The Liar

13

She couldn’t think about it. Callie was safe, and Tracey would keep her that way. She didn’t know one damn thing about any stolen jewelry, and wouldn’t know a rare stamp if someone stuck it to her forehead. If this Natalie person thought she did, she’d just have to live with the disappointment.

But it upset her how easily she could believe Richard—or Jake, or whatever his name was—had been a thief, a liar.

But never her husband, she thought, as she folded and stacked towels. In a terrible way, now that the weight had settled in, she took comfort from that.

She’d do her work, smiling and chatting with customers, restocking supplies. Then she’d go home, have dinner with her little girl before heading to the bar and grill to give Tansy and Derrick their money’s worth.

She wouldn’t let anyone down again, including herself.

Forrest found her at the end of the day while she swept the little courtyard.

“Did you find her?” Shelby demanded.

“No. Nobody by that name or description in the hotel, the lodge, in any of the cabins, the B&Bs. She’s not staying in the Ridge. And I’ve got nothing so far about a Natalie Sinclair doing time for fraud in Dade County.”

“It’s probably not her real name, either.”

“Probably not, but a good-looking brunette’s bound to stick in somebody’s memory if she’s staying in the Ridge, or poking around. We’ll take a look further out if she comes back, if she bothers you again.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Then start. You tell Mama?”

“I told her, and Granny, and they’ll tell the rest of the family. I’m not taking chances, Forrest, but I don’t know anything about these jewels or stamps she says she’s after.”

“You may know more than you think. Don’t get your claws out,” he said as she whipped around to him. “Christ’s sake, Shelby, I don’t think you had anything to do with it. But along the way he might’ve said something, done something, you overheard something that didn’t click at the time. Now this is all planted in your head, maybe something will click. That’s all.”

Tired, she rubbed a spot between her eyebrows where a headache wanted to brew. “She put me on edge.”

“Imagine that.”

Shelby let out a short laugh. “Is it crazy for me to be glad somewhere down deep finding out I was never married to him?”

“I’d say it’s about as sensible as it gets.”

“Okay then, I’m going to be sensible. I’m finished up here, so I’m going home. Mama picked Callie up already from Chelsea’s. I’m going to be with my girl awhile, make sure she has a good supper. Then I’m going to change and fix up so I look like somebody who should be singing on a Friday night.”

“I’ll follow you home. Safe’s better than sorry every time,” he said before she could object.

“Okay, thanks.”

Did she know something, something buried deep? Shelby wondered as she drove home with Forrest cruising behind her. It was true enough she could look back now, see little signs Richard was up to something. The phone calls that ended when she walked in or walked by, the locked doors and drawers. The dismissal of any question she had about what he did, where he went.

She’d thought affair, and more than once. But until now she’d never really considered thievery—not in a major sort of way, whatever that detective had claimed. And millions of dollars in jewelry?

That was about as major as it got.

And now that she knew? She shook her head as she pulled into the drive. She had nothing. Just nothing.

She gathered her things, waved to Forrest. And when the first thing she heard when she opened the front door was Callie’s laughter, she let everything else go.

After hugs and kisses and an excited retelling of her day with Chelsea, Callie settled down with a coloring book while Shelby helped her mother in the kitchen.

“You’ve got pretty white tulips up in your room,” Ada Mae said.

“Oh, Mama, my favorite! Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. They came about an hour ago. From Griffin.” Ada Mae slid her gaze and smile over. “I think you have a beau, Shelby Anne.”

“No, I— That was awful nice of him. Sweet of him.”

“He’s got a sweetness, and not so sugary it makes your teeth ache. Such a nice young man.”

“I’m not looking for a beau, Mama, or a young man.”

“It’s always seemed to me things are more exciting when you’re not looking and you find them.”

“Mama, I’ve not only got Callie to think about, and what’s already in my lap, but what just fell into it this morning.”

“Life’s still got to be lived, baby girl. And a nice young man who thinks to send flowers adds a pretty touch.”

• • •

IT DID. She couldn’t deny it as she glanced over at the white tulips. Her favorite flower, she mused, so he’d obviously asked someone who knew her. She thought about it while she changed into a simple, classic-cut black dress.

Whether she looked for it or not, Griffin was giving her some romance, and it had been a very, very long time since anyone had.

And she bet he knew the flowers made her think of the way he’d kissed her—twice now. She couldn’t blame him for that—and found she didn’t blame herself for thinking she wouldn’t mind being kissed again.

Soon.

She put on earrings. She’d thought to find something stage-flashy, but had opted for simple, like the dress, and pinned her hair back at the sides, let it fall in mad curls down her back.

“What do you think, Callie?” She did a model’s turn for her daughter. “How do I look?”

“Bee-utiful Mama.”

“Bee-utiful Callie.”

“I wanna go with you. Please, please!”

“Oh, I wish you could.” She crouched down, stroked Callie’s hair as her daughter pouted. “But they don’t let kids come.”

“Why?”

“It’s like the law.”

“Uncle Forrest is a lawman.”

Laughing, Shelby cuddled her girl. “A lawman.”

“Uh-huh. He said. He can take me.”

“Not tonight, baby, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll bring you with me to a rehearsal next week sometime. It’ll be like a special show just for you.”

“Can I wear my party dress?”

“I don’t see why not. Tonight, Granny and Grandpa are coming to be with you, and won’t you have fun?” And after the first set, her parents would come back, switch off.

It was good to know her family would be there.

“Let’s go down now. I’ve got to get going.”

• • •

THE PLACE WAS PACKED. She’d expected a crowd this first night as people were curious, or in the case of family and friends, supportive. Whatever brought them in, it felt good, damn good, to know she’d earned her keep this first time out.

She’d said hey and thanks for the good wishes countless times before she made it to the table, right in the front, where Griff sat.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks, that was the aim.”

“Dead on.”

“Thank you for the flowers, Griffin. They’re just beautiful.”

“Glad you liked them. Emma Kate and Matt are on their way, or nearly, and I had to fight off a dozen people to keep their chairs. That’s close to literal with some giant Tansy called Big Bud.”

“Big Bud? Is he here?” She did a quick scan, spotted him with his mighty bulk squeezed into a side booth chowing down on ribs while a skinny girl she didn’t recognize sat across from him poking at whatever was on her plate and looking bored.

“We went to high school together. I heard he’s a long-haul trucker these days, but . . .”

She trailed off as her gaze passed over Arlo Kattery, then backtracked to meet his eyes.

He hadn’t changed much, she thought, and those pale eyes of his still had the power to give her the creeps when they stared.

He kicked back in a chair at a table shared with a couple of men she thought she recognized as the same two he’d always hung out with.

She hoped they wouldn’t stay long, and take Arlo and his snake-stare around to Shady’s, where they usually spent their beer money.

“What’s the matter?” Griff asked.

“Oh, nothing, just somebody else from back some years. I expected some would come in tonight, curious to see if I rise or fall.”

“Sensation,” Griff said. “That’s the word of the day, since you’ll be one.”

She turned back to him, forgetting Arlo. “Aren’t you clever with your words?”

“The word of the day has to fit. This one does. I was supposed to let you know Tansy’s got your parents, Clay and Gilly there.” He gestured to a table at his right with a big RESERVED card on it. “Nobody argued with her on that one. Not even Big Bud.”

“Oh, Big Bud always did idolize Clay. He’s all right, Griff, just . . . insistent now and then. Daddy’s just waiting on Mama to finish primping, so they’ll be here soon. I’m really glad you’re here now.”

“Where else would I be?”

She hesitated, then sat. She had plenty of time. “Griffin, you’re really not going to pay any mind to what I said about my life being a hot mess and all the rest?”

“It doesn’t look like such a mess to me.”

“You’re not in it. And I found out more today, worse today. I can’t talk about it right now, but it’s twisted up something terrible.”

He brushed a hand over the back of hers. “I’ll help you straighten it out.”

“Because that’s what you do?”

“That, and because I’ve got a thing for you that just keeps getting bigger. And you’ve got one for me.”

“You’re sure of that?”

He only smiled. “I’m looking at you, Red.”

“I’ve got no business having a thing for you,” she muttered. Then as she had on Callie’s laugh, she let it go. “But maybe I do.” Her smile was pure temptation as she rose. “Just maybe I do.” She trailed a fingertip down his arm, felt the low vibration. She’d forgotten how heady that small, simple power could be. “You enjoy the show now.”

She went back into the kitchen, which was utter chaos, slipped into the broom closet of an office to take a breath.

Tansy rushed in. “Oh sweet God, Shelby, we’re slammed. Derrick’s pitching in behind the bar so we can keep up. How are you? Are you ready? I’m half sick with nerves.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “And you look cucumber cool. You’re not nervous?”

“Not about this. There’s so much else I have to be nervous about, so this? It’s like sliding into an old pair of slippers. I’ll do good for you, Tansy.”

“I know you will. I’m going out in just a few minutes, quiet them down and announce you.”

She pulled a ragged strip of paper from her pocket. “My checklist. I do better with one. Okay. The machine’s all set up just the way you wanted, and you know what to do there.”

“I do.”

“If anything goes wrong with it—”

“I’ll wing it,” Shelby assured her. “Thanks for saving that table for my parents.”

“Are you kidding? Of course we saved them a front-row seat—absolutely top of the checklist. And it stays reserved when they leave until your grandparents get here. I’ve got to go check on a few things, then we’ll go for it. You need anything?”

“I’ve got it all.”

Since she wanted it to be easy, natural, she went out early, chatted with a few people she knew at the bar. Got herself a bottle of water.

She knew her mother tended to get worked up before she performed—or always had—so she didn’t go to her parents’ table but sent them a smile. And another for Matt and Emma Kate. One more for Griff as Tansy stepped onto the little stage.

When Tansy spoke into the mic the clattering, scraping and voices quieted some. “Welcome to our first Friday Nights. We’re traveling on back to the forties tonight at Bootlegger’s, so sit back and enjoy those martinis and highballs while we bring you tonight’s entertainment. Most of y’all know Shelby, and most have heard her sing. Those who haven’t are in for a treat. Derrick and I are pleased and proud to have her here, on our stage, tonight. Now y’all give a Rendezvous Ridge welcome to our own Shelby Pomeroy.”

Shelby walked onto the stage, faced the room, the applause. “I want to thank y’all for coming out tonight. I’m so glad to be back in the Ridge, hearing familiar voices, breathing that good mountain air. This first number puts me in mind of what it was like to be away.”

She started with “I’ll Be Seeing You.”

And here she felt like herself. Shelby Pomeroy doing her best thing.

“She’s just great,” Griff murmured. “Sensation.”

“Always was. You’ve got stars in your eyes.” Emma Kate patted his arm.

“That’s okay, I can see fine through them. They just brighten things up.”

She sailed through the first set, pleased to see people come in, crowd at the bar or at tables. When she took her break Clay walked straight up to her, lifted her off her feet.

“So proud of you,” he whispered in her ear.

“It felt good. Really good.”

“Wish we could stay, but I’ve got to get Gilly home.”

“She okay?”

“Just tired. It’s the first night in a month she’s made it past nine.” He laughed, squeezed Shelby again. “Come on over before we leave.”

She glanced over, saw Matt and Griff pushing the tables together so her family, her friends made one unit.

Maybe she’d had a rough start to the day, she thought, but it was turning into a perfect night.

She spent some time with them, then went back to the bar for more water.

It didn’t hurt her feelings when she noticed Arlo and his friends leaving. She’d lose that mild discomfort from having him stare at her.

He’d often stared at her, just like that, when they were teenagers. And, she recalled, had tried to get her to take a ride on his motorcycle or sneak off for a beer.

She’d never done either.

And she found it downright creepy that years later, he’d still just stare at her, unblinking as a lizard.

Griff slipped up to the bar beside her, and made her think of much more pleasant companionship.

“Go out with me tomorrow night.”

“Oh, I—”

“Give a guy a break, Shelby. I really want some time with you. Just you.”

She turned, looked straight into his eyes—bold, green, clever. Absolutely nothing about those eyes made her uncomfortable.

“I think I want that, too, but I don’t feel right leaving Callie two nights running, and asking my parents to sit her again.”

“Okay. Pick a night next week. Any night, and anywhere you want to go.”

“Ah . . . Tuesday would probably be best.”

“Tuesday. Where do you want to go?”

“I really want to see your house.”

“You do?”

She broke out in a smile. “I really do, and I’ve been trying to figure how to invite myself for a tour.”

“Consider it done.”

“I could bring dinner.”

“I’ll take care of it. Seven?”

“If we made it seven-thirty, I could give Callie her bath first.”

“Seven-thirty.”

“I need to check with Mama first, but I expect she’ll be fine with it. And you should listen to what else has come out before we make any sort of date.”

“It’s already a date.” He kissed her lightly before he walked away.

She thought that quick gesture had been a statement, a kind of stamp. And couldn’t quite figure out if she minded that or not. She put it in the back of her mind as she went back on stage for her next set.

She saw Forrest come in with her grandparents, take the empty seats.

But she didn’t notice the brunette until halfway through her set. Shelby’s heart jumped, but she kept the song going when their eyes met.

Had she been there all along, tucked into a table at the back, barely visible in the shadows?

Shelby looked away, tried to catch Forrest’s eye, but he’d gone up to the bar, wasn’t looking in her direction.

The brunette rose, stood a moment, sipping from a martini glass. Then she set it down, put on a dark jacket. She added a smile, kissed her fingertip, flicked it in Shelby’s direction, then strolled out.

She finished out her set—what else could she do? Then made a beeline for Forrest.

“She was here.”

He didn’t have to ask who. “Where?”

“In the back.”

“Who?” Griff demanded.

“She left,” Shelby continued. “Easy fifteen minutes ago. She’s gone, but she was here.”

“Who?” Griff demanded again.

“It’s hard to explain.” Shelby pasted on a smile, turned and waved when someone called her name. “I have to work. Maybe you could fill them in some, Forrest. I couldn’t get your attention when I saw her, but I swear she was here.”

“Who?” Griff demanded for the third time when Shelby walked over to another table.

“I’ll tell you about it, but I’m going to take a little look around outside.”

“I’ll go with you.” When Matt started to rise, Griff shook his head. “Keep the table. We’ll be back.”

“What’s all this?” Viola leaned over.

“Nothing to worry about. I’ll explain when I get back.” Forrest gave her shoulder a rub, then made his way out with Griff.

“What the fuck, Forrest? What woman? And why did she put that look in Shelby’s eyes?”

“What look?”

“Half scared, half pissed.”

Forrest paused at the door. “You read her pretty well.”

“I’m making a study of it. Get used to it.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s down-to-the-ground so.”

Forrest’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “I have to think about that. Meanwhile, we’re looking for a hot brunette, about thirty, round about five-six, brown eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s looking like she was married to the guy Shelby thought she was married to.”

“What? Thought? What?”

“And she’s bad business—so was the asshole Shelby likely wasn’t married to after all. A lot worse than I figured, and I figured bad enough.”

“Was Shelby married or not?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“How can it be hard to say?” Frustrated, and temper building under it, Griff threw up his hands. “It’s yes or no.”

Forrest scanned the street, the cars parked along the curb, the light traffic passing by. “Why are people from the North always in such a damn hurry? A story takes time to tell properly. I’ll do that while we walk around back, see what we see. Have you put your hands on my sister?”

“Not so much. Not yet. But I’m going to, so get used to that, too.”

“Does she want your hands on her?”

“You should know me well enough by now, damn it, Forrest. They don’t go on her unless she wants them on her.”

“I know you well enough by now, Griff, but it’s my sister here, so that takes more. And it’s my sister who’s been fucked over right, left, sideways. So that’s more yet.”

He told the story as they walked around the side of the building, made their way toward the back and the parking lot.

“And you think this woman’s telling it straight?”

“She’s telling enough of it straight so I know the bastard Shelby was with was a liar and a thief. I’ll be doing some looking for something on this millions in jewelry and stamps she claims they stole or conned somebody out of.”

His eyes, shadowed in the dim light, scanned the cars. “If they hadn’t bussed the brunette’s table, I could’ve gotten prints off it, gotten her name, her real one.”

“If she’s telling the truth about being married to Foxworth, he was using Shelby all along.” Griff stuffed his hands in his pockets, paced away. “And Callie . . .”

“Callie’s going to be fine either way. Shelby will see to that. But I’d like to have a conversation with this woman who’s dogging her.”

“Brunette, right? Hot, brown-eyed brunette.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have any conversations with her. Better come over here.” Griff took a deep breath as Forrest hurried toward him. “Looks like we found her.”

She sat, slumped in the driver’s seat of a silver BMW, eyes wide and staring. Blood still seeped from the tiny black hole in her forehead.

“Well, shit. Well, shit,” Forrest repeated. “Don’t touch the car.”

“I’m not touching a goddamn thing,” he said as Forrest pulled out his phone. “I didn’t hear a shot.”

Forrest took a picture from the side, one from the front. “Small caliber, and see how it’s burned around the entry wound? Held it right against her. Right up against her forehead, pulled the trigger. Somebody might’ve heard a pop, but it wouldn’t be all that loud. I’ve got to call my boss.”

“Shelby?”

Like Griff, Forrest looked back toward the bar and grill. “Let’s just wait on that a little bit. Just wait on it. We need to secure this area. And shit, we’re going to have to start talking to people inside the bar and grill. Sheriff?”

Forrest adjusted his stance, re-angled the phone. “Yes, sir. I got a body here in the parking lot of Bootlegger’s Bar and Grill. Yes, sir, that sure would be a dead one.” He glanced at Griff as he spoke, nearly smiled. “I’m certain of that as I’m looking right at her and the small-caliber bullet wound, close-contact, in her forehead. I got that.”

On a sigh, Forrest shoved his phone in his pocket. “Sure wish I’d finished that beer because it’s going to be a long, dry night now.” He studied the body another moment, then turned to Griff. “I’m deputizing you.”

“What?”

“You’re a competent individual, Griff, and you sure keep your head when you find a dead body, as you’ve just proven. Don’t shake easy, do you?”

“It’s my first dead body.”

“And you didn’t scream like a girl.” Laying a bolstering hand on Griff’s shoulder, Forrest gave it a friendly pat. “Plus, I happen to know you didn’t kill her since you were inside with me.”

“Yay.”

“She’s still warm, so she hasn’t been dead long. I got some things I need in my truck, and I need you to stay here. Right here.”

“I can do that.” Because, he thought, as Forrest walked off to his truck, what else could he do?

He tried to think it through. The woman had been inside, then she’d gone out, gotten in her car. The driver’s-side window was down.

Warm enough night. Had she put it down for the air, or because somebody had walked up to the car? Did a woman alone in a parking lot outside a bar roll down the window for a stranger?

Maybe, but it seemed less likely than rolling it down for someone she knew.

But . . .

“Why’s her window down?” he asked Forrest. “From what you told me, she doesn’t know anybody around here. She’s got to have some basic street smarts, so who’d she roll the window down for?”

“Deputized two minutes and already thinking like a cop. Makes me proud of my own character assessment. Put these on.”

Griff looked at the gloves. “Oh, man.”

“Don’t want you to handle anything—probably—but just in case. Use your phone, take some notes for me.”

“Why? Don’t you have backup coming or something?”

“They’ll be coming. This woman came at my sister. I want a leg up. Get the make, model, license plate. Go on and get a picture of the plate. She’s got a high-end rental here. We’ll find out where she got it.”

He shone his light in the car. “Purse is still in here, sitting on the passenger seat. Closed. Keys in the ignition, engine off.”

“She’d have had to turn the key to get the window down. Strange town, she’d’ve locked the car up, right?”

“Son, if you ever give up carpentry and such, I’d take you on.” Forrest opened the passenger door, crouched, opened the purse. “She’s got herself a pretty little Baby Glock here.”

Now Griff leaned over Forrest’s shoulder. “She had a gun in her purse?”

“It’s Tennessee, Griff. Half the women in that bar are carrying. Loaded, clean. I’d say it hasn’t been fired recently. Got a Florida driver’s license under the name Madeline Elizabeth Proctor, and that’s not the name she gave Shelby. Miami address. Got her DOB as eight twenty-two ’eighty-five. Got some lipstick—looks pretty new—got herself a folding combat knife.”

“Jesus.”

“Nice one, too. Blackhawk. Visa and American Express cards, same name. We got two hundred and . . . thirty-two dollars in cash. And a key card for a room at the Lodge at Buckberry Creek in Gatlinburg. Fancy.”

“Didn’t want to get rousted.” When Forrest glanced over, Griff shrugged. “She had to know Shelby had a cop for a brother. Go at Shelby, she’s going to have a cop rousting her. Plus plenty of family circling the wagons. So she doesn’t stay at the local hotel, which is pretty fancy, too. She puts some distance between herself and the Ridge, gives Shelby a phony name.”

“See why I deputized you? So, what do you figure happened here?”

“Seriously?”

“Dead woman in the car, Griff.” Curious, Forrest straightened up, rolled his shoulders. “It’s pretty serious, all in all.”

“Well, I’d guess she came tonight to mess with Shelby’s head. Keep herself right in the front of Shelby’s mind. Once Shelby spotted her, she could go. She came out, got in her car, most likely to drive back to Gatlinburg. Somebody came over to the car, to the driver’s side. I’m leaning toward she recognized whoever it was, and felt easy enough to lower the window instead of driving off or getting her own gun. After she rolled down the window . . .”

Griff mimed putting a gun to his forehead, made a trigger with his thumb.

“That’s my way of thinking, too. If I didn’t know my mama would call you instead of me when the porches need scraping and painting, I’d talk you into joining the sheriff’s department.”

“Not on a bet. I don’t like guns.”

“You’d get over it.” He looked over as a cruiser pulled in. “Shit, should’ve known he’d send Barrow first off. Guy’s affable enough, but slow as a lame turtle. Go on back in, Griff, round up Derrick and fill him in.”

“You want me to fill Derrick in?”

“Save some time. He’s a competent individual himself, and he’s been working the bar most of the night. Could be he saw somebody who didn’t strike him quite right.”

“Whoever did this is long gone.”

“Yeah, for right now, anyway. You’re a lot quicker than Barrow, Griff. ’Course, that doesn’t take much.”

“What we got here, Forrest? Hey, Griff, how’s it going? Sheriff said— Holy shitfire!” Barrow said when he saw the body. “Is she dead?”

“I’d say that’s affirmative, Woody.” Forrest rolled his eyes at Griff.

Griff went inside to find Derrick and fill him in.