Trinity Harbor 3 - Along Came Trouble (18 page)

Richard’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“That depends,” Anna-Louise said neutral y. “Are you on any sort of deadline?”

“No.”

“Got any interviews lined up?”

“No.”

She beamed at him. “Good, then we have plenty of time for a nice serious chat.”

Tucker chuckled at Richard’s bemused expression. “Just go with it, man. When a woman gets in a mood like this, it’s always best to just go along.

She’s going to get her way anyway.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Richard said, but he fol owed Anna-Louise to the counter, retrieved his coffee and doughnut and left, passing Walker on the sidewalk outside.

“Any idea what’s going on with those two?” Walker asked when he reached Tucker’s booth.

“Not real y, but Anna-Louise looks like a woman on a mission, sort of the way Daisy looked when she was campaigning to keep you from taking Tommy away from her.”

“Poor Richard,” Walker said with heartfelt sympathy. He took a sip of his coffee, glanced pointedly around the restaurant at the clearly fascinated patrons, then looked Tucker straight in the eye. “Other than the PR value of your being seen with me, what are we doing here?”

Tucker grinned. “Comparing notes, of course. Anything new back from forensics?”

“They found some fibers at the scene that might be promising,” Walker said readily. “They’re running further tests now.”

“What good are fibers? I thought they’d be just as useless as fingerprints, given that shindig the Chandlers threw on their last visit.”

“They might have been,” Walker agreed. “But these were on Chandler’s pants. And not on the cuffs, if you know what I mean.”

Tucker’s heart began to thud. “He was intimate with someone right before he died?”

“In a manner of speaking. At least that’s the way it looks.”

Tucker had to force himself to ask the obvious. “Do they match those clothes I gave you that Mary Elizabeth was wearing that night?”

“The lab’s checking that now. I should know more by the end of the day.”

“It won’t be enough to arrest her,” Tucker said, his mind sifting through al the possible explanations for the least damning one. “We know she was there. We know she touched the body. She’s admitted that.”

“I’m not going to do anything precipitous, no matter how this turns out,” Walker said impatiently. “Come on, Tucker. I know how to do my job, how to build a case. Once I get around to making an arrest, I sure as hel want it to stick. And it won’t be based solely on something as flimsy as a few stray fibers.”

“Is that so?” a man asked, standing beside the booth and regarding both of them with an angry expression. “You sure about that? Or are the two of you planning to cover up the truth to protect that slut Chandler was married to.”

Tucker was halfway out of the booth, his blood pounding, when Walker snagged his arm and dragged him back.

“I’l handle this,” Walker said calmly. He rose slowly and faced the man. “Who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter who I am,” he said. “The bottom line is that you smal -town hicks intend to hide what real y happened down here, and I’m here to tel you that you won’t get away with it.”

“No one’s going to hide anything,” Walker countered. “If you think you know something that would help us solve this case, tel me, and I guarantee you that I’l fol ow through on it.”

“Oh, real y?” the man asked skeptical y, then gave a nod toward Tucker. “He’l let you do that?”

“Sheriff Spencer is not in charge of this investigation.
I
am,” Walker said emphatical y. “Now why don’t we step outside and discuss whatever leads you think you have?”

“No need to go outside. I’l say it plain right here. The Chandler woman is guilty.”

Walker shot a warning look at Tucker. “And you know that how?” he asked.

“It’s obvious. She wanted out of the marriage but didn’t want to lose access to al that money. I heard the two of them fighting down in Richmond.

Hel , the whole damned restaurant heard them.”

“Emotions tend to run high when divorce is on the table,” Walker said.

“But she said, plain as day, ‘I’l kil you first.’ I heard her myself,” the man said triumphantly.

Tucker’s pulse began to beat unsteadily. If true, it was a damning remark for Mary Elizabeth to have made. She’d certainly never suggested to him that anything remotely like that had been said in her heated exchange with her husband. He had a dozen questions and no right at al to ask them, not when this was Walker’s witness and Walker was right here to do the questioning himself. Sitting on the sidelines was eating him up inside, though, especial y knowing that half the town would know al about this by lunchtime. Even if the man’s testimony was ultimately proved false, Mary Elizabeth would have a hard time living down the accusation.

“Let’s go over to the station and get this on the record,” Walker said to the man. “I’l have someone take an official statement.”

The man paled at the suggestion. “No way.”

“Why not?” Walker asked. “You want me to pursue this, don’t you?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“You’re already involved,” Walker pointed out.

“I came in here to do my civic duty. Had to chase al over hel and gone just to find you.”

“You could have cal ed it in and saved yourself some time,” Tucker pointed out.

“Not something this big. I wanted to look this man in the eye when I told him, make sure the significance registered. Now I’ve told him what I heard and that’s that.”

“Unless you want to make it official, it pretty much loses al credibility,” Walker told him. “Anybody can hurl around unsubstantiated accusations.

The fact that Mr. And Mrs. Chandler argued in public has been reported. You could be making the rest up.”

“It’s the gospel truth,” the man insisted. “You do whatever you want with it.”

That said, he whirled around and headed for the door. Walker strol ed along behind him, clearly in no hurry to catch up. Tucker grinned as he watched Walker take note of the car the man got into, jot down the tag number and strol right back inside.

“Chances are he’s a crackpot, but at least we can get an ID on him,” Walker said, using his cel phone to cal Michele and ask her to put a trace on the tag.

“Unless…” Tucker began thoughtful y.

“Unless what?”

“Unless he was sent here by someone intent on stirring up trouble for Mary Elizabeth.”

“In other words, the real kil er,” Walker surmised.

“Or someone who’s afraid she might decide to step into Chandler’s political shoes and take over his seat until the next election,” Tucker said.

“Is she thinking of doing that?”

Tucker shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything to me about it. From everything she has said, I’m pretty sure she intends to sit tight right here in Trinity Harbor. No way to tel how long that wil last. She was always attracted to city lights. I thought that was part of Chandler’s appeal—the promise of a sophisticated lifestyle sort of like the one her folks led til they died.”

“I’d sure like to know who else was in that restaurant the night they fought,” Walker said, “but I can’t spare anybody to go down to Richmond and check it out.”

“Subtle, Walker. Real subtle. Okay, I’m on it. Let me know about that lab report on the fibers as soon as you have it.”

“Wil do. And Tucker?”

“What?”

“Watch your back. If somebody’s seriously trying to frame Mrs. Chandler, you could get in the way—and we already know they’re not averse to murder.”

“Nobody knows that better than I do,” Tucker told him.

The thought stayed with him al the way to Richmond. It was only when he was halfway there that he realized that other than Walker, Earlene, Anna-Louise and Richard, not one single resident of Trinity Harbor had spoken to him. They might like and respect him, but they were clearly reserving judgment when it came to the way he was handling his life and his job these days. It was the first time it sank in that King was right about al this: Tucker could very wel lose the next election thanks to his decision to stand by Mary Elizabeth.

He sighed heavily. If that happened, so be it. He was doing what he had to do.

When she tired of her own company and went looking for Tucker, it required a little detective work, but Liz quickly discovered that he was on his way to Richmond without her, hoping to find some leads at the restaurant where she and Larry had fought. Fortunately, she had a lead foot and she knew a shortcut. She arrived at Chez Dominique just as Tucker walked through the front door. She caught up with him just outside the manager’s office.

“You surely didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, did you?” she inquired sweetly. His stunned expression gave her a great deal of satisfaction.

“What the devil did you do, tail me?”

“Hardly. By al accounts, I left a good twenty minutes after you did.”

“Then how the hel did you get here at the same time?”

“You’re in law enforcement. You don’t want to know.”

He dragged her away from the office door. “Mary Elizabeth, why are you here?” he demanded in an undertone.

“Because I know Dominique Gerard and you don’t,” she said at once. “And it’s my life that’s on the line.”

“I thought you trusted me to handle this.”

“I do, but there are some things I can do perfectly wel for myself, and this is one of them. Watch and learn.”

She tapped on the office door and swept inside. Dominique, a statuesque beauty from a tiny island in the Caribbean, rose to greet her.

“
Ma chérie,
I am so sorry for your loss,” Dominique said at once, enfolding her in a jasmine-scented hug. “I was devastated when I heard.”

“I’m sure you were,” Liz said. “I know that Larry was one of your favorite customers.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Dominique chided. “You know that I do not have favorites. It is not sensible in this business.”

Liz grinned. “And you are, above al , a smart business-woman,
n’est-pas?
”

“One of the best,” Dominique agreed with no attempt at al to feign modesty. “I imagine you are here about the reservation list for the night you and Mr. Chandler fought.” She pul ed the reservation book from a desk drawer. “I brought it in here to make sure it did not fal into the wrong hands.”

“Have others been by to see it?” Liz asked.

“Several reporters have cal ed, and one customer asked if it would be possible to have his name removed. He said he did not want to be drawn into the media frenzy that was bound to surround that night.”

“What did you tel him?” Tucker asked.

Dominique turned her attention to him for the first time and blatantly surveyed him from head to toe. “And you are?”

“He’s a friend,” Liz told her. “He’s helping me try to solve Larry’s murder. Dominique Gerard, this is Tucker Spencer. He’s one of the last remaining good guys.”

“And a handsome one, too,” Dominique said after another frank assessment.

Tucker, bless his heart, blushed. “About this man who cal ed,” he reminded her.

“Ah, yes, it was Charles Foley.”

Tucker shook his head. “I don’t recognize the name. Should I?”

“He’s an aide to the governor,” Liz said. “I’l bet you’d recognize him if you saw him. He’s in almost every bil -signing photograph taken in the governor’s office and he’s usual y on or near the podium when he speaks. Governor Hastings seldom goes anywhere without him.”

“Was the governor here with him that night?” Tucker asked Dominique.

“No, I heard that he was meeting with a delegate. I believe it was someone the governor hoped to win over on his health-care initiative.”

“And Foley? Who was he with?” Liz asked.

“I did not see him when he arrived or when he left,” Dominique said. “My mâitre d’ seated them. Perhaps Jacques wil remember.”

“I’l speak to him,” Liz told Tucker.

“Does that mean the governor was home that night, since Foley’s presence wasn’t required?” Tucker asked.

“Or working late in his office,” Liz replied. “He has a habit of staying past business hours. It drives his staff and the delegates crazy, since he’s constantly cal ing them in at al hours of the night to go over legislation and plan strategy.”

“But wouldn’t Foley be around for that?” Tucker persisted.

“Not if the governor had sent him on another mission,” Liz said thoughtful y. “Which meant this dinner was important, and since Foley wanted his name taken off the reservation book, it was no doubt something he didn’t want widely known.”

“Then why come here?” Tucker asked. “You told me yourself this place is usual y crawling with movers and shakers.”

“But our booths are very private,” Dominique explained. “And if one wishes not to be disturbed, there is the private dining room. That is where Mr.

Foley was dining that night.”

“Mind if I take a look at the layout?” Tucker asked. “I want to see what he could see or overhear from that room.”

“Surely,” Dominique said. “Liz, wil you show him or shal I?”

“I know the way,” Liz said. “And we’ve already taken up too much of your time. Could you make me a copy of that night’s reservation pages?”

“Of course,” Dominique said at once. “I’l have it ready before you leave, though I don’t know how much luck you’l have reading my handwriting. As for Jacques’s…” She shrugged eloquently to express her dismay over the legibility of her mâitre d’s scribbles.

“We’l manage,” Liz assured her. “Thanks so much for your help.”

“Wil you be returning to Richmond soon?” Dominique asked. “I’m sure there are many here in town who wish to express their condolences in person.”

Liz exchanged a look with Tucker. “No. I’m hoping to stay on in Trinity Harbor, at least for the time being. I’ve been away from home for far too long.”

The other woman chuckled. “Yes, I can understand the al ure,” she said with another of those disconcerting surveys that clearly rattled Tucker.

He al but ran from the office. Liz caught up with him at the entrance to the dining room.

“Don’t tel me she made you nervous,” she teased him.

“Nervous? Me? Don’t be ridiculous,” he grumbled, but his neck was slowly turning a dul red.