Down Home and Deadly Page 8

I glanced at him in puzzlement as he turned me to face the wall across the room. Photos of Coach Mike and his pupils. I walked across for a closer look. To my surprise, I was in more than half the photos.

  “My star student,” Coach said from behind us.

  I spun around. “Up to a point.”

  He chuckled. “Up to the point that Super Girl finally showed she was human by getting sick at the worst possible time? But even then you were the best I ever coached.”

  I ignored the last part of his comment as politeness and focused on the first part. “You didn’t think my illness was just nerves? A way to wimp out?” Until I said it aloud, I hadn’t realized that deep down that was what I’d feared all these years.

  “Nerves?” he boomed. “Nerves don’t cause a 102-degree fever. You had no business competing. If you’ll remember, I told you to withdraw, and you refused. And I felt it had to be your decision, since you’d trained so long and hard. Your parents reluctantly agreed with me. But your body couldn’t fight infection and win a gold medal at the same time.”

  “Or any medal,” I reminded him just in case he’d forgotten.

  Demaree slipped her arm around me and gave me a side hug. “Girl, you qualified for the Olympics. Where’s the shame in that? Even if you hadn’t been sick, which you definitely were, there are only so many medals. But being there was a victory. You’re an amazing swimmer.” She walked over and took her husband’s hand. “And even more important, in our eyes, you’re an amazing person. So don’t identify yourself by what you can do, but by who you are. You’re a beautiful, caring Christian woman who has had some disappointments. But from those disappointments has come determination and strength of character. And we’re proud to have you for our daughter-in-law.”

  I reached up to wipe a tear, and Alex grasped my wrist lightly.

  “What a sneaky way of showing off your engagement ring,” he said and held up my hand. What a sneaky way of changing the subject.

  I loved him.

  And his parents.

  *****

  When we pulled into my driveway that night, I wondered for the hundredth time why I’d been so nervous about seeing his parents again.

  Alex got out and walked me to the door. “Want me to come in and make sure everything’s okay?”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine.” I glanced at my watch. “Zac was here just a couple of hours ago to let Mr. Persi out.”

  It was a little before ten. Not too late to give Carly a call. When I got inside, I did, and she answered on the first ring. “I was hoping you’d call. How’d it go?”

  I hit the speakerphone button and laid the phone on the vanity. “Great. I had a wonderful time.” I slid the ponytail holder from my hair and picked up my brush. “They were so nice to me.”

  “All that worrying for nothing,” Carly teased.

  “I guess you’re right. You know what?” I ran the brush through my tangled hair. “They’re really happy we’re engaged.”

  “Of course they are. They know a good thing when they see it.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “And so do I. I’m so glad Alex and I finally worked things out.” I looked at myself in the mirror. Even I could see that I looked happy. “Now if I can just get you and Elliott all fixed up.” I teased her.

  “You know how mom always tells you to mind your own business?” She laughed. “Well, never mind. That dog won’t hunt.”

  “I guess you’re implying that I’m nosy?” Nothing new there.

  “Well if the shoe fits.” She laughed. “And we know it’s exactly your size. And you have the mate in your closet.”

  “Okay, silly. But you’d tell me if there was anything I could do to help y’all, right?” I laid the brush down.

  “Of course.” She lowered her voice. “I’m just not going to rush into anything.”

  I hardly considered a year “rushing,” but Carly would do things in her own time. Harvey was right when he said she had a mind of her own.

  “By the way,” I said. “Larry was at the club when I went to see Lisa. He didn’t seem too happy.”

  “Lisa’s husband? I don’t imagine knowing Lisa was seeing J.D. made him happy.”

  “Well, the thing is, he knew exactly where she kept the gun. In fact, he’s the one who told her to bring it to the club and put it in the drawer.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  And even though she couldn’t see me, I blushed. “No, I overheard it when I was standing outside her office.”

  “Who, you? Nosy? What was I thinking? Eavesdropping, huh?” Carly said dryly.

  “No, in this instance I was just waiting politely until she was free to see me,” I said piously. “The point is Larry knew about the murder weapon and where it was.

  “Hmm. . .” Carly said. “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you tell me before you quit that Lisa was laying it on thick to some of the members about the club being safe because she had a gun and knew how to use it?”

  I slapped my forehead with my free hand. “Carly, you’re right. I can’t believe I forgot that. But she was bragging to a bunch of guys one morning when I came in.”

  “So a lot of people knew about the gun. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to find it in her desk drawer.”

  “That’s true. But Bob specifically said Larry was abusive. And if he was jealous. . .”

  “Yeah,” Carly said. “We know firsthand that jealousy can lead to murder.”

  “Oh well, I may find out more tomorrow. I’m going to swim at the club in the morning.”

  “So you and Bob made up?”

  “I guess. To an extent.”

  “If it’s not war, it’s peace,” she said. “Be thankful for it.”

  “Believe me, I am.”

  *****

  It felt weird but totally natural to be back at the club pool for my morning swim. I had spent so much time here that not coming for the last few weeks had felt strange. I shook off introspections and focused on getting my laps in. No use crying over spilled milk. Or in this case, chlorinated water. Definitely better than the lake. And so nice to have it to myself. Or so I thought.

  “Hey! They let just anybody in here?”

  I set a new record for going from a breaststroke to a high jump in seven feet of water. Which Seth thought was hilarious.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I excused myself for sounding like a petulant child on the basis of extreme surprise.

  “I heard the great Jenna Stafford was working out here again, and I had to come check it out.” A grin still marked his features, so at least my rudeness hadn’t been too obvious. “Just kidding. Passing by on my way to the weight room. I’ll be back later in case you need company.” With a jaunty salute, he left, but before I could soak in the solitude, Amelia came in. So much for a quiet swim.

  Amelia motioned imperiously.

  Like a puppet on strings, I obediently swam to the edge of the pool.

  She handed me a towel. “Put this around you and sit with me a minute.” She proceeded to a corner table and made herself comfortable.

  I followed. Like I had a choice. As I draped the towel over me for maximum coverage and warmth, Amelia looked around suspiciously then leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. Apparently she was channeling James Bond. I glanced around nervously. Were enemy agents about to descend? Was the room bugged? Was Amelia slightly batty?

  “What’s wrong, Amelia?” I apparently hadn’t quite banished my inner pouty child.

  “Shh. I don’t want anyone to see us talking.” She got up and looked out the steamy windows of the pool room doors. Satisfied that we weren’t being observed, she resumed her seat. “Remember what I asked you to do for me?”

  Oops. I was drawing a blank. “What?”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head as if she felt sorry for me for having such a low IQ. “You were going to ask around about Ricky.”

  “Oh yes. That. Well
. . .” Pause for throat clearing and brain searching. “So far, not much.” I’d been a little busy trying to help Bob keep Lisa out of jail and find out who really killed J.D. But since Amelia knew I wasn’t directly involved with this murder investigation, I knew she’d never buy that as an excuse. And considering that this very moment, Ricky’s partner was in the weight room next door, I could make up for lost time. “I’ve got a plan, though.”

  “Plans are only as efficient as the planner,” she said primly.

  I pushed a wet strand of hair off my face and stared at her. Was she insulting me?

  Her expression lightened a little. I think she realized she’d almost pushed the “favor” envelope too far. “Please hurry. Tiffany’s pushing like mad for me to get this wedding planned.”

  “Okay, I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out anything.”

  She gave me a terse nod and stood, then with a surreptitious wave of dismissal, sauntered out. I wanted to call out a witty “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” but I felt sure she wouldn’t appreciate it. So I stood and sidled toward the shower room. Even though I loved to swim, I hated getting back in the water after I’d been out for a while.

  I rushed through my shower and emerged just as Seth left the men’s shower room. How convenient.

  He shot me a cocky grin as if I’d set up this meeting on purpose. And even if he was close to right, it definitely wasn’t for the reason he was obviously hoping it was for. “Hey, babe, we’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he drawled.

  I cringed, glad I hadn’t said something similar to Amelia. That old line wasn’t as witty as I’d thought it might be when it was said aloud. “Hi, Seth. Did you have a good workout?”

  He flexed his muscles beneath his white T-shirt. “Always.”

  Even for Amelia, I draw the line at admiring another man’s pecs. I glanced toward the pool. “Do you swim?”

  He nodded. “Like a pro.” He apparently remembered who he was talking to, because he said, “Well, I may not be the best in the world.” He laughed. “But at least I can swim. Ol’ Rick can’t swim a lick.”

  Talk about opportunity knocking. “He can’t?”

  “Nah, he always says if God intended us to swim, he’d have given us fins.”

  Mission accomplished. Now anyone with a brain could see that Ricky wasn’t suitable for Tiffany. Imagine anyone not swimming. I smiled at my silly thoughts. “Speaking of Ricky, is he an all-right guy?”

  Seth frowned at me and stumbled a little. “Yeah, he’s okay. Why?”

  I waved my hand airily. “I just don’t know him that well. . .and now that he’s playing b-ball with us on Sunday afternoons, I thought I should know a little about him.”

  “Like what?” Seth’s face darkened.

  Unsure whether to abort my mission or keep trying, I forged on. “Oh, I don’t know. Like did he move here to take the police job, or was he already here when the opening came?”

  “I don’t know. I think he had been here a little while when the opening came up. Why?” His eyes were filled with suspicion.

  “I told you. I just like to know about people. And I figured you’re his best friend, since y’all are partners and all.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know about best friend. That sounds kinda girly. He’s a pal. We don’t hang out much, since he and Tiffany have a thing going on.” He sent a searching look my way. “You do know about that, don’t you?”

  “Sure. I saw them at the cabins the other day, remember? Have they dated long? Did he date around when he first came?”

  Seth’s grin slipped slightly. “Why? You want to take him away from her? Did you forget that big rock on your finger?”

  My eyebrows rose. “No!”

  He put his hand on my arm and gazed into my eyes. “You’ve made it plain to me you’re engaged, and I’m dealing with that. So why are you asking about other men?”

  Eek. I hadn’t taken into account that he might be jealous. “Seth. . .I—”

  He held up his hand. “I know. You only like me as a friend. But Tiffany’s a real sweet girl. And she doesn’t need you messing things up for her. So just remember, Rick’s taken.” He stomped off before I could assure him that I wasn’t after Tiffany’s boyfriend.

  I knew one thing for sure. I’d never ask Amelia for another favor.

  Her paybacks were too steep.

  *****

  *****

  Chapter Eight

  Between a rock and a hard place

  The next night, I walked out of the diner and glanced at the digital numbers on the front of my cell phone. Only 8:30. I still had plenty of time to run by the Monitor and pick up some Dear Pru letters. I drove the short distance, pulled into the empty parking lot, and killed the motor.

  I dreaded going in to an empty office. But picking up the letters after everyone was gone was the only way to preserve my secret identity. Even though Marge had always told me just to tell people I did some part-time work for the newspaper, she also said not to be specific about what the part-time work entailed.

  So I’d gotten used to letting myself in the back door with the key Marge had given me and finding my way through the darkened offices to the desk where my letters were kept. Still, every time I unlocked this door, I thought about Hank Templeton, the former editor. And about his murder. Tonight, as I headed down the hall, I noticed a light shining under the door of the editor’s office.

  I shivered. Had Hank left the light on for me?

  Since I didn’t believe in ghosts, I hefted my carryall, wondering how much impact it would have on a skull. Not much, since I’d emptied it before I left home. I glanced around the hall. Unless I intended to yank a picture off the wall and beat the intruder over the head, I had few options. I turned to look for a more conventional weapon and tripped over a trash can.

  The office door opened.

  “Freeze! I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it,” a woman’s voice snarled.

  “Don’t shoot!” I threw my arms over my head.

  “Jenna?”

  “Tiffany? Thank goodness. You scared me to death.”

  “Yeah? Well, my heart’s beating a little fast, too.”

  “Do you really have a gun?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  “Sort of.” She sheepishly extended her hand, with the index finger pointed outward and the others curled in.

  “I’ll have to remember that next time I get in a tight spot.” I grinned. “I just came to pick up some Dear Pru letters.”

  “I thought you came on Tuesdays.”

  “I had a late date last night, and you know I can’t come during business hours. There wasn’t a car in the parking lot.”

  She motioned to her sweat suit. “Ricky’s on duty tonight, and I was just out for a walk. Thought I’d stop by and catch up on some work.”

  I nodded. “I should’ve called you. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Neither of us had a heart attack, so no harm done. Come on in, and let’s get some letters.”

  As we walked down the hall, she said, “Aunt Marge says the Dear Pru column has soared in popularity since you took it over.”

  “Thanks, I wasn’t sure at first if I could do it, but with Carly’s help, and Mama’s, too, actually, I—”

  Tiffany stopped and frowned. “I didn’t know your mom knew about you being Dear Pru.”

  I laughed as I walked on into the office. “She has no idea. But Mama has given us so much good advice over the years that with almost every Dear Pru letter, I remember a nugget of her wisdom to help me answer.” I pulled a manila envelope stuffed full of letters out of the filing cabinet.

  “Lucky you.” She stepped inside the office. “I guess I was born a rebel. I’ve never been good at taking my mother’s advice.” She laughed. “Just ask her.” She sat down in the chair near the desk. “Although, you may have gathered that from the other day at the diner.”

  “Well. . .” I wanted to be diplomatic, not my best talent. “I did get t
he impression she wanted you to spend more time planning your wedding.” I took several letters off the stack and sat down in the chair beside Tiffany.

  “She wants it to be the social event of the season.” She shrugged. “Not me. If it weren’t for Daddy, I’d just elope. What about you? Have you and Alex set a date yet?”

  “We’re planning on right around Christmas.” I glanced down at my engagement ring.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell my mother you’re getting married that soon, or she’ll be planning your wedding. Or wait. . . Do tell her, and maybe it’ll get her off my case.”

  “I could probably use a wedding planner.” Although truthfully, I agreed with Tiffany. I didn’t need a big social event to be married. Our wedding would be quiet and simple. But just as legal and romantic as a bigger one.

  “Jenna?” Tiffany’s normally confident voice was hesitant. “I’ve noticed how well you deal with my mother.”

  Shocked, I bit back a protest. Amelia and I dealt as well as a snake and a frog, with me being the frog. I always feared she might swallow me whole.

  Tiffany continued, oblivious to my amazement. “You know, I was always a disappointment to her. She’s so perfect, and I could never live up to that.”

  “Well. . .” I cleared my throat. “Everyone’s idea of perfection is different. And a child’s perception of her mother sometimes differs from the way others see her.”

  “How did you see your mother?”

  I thought of my mom playing kickball with us when we were little, taking me to the pool, sitting patiently and proudly through endless swim meets, serving as room mother throughout my elementary years, teaching me to pray, admonishing me to pay attention to the preacher. My mom was my cheerleader, my spiritual adviser, my support. My hero.

  “Well. . .” I hedged. “My mom’s not your average mom. She’s more like Super Mom.”

  “You know, when I came home on holidays, I’d see you and your sister at church with your folks, and I fantasized about being you.”

  “You’re kidding. Why?”

  She shrugged and looked a little embarrassed. “You got to live at home all time. You weren’t considered a nuisance who had to be sent to boarding school.”