Sherryl Woods – Along Came Trouble (страница 8)

She was about to walk away, when King blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight, Frances. Let’s talk this thing through. It’s not the kind of thing we can discuss with all these busybodies listening in.” He scowled in the direction of the owner. “Earlene’s already gotten an earful.”

King’s breath lodged in his throat as he waited for Frances to respond. For a minute, he thought she actually might refuse him. And maybe that was exactly what he deserved for being such a horse’s behind for all these months now. Daisy and Bobby had certainly told him so often enough. Even Tucker, who tended to avoid the topic of emotional entanglements like the plague, had put in his two cents on his father’s love life.

“Where?” she said at last.

King’s heart finally resumed a normal rhythm. “You name the place.”

“The marina,” she said at once.

“But—” He wisely cut himself off before he could protest that Bobby would spend the entire evening hovering over them and then reporting every last word they said to the rest of the family. Clearly that was exactly what Frances had in mind. She knew she had allies in his kids, and she intended to make the most of that. “The marina will be just fine. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Six-thirty will be better. We have a lot to discuss.” She leveled a look straight into his eyes, one of those piercing gazes that served her well as a county social worker. “And for once, it won’t be about your children’s love lives. It will be about ours.”

“Whatever you say,” King said meekly.

Obviously Frances had lost patience. It was put up or shut up time. Maybe, if he had a few spare minutes, he’d wander past a jewelry store and see if there was anything there that would suit her. In his experience, jewelry had a way of saying what mere words couldn’t express.

And, he thought with a sigh, with any luck, she wouldn’t throw it right back in his face.

Liz ran until she was out of breath. It was no surprise to her that she’d ended up on the banks of the river. It was where she’d always come when she had things to sort through—here or to Tucker. From the time she’d come to live with her grandfather after her parents’ deaths in an avalanche on an Alpine ski slope, Tucker had been her sounding board, always listening without judging. He’d been the best companion a lonely girl could have wished for. He’d been her champion when she’d started classes at the tight-knit Trinity Harbor school. He’d asked her to play on his summer baseball team and dared anyone to challenge the selection. For a tomboy like Liz, that had been the ultimate compliment a boy two years older could have paid her. Tucker had been her hero from the day they’d met on the school playground because he’d let her fight her own battles, hanging back and ready to help only if she asked for it.

Times had changed. She’d seen hints of judgment in his eyes more than once this morning, even when he’d managed to say all the right things. How could she blame him, though? She was lucky he hadn’t just tossed her out without listening to a single word she’d said.

She’d also noted what he hadn’t asked, how careful he’d been to avoid discussing the state of her marriage, but the questions were hanging in the air between them. She’d acknowledged her plans to divorce her husband but said nothing about her reasons. Sooner or later Tucker—or his deputy—was going to want to know what they were. She was going to have to brace herself for the humiliation of admitting that she’d never been enough for Larry, that he’d taken lovers within weeks of the wedding, perhaps even sooner.

Would the police see that as a motive for murder? she wondered. Could she make them see that it would be one only if she still cared, only if she hadn’t been worn out from a one-sided fight to save her marriage?

She picked her way along an overgrown path that would have horrified Larry—if he’d ever bothered to walk this far. Fortunately he’d been satisfied to survey his domain from the library windows or the brick terrace. He hadn’t known about Liz’s secret hiding place, little more than a shady patch of grass beneath a giant oak with a weathered swing dangling by thick ropes from a low branch. The river lapped gently at the shore here, glistening in the midmorning sun.

She sat on that swing now and pushed off idly, letting her thoughts wander. If Tucker was right, if someone had witnessed her scene with Larry and used it as a perfect cover for murder, who could it have been? A political enemy? A spurned lover? An outraged husband? There were plenty of each. Larry’s passions tended to draw emotional extremes. He’d fielded his share of threats, but had refused to take any of them seriously. Obviously he’d miscalculated.

There were anonymous letters, though, and tapes of threatening phone messages, all of the sort that many politicians received when they stirred up their constituents. Larry had dismissed them, but he’d been prudent enough to save them just in case one was ever acted on. She could provide them all to the police, which was what she needed to be doing now, not sitting down here hiding out and sulking over the doubts she’d seen in Tucker’s eyes. No one had a higher stake in proving her innocence than she did, not even Tucker.

Slowly she climbed the hill back to the house, aware that Tucker was waiting on the terrace, his expression inscrutable, his eyes shaded by mirrored aviator sunglasses as he watched her approach.

“Feel better?” he asked when she neared.

“Not really. I guess the soothing effects of my hideout don’t extend to murder.” She regarded him curiously. “I’m surprised you didn’t come after me to make sure I wasn’t taking off.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He regarded her worriedly. “Mary Elizabeth, this is going to get out of hand really fast. Walker’s had to call the forensics team and get the local medical examiner in here. Once Doc Jones heads out this way, the media won’t be far behind. You ready to face that?”

“Can’t we leave?” She shook her head and resolutely squared her shoulders. “Never mind. Of course we can’t. Can I go inside, put on something more appropriate?”

“No. It’s a crime scene.”

“Then I guess this will have to do,” she said, smoothing down Daisy’s ill-fitting jeans. “Your sister’s going to be thrilled to see her clothes on TV. She’ll probably burn them.”

“Or give them away,” he agreed.

Then, for the first time since she’d awakened to find him staring at her, he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. The gesture gave her the strength to face whatever was ahead.

“You stay put,” he said. “You should be safe enough out here for a time. I’ll get you something to drink and be right back. Powell ought to be here soon, too.”

She nodded and watched him go. She could do this, she told herself. She’d faced the media a thousand times in the last six years. She was good at it, a natural at spinning a story. She would make Larry proud of her one last time.

An hour later, sheriff’s deputies and media were swarming all over the place. Liz stood by and tried very hard to distance herself from the reason for their presence. She didn’t want to think too much about the scene inside her home, about Larry—a man she had once loved with all her heart—being dead, about the vicious words he’d hurled at her the last time they’d talked. That exchange would live with her forever. It was a side of her husband she’d never seen before, a side that was ruthless and manipulative.

He’d made it seem as if he’d been devastated by her request for a divorce, when nothing could have been further from the truth. They’d both known for a long time that the marriage was a shell of what it should have been. There had been no passion for years now. There were no kids to distract from the fact that they had nothing in common. Larry had wanted her for her name and connections, and for Swan Ridge, second only to King Spencer’s Cedar Hill in terms of a prestigious address in the county.

Even the date of their wedding had been calculated for maximum political benefit, just when the campaign season was heating up. Somehow she had missed that when he’d been courting her with lavish gifts and whispered words of love, when they’d talked far into the night sharing their idealistic dreams for a better world that together they could help to shape. She’d been blinded by his charm and his rhetoric. Somehow she had completely missed the shallowness beneath it.

Her first clue that she’d been conned had been the lover she’d found in his hotel room when she’d unexpectedly joined him on the campaign trail. They’d been married for less than two months at the time. Larry had apologized, said the relationship was over, but the woman hadn’t accepted it yet. He’d sworn it would never happen again, and bought Liz a diamond and amethyst necklace he’d told her reminded him of the sparkle in her eyes. Maybe if he’d exchanged the extravagant necklace for a sincere apology, she would have believed him.

Even so, Liz had been determined to make the marriage work. She’d dutifully appeared by his side at every chicken dinner, every small-town parade, every campaign stop. The year of finishing school her grandfather had insisted on had made her poised. Early years in Europe with parents who had too much money and too many interests to pay attention to a little girl had taught her to fend for herself and never let them see how much their neglect hurt. For the rest of the campaign, she had smiled despite the torment.