The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (27 page)

"I don't know. What difference does it make?"

"None, I guess. I'm not sure any of this matters. My gun's probably at the bottom of White Rock Lake or the Trinity River right now. Nobody's going to search the Trinity River. They'd die from the smell before
in the first five minutes
."

"You got a better idea?"

Amanda sank onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. "Call my dad. Turn myself in. Throw myself on the mercy of the court."

"I asked if you had a better idea, not if you had an idea that was even dumber than mine."

"If you're here to help me, you're not doing a very good job of it. I don't think you're going to be earning your wings any time soon."

Amanda's cell phone chimed, announcing she had a text message. She pulled the phone from her pocket. The message was from Dawson.

Cop came by today. Jake Daggett. Asked a lot of dumb questions. R u ok?

Damn. Daggett again. She could feel the iron bars of prison closing around her.

I'm fine
, she texted back, lying through her thumbs.
What kind of questions?

Do I have a key to ur apt. Did I go in and leave the door unlocked. All about ur fights with Charley.

What did— 

"
Hey!" Charley appeared beside her on the bed, reaching for the cell phone, causing the letters she was laboriously typing on the small keypad to become
gobbledygook
. "That's it! The geek!"

"What? Stop that!"

"Dawson. He's a computer geek."

"He's an amazing artist and motorcycle repair assistant. He's smart and trustworthy and honest, unlike you, so don’t go calling him names."

"He does all that stuff on computers. He's a freaking genius on computers."

"Yeah, so?"

"Like on TV. He can run a check on Kimball and find out all kinds of stuff about him."

"Charley, there are limits to the information on the internet. I don't think there's going to be a website dedicated to the exact location of my former gun."

"I've watched these crime shows. You can't imagine all the things they find. It'd scare you to death if you knew what's
on the internet
about you."

"To death? Really?"

"Go with me on this. I got a feeling about it. Just ask him to do it. What have you got to lose?"

Amanda sighed. "Not much, I guess, since I'm already looking at spending the rest of my life behind bars." She texted Dawson with the request to find out anything he could about Roland Kimball. As an afterthought she added,
And Dianne
Carter
, especially their years at the University of Texas.

"And after Dawson discovers Roland Kimball has excellent credit because he's rich, and he has no outstanding warrants because he's rich, and he just bought his wife a ten thousand dollar ring for her birthday because he's rich, then I'll call my dad and turn myself in and throw myself on the mercy of the court."

"If you go to prison, I'll be in prison, too."

Amanda slapped herself on the forehead. "Gee, Charley, I hadn't thought about that. But now that you've pointed it out, why, I guess I
don't want to
go to prison after all. I certainly wouldn't want you to be inconvenienced."

"You don't have to be sarcastic."

She fell back across the bed and sighed. "Sarcasm helps about as much as anything else right now."

"Not true. I've got another idea." Charley stood and moved across the room to the window, outside the window, then back in again, his face exultant. "This
will
work!"

Amanda sat up and stared at him. "What? If I go to prison, you'll be able to
float out through the bars? Gee
, that makes me feel a lot better."

"You don't have to get into Kimball's house. You just have to get close to it. I
'll be close to you, and I can get inside his house.
Go downstairs, go outside, and we'll see if I can be inside while you're outside."

"No," Amanda said. "I'm not going to do it. That's nuts. I'm not getting anywhere near Kimball's house.
What good will it do if you find my gun inside? How will we get it out? You can't carry it.
"

"One thing at a time. First we find the gun, then we figure out how to get it."

"No. Absolutely not."

Nevertheless, a
few minutes later she was standing in the yard, looking upward as Charley gleefully sailed into and out of the house several times.

What had she just been thinking about trusting Charley more than the legal system and the hangman more than Charley? No good had ever come of any of Charley's ideas. It was a measure of her desperation that she was considering this latest one.

Chapter Thirteen

Silver Creek was a small town, a stereotypical small town, and Amanda was a big-city girl. Dallas had always felt just right, warm and cozy, home. It surprised her to feel so comfortable in Silver Creek.

After lunch, Irene suggested a tour of downtown which consisted of the Town Square, Main Street and Grand Avenue. This activity would have taken
less than thirty minutes
except for the fact that Irene knew everybody.
They all
greeted Irene, offered their sympathy on Charley's death, were introduced to Amanda, and then chatted about their kids, their grandkids, the weather, the state of the union, and sometimes their
bunions
. Rachel in Wood's Drugstore had pictures of her new granddaughter, and Joe in McAllen's Feed and Seed had pictures of his new pig.

It was, Amanda reflected, not a bad way to spend an afternoon. If nothing else, it kept her from thinking about going to prison for the rest of her life, skulking around Roland Kimball's house in the middle of the night, and any number of other unpleasant activities that could be a part of her immediate future.

"Here we are," Irene announced as they approached her ancient faded blue Ford parked in front of Miss Emily's Ice Cream Parlor. "Want to go in for one of Miss Emily's famous chocolate malts?"

"No," Amanda declined, "I'm saving myself for some more of that pecan pie."

The windows of Irene's car were rolled down and the doors unlocked. Apparently they hadn't heard of crime in Silver Creek. Not that it didn't exist, Amanda thought grimly as she slid into the passenger seat. Silver Creek had its secrets.

"You know," she said, thinking of another of the town's secrets, "there's someone
I'd hoped to meet today, but we didn't see her."

Irene twisted the key back and forth a few times, and eventually the car choked to life. "Who's that?"

"Sunny Donovan, that lawyer we saw at Charley's funeral, the one you said helped him."

"No!" Charley suddenly appeared, hovering between her and his mother in the front seat. Had he been following her all afternoon, or had he just popped in at the mention of Sunny Do
novan's name? She glared at him.

"Sunny's office is a few blocks out of downtown," Irene said. "I'm not sure if she'll be there right now, but we can stop by. I know she'd love to meet you."

Whatever secret Charley was hiding about Sunny Donovan was his alone. Irene didn't seem to see any reason Amanda shouldn't meet her.

"That would be great. I'd like to thank her for helping Charley."

"You would?" Charley asked in surprise.

Amanda smiled.

"I don't believe you," Charley said. "You're just being nosy. You need to trust me on this one. Stay away from her."

"Is she from Silver Creek
?" Amanda asked.

"Born and raised," Irene answered. "Her daddy died when she was three. Hunting accident. Margaret—that's her mama—raised her alone, and she did a fine job of it. Worked two jobs most of the time, but she made sure that girl got a good education. Sunny got a scholarship to the university down there in Austin. Margaret said with her grades, she could have practiced law anywhere. She got an offer from a big firm in Dallas, lots of money. But she came back here. Margaret's always been kind of frail, and her health got worse the harder she worked. Sunny takes care of her mama. There's Sunny's place
now
."

She pulled over to the curb in front of an older home flanked on one side by a service station and on the other by the Silver C
reek
Library.

Amanda and Irene strode along
the cracked sidewalk with Charley bringing up the rear.

"You can't stay long," he insisted. "We have to figure out our plan for tonight."

"She likes to keep her rent low," Irene explained, "because she does so much work for people who don't have any money." She sighed. "Like Charley."

"Why would you want to see a woman who knows what a scum your husband is?" Charley persisted. "This is going to look bad on you."

"Herbert and I told her we'd pay for Charley
's defense
, but she wouldn't take a penny from us. Made Charley pay what he could, but he didn't have much money. That's why he was trying to sell those drugs
in the first place
."

"It was a terrible time in my life. Very embarrassing. Don't go in there and make me relive it."

Amanda made a note to tell Charley later, based on her experience with him, that she didn't believe for one minute he'd ever
, in his entire life,
been embarrassed.

They climbed the two wooden steps to the porch, and Irene knocked on the door, then pushed it open. "Martha
?"
The small room they entered had obviously once been a front parlor though it now held two file cabinets, two green utilitarian chairs and a wooden desk cluttered with file folders, stacks of papers, a computer and a desk phone.

"Hi, Irene. Y'all come on in. This must be Charley's widow." A short, plump woman with a pleasant face rose from behind the desk. "I'm so sorry about your loss."
She
looked as if she really meant those words. "Y'all have a seat. Can I get
you a cup of coffee or a Coca-C
ola?"

"Thank you, Martha," Irene said, "but we can't stay. I know y
'
all are busy. I've just been showing Amanda around town, and she wanted to meet Sunny, thank her for helping Charley."