's purse, not to mention having to question her three times to extract some sliver of the truth. I spared him an accounting of Mother's crimes and said, "Stop by in the morning for coffee. I'm sure Lucille will cheerfully give you a whole list of people who might have been happy to see BigJohn dead."
"Including your mother. I can't ignore her, Jolene, no matter what you and I think."
No, he couldn't, particularly with Lucille blabbing to anybody who'd listen that she was glad BigJohn was gone for good. "As I said before, I haven't seen any tears, but it might be that she's just putting on a front, not wanting anybody to think she cared about him at all. It does make sense. She'd look pretty silly crying over a man who left her to go back to his 'dumb plain vanilla wife', her words. And as you know, Lucille Jackson does not look silly for anyone."
He nodded. "But it would sure be easier on everyone concerned if she'd just be a straight shooter about the situation."
Yeah, wouldn't it. "You know how she is, Jerry. Nothing much has changed, other than to get worse. My dear grandmother once said that as we age, we become caricatures of ourselves. Things that are little personality quirks in your twenties and thirties become serious eccentricities later down the road. Scary thought, but I think she was right. I'll probably make my mother look like a sedate pussycat when I'm seventy."
"Hope I'm there to see it," he said softly.
He'd done it again. Whether it was his soft rumbling drawl or the unmistakable ring of sincerity in his voice, I can't say, but something sent a warm sizzle zipping through me. It took a minute before I felt capable of speaking without my voice cracking. "Guess I'd better go in."
"I'll stop by around nine," he said, looking toward the door. "I don't figure you're any more inclined to early mornings now than you were way back when."
Less so, but I didn't say it. I'm generally quite chipper by ten o'clock, but nine is iffy. Nevertheless, I didn't want him to think I was a complete slug. "Sounds great. See you at nine."
He started to get out of the car, but I reached over and put my hand on his arm. "Please don't walk me to the door, Jerry."
"Afraid I'll kiss you again?"
I opened the door and scooted out. "Maybe I'm afraid you won't." I closed the door and hurried inside.
He waited until I turned out the porch light before he left. I watched the tail lights fade in the distance, wondering what to make of Jerry Don Parker--and what to make of myself. This was his world, not mine, and I still wouldn't stay in Kickapoo, Texas, for anything, not even him.
Closing the door quietly, I turned out the lamps Mother had left on for me and headed to my old bedroom. I flipped on the light and walked to the closet. After a little digging around, I pulled an old gray hat box from the top shelf. I hadn't opened it in years, but I knew what was in there as surely as I knew my own name. I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed the lid. Inside were the remains of a homecoming mum.
Ever so carefully, I lifted it out of the box. Miniature cowbells tinkled and clanged as I spread it out on the bed. The once-white petals were shriveled and brown, but there was still a faint musty "mum" smell about it. Loops of red and white ribbons encircled the flower and a dozen three-foot-long strands hung down like thin banners. Pieces of the gold glitter lettering had fallen away, but you could still read the words: Jerry and Jolene. Forever. 1975.
"Jolene, honey, wake up."
I heard my mother's voice but I surely did not want to wake up. Not now, not this week, maybe never. "I'm awake," I grumbled.
"Jolene, you have to get up. I can't imagine why you slept in your clothes or why you didn't pull back the bedspread, but I suppose you were just so tired you didn't know what you were doing. Jerry Don's here to ask me some questions. I didn't know a thing about it, but I guess it's all right. Jolene, are you going to get up or not?"
One by one, Mother's words penetrated the fog in my brain, and when I finally realized the gist of her ramblings, I sat bolt upright in bed--or rather at the end of it. "Jerry's here? Shit. What time is it?" Then I remembered. Where was the mum? I looked down in the floor, but there was no gray hat box and no mum. There were, however, crumbled petals and sprinkles of gold glitter.
"I put it up," Lucille said evenly, no sarcasm, no nothing. "I'll go talk to the sheriff while you get ready. I'm sure he'll have me answering questions for a good hour." She smiled and left the room.
I slumped back on the bed. My mother was smiling, being nice even. Jerry was in the other room ready to quiz her on her boyfriend's murder; I felt like somebody had run over me with a Bush Hog; and there was this little twinge in my chest that I couldn't identify. Not a single thing was as it should be. "Welcome to Kickapoo, Texas," I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.
Somehow I managed to get showered and groomed in less than a half-hour. Yes, it really is an accomplishment. I couldn't do much for the bags under my eyes, but Visine did get the red out. Coffee isn't my poison of choice, but if I could suck down a couple of adequately-caffeinated Dr Peppers without anybody noticing, I might be able to speak in coherent sentences by the time I was required to do so.
I scrunched and fluffed my damp hair up off my shoulders a final time, brushed on a little mascara and tried to rub some color into my cheeks. Figuring that was about as good as it could get, I strolled into the kitchen and smiled at Jerry, who, unlike others of us, looked crisp and fresh in his uniform. As usual, Mother was, pardon the terminology, dressed to kill in a lovely azure pantsuit with matching bracelet and fingernails. Dangly silver earrings with little balls on the ends and matching necklace completed the look.
About the time my bare feet hit the cool linoleum, I fully realized I was most likely not the picture of either decorum or class in my sleeveless tee shirt, shorts and shoeless feet. It took me a full three seconds to decide I didn't give a hoot, and I proceeded to open the refrigerator door, grab a soda and pop the top. I rummaged around in the cabinets as if I knew what I was doing, all the while sipping on the liquid tar as fast as I could. By the time I slid into a chair at the table, I was feeling almost human. The key word was almost, so I just sat back and listened to the question-and-answer session. And tried not to stare at Jerry, who had fared considerably better overnight than I had. In fact, he looked pretty darn near perfect.
Jerry and I exchanged a quick glance and smile, but he went back to his note-taking as Mother continued her story.