Lethal Literature Page 4

  “Mateo, wait!”

  Sally Ferguson, the nearest uniformed deputy guarding the yellow tape border, made a quick turn in my direction, but Mateo stopped her by raising his hand. He didn’t immediately turn and face me, and that little pause suggested he was bucking up for an argument. Or maybe he was contemplating all the different charges he could use to take me to jail. I followed his path across the lawn despite a feeling of doom creeping down my back. I had questions about my dad and figured Mateo would have to get over me crossing that line in the sand, even if it was plastic and yellow and flapping in the breeze with bold letters telling me not to cross it. I also knew he didn’t like being hounded, but I needed answers.

  He turned around with a heavy sigh and a pointed look at the crime scene tape.

  “I need to know if you’re holding my daddy for questioning.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Why indeed. “I don’t know why. Tell me why he seems to be glued to the ground near the Judge.”

  “That’s a question for him, not me.”

  His response threw me off guard. “You didn’t tell him he had to stay over there?”

  Mateo shook his head, and I looked past his shoulders to where my dad was awkwardly patting the Judge on the shoulder.

  “Bobby Ray is a witness, Charli.”

  “Oh.”

  His lips thinned and flattened in an I-told-you-not-to-meddle expression.

  Part of me still couldn’t believe Daddy would willingly stay beside the Judge. “He’s just a witness?”

  Mateo nodded.

  That was great news—except I felt like an anvil was going to drop out of the sky. I held the one bit of information tightly inside my chest that would change Mateo’s perspective about Daddy’s status in the case. If Mateo had seen Ava leaving Daddy’s house that morning the way I did, he’d be questioning my dad a lot longer than he already had. And until the moment Mateo found out about the two of them, I really didn’t want to talk to Sheriff Mateo. I could screw everything up with one slip of the tongue.

  For now, as far as I could tell, I was the only one with that tidbit of news, and I didn’t plan on sharing it with anyone anytime soon. Not until the real killer was behind bars.

  The faster that happened, the better off my daddy would be and the sooner I wouldn’t be holding back information in Mateo’s case.

  Which left the other man across the yard who was on his knees quoting scripture as the only possible suspect.

  Yesterday I wouldn’t have thought the Judge capable of murder. Today I wasn’t so sure. Yet I had to acknowledge that my bias against the man could be building the case up in my mind against him. I didn’t care for him. His wife seemed to think he was shacking up with Ava. And if I had to choose between my daddy or the Judge being suspect number one, hands down I’d say the Judge killed Ava James.

  But I’d never seen an ounce of violence from him either. I would, however, characterize him as being under a lot of stress with his wife in a nursing home losing her memory of him and their life together, which could have caused him to turn to another woman for comfort.

  I shivered at the thought that my daddy and the Judge could have been seeing the same woman. The age difference between my daddy and Ava made me cringe. The age difference between Ava and the Judge made me want to barf.

  As hard as it was for me to picture, the Judge could have been looking for a comforting touch, and everyone knows that anyone can kill under the right circumstance. It remained to be seen, however, if these were the right circumstances to push the Judge over the edge.

  Better people than Judge Sperry had buckled under less stress.

  “If that is all?” Mateo’s question wasn’t really a question. It was more of a polite statement to bug off and get out of his crime scene.

  I pushed anyway. “Is that Ava under the blanket?”

  “You have five seconds to get out of my crime scene before I have Deputy Ferguson arrest you.”

  “But, is that—”

  He pointed in the direction of the arbor.

  He wasn’t going to tell me a dadgum thing. When I hesitated a bit too long, Mateo grabbed my bicep and led me to the tape. “Good night, Charli Rae.”

  I swung around and was about to demand the victim’s identity when my daddy looked up at me and said something to the Judge, and the two of them stared in my direction. It wasn’t lost on me that they had to look over the top of the body to see me. I could hear the Judge spouting a verse. Not literally, as we were too far away to hear his actual words. But in my mind, his voice was loud with reverence for God. The man may not have known it, but I held the same respect for our creator. I just didn’t preach it to others.

  I held my biting retort for Mateo and nodded at both of them. My dad said a few parting words to the Judge and headed in my direction, passing Mateo on the way.

  Looking older than his fifty-some years, my daddy stopped in front of me. I hugged him, swift and strong. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I will be.”

  “Is that—” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “Is it Ava?”

  Daddy took a deep breath and nodded but wouldn’t meet my eyes. For a lean man who always held his head up high and spoke in a straightforward manner, he seemed completely out of his element. Quiet. Uncertain.

  If you didn’t know him, you might read shame into his expression. As it was, I wasn’t sure what emotions he was feeling. There were no tears in his eyes. No waver in his voice. Just a clenching of his jaw as he looked around the neighborhood like he was seeing all of the bystanders for the first time.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” I guided him away from Daisy, Jessie, and Scarlet and lowered my voice. “I know how much she meant to you.”

  “You need to go home, Princess.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “My truck won’t be released from the crime scene for quite some time. It seems I parked right in the middle of it without even knowing.” My gaze followed his, and for the first time, I noticed the trail of blood crossing the sidewalk. Ava had apparently been attacked there and staggered onto the lawn before she died.

  I forced away another shiver wanting to snake up my spine. “Scarlet can take you home,” I offered. I had no doubt my best friend would take him home and then come back for me since all three of us wouldn’t fit in her Isetta. Scarlet was that type of friend, the kind who would go into debt to bail you out of jail if you needed it—or drive you to a crime scene when someone you loved was in trouble.

  A sad smile graced Daddy’s face as he cupped my cheek with a weathered hand. “Jessie has already offered to give me a ride. Go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “But—”

  His head shook and I knew there was no point in arguing. “Go home, Princess.”

  I leaned into his palm and clasped it against my face. “I love you, Daddy. I’m here for you . . . no matter what.”

  “I know. Now go.” He turned me toward my best friend with a gentle push. “Scarlet, I’d appreciate it if you’d take Princess home. It’s been a long, hard day.”

  “Anything you say, Bobby Ray.”

  “Jessie, I’ll take you up on that ride in just a few moments.”

  Jessie nodded and my daddy headed back across the crime scene, making a wide detour around Ava’s body and the path of blood we couldn’t see from the sidewalk to her final resting place.

  I made note of who was standing around the crime scene tape so I could contact them later. One face caused me to stumble as we approached Scarlet’s little white two-seater.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t, because on the opposite end of Tenth Street stood the town mayor, Cade Calloway, my old high school sweetheart. Tall, commanding, and Texas
tough, Cade always made my heart skitter when I saw him. Tonight, however, it was the man standing next to him who sent my heart into overdrive. Not as tall by any means, and more on the plump side than muscular, his hands were on his hips as he bent over and breathed heavily. Gauging from the running shorts, clinging T-shirt, and wet tendrils of hair falling out of his man bun, I suspected he’d been out for his second run of the day on his quest to lose weight.

  My chest tightened with unease at seeing him—here with Ava and my daddy—because Mike Thompson was the only other person who could place Ava James at my daddy’s house that morning.

  Chapter Five

  I spent a fitful night tossing and turning while images of Ava, bloodied and battered, walking out of my daddy’s house, haunted my dreams. I woke up with Princess curled on the pillow next to me. Her eyes opened slowly as if she sensed me watching her. We stared at each other for a bit and then she yawned.

  “You have terrible morning breath.”

  She snorted as if to say it was my fault for making her eat grubs last night for dinner, then closed her eyes and went back to sleep. I was definitely going to need a new pillow. I probably went through more pillows than the bed-and-breakfast in town.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my pet armadillo; I loved her dearly, but I really didn’t want to share a pillow with her. There were some things not made for armadillos. My bed was one of them.

  I pulled off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. As good as it felt, it didn’t erase my unease. I finished my shower, got dressed, and texted my dad.

  Ru okay?

  It didn’t take long for him to respond. I’m fine. I’ll be at the store a little late this morning, but I’ll be there in plenty of time for you to leave on your trip.

  My trip. I’d completely forgotten about my trip. I’d gotten a mani-pedi on Wednesday for my first romantic weekend in ages. It’d been so long, I wasn’t sure I remembered the last one. Not that I had a ton of them, but this one was supposed to be special. For my birthday, Mateo had given me a pair of tickets to see the Tony Bennett concert in Dallas. He’d told me I could ask anyone I wanted to go with me to the concert since the drive meant at least one night in the Big D, and I’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to go with me. Since then, he’d confessed if I’d asked anyone else other than Scarlet, he might have arrested the guy for jaywalking every day just to make sure he’d have a warrant or he’d have to figure out another charge when it came time for us to leave for the concert.

  I was pretty sure he’d been joking.

  But now it felt like a weekend getaway was impossible. Not only did I have people to talk to, Mateo didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to go anywhere with me last night. I sighed and gazed at the suitcase sitting in my living room. I’d packed in the beginning of the week, anxious to really identify this thing between us as a relationship.

  As if reading my mind, my phone rang with his special ringtone about bad boys.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. How’d you sleep?”

  “Probably better than you.”

  He chuckled. That was a good sign. “Listen, about tonight . . .”

  That was a bad sign.

  “Can we postpone our weekend?” He didn’t wait for me to balk. “This case has us pretty busy and—”

  I didn’t give him time to explain further. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do.” I didn’t, but my defensive walls were building. “I should have given you the opportunity to back out last night. I’ll let you get to it.” I started to hang up, but his voice stopped me.

  “Wait, Charli! I’m not backing out.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m asking if we can leave tomorrow morning instead.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily?”

  “If I’d asked last night, if we were still on for the weekend, would you have said yes?” I asked.

  “Querida, it will take more than a little of your meddling to chase me away.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I was pretty sure I should be insulted about the meddling comment, but Mateo calling me “darling” was throwing me off my game. We hadn’t graduated to terms of endearment yet, and I wasn’t quite sure if querida was a word you could use for a grandmother, a niece, or someone you were about to spend the weekend with. Then again, it could be the same as a cowboy using the term “darlin’” for every woman he came across that wasn’t his real sweetheart.

  I decided to ignore it and test different waters. “Do you have any leads in Ava’s case?”

  His sigh was enough to tell me he wished I’d taken the conversation in the other direction. “Charli, this is a police investigation. Please stay out of it.”

  I pushed. It’s what I did best. “So, my daddy’s just a witness, nothing more?”

  “Is there a reason I should look for him to be something more?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “That’s because your question was absurd.” Seriously, did he think I would narc on my own dad?

  “I thought we’d gotten to a point of trusting each other.”

  I thought about that for a moment too long.

  “I guess I was wrong,” he said. His disappointment hung in the air like a typical Texas storm. Building. Darkening. Turning into something larger than it should have been. Any second as the silence grew between us it could explode into a massive storm or dissipate into nothing. I prayed for nothing. Mateo was the one to finally break the dead air.

  “I’ll call you later this evening.”

  “Okay.”

  My heart wanted to skip down Main Street while my brain tried to decide if I was happy or scared witless about the weekend, or if it was the case that had me tied in knots. My body chose to work through it and ignore both organs. It was for the best.

  I made my way through the secret door in the second bedroom of my apartment above the Barn. It used to be my parents’ room when I was a kid; now it was a guest room that my cousin used when he came in town for business or a visit. He’d developed a book app that featured our bookstore and had increased our online sales tremendously.

  I made my way downstairs and unlocked the doors for a couple that stood waiting at the front door for the store to open. When I asked if they were looking for anything specific, they advised they wanted to look at our used book section and I directed them toward the loft. Then I started brewing sweet tea for the tearoom we had in the store. It wasn’t anything fancy, just rustic charm with country lace draping small tables in the largest stall on the lower level of the Book Barn Princess. I normally bought treats from Franz at the bakery across the street, but today I went with peanut brittle and chocolate turtles; comfort foods I thought everyone would need. I grabbed a turtle and took a bite, savoring the flavors of caramel-covered pecans smothered in rich milk chocolate.

  I’d chosen well.

  The door buzzed and I stuck my head out of the stall to greet my customer. Scarlet strolled in looking like a fresh spring day in Texas. Her auburn hair was curled and bouncy and accentuated her bare shoulders. She wore a blue peasant dress with a very short hemline. Her stilettos almost brought her up to my eye level and displayed an expanse of shapely legs.

  “I love that T-shirt!” she exclaimed with her ever-present grin.

  Leave it to Scarlet to compliment a stone-washed pink T-shirt screen-printed with Lit happens at the #BookBarn across my chest, while she looked like a million bucks.

  I smiled and told her the truth. “You look gorgeous.”

  Scarlet’s laughter carried through the Barn like a song. “Some of us have to work at it, while others can get away with murder.”

  “It seems
murder is on everyone’s mind,” I mumbled over another bite.

  Scarlet’s mood turned somber. “As it should be. We lost a very good woman last night. That’s what I came to talk to you about.” Scarlet moved closer and looked around the Barn.

  I nodded toward the loft. “There’s a couple customers upstairs, but so far that’s it.”

  She pulled me back into the tearoom. I wasn’t sure it was necessary. For the past ten minutes, the elderly couple upstairs had been arguing over which book was a more important depiction of American history, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind or F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. Each had valid points, but the one argument they were missing was the authors’ lack of perspective from the African American characters in both stories. That was a true reflection on our history that would have given both of them points in their column if they’d recognized the flaw, but they hadn’t. Which one would receive more points was a matter of perspective.

  “Reba Sue came in to get her nails done today.”

  I really didn’t care to hear what Reba Sue was doing. She was probably getting dolled up for a weekend with Cade Calloway. The mayor, my ex, and the man whom I decided not to wait around for despite the chemistry between us. I still wasn’t quite over him, but I’d moved forward with my life and had taken Mateo up on his offer—an offer he was probably second-guessing.

  “Reba Sue is in there all the time,” I said.

  Scarlet looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Yeah, but today she started talking about Ava’s murder and how Isla came into court yesterday morning.”

  “Isla was in court? For what?” I thought about the conversation at the Oak Grove care facility the previous day.

  “Isla accused the Judge of cheating on her.”

  “I heard the rumors,” I acknowledged. Everyone had heard the rumors.

  “Yeah, but Isla threatened to cut Ava’s throat if she ever caught her sneaking into her home.”