Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) (28 page)

“Don’t leave town,” Evans said as a parting shot.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I asked Mr. Renquist how Carlson’s body could disappear in the short amount of time between the murder and the arrival of the ambulance. The killer left the scene right behind us, and I never saw him return. There was only one street on the island and I’d been watching it.

“The theory is that someone else was there with the killer. That one of them left in the car to look for you, and the other hid the body until after the ambulance came and went. The hospital told Bryan that the paramedics knocked on the door, and when they didn’t get an answer, they went around to the back, since Bryan had reported that the scuffle sounded as if it came from there. They didn’t see anything unusual, so they left. The police are investigating, checking for blood at the scene.”

“But what about that Mercedes? Didn’t the guard have a record of that visitor?” What good was a guard and high-tech security if they didn’t pay attention to strangers on the island?

“Carlson owned a black Mercedes, and it’s parked in his garage, vacuumed and wiped clean inside and out. The guard remembers that Carlson had passengers when he arrived earlier that evening, but he didn’t see their faces. In addition to the Mercedes, Carlson had a Toyota Land Cruiser and it’s missing.”

“So the one guy came back with the Mercedes, put it in the garage and cleaned it up, and then they loaded Carlson into the Land Cruiser and left the island?”

“Apparently, since the e-tag on the Land Cruiser went through the gate at eleven that night, and Carlson couldn’t have been driving. They tossed Carlson in your pond, but kept some blood and the knife so they could frame you. They knew you were there, after all.”

I shivered, this time not from the freezing temperature, though the temperature was definitely still freezing, but from the thought that killers had been in my house. I didn’t know what to think. If Richard had stolen the key, then was he also the killer? Was he the second guy at Carlson’s house? It was hard to think of Richard as a killer. A big-time jerk, sure, but a killer?

Mr. Renquist rose and pulled out my chair as all handsome gentlemen do—in black and white movies from the 1940s. Of course Bryan wasn’t from an old movie and he’d done that too. It was all about class. Bryan Rossi and Jonathan Renquist had it.

“We just have to wait for them to print your statement. I’ll read it over to make sure it’s accurate, then you can sign it. You should read it first, of course.”

Yeah, as if I wanted to waste time doing that. I hadn’t wasted time reading the homeowners’ contract, and I hadn’t wasted time reading that health privacy act. Hmmm … Maybe I
should
start wasting time reading the stuff I was signing. But I trusted this man. Considering we’d just met and that I had such a big issue with trust, that was pretty good for me. And I wasn’t gonna let any reading screw up that trust.

“Does anyone have a theory on why Carlson was killed?” I asked. “And what I had to do with it? I mean, I can see why my pond was chosen if a place had to be chosen, since everyone knew I’d been fighting with him and the killer saw me at the scene of the crime, but why was he killed in the first place?”

“Unfortunately, no one has any theory yet and probably won’t until they find the killer. Until then, you should be careful, keep a low profile, and stay out of trouble.”

Sure. Like I could manage all three of
those
at the same time.

His gaze lowered, and he cracked a smile. “Nice boots,” he said.

I grimaced. I’d forgotten about the boots. “I’m sure they’ll be all the rage tomorrow when a picture of me wearing them hits the papers.” Someone in the police station had probably already taken a photo with a cellphone. You couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

“Too late,” Jonathan said as he opened the door and waited for me to precede him into the hall. “You were featured on a
Breaking News
bulletin on TV. Those boots have been walkin’ everywhere by now.”

*****

Hank and Sue were waiting down the hall, much to my surprise. Hank had on a pair of well-worn Levis that showed off an impressive package and a T-shirt that said
World Cup.
Sue was stunning in a lime-green halter sundress that flattered her tan and her honey-blond hair, and she radiated happiness, probably because she’d just returned from North Carolina. Cops were climbing on top of each other to get a good look at Sue. I couldn’t blame them. If I were a guy, I’d be right there with them. When Sue and Hank saw me they moved in my direction; the entire cop population followed like a giant amoeba.

“We came to give you a ride home,” Sue said.

“I figured you’d never speak to me again,” I said to Hank.

Sue looked from me to Hank.

“What?” I said to Hank. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Sue’s gaze shot back and forth between us again.

“That we had an argument. In a nutshell, he confessed something to me, and I was furious. Not because of what it was, but because he’d kept it from me, pretty much the same way I was furious at Mark. Only I wasn’t nasty to Mark. With Mark I just went
away
and got furious. With Hank … well, I accused him of manipulating me by pretending to be Hank Tyler when he was really—”

“J.T.?” The corners of Sue’s mouth turned up in a smug grin. “I
knew
it! I knew it the minute his hair started growing in. If you’d ever watched a sports channel, you would have known it too,” she said.

“I was about to say he was really Johnny Smith, my best friend when I was five years old.”

“Uh-oh,” Sue said, and her smile slipped away. She tried to maintain her composure, but her gaze was darting left and right. I realized she was looking for the fastest exit out. “I never knew for sure,” she said. “I still don’t, do I, Hank? I never asked you, did I, and you never told me. I’m only saying that’s what I thought from the minute his hair started growing in, that he looked like J.T. and that’s why I thought…” She halted her chatter with a wince.

“Relax,” I told her. “J.T. and Johnny Smith are one and the same.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sue breathed out a sigh of relief. “I forgot.”

Hank looked past me. “Bryan,” he bit out with a curt nod.

I whipped around and lost my senses again. Bryan stood there in a black Italian suit—Gucci, if I wasn’t mistaken—looking as impressive as Renquist had. His black hair curled over the crisp white collar of his shirt, and I wished I could thread my fingers through it—after I’d torn off that suit and shirt.

“J.T.,” Bryan said with a nod back to Hank. He switched his gaze to me. His face went from rigid to relaxed.

“Everything okay, Jane?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m just waiting to sign my statement. Thank you for coming to my rescue. Your attorney probably kept me from confessing to a crime I didn’t commit.”

He gave me a tender smile before nodding at Sue and Hank, and then he was gone. He’d said we wouldn’t see each other until things had settled down. I hoped that meant now, but I didn’t know if he would ever want to see me again. Maybe he just said it to let me down easy. No way to know.

Hank was giving me a look, so I looked back. I wondered how Hank and Bryan knew each other. Since Bryan knew Hank as J.T., they evidently hadn’t met in Palmeroy, Florida. Behind Hank I saw a few of the cops elbowing each other, tossing sidelong glances in Hank’s direction. I didn’t know if they’d overheard Bryan’s greeting or if they’d recognized J.T. Hank didn’t seem to notice. He had something else on his mind.

“Sue and I have been talking about your yard,” he said. “You’ve only got a couple days left to get your place in compliance, and we think you ought to have a big
come help me finish cleanin’ up my yard
party tomorrow.’”

“Yeah, that sounds like a party everyone would want to attend. I’d probably have all of two people show up—you two. Maybe I don’t have to worry about it anyway. With Carlson’s death and his reputation under suspicion, surely the board will have to take another look at every decision made while he was serving.”

“Sure,” Sue said, “but why pass up the chance to finish off the work? I think a lot of people would come. Everyone knows about your problem since it was in the paper—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Really. I know you don’t like to take help from people, but you’ve gotta change that attitude. Hank and I are coming over to help tomorrow. A lot of other people would come too, if you’d ask them, so be prepared to ask them because I’m making a list of everyone we know tonight, and when I get to your house in the morning, you’re gonna start calling them.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. I’d think about Sue and Hank coming up with the suggestion anyway. I wouldn’t think about doing it. Nobody really wanted to get sweaty and dirty helping me fill in a swamp, and it would be embarrassing asking them to come and then having no one show up.

And there I was, worrying once again about what people would think, which was totally ridiculous when I had so many other things to worry about—important things, scary things, like exactly how many people had a key to my front door, and which one of those people was a murderer.

I peered up at Hank through my lashes, which I batted coquettishly. “How good are you at changing door locks, cowboy?”

Hank moved in so close I had to tip my head back to look into his eyes; they’d gone dark and dreamy.

“I’m pretty handy when it comes to
most
things,” he said in a low voice meant just for me. “And like I said the day I
introduced
myself, all you have to do is holler.”

W
hen I woke the next morning, I had a different take on life. The first thing I did was thank God I wasn’t in jail. And then I thanked God I was alive. Not just alive, but alive with good friends and my family and my house and my cats and my health and my job and everything else I could think of.

The little voice in my head applauded my enthusiasm, and that got me thinking.

Maybe the little voice was more than just me talking to me. Maybe the little voice was part God or at least something he’d put inside me so I’d know when I was doing the thing that was right for
me.
That felt good, so I was going with that.

I was energized, so I jumped out of bed and quickly fed the cats. The kittens were the cutest things ever and old enough to eat kitty food now. They tumbled over each other to get to the food, seeming to forget that they didn’t have to nudge each other out anymore, that there was plenty for all.

Leaving them to breakfast, I brushed my teeth, did something with my hair, put on shorts and a tank top that actually looked good on me, applied sunscreen, lipstick, and mascara. Next I grabbed a cup of coffee and gulped it down. As I stroked the little Maine coon—he was constantly following me around—I thought about my friends. Sue and Hank had been right about asking for help. I’d always said no whenever anyone offered help before, assuming when they said, “If there’s anything I can do, just call,” that they didn’t really mean it. That when they offered to help me, I couldn’t, shouldn’t, accept that help. That everything came with ties that would bind me until I choked to death.

But that was wacky thinking. When people cared about you, when they loved you, they wanted to help. I’d always felt that way about the people I loved. Why had I never thought people could feel that way about me too?

It probably had to do with my mother, with the way she always made me feel bad about myself. But had she, or had I just taken everything the wrong way? I ran over some of the turning points in my life, times when I’d felt really good about myself until Mom came along and everything changed.

No, she really had tried to make me feel bad about me. I didn’t know why—I was sure it had to do with her own self-esteem—but it was true. That didn’t mean I had to believe her and let her put-downs ruin my life, did it? No! I was going to be happy, even if it killed her. Or me.

And that meant I had to quit worrying about the rules of lying. If family members felt they had to lie, for whatever reason, that was their problem, not mine. My problem would be keeping myself from lying back. As Hank had said, I had the same genes as my sisters, but they
were
arranged differently. I was not them. Sure, we’d all had the same basic upbringing, but what we did with it was up to us.

And I was gonna quit lying. Or at least I was gonna quit following all the rules but one, the one that made it okay to lie when something was nobody else’s business. My battery-operated device wrapped in a hand towel, stored inside a shoebox that was stuffed inside a bigger box labeled “worthless junk” that was in a plastic storage bin in a corner of my closet was nobody’s business but mine, and I planned to keep its existence to
myself
until the day I died.

My mind and heart clear for the first time in months, I turned my thoughts toward the last obstacle on my property. My plan for the day was to call everyone who’d offered to help and tell them that if they meant it, they could come on over. I had to get that swamp and the surrounding weeds dug out or filled in, and if it took fifty people with shovels, so be it. Sue had said she’d make a list of people, so I’d call her first to see if she had it.

It was only seven a.m., so I figured I should wait another hour before starting the calls. In the meantime, I’d get to work myself. I grabbed up my cellphone to take outside with me so that when eight o’clock came, I could rock and roll. Just as I reached my front door, my doorbell rang, so I peeked through the peephole.

Granny! And by herself. Holy crap! How had she gotten here? I wrenched open the door and almost fell on my face.

Scores of people were quietly scurrying across my property. Sue stood poised on the other side of the courtyard and when she saw me, she let out a “Yippee!” yell. She lifted a bullhorn to her mouth, announced that I’d finally gotten my lazy butt out of bed, and that the pond digging could begin.

I stared in amazement, my gaze scooting back and forth between Granny and my early morning visitors. Then I ran out the door, grabbed Granny, wrapped my arms around her, and held on tight. I was going to burst into tears and I really didn’t want to. I didn’t want to have cry-baby face for the rest of the morning. I swallowed hard and squeezed Granny again before stepping back.

“Oh, Janie, look how many people care about you,” Granny said. Her face was glowing with joy and I wasn’t about to steal any of that from her, but I doubted I knew many of the people in my yard. The true stars of the day were Hank and Sue. Because of them, Granny thought I was loved and cared for by all these people. I owed Hank and Sue big-time for that gift.

I took Granny by the hand and led her down the walk, staggering through my open gate, my mouth hanging open as I took it all in. Someone shoved apart the side doors of a van and men lifted out tables, quickly setting them up near the sidewalk. People deposited coolers and cases of water on them. Weed-wackers came whirring to life, and Granny and I walked toward the street from where we could watch the whacking down of weeds around the swamp. As many hands as there were doing the whacking, it took only minutes to get it done.

When two trucks carrying Bobcats came around the corner and lined up in the middle of the street and volunteers surged forward to unload them, I did start to cry. And then I cursed my father. This crying thing was all his fault!

Hank came up beside me from out of nowhere, holding a chair for Granny, which he settled her into before turning his attention to me. He had his cowboy hat on his head, a broad smile on his face, and tenderness in his eyes. He nodded toward the swamp where two guys had started up sump pumps at opposite ends. About twenty people were staggered around the swamp, each with a cooler next to him or her. They all had nets in hand and were scooping like crazy.

“That’s for the fish and tadpoles and turtles that have started livin’ in your pond. We want to transition them, not kill them.”

Who knew that saving tadpoles could be so sexy?

I tipped my face up to tell him how I felt, how grateful I was for his friendship and for his help and for his caring about Granny and wildlife and nature. I never got a word out. He pushed his hat back on his head, looked down into my eyes, and then pulled me to him, giving me a kiss that shocked me senseless. It was a real kiss. Not a brotherly smooch, but a sexy kiss with tongue that sent shivers to places that shouldn’t have been shivering out in public. He let go and I staggered back, almost falling on my butt, reeling from that kiss. He caught me and pulled me to him again, my body flat against his.

Our faces were a couple of inches apart. He glanced down at my lips and then back up to my eyes with a hunger that made my heart stop beating for a few seconds. My entire body quivered in anticipation of that next kiss. But it didn’t come.

“God, Janie,” was all he said and then he let me go.

Dang.

He winked at Granny who was grinning ear to ear and two seconds later he was gone. I licked my lips, wanting more. Double dang.

Sue came up and gave me a look that said, “Wow!”

During the next few hours I saw almost everyone I’d ever met—neighbors, friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances. They either stopped by to work or brought something to leave behind. Sue and I were setting up two more tables for the food and drinks when she nodded across the street.

“That could be the start of a romance,” she said. I followed her nod to see tiny Angie, the psychic who had given me advice at the fair, smiling up into the face of Hank’s tall, muscled friend, Keith. Keith was talking animatedly, pointing down at his knee, making pawing movements in the air. Something told me he was recounting the story of Little Boy leading me to his kittens. Angie laughed gaily, her gaze glued to Keith’s face. I smiled back at Sue.

I couldn’t believe it when my boss showed up, shovel in hand.

“I’m here! he cried, with sweat streaming over bulging biceps like a river over boulders!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d used that
river over boulders
line previously or that there was nary a bulging biceps in sight. Well, actually, there were plenty of them. They just weren’t his. Maybe someday he’d forget about helping me write my next historical romance, but until then, I’d play along.

By noon the pond was drained and dug out. Some company brought in a lining material and installed it efficiently, good-naturedly fending off suggestions from the crowd. Reporters banded together to order pizzas in every combination and every variety of crust. Teachers from the high school I’d attended sixteen years earlier brought desserts. Homemade desserts. The kind that required at least two napkins for cleanup. I was ready to cry again.

The parade of folks lugging in covered dishes, bags of chips, and drinks never stopped. George Griffith from Town Hall showed up with a twelve-pack of soda and an envelope.

“I’m not sure I want to take that,” I said when he held the envelope out to me.

“Sure you do, young lady. It’s a permit for your pond digging. You owe some cowboy seventy-five dollars. Unless you refuse to take this envelope. Then you’re gonna owe the town a hundred.”

I grinned and took it.

Two guys from a local sod company appeared after lunch with free sod to put around the pond, except for the areas that had been marked off for taller grasses. An hour after Hank had explained to the sod company why we didn’t want those areas filled in with regular grass, another company showed up to plant tall grass. As quickly as needs were reported, needs were filled.

And so it went all day long. Friends and strangers came and did things and left. Some offered to take the little fishes and tadpoles home for the night and bring them back in the morning after the water, run into the pond with a hose, had an evening to settle. At around six, a local brewery set up free kegs; thirty minutes later we were partying. A boom box started up, rocking the neighborhood with a dance beat. A few guys pulled out grills and got them going. Hot dogs and hamburgers appeared aplenty.

I scurried around, raking soil, hauling weeds, picking up trash. I was sweaty, sticky, and sore. But my frightful swamp had been transformed into something beautiful and charming, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Through it all I wondered about Bryan. He never came or called. Sure, he was probably busy, and even if he wasn’t, why would he want to get involved? I also wondered about Hank and that kiss. Did it mean anything or had it been a spur of the moment impulse? It felt like
something,
but I just didn’t know for sure.

It was dusk when Katherine sneaked up next to me. Hilary had stopped by earlier and taken Granny back to Belle Vista. Nicole had shown up as well. Marci, as usual, had been too busy with her own life, and my mother … well, she hadn’t gone to any of my sisters’ weddings, nor had she watched us graduate from high school or college, sing solo in the choir, perform the leading role in a play, participate in any sports, or perform as cheerleader for the high school teams. I didn’t expect her to show up here.

Katherine scouted out the immediate environment and then leaned in to say. “I don’t know what you did when you took Mom to the bank, but whatever it was—”

“Was not my fault,” I finished for her. Criminy, I was in for it now. I had hoped Mom would keep mum about our drive-through fiasco, but apparently I’d hoped in vain. And it would be just like Katherine to rub my nose in it, even though I’d been trying to help out.

“Fault? Why do you say that?” She tipped her head back and gave me the eye.

“Well, uh, I just … thought you were, um, you know, going to blame me for something.” Did she know about the bank incident or didn’t she?

“I’m not blaming you, I’m thanking you.”

Pigs were flying, I swear to God. Well, maybe not to God since I was lying, and maybe I’d take back the swearing part, but I figured God understood exactly what I meant.

“Mom said she doesn’t need anyone to take her to the bank anymore,” Katherine said while I was still mentally pinching myself. “She can do it by herself. Of course, she’d been saying that all along. The difference is, now she means it.”

I put on a show of nonchalance, checking out my fingernails, which weren’t looking so good after all the work I’d done. “Really? Imagine that.”

“I’ve been trying to. I’ve been trying to imagine what you did or said that made the difference. All Mom said was there was nothing at the bank that could scare her now. I don’t know what that means, but I have to hand it to you: whatever you did worked.”

Hmmm. What to say? Silence seemed the best policy.

*****

I was just about to call it a night when someone handed me a note from Hank. He was waiting for me down by the lake. It seemed a little strange, but then I thought about that kiss. Maybe he wanted to explore this new facet of our relationship with a moonlit walk along the water’s edge, just the two of us, alone.

I went all tingly inside. I’d been thinking about him too. Wouldn’t it be amazing if I fell in love with my best friend from childhood? He probably knew me better than most people, and he still liked me enough to kiss me. That was saying something. I wasn’t sure what.

I let Sue know where I was going, and then I trekked around my property, past the fence, to the road behind. I took long strides in my eagerness to see Hank, but when I met the dirt road that ran through the woods to the lake, I skidded to a stop. Gee, it was a long way to that lake, wasn’t it? I couldn’t see anything of the water from where I was; the narrow, overgrown road disappeared into the dark.