Playing Dead in Dixie (12 page)

"Sherry seems to think Carly was nosing around in here."

"Well, she couldn't have had a whole lot of time to do much nosin'.  Bonnie came to get her right at closing and they went to Savannah for dinner last night."

Wes told himself the little quiver in his belly most certainly was
not
relief.  He didn't have any sort of stake in whether or not Carly turned out to be trustworthy.  None at all.

Floyd locked his desk drawer and stood up, picking up the bank pouch.  "How's J.B. likin' his new floor?"

"You know J.B."  Wes waved off the question, not wanting to tell his uncle that J.B. was already complaining that the new floor was ugly as hell and felt funny under his bare feet.

Floyd grinned.  "That bad?"

Wes smiled back.  "You know J.B."

"Why don't you come by the house for a minute?  If I know Bonnie she's made enough food that you could take some to your daddy.  Maybe that'll make him like the floor a little better."

Wes was tempted, less by the offer of food than by the chance to get Carly alone for a minute to ask her about the ledger books.  A least, he told himself that was the reason he wanted to see Carly.  "Okay, only for a minute," he agreed.

Just long enough to find out if Carly really was doing some extra-curricular nosing around in his uncle's store.

"WELL?"  SHANNON BURGESS looked up at Carly, her eyes glowing with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

Carly took one more look in the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door.  Shannon had brought over the first of the five outfits she was making for Carly, a linen pantsuit in a lovely shade of deep plum.  The fitted jacket tucked in to emphasize her waist and flared slightly at the hips to flatter her curves.  The pants were flat-fronted and slightly flared at the bottom, making her legs look five miles long.

She'd bought expensive suits in boutiques in Philadelphia that hadn't looked anywhere near this good.  She turned to Shannon and smiled.  "I love it.  It's amazing."

Shannon clapped.  "Oh, good!  I thought it looked fantastic, if I do say so myself, but you never know."

"It's really beautiful.  You did a terrific job, Shannon."  Carly modeled for herself in the mirror again, finding new things to like about the outfit, from the perfect cut of the pants to the unusual mother-of pearl buttons on the jacket.

"I have a blouse and pant set in celery and eggplant almost finished.  I can have that to you day after tomorrow, and I should have that cute flare-bottomed skirt ready by Saturday."  Shannon stood up, wincing a little as she staggered under the weight of her round belly.  "It's the gray tweed; it'll go perfect with your burgundy blouse."

In the mirror, Carly saw Shannon wince again, putting her hand against the small of her back.  She turned around quickly, hurrying to Shannon's side.  "Are you okay?  You're not going into labor are you?"

"I don't think so . . ."  Shannon sat down on the foot of the bed again.  "Just had a back spasm."

Carly sat next to her, relieved. "Good, because I don't know nothin' about birthin' babies."

Shannon grinned.  "Don't worry, I've done it before.  This one's going to be bigger than Jackson was, I'm afraid."

"How big was Jackson?"

"Eight pounds, nine ounces."

"Ouch."  Carly made a face.  "Are you scared?"

"Not really scared."  Shannon patted her belly.  "I'm just hoping everything's okay with her, you know?  She and Jackson are all I have left of Jimmy Wayne."

Her heart squeezing with sympathy, Carly put her arm around Shannon's shoulder.  "I'm sure she's going to be perfect."

Shannon rested her head briefly against Carly's.  "Yeah.  I know."  She pulled away and stood up, dashing away her tears and gracing Carly with a plucky grin.  "Let's go show Miss Bonnie your new outfit, how about it?"

Carly stood up.  "Okay, let me get in a runway mindset."  She struck a dramatic, sulky model pose.  "What do you think?"

"You're scary good at that."

"I had a brief addiction to one of those model reality shows.  I don't like to talk about it."  Carly opened the bedroom door and slinked out into the hallway, sucking in her cheeks for full effect.  "Bonnie, ready for a fashion show?"

Making a sassy half-turn when she reached the kitchen, she turned to gaze moodily over her shoulder.

And found herself looking into Wes Hollingsworth's dark brown eyes.

She whirled around quickly, straightening up.  Heat washed up her neck.  "Hi."

"Hi."  Wes's lazy smile only compounded her sense of foolishness.  "Nice suit."

She patted down the jacket, self-conscious.  "Thanks.  Tell Shannon, it's her genius.  I'm just the mannequin."

"Hey, Wes."  Shannon moved past Carly and sat at the kitchen table across from him.  "Where's Bonnie?  We wanted to let her see Carly's new suit."

"She and Floyd took Jackson out to pick some tomatoes.  Last batch of the season.  She thought J.B. might like to have some.  They'll be back in a minute."  Wes frowned slightly.  "You okay?  You're looking a little tired."

Shannon chuckled and rubbed her stomach.  "I've got a cute little parasite suckin' me dry.  I just need a good night's sleep and I'll be right as rain."  She pushed up from the chair.  "I'll go fetch Jackson and head home so I can wrangle him into the tub before he falls to sleep."

She crossed to Carly and gave her a quick hug.  "Thanks for being such a sweetie and holding my hand," she said softly.  "I needed that."

"Any time," Carly assured her, surprised to realize she meant it.  She'd never been one to make friends.  Growing up the way she did, relationships had a shelf life.  Evictions, brushes with the law, brushes with criminals; a hard scrabble life was hell on long-term friendships.  Carly had learned young that your best friend one day might have packed up and sneaked out in the night by the next.  Better not let people get too close.

Better not let Shannon get too close, she reminded herself, tears pricking her eyes as she watched the other woman head out the back door in search of her son.  In a couple of weeks, Carly would be gone herself.  It wasn't really fair to let Shannon think they'd be lifelong friends.

"Getting pretty cozy with Shannon, aren't you, Jersey?  Think that's wise?"  The taunting tone of Wes's voice rasped up her spine.

She turned to glare at him, more than happy to take out her frustrations on him if he was going to be such a pain in the butt.  "What are you doing here?"

"I'm family.  Being here whenever I want is one of the perks."  He made a point of looking her up and down, his dark gaze sending little shudders of helpless awareness from head to toe.  "You do look nice in that outfit.  Shannon's good at what she does.  You have enough money to pay her?"

Carly crossed her arms.  "I should have it by my next paycheck.  So you can relax.  I won't be needing to borrow any money from you."

Wes's only response was a slight narrowing of his eyes as he picked up a small folded piece of paper lying on the table in front of him.  He began flipping the paper between his fingers, tapping the corner on the table in front of him, his eyes never leaving her.

Unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, she swallowed hard.  "I should probably go take this off."

Wes's eyes narrowed a little more, and she realized how her words could be taken.  Another flush moved up her neck, annoying her almost as much as the amused glitter in Wes's eyes.  She wasn't the blushing type, damn it.  She'd held her own in some blatantly sexual conversations over the years without embarrassment—another result of growing up the way she had.  There weren't any barriers to protect children from the seamy side of life when you grew up in a tenement house in Vineland.  The walls were thin, and the adults were loud, especially when they were drunk.

"Wait and let Bonnie see the outfit."  Wes motioned toward the chair across from him at the kitchen table.  "Besides, I need to ask you something."

Warily, Carly crossed and sat at the table.  "What?"

Wes turned to face her, his head cocked slightly to one side.  He continued playing with the folded paper, tapping it in a slow, steady rhythm against the scuffed pine table top.  "How'd you like closing up the store last night?"

On the surface, the question was innocent enough.  But Carly sensed a dark thread of suspicion underlying the even tone of his voice.

Did he know what she'd done?

Mind racing, she tried to think what clue she might have left behind that would tell someone she'd been looking through the ledgers.  She'd put the books back, both in the drawer and the file cabinet.  She knew she'd put the ledgers back in the right place in the cabinet because she'd put a marker—

Her gaze flew to his hands.  He'd stopped tapping the folded square of paper on the table and was slowly unfolding it.

She saw the imprint at the top.  "Strickland Hardware."

The piece of notepaper she'd used to mark her place in the files.  Her heart plummeted.

He knew.

Chapter Seven

Wes had to hand it to Carly, she had a good poker face.    Probably no one else in Bangor would have noticed her quick glance down at the notepaper in his hands or the faint pinkness creeping into her cheeks.  He wondered what kind of life she'd led to be able to hide her thoughts with such skill.

"Closing was fine.  I've worked retail before."  Carly lifted her gaze to meet his, her voice calm and inflection-free.  "Did you guys finish up the floor?"

"You went through Floyd's books."

Her face went a shade paler.  "Excuse me?"

"You almost got away with it.  But you didn't shut the file cabinet drawer completely."  He flicked the piece of paper toward her.  "Sherry found this notepaper in the ledgers.  You used it as a placeholder.  Right?"

For a moment, she looked as if she were going to deny the charge.  But her poker face started to show cracks, and she slumped in her chair.  Her green eyes flickered down to her hands, then back up to meet his gaze.  "I didn't take anything from the office."

"I didn't think you did."  Wes leaned forward.  "But that's not the point, is it?"

Her eyes filled with a sheen of moisture.  When she spoke, her voice shook.  "I didn't do it to hurt the Stricklands."

"Then why'd you do it?"

She dashed away her tears in a quick, angry wipe.  "I wanted to know why the store was having trouble.  I can't understand why it would.  Business is great.  When I put the bank pouch in Floyd's desk drawer after checking the money against the register receipts, I found the ledgers in the drawer."

"You just found them?" he asked, skeptical.

"Yes."  She looked down.  "But I was planning to look for them anyway."

"For Floyd's sake."

She looked up sharply.  "Yes."

"Did you just 'find' the ones in the file cabinet, too?"

The sound of the back door opening drew Carly's gaze before she could answer.  Bonnie's voice filtered in from the mud room.

Carly's lower lip began to tremble again.

Wes touched her hand.  "Don't say anything to Floyd yet."

Carly's eyes met his and she gave a brief nod.

Wes released her hand just as Floyd and Bonnie came through the door from the mudroom.

"Oh, Carly, is that the new outfit?  Let me see!"  Bonnie gestured for her to stand.

Carly lifted her chin and stood up, plastering on a smile that Wes knew she didn't feel.  She modeled the new pantsuit for Bonnie and accepted her compliments and a big bear hug with admirable calm, considering the troubled thoughts he could still see roiling around behind her green eyes.

"I thought I'd take her to show off her new outfit in town," Wes said, seeing cracks forming in Carly's veneer of calm.  She looked at him, her expression mingling surprise and relief.  When he held out his hand, she took it, squeezing hard.

Bonnie's look of delight nicked his conscience.  "What a great idea!  Floyd, why don't we just pack up a meal to go and take dinner to J.B. ourselves?"

Wes crossed to his aunt and kissed her cheek.  "That's a good idea.  It'll do J.B. a world of good."

"Seeing you young folks enjoying each other does me a world of good," Bonnie murmured against his cheek.  "Makes it a little easier, you know?"

He patted her back, flushing with guilt.  "I know.  Don't y'all let J.B. give you a hard time, okay?  'Cause he'll try."

Bonnie blinked back tears and smiled.  "I've been handling J.B. since before you were a twinkle in your mama's eye."

"We'll be back before too late."  He let Carly precede him out the front door.  She scooted ahead, her head down.  When they got in the truck, he asked, "You okay?"

She slumped against the passenger door.  "Why didn't you want me to say anything?"

Wes started the truck.  "Don't you want to tell me your side of the story first?"

MELBA'S BAR AND GRILLE was a square cinderblock structure located just off the main highway into Savannah.  Painted bright yellow, Melba's had a large picture window on one end and a bright red door on the other.  In the window hung a neon Budweiser sign, the B flickering on and off.

"We're having dinner here?" Carly asked.

"It's better than it looks," Wes assured her.  He cut the engine and turned to her.  "So, how sure are you about the discrepancy in the ledgers?"

"I told you, I'm only speculating.  I think it's a possibility.  But I'd need to take a much more detailed look at the books, as well as the invoices from the past couple of years, before I could tell you if I'm really on to something."  Carly turned toward him, trying not to remember what they'd been doing the last time she sat next to him in the cab of his pickup truck.  "Do you believe me?"

His silence was brief but unnerving.  "You should have asked Floyd before you looked at his books."

She twisted her hands together.  "I know."

"But now that you have, I want to know more about what your found."  Wes ran his hand over the curve of the steering wheel.  "You said you have an accounting degree.  Where'd you study?"