What She Doesn't Know (28 page)

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Authors: Beverly Barton

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary romance, #Fiction

BOOK: What She Doesn't Know
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Chapter 27
 
“Telephone for you, Mallory.” Yvonne knocked softly on the closed bedroom door. “Mallory, did you hear me? There’s a call for you.”
Mallory flopped over in bed, grumbled sleepily and forced her eyes open. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“He?” Mallory’s heart fluttered.
It must be R. J.
She sprang into a sitting position, grabbed the receiver off the telephone base and called out to Yvonne. “I’ve got it. Thank you.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mal.”
It
was
R. J. They hadn’t said good-bye until shortly after three this morning. With Max out of town, it was a whole lot easier sneaking in past her curfew. No one else in the house kept close tabs on her, not even her mother, who seemed lost in her own little world of grief these days.
“Do you miss me already?” Mallory asked, her body softening and tingling just thinking about R. J. He had made her a woman…and she loved him wildly, passionately, completely. “I miss you.”
“Mal, babe, listen up, will you?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Well, it’s like this—I’m fixing to head out to Texas. A buddy of mine called awhile ago and said he’s got this really fantastic job out there just waiting for me.”
Mallory felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her. “You’re leaving Sumarville?”
“Yeah, I gotta go. This job is just too good to turn down.”
“When—when will you come back?”
For me
, she added silently.
“Well…that’s just it. You see, I probably won’t be back.”
“Not ever?”
Please, God, please let him ask me to go with him
.
“Hey, sugar, we’ve had a great time, haven’t we? Lots of fun in the sack. We’re lucky we’re ending it before we got bored with each other. Right?”
Emotion lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. Somehow she forced the words of a reply past the restriction. “Right.”
“If I’m ever back this way, I’ll look you up,” R. J. said. “But by then you’ll probably be married or something.”
“Yeah, I probably will be…married or something.”
“You’re one fantastic lady, Mal. I’ll never forget you.”
“I—I’ll never forget you, either.”
“Good-bye, babe.”
The dial tone hummed in Mallory’s ear. “Good-bye.” The telephone dropped from her hand as she slid off the side of the bed and onto the floor. She sat there, staring off into space, the singsong, off-the-hook-warning blaring from the receiver.
Another barrage of bullets ripped through the car door and shattered the back windshield. As the gunfire peppered the asphalt beneath the trunk, Jolie prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life. Max lay on top of her, large and heavy, his big body shielding her from the attack. Suddenly she heard screeching tires mingling with hysterical screams. Then Max rolled off her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. They lay side-by-side, on the ground by the rental car, her shoulder brushing the front right tire.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her trembling hand reached out to touch his face. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Whoever was shooting at us wasn’t much of a shot or we’d both be dead.”
“Another hired gunman?”
Max stood and assisted her to her feet. “My guess is that he was just some goon who got sent out on the spur of the moment. Probably hired through several people passing along the assignment.”
“He could have killed us.”
“Yeah, he had enough firepower to have mowed down a dozen people,” Max said. “I’d say his orders were to scare the shit out of us, not kill us.”
“A warning?”
“Oh, yeah. A major warning.”
A crowd of curious excited bystanders hovered nearby. One tall slender gray-haired man, dressed in casual white slacks and a striped cotton shirt, came forward and said, “We’ve called the police. Are either of you hurt?”
Max wrapped his arm around Jolie’s waist and held her close. “We’re okay. Just a little shaken. Did anybody get a good look at the car or the shooter?”
“It all happened so fast,” the man said. “I don’t believe anyone got a good look at the man, but he was driving a late model, red Ford truck.”
Max inspected Jolie, apparently wanting to make sure she was truly all right. He frowned when he saw the tears in her linen slacks and the blood seeping through from the scratches on her knees. He grabbed her hands and turned them palms up.
“Damn.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly smoothed the blood off her raw palms, then he lifted first one hand and then the other to his lips.
Adrenaline pumped through her at a high velocity. She laid her head on his chest and slipped her arms around him, her heart hammering madly and her body shivering with the aftershocks of fear.
After spending several hours at the police station in Key West, Jolie and Max went on a quick shopping spree. They bought new clothes, since when they were attacked, they’d been wearing the only change of clothes they had taken with them on their trip. On the plane ride home, they discussed their options concerning the Belle Rose massacre case. They both knew chances were slim that they’d ever get their hands on the stolen files.
“Bendall did give us a clue,” Max said. “It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“
Lisette Desmond was pregnant and you’ll never guess who the daddy was
.” Jolie quoted Bendall’s exact words.
“Was Lisette pregnant when she died? And if she was, why is the father’s identity important?” Max asked.
“If she was pregnant, the father’s identity has to be a clue to who the real killer is. Did the baby’s father have a reason to kill her? Did my mother and Lemar simply get in the way that afternoon?”
It was late evening by the time Max and Jolie arrived at Belle Rose. The entire family had congregated in the front parlor, awaiting their arrival. Georgette perched on the sofa, a sulking Mallory beside her. A medicated Aunt Clarice lounged in one of the wing chairs; Nowell Landers hovered directly behind her. A bleary-eyed, slightly tipsy Parry Clifton stood by the fireplace, a bored expression on his face. And Theron sat in his wheelchair, Yvonne at his side.
As they entered the foyer at Belle Rose, Max dumped their bags on the marble floor; then cupping Jolie’s elbow, he led her into the front parlor. She couldn’t help thinking about how easily she accepted Max’s touch, how a man who had been little more than a stranger to her several weeks ago was now the most important person in her life.
When they entered the parlor, all eyes focused on them. Parry lifted his whiskey glass in a salute. “Hail, hail the conquering hero.”
“Oh, shut up, Uncle Parry,” Mallory said. “You’re drunk!”
“Please, Mallory…dear…” Georgette spoke to her daughter, but her gaze never left Max and Jolie.
“Where the hell did you two go?” Parry asked. “Slip off somewhere for a night of debauchery? A little private slap and tickle away from prying eyes?”
“Parry!” Georgette scowled at her brother.
“Did you get them?” Theron asked, completely ignoring the others.
“Get what?” Trying to focus, Clarice blinked as if awakening from sleep. “Jolie, dear girl, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even say good-bye.”
Max looked directly at Theron. “We came close. I bid a sizable amount of money for them and struck a deal, but it seems someone else upped my offer, and we weren’t given a chance to make a counteroffer.”
“So, you don’t have them?” Grimacing, Theron tightened his hands into fists and then loosened them over his knees.
“Don’t have what?” Georgette asked. “Where did you and Jolie go and what did you make a bid on?”
Jolie walked over to Clarice, leaned down, kissed her cheek, and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye before we left, but we had to fly to Key West immediately.”
“Nice vacation spot,” Parry said. “Very romantic. Surf and sand and brilliant sunsets.”
“Dammit, Uncle Parry, shut the hell up!” Mallory marched over to her uncle, planted her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “You don’t honestly think Max would take
her
away on some romantic holiday, do you?”
Max cleared his throat. “Jolie and I flew to Key West to speak to Sumarville’s former sheriff, Aaron Bendall. It seems that when he left office fifteen years ago, he took the Belle Rose massacre files along with him.”
Gasping, Georgette’s gaze met Parry’s. “Why—why would he take those files with him?”
“So he could blackmail someone with them,” Jolie said. “Someone who didn’t want the truth to come out. Someone who knew that there was evidence in those files that probably proved Lemar Fuqua didn’t kill my mother and aunt.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Parry attempted to set his glass on the mantel, but missed by a fraction of an inch, sending the tumbler crashing to the marble hearth.
Clarice jerked and cried out. Georgette jumped.
“Someone has been paying Bendall hush money all these years,” Max said. “And that same someone offered Bendall more than a million dollars to disappear and take the files with him.”
“A million dollars?” Mallory’s eyes rounded. “You offered the man a million dollars? Why? What difference does it make who killed those women? What’s it to you, Max?” Narrowing her gaze, Mallory glared at Jolie.
“Mallory, please be quiet,” Georgette said. “You’re being terribly insensitive. Those women were Jolie’s mother and aunt, as well as Clarice’s sisters.”
Mallory shrugged.
“The bottom line is that you didn’t get the files,” Theron said. “So we don’t have the evidence we need to reopen the case. Not even one more clue that might lead us to the real killer.”
Jolie looked at Max, silently asking for his agreement before she revealed their one small tidbit of information. Max nodded. “Bendall gave us what he referred to as a ‘freebie.’ So we do have a clue, but unless we can exhume Aunt Lisette’s body, the clue is useless.”
“Exhume Lisette’s body?” Georgette rose from her chair.
“You’re crazy!” Staggering toward Jolie, Parry wagged his index finger at her. “I’ll not stand for it! Do you hear me? You will not disturb my poor Lisette.”
Clarice grabbed Jolie’s hand. “Why do you want to do this terrible thing?”
Jolie knelt beside her aunt’s chair. “Because we need to have another autopsy performed.”
“But why?” Clarice gazed at Jolie with utter confusion in her hazel eyes.
“Aunt Clarice, was Aunt Lisette pregnant when she died?”
Clarice gasped. “Pregnant? Oh, dear. Oh dear. No one was supposed to know. Not until after the wedding She didn’t tell a soul except Audrey and me and she swore us to secrecy.”
Jolie let out the breath she’d been holding. “Do you know who the father was?”
“The father?” Clarice glanced at Parry. “I assumed the child was Parry’s. After all, they were engaged to be married.”
Just as Parry reached down for Jolie, rage contorting his features, Max crossed the room and grabbed his uncle’s arm. He whirled Parry around to face him. “Was the baby yours?”
Parry swayed back and forth. Max gripped his shoulder to steady him. “Yes, of course, the baby was mine. And if you’d gotten your hands on those files, you would have read where I was questioned about Lisette’s pregnancy and I told the sheriff that the baby was mine.”
“Poor, poor Parry,” Clarice said. “Losing not only Lisette, but his child, too.”
Jolie stood and moved to Max’s side. “I don’t understand, then. If the baby was Parry’s, why would Bendall think the father’s identity would be a clue to the killer’s identity?”
“Unless the man was implying that Parry was the killer,” Nowell Landers said.
“What?” Clarice shook her head. “No, no, that’s not right. Parry and Lisette were engaged. They loved each other.”
“For once, Miss Loony Tunes is right,” Parry said. “Why would I have killed the woman I loved? Bendall gave y’all a false clue. Hell, this is ridiculous.” Parry glared at Yvonne and then at Theron. “Lemar Fuqua killed Lisette because he was crazy in love with her and couldn’t have her. And he killed Audrey because she knew what he’d done.”
“That’s a damn lie!” Theron shouted.
“Then prove it, boy. By God, prove it!” Parry stormed out of the parlor.
“I’m sorry.” Georgette looked pleadingly at Yvonne. “I apologize for the way Parry acted, for what he said.”
“Lemar cared for Lisette, as he did Clarice,” Yvonne said. “It was a brotherly affection. Nothing more.”
“Then it’s not possible that Lemar was the father of Lisette’s baby?” Jolie asked.

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