Landry's Law (2 page)

“What happened afterward?”

Savannah raked her hair out of her eyes as the gourmet coffeepot sputtered, then went silent. “At first, Harvey wanted to take me out to the property. You know, do a little hard sell?”

“At night?” Seth asked.

She handed him a cup of coffee and offered him cream and sugar, which he declined.

“That was my reaction. I still haven’t acclimated to the Montana cold.”

“So what did you do?”

Savannah gave him a wary glance. “I already told you I was joking about the sex. Nothing else happened.”

“You said goodbye at the restaurant?”

“Yes—well, sort of.”

“What is ‘sort of’?” Seth asked, hoping beyond hope she wouldn’t say it.

“We started out toward the parking lot when Harvey insisted we go down to the little bridge
behind the inn to see the stream reflect the moonlight. I figured he was trying to be romantic.”

“Was it?”

“
Not!
After about five minutes of saying hello to those idiots who jog that path in any weather, at all hours of the day and night, I left Harvey to enjoy the moonlight and the health freaks on his own.”

“Did you see anyone in the parking lot? Did anyone see you leave? Maybe say goodbye?”

“Remember, I’m not very popular, but I don’t think so. Why?”

Seth met and held her gaze. “Because Harvey Whitlock is dead.”

He watched as Savannah’s jaw dropped. Unsteadily, she balanced back on her hands against the countertop. “This
is not
possible. You can’t seriously be telling me that I’ve had two blind dates in two weeks and they both died afterward.”

“Kind of. The problem is, I can’t find any evidence or witnesses that these men died
after
being with you.”

Savannah gasped. “You can’t think I killed two virtual strangers! I would have to be some sort of sicko Black Widow type!”

Seth took in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Are you?”

Main Street in Jasper had remained virtually unchanged since it sprang up around the 1860s, twenty years prior to Montana gaining statehood. Savannah pulled into a parking spot on the street in the middle of the block. Four expertly restored buildings stood side by side in the shadows of the Rockies. Were it not for the meters and one neon sign, she would have felt very much as if she was stepping back in time.

Once she exited her car, Savannah was careful not to go in the direction of the newest building on the block. Well, new was a bit of an exaggeration, she mused as cold, clean air filled her lungs. The
sheriff’s office had been built around the turn of the century, so the brick and barred-window building lacked the Victorian charm of the other homes-turned-businesses. She’d avoided him for two weeks, and she was content to keep it that way.

The moment she entered the shop, she was assailed with the strong aroma of homemade candles and heavily scented sachets. A bell tolled when she closed the door. “Olive?” she called out as she took off her heavy coat and hung it on the coatrack—which, like everything else in the shop, was for sale.

“Be down in a little bit! Junior and I are having a late lunch,” Olive called from the second story.

Olive’s Attic was exactly as the name implied. It was a cramped space filled with everything from locally dug arrowheads to tailored vintage clothing. And Savannah knew clothing.

She went over to one of the forms to examine a dress Olive had added to the inventory. Savannah read the designer tag from the twenties sewn into the garment, then read the ridiculously low price and knew her paycheck for the week was shot.

For Savannah, Olive’s was like a small treasure trove. People from Jasper and the surrounding communities brought things to Olive on consignment, usually after a death in the family. Savannah smiled, thinking to herself that instead of calling Montana Big Sky Country, they should call it the Land of the Mothballs. It seemed as if no one ever threw out
anything. They just left things in mothballs until ritualistically surrendering them to Olive for sale.

If Savannah had had the money to buy all the clothing in the store, she could run back to the Lower East Side with it and make a fortune.

If.

That word sent her into a temporary funk. Returning to her other life wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to stay alive.

Savannah was in the process of stripping the dress form when the bell tolled. She turned, smiling.

Smiling back at her was Sheriff Landry. Lord, she hated the way her pulse increased whenever she set eyes on the man! He walked toward her in a slow, easy swagger that conveyed confidence. His dark eyes were expressionless, but it didn’t matter. His smile alone was gift enough.

“Is that for another date?” Seth asked, indicating the hand-beaded dress draped over her arm.

She met his gaze and ignored the allure of his cologne. “Maybe.”

“Then I’ll alert the coroner.”

She gave him a smart-ass smile. “You do that.”

Seth’s demeanor remained annoyingly casual. “We need to talk.”

“I’m working,” she said, then began to tidy up a tray of assorted buttons.

“I’m sure Olive won’t mind.”

“Won’t mind what?” Olive said as she carefully
descended the stairs. Today she was limping on her right leg and leaning on her son for support.

Yesterday, Savannah would have sworn it was the other leg. But she’d grown used to Olive’s many ailments. She was basically a sweet woman, she just seemed to thrive on whatever happened to be her pain
du jour.
Olive spent almost as much time in the doctor’s office as she did at the shop.

Seth tipped his hat to Olive and greeted Junior warmly. As far as Savannah knew, Seth was the only other person in town who was kind to Junior. “I need to speak to Savannah for a little while. Is that all right with you, Miss Olive?”

Olive patted the perfect bluish-white chignon at the nape of her neck, still leaning on her son for support. “I feel a spout of the gout coming on,” Olive replied. “I was just going to go over to see that brother of yours. You have no idea how painful the gout can be.” She squeezed her son’s hand. “You kids should enjoy yourselves when you’re young. Being old is such a trial.”

Seth went over and assisted Junior in guiding his mother onto the rocker near the register. “How about if I get Chance to come to you?” he suggested. “That way you’ll be spared the discomfort of walking down to his office.”

Olive’s green eyes brightened. Savannah wasn’t sure whether it was from the attention she was getting from both men, or if she just relished the idea of a house call.

“May I use the phone?” Seth asked, his tone full of real or imagined sympathy.

“Yes. I’m in such pain, you know. The sooner he can get here the better.”

“Then I can take Savannah with me?”

“What for?” Junior asked, meekly.

Seth slapped him reassuringly on the back. “Just a few questions and loose ends. Nothing earth-shattering.”

Olive began to fan her face. “Seth Landry, don’t you dare accuse poor Savannah of killing those men. You ought to be out looking for one of those predator killers I’ve seen on the TV.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seth replied. “Give me a minute to call Chance.”

While Seth was on the phone, Junior ventured in Savannah’s direction. “You don’t have to go with him,” he half whispered. Junior was a very smart man in spite of his submissive personality. Savannah knew better than to insult his intelligence.

“He’s harmless,” Savannah insisted. “I’ve got nothing to be worried about. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Junior said with unusual force. “But when you’re alone with him, you don’t know what will happen. If you get into a jam, call me and I’ll send a lawyer right over to the sheriff’s office for you, okay?”

Savannah nodded and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at her friend. “It will
probably take less than a half hour,” she promised him. “Can you take time away from your accounting work to help your mom?”

Junior’s eyes were downcast again. “Of course. I always take care of Mother.”

Savannah’s heart tugged when she heard the devotion in the man’s voice. So maybe some of the people in town thought mother and son were
too
close, but Savannah admired and even envied their bond.

“Chance and Val will be here asap,” Seth announced after hanging up the phone.

“That brother of yours is wonderful,” Olive fairly purred. “All of you Landrys are good boys, in spite of that unpleasantness with Clayton.”

For the first time, Savannah saw Seth’s happy facade slip. The devil-may-care look in his big, dark eyes was momentarily replaced by intense pain. The only gossip she had garnered about Clayton was that he was in prison. It had to be tough to be the town sheriff and have a criminal for a brother.

“We’re still in the appeal process,” Seth said. “The next hearing is set for spring.”

Olive reached out withered hands to Seth. “You know we’re all pulling for him.”

“Thanks, Miss Olive.”

Once again the bell tolled. “Hello, Dr. Landry. Miss Greene,” Savannah greeted.

Chance gave her a wink and said, “Chance, please.”

“Ditto here. I prefer Val,” Chance’s nurse said.

There was no doubt in Savannah’s mind that the good Lord had smiled upon the Landry men. Chance was almost as attractive as his brother. His black hair was cut short and there were a few gray hairs at his temple. He also had the same sexy half smile as Seth.

Sexy?
her little voice queried. I cannot find Seth sexy!
That
is against the rules.

“Ready?” Seth inquired.

Savannah simply nodded, afraid she might blurt out just exactly what she was ready for. And it wasn’t another interrogation. She placed the beaded dress behind the counter and explained to Olive she was going to purchase it when she returned.

As she came around from behind the counter, Seth took her coat off the rack and held it out for her. The simple way he guided her arms inside the garment was the closest thing she’d come to foreplay in ages. She was aware of everything. The heat emanating from his large body. And the warmth generated by the feel of his fingertip brushing her neck as he gently pulled her hair free.

The even sound of his breathing was embarrassing. Mainly because hers was coming in shallow, hurried gulps. Maybe Junior was right. Maybe Seth could convince her of anything in an hour’s time. If
she didn’t get her hormones in check, it would take him less than a minute to be able to convince her to have sex with him.

Luckily, as soon as they were outside the cold air slapped her in the face and brought her sense of reason back. It didn’t matter if Seth was attractive and sexy. Montana was temporary. Hence, anything that started between them would have to be temporary by definition, and Savannah did not do temporary.

The snow piled near the curb was black and ugly. Nothing like the pristine, white-capped mountains she could see from her cabin. Lord, but she had hated that cabin when she first set eyes on it. Now, however, she had made it feel more like home, mostly with odds and ends she had picked up at the shop.

“You don’t have to look so uncomfortable,” Seth commented when they reached his office. “I don’t use the bright lights and Taser on women.”

“Gee, that’s good to know.”

He led her past his gawking deputy. J.D. was still young enough to be unable to keep his reaction to a beautiful woman in check. After feeling the softness of the skin at the nape of Savannah’s neck, Seth had some serious doubts about his own abilities.

He offered her the chair across from his cluttered desk. Somehow, having a desk littered with pending DUI and poaching complaints between them made
Seth feel a little more comfortable. A little more like a professional.

Apparently following his lead, Savannah pulled off her coat and left it on the chair. If she was the least bit concerned, it didn’t show on her face. Or in those incredible eyes of hers. Beneath the fluorescent light of his office, they appeared more brown than blue. Yet just a second earlier, out in the glare of the afternoon sun, he would have sworn they were more blue.

“Coffee?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Tea, soda?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

Seth pushed some papers around on his desk, trying to see if his stall tactic made her nervous. It didn’t. He continued to shuffle things around. “So, why did you pick forensic psychology?”

“To understand why people commit crimes,” was her easy answer.

He lifted his eyes to hers and suggested, “Because they’re criminals?”

That elicited a smile from her. “Granted. But don’t you want to know the motives of the people you arrest?”

He shrugged. “Motive isn’t necessary for prosecution.”

She leaned forward to the edge of the desk.

Bad move,
he decided. That simple action made
the pale pink sweater further outline her delicious body. The delicious body he wasn’t supposed to be noticing.

“Don’t you feel better, though, when you know why a crime was committed?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I suppose.”

“Someday, law enforcement officers like you will be able to call on people like me to help you solve crimes by understanding the criminal.”

If I call you, it won’t be to discuss a criminal.
“What got you interested in the psychology of crime?”

Seth noticed that she averted her gaze. He added that to his list.

“Because I think people sometimes get involved in crimes without even knowing it. They aren’t criminals, but our current system treats them as such.”

Seth stroked his chin and felt his annoyance level rise. “Nice answer. Did you get that from town gossip about Clayton? Did you think if you sounded the trumpets in defense of my brother I’d forget that you’re the prime suspect in two murders?”

Savannah’s reaction was quick and harsh. “I don’t know squat about your brother other than he’s in prison. I was speaking in the abstract.”

“It didn’t sound abstract,” Seth retorted. Then his mind went in a completely different direction. “Or, are you setting me up for a self-defense plea?”

“Self-defense?”

“Fowler and Whitlock wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you had no choice but to shoot them?”

Raw fury shone in her eyes. “I didn’t shoot anybody! I passed your paraffin tests after both shootings, remember?”

“That could just mean you wore gloves.”

Savannah stood and grabbed her coat, ramming her arms into the sleeves. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t wear gloves. And if this is your idea of a talk to clear a few things up, you and I have completely different definitions of the word
talk.
Goodbye, Sheriff.”

“Wait!”

She stilled at his commanding tone, but her angry eyes never left his face.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“No.”

“Then I have every right to leave.”

“True, but I’d like to ask you two questions before you do.”

He could tell her acquiescence was only halfhearted. “Fine. Two questions.”

“Do the numbers 9-1-2 mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She glared at him. “Is that your second question?”

Seth felt the string of his patience pull taut. “No,
my second question is…why is there no trace of any Savannah Wyatt prior to your records from the University of Maryland?”