Dead Between the Lines (10 page)

The three of us were silent until Vaughn glanced at his diamond-studded Rolex and rose. “I’d better not keep my date waiting any longer, or she’ll order the four-hundred-dollar bottle of Krug just to spite me. And considering she wouldn’t know a good wine from a bottle of Boone’s Farm, that would be a crying shame.” He touched his finger to his forehead and said, “Be good, you two.” He winked. “Or at least don’t get caught.”

After Vaughn left, our waitress served our champagne and took our food orders. Noah and I both started with smoked salmon, but while he selected chicken livers and grits for his main course, I stuck to the traditional eggs Benedict. For the kind of money the restaurant was charging, I wasn’t eating poultry organs and ground corn. Gran would be happy to cook either of those items for me anytime.

The food was amazing, and as we savored our after-brunch coffee, I told Noah about Nadine’s revelation that Lance had written “The Bend’s Buzz.” I concluded, “So, did everyone in town know but me?”

“I don’t think so.” Noah set his cup down. “I certainly didn’t know, and a lot of my patients have been really curious about who’s been writing that stuff. They and my staff talk about who the Bend’s Buzzard is all the time.”

“The Bend’s Buzzard?” I chuckled. “How appropriate.”

“I think so.” Noah nodded sagely, a smile playing along his lips.

“So, if someone found out that Lance was the one dishing the dirt on everyone, they might have a good motive for killing him.” I toyed with my spoon while I thought about that, then asked, “Have you heard of anyone who was really angry about being gossiped about in the paper?”

“My physician’s assistant, Yale Gordon, wasn’t happy to have the details of his recent divorce trotted out for everyone to read.” Noah wiped his mouth on his napkin and sat back. “Yale was livid and said if he knew who the Buzzard was, he’d wring his neck.”

“Really?” I had to start reading the paper more. That is, if they found someone else to write the column. “Yale was at the book-club meeting. I wonder if he found out about Lance that night.”

“Or if Yale didn’t, maybe someone else did,” Noah suggested.

“Hmm.” I contemplated Quistgaard’s secret identity while Noah took care of the bill, and we walked back to where we’d parked. I didn’t even consider offering to chip in this time. No way could I afford bluestem’s prices.

Noah helped me into the Jag, then headed the car back to Shadow Bend. After several miles of silence, he commented, “You’re awfully quiet. Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes. I mean, the more I think about the murder, the angrier I get.” I scowled. “That someone used my fence post to kill that obnoxious poet, and evidently hid out in my store after hours, just frosts my cookies.” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you think the murderer was trying to set me up to take the fall? Maybe because of my past involvement with the police and the judicial system?”

Between my ex-boss having been arrested for fraud shortly after I resigned from Stramp Investments and my being a prime suspect in a murder investigation in February, I’d had more than my share of suspicion cast on me. It could be that whoever had killed Quistgaard might have intended to take advantage of my past misfortunes and try to pin the crime on me.

“I suppose it’s possible you were a target.” Noah twitched his shoulders. “But the whole crime appears to be impulsive rather than planned. The killer used a weapon of convenience rather than bringing one with him or her. And he or she put the body in a box rather than throwing it in a river or burying it where no one would ever find it.”

“True.” I crossed my arms. “It still makes me mad. I’m being dragged into a mess that I didn’t make. I hate not being in control.”

“It seems to me the killer didn’t come prepared. He or she had some sort of issue with Quistgaard, hid in the store to confront him, and grabbed what was handy to kill him.” Noah glanced at me. “Which goes back to your original theory that someone found out that night that the poet was also the gossip columnist.”

“I guess I should tell the chief about that.” I slouched in my seat. Chief Kincaid would so not be happy to hear yet another tidbit of information that I hadn’t immediately shared. What if he thought I was involved in the murder? “But I really don’t want to get on the cop’s radar any more than I already am.”

“You could talk to some of the book-club members and see if any of them knew about Quistgaard’s other job,” Noah suggested. “And I could ask around to see whether his identity had recently been disclosed. If it had, you’d have something more solid to go to the police with, and maybe the chief would take your tip more seriously.”

“Good idea.” I was impressed with Noah’s willingness to help me.

“Thanks.”

We whizzed past a mile marker. We were about halfway home, so it was now or never to bring up Jake. “About you and me,” I started. “We . . .” I trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“Yes?” Noah’s knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel.

“I’m really happy that we’re friends again and it’s been terrific being with you.”
Yikes!
That sounded lame even to my ears.

“But?” A muscle ticked in Noah’s jaw. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’d like to keep seeing you.” I twisted around to look at him.

“But?” Noah asked again, then abruptly crossed from the left lane all the way to the right and took an approaching exit. Once we were off the highway, he pulled the Jag into a gas station and parked in back of the building.

Great!
I had hoped to avoid having his full attention. I took a deep breath and said, “But I also want to keep seeing Jake.” The announcement fell off my tongue in a rush of words.

“Oh?” He stared straight ahead through the windshield, and his voice became dangerously quiet. “So you want to date us both? We are talking about more than friendship, right?”

“Right.” I squirmed, not at all comfortable with having to verbalize my feelings. “I know there’s still something between you and me, but there’s also something between Jake and me.”

“He’s not right for you.” Noah unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over, and cupped my cheek. “I am.”

“Funny. That’s what he said about you,” I squeaked, taking a shuddery breath. The heartrending tenderness of his expression speeded my pulse rate. “He suggested that you and I didn’t have so much a mutual attraction as a common trajectory.”

“Then he’s a liar.” Noah leaned closer and whispered into my hair. “Because we’ve been meant for each other since we were born.”

“I . . .” Heat ripped through me. This felt so right. Noah and I had always been good together.

“Not I—us.” Noah’s sexy mouth was a hairsbreadth from mine.

I gave a ragged groan and closed the distance between our lips. His kiss was hard and searching, yet still as sweet as the first bite of a red velvet cupcake. It sent the pit of my stomach plunging, as if I were on a roller coaster. Then at the strong pull of his hot, wet tongue, the amusement-park ride derailed and I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me. As we free-fell, fireworks lit up my world.

I don’t know how long we made out, but thank goodness the console kept us from going much further than kissing and groping. The gearshift digging into my thigh finally brought me to my senses, and I pulled away from Noah’s caressing hands and moved out of his reach.

Straightening my clothes, I cleared my throat, then cleared it again. Finally, I got my breathing under control and felt as if I could trust my voice enough to ask, “So, is that a yes or a no?”

“What was the question?” Noah’s gray eyes were like clouds of smoke.

“Is my seeing both you and Jake an arrangement you can live with?”

“Do I have a choice?” Noah’s words echoed what Jake had said.

“Not if you truly want to find out if what we have between us is real.”

“And I do.” Noah steered the car back toward the highway. “So I guess that’s a yes.”

C
HAPTER 11

B
y six thirty Monday morning, Noah was out of bed, dressed in sweats, and walking Lucky, the Chihuahua he’d inherited from his deceased fiancée. He’d slept poorly, his emotions ping-ponging between jubilation that Dev had finally admitted that there was more than just friendship between them and frustration that she also thought she felt something for that jerkwad Del Vecchio.

After several weeks of Dev insisting she and Noah were pals and denying the spark that ignited anytime they were together, she had acknowledged the attraction. Now he just had to figure out how to win her away from Deputy Dork and keep Nadine out of Dev’s path. The last thing he needed was his mother screwing up his love life.

As Noah led Lucky down the sidewalk, the Chihuahua pirouetted in excitement. Noah lived in an upscale neighborhood that boasted a beautifully maintained, fenced area where the local pets could run free and socialize. Because Lucky was so small, Noah took him to the dog park only when he was sure the Chihuahua could have fun and be safe from the larger breeds. He’d found that if they arrived before seven a.m., they usually had the park to themselves.

Humming Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me,” Noah made his way through the double-gated entry and scouted the space for any potential doggie danger. When he was assured that the area was secure, he unhooked Lucky from his leash. The Chihuahua took off like a mutt on a mission, and Noah sat on a nearby bench, admiring the sun as it slowly climbed above the horizon.

He and Lucky were the only ones in the park, so Noah stretched, put his hands behind his head, and stared at the blue sky as he relived the day before. Having Dev in his arms, even for the short time they’d kissed in his car, had been indescribable. In the long years they’d spent apart, he’d nearly forgotten her softness, her intoxicating scent, and her sweet mouth. The few embraces they’d shared since then had only whetted his appetite for her.

While Lucky raced back and forth over the park’s meticulously groomed lawn, Noah daydreamed about Dev, but his grin faded when his thoughts turned to the reality of their situation. In actuality, he’d barely had an opportunity to hold her, let alone get her somewhere alone. He sighed, then smiled again. Maybe now that she’d admitted their mutual attraction, she’d let herself go and they could explore the chemistry between them.

Of course, she’d said she would be doing a similar exploration with Del Vecchio. At that thought, Noah felt as if a Great Dane had landed on his chest. What if she decided she loved that jerk and not him? Flinching, Noah realized there was a very real possibility that he could lose Dev again. And this time it might be forever.

The sound of the gate opening jolted Noah from his gloomy revere, and he turned to see Riyad Oberkircher and his Saluki, Persia, entering the park. Persia and Lucky were friends, and once Riyad had released his dog, he joined Noah on the bench.

“Good mornin’, Doc.” Riyad was one of only three attorneys in Shadow Bend. “You all got the a.m. shift again at your clinic?”

“No. Just couldn’t sleep.” Noah smiled. His neighbor was a curious mixture. His mother was from Saudi Arabia, and his father was German. How the two had ended up together, let alone living in southern Missouri, was a mystery. But the combination of cultures resulted in Oberkircher’s exotic appearance and his slight drawl. “Do you have an early client?”

“Yep.” Riyad crossed his legs, straightening the crease on his gray suit pants. “They claim to need to see me before they go in to work, so I agreed to a seven-thirty meeting. I’ve got to keep a leg up on the competition.”

“Do you get many requests for emergency consults?” Noah asked. “I thought you mainly practiced family law.”

“I do, but on account of the homegrown angle, every once in a while someone wants to consult a local lawyer instead of getting a hotshot criminal attorney from the city.” Riyad shoved his fingers through his coal black hair. “I usually end up referring them, ’cause felony cases are reachin’ out there for me, but, boy howdy, was this client insistent.”

“Did the person give you any idea what the problem is?” Noah glanced at his watch, then whistled for Lucky. He needed to get going. He was meeting Dev at her store to help clean up at eight.

“Nah.” The tall, spare man shrugged. “And I couldn’t say if I did, but if you think about the big news this weekend, you might have a pretty fair guess.”

“The murder?” Noah deduced.

Riyad shot a finger at Noah. “Bingo.”

Once he’d attached Lucky’s leash, Noah said good-bye to his neighbor and left the park. Riyad’s mention of the murder brought his thoughts back to Dev. If she chose Del Vecchio over him, Noah wasn’t sure he could take it. He needed to make sure she knew how he felt about her, stop acting like the detached town doctor, and make her see his passion. The only way to win Dev’s heart was to show her his soul. Was he capable of doing that? He damn well better be!

After dropping Dev off at her place yesterday afternoon, Noah had gone over every word she’d spoken and examined his own responses. He thought he was in pretty good shape and he was glad that he’d get to spend several hours with her this morning. He bet Marshal Dillon wouldn’t be around to help clean up.

Back home, Noah fed Lucky, started the Keurig, and hopped into the shower. Later, while he shaved, he drank his French roast and listened to the local radio station. He frowned when he realized that the newscaster was the station owner’s nephew rather than the usual morning anchor, who was a responsible broadcaster. The small, family-owned station had only three or four regular employees, and if one of them got sick or had an emergency, whoever was around took the microphone. Even a cocky college kid with no journalistic ethics.

Noah was putting on his jeans when the DJ said, “As we reported earlier, there’s been no progress reported on Friday night’s murder. The police aren’t releasing any details, but an anonymous tip reminded us that the victim was found behind the store of a woman who is no stranger to police investigations.”

“Damn!” Noah pulled on his polo shirt, took one last gulp of coffee, and slammed his mug down on his dresser. Dev was right. Even though the chief may have said she wasn’t a suspect, someone still thought of her that way, or at least wanted to put the possibility of her involvement in the crime into everyone else’s mind.

Noah rushed out of the bedroom, grabbed his keys, and hopped into his car. He’d decided to make a stop before going to the dime store. If he wanted to hear the town’s reaction to that BS about Dev’s possible connection to the killing, he knew just the place to go.