The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (24 page)

Charley looked down, avoiding her eyes. "You need to go back to Dallas.
You need to trust me on this one." With that pronouncement, he disappeared. Into the house, into the dark, wherever he went when he wanted to avoid her.

Amanda studied her bike, but decided she wouldn't be able to inspect it properly until daylight. She went back inside. This would be a good opportunity to corner Kimball in the safe environment of so many people. She was going to demand some answers, though she wasn't sure what the questions were.

In any event, it didn't matter because he eluded her, moving through the crowd with a practiced politician's smoothness, then slipping away into the night.

The Silver Creek courthouse dominated the small town square. A venerable old building of red brick and limestone with wide steps and ornate columns of white marble, it was flanked on one side by a large live oak tree and the Silver Creek Police Department and City Jail
,
and on the other by a large live oak tree and the Silver Creek Fire department.
All very symmetrical.

Amanda checked her bike carefully that morning and found no evidence of tampering. Nevertheless, she was riding more slowly than usual.

She passed the government buildings and went on to the end of the square, choosing a parking space in front of the First Baptist Church.
Pulling
off her helmet
, she remained
astride her bike
as she
survey
ed
the quiet morning scene.

A young
man polished
a
bright yellow fire truck that sat half in and half out the wide door of the fire department. Two men climbed the steps of the courthouse, one wearing a tailored, immaculate suit and carrying a briefcase, the other wearing a rumpled, ill-fitting suit and looking nervous. Easy to figure out their relationship. Lawyer and client. Probably guilty client. 

Across the street from the Courthouse, Paw Paw's Cafe offered daytime fare while Billy Earl's Roadhouse promised evening entertainment. Small shops offered ice cream, candy and books. Manikins from the ‘50s wearing modern clothing posed in the windows of Hunt’s Department Store.

At the far end of the Square she could see the Methodist Church where they'd attended Charley's
funeral
service yesterday.

Small town serenity.
On the surface.

She
took
the key from her bike and stood, peeling off her leather jacket in the growing warmth of the early morning sunshine. Tucking her helmet under one arm and tossing her jacket over
her
shoulder, she headed for the white wrought iron bench under a magnolia tree on one side of the First Baptist Church lawn. This provided her with a good view of the courthouse steps and the empty parking space reserved for the mayor. She'd be able to track Kimball's comings and goings, though she wasn't quite certain how that information was going to help her. The man wasn't likely to emerge, wielding her stolen gun and shouting a confession.  

Hard to imagine the creepy Mayor Kimball inside this building that reeked of tradition and justice.

“What are you doing here?”

Amanda gasped, startled by the abrupt question, but then she saw the familiar figure standing beside her, his feet not quite touching the grass.

“I might ask the same question of you. I thought dead people were supposed to leave this world.” An elderly woman walking down the sidewalk eyed her curiously. “Good morning!” Amanda said, forcing herself to smile. She was fairly certain she’d met the woman at Charley’s funeral though she couldn’t remember her name.

“Good morning, Miz Randolph,” the woman replied, her tone and expression sympathetic.

“The whole town’s going to think I’m nuts, talking to myself,” Amanda muttered when the woman had passed.

“Grief-stricken over my death.”

"Grief-stricken over your continuing existence. Go away."

"You know I can't. I have to save you, and you're making it really hard, hanging around here. What are you trying to do? With me and
The Judge
both telling you to go home, why are you still here?"
Though she hadn'
t seen Charley
after his abrupt disappearance
last night
, obviously he'd been there, listening to her phone call with her father.

"
Dad told me to come home and you ordered me to go home. But your mother, your father, your sisters and about fifty other relatives asked me to stay
at least a week
or
until our barbeque next week
or even
until our big Independence Day celebration.
I think I'll go with the majority on this decision.
Besides, if I go home now, they may put me in jail for killing you.
"

"You think you're some kind of a detective? You're going to prove Kimball murdered me?"

When Charley said it like that, the whole thing sounded absurd. "If I could just
get
my gun
from him
, at least I could prove I didn't do it. As for proving Kimball's guilt and seeing that he's punished for his crimes, who cares? If I
find out for sure
he murdered you, I'll give him a reward."

"Nice talk, Amanda."

A black
Cadillac
pulled into the mayor's parking space.

"There he is!" Amanda reached to grab Charley's arm, but her fingers slid through the chilly space. She shook her hand to rid it of the
eerie
sensation, but that same chill stuck in the middle of her chest, an area that hadn't even been close to Charley. She forced her gaze to remain focused on the car, forced herself to remain seated rather than follow her impulse to get on her bike and ride as fast as she could away from that car and the man she knew was driving it.

The driver's side door opened
,
and Roland Kimball emerged.

Amanda swallowed, trying to
push
down the lump that had somehow crept into her throat.

Now what?

Get up. Get moving.

Are you sure?

Amanda drew in a deep breath and stood.

Left foot forward.

Right foot forward.

On shaky legs, she moved toward the courthouse.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Charley called from behind her.

The fear in his voice increased her determination and steadied her steps. Be damned if she'
d let him know she was scared
.

"Amanda, come back here!"

Her path intersected Kimball's just as he reached the bottom of the courthouse steps.

"Hi," she said, the word coming out as sort of a croak.

Sunglasses hid the man's demon eyes, but the rest of his face revealed enough to make Amanda cringe and wish she'd followed Charley's advice to go back. "
Still here, Mrs. Randolph?"

He moved to go
past her, and suddenly anger gave her courage. She hadn't come this far to be ignored. She moved with him, into his path.

"Could we…uh…" Okay, she hadn't thought this through. What was she going to ask him?
Could we get together for
drinks
, oh, by the way,
if you have my gun, would you please bring it along
?

"Is there something I can do for you?" The mayor stood his ground, seeming to grow in size, blocking the sun.

"Yes," she said, her chi
n lifting. "We need to
talk.
About a gun.
"

His jaw firmed, and his lips thinned.
"
We have nothing
to talk about
, and you have no reason to be here
. Good day, Mrs. Randolph." He turned from her, dismissing her, and strode up the courthouse steps.

Amanda stood for a moment, blinking in the sunlight. The man had walked away and left her. Ignored her as if she were nobody. She wanted to call after him, to demand he talk to her, demand he confess to stealing her gun, to killing Charley, to trying to kill her, maybe even to killing Jimmy Hoffa.

She had accomplished one thing.
Now she knew he had her gun. He hadn't flinched when she'd mentioned it. An innocent person would have been astonished at the
accusation
.

That would also seem to verify that he had murdered Charley and tried to kill her.

She shuddered
as she watched his dark figure disappear into the courthouse. This did not bode well for her continued existence.

S
he walked
slowly
across the square
, back
to the bench where Charley waited.

"That went well, Nancy Drew," Charley said.

"I found out for sure he's got my gun
."

"I told you that already."

"Yeah, and you also told me your mother was a dead prostitute."

"That was when I was alive.
It
doesn't count."

Pointless to argue.
She had more important things to think about than Charley, things like staying alive while she got her gun back so she could stay out of prison.

Amanda picked up her helmet and jacket. As she started toward her motorcycle, a gleam o
f bright
fire
drew her
attention back to the courthouse steps. A familiar figure moved upward, the morning sunlight spinning her red hair into flames.

"There's that woman from the funeral, Sunny something or other."

"Sunny Donovan." Charley's voice sounded choked.

Amanda turned toward him. He looked like someone was choking him.

"What is it with this woman?" Amanda demanded. "You said you didn't sleep with her."

"I didn't."

"Then why do you act so strange every time she comes around?"