CHAPTER EIGHT
For crap’s sake! I almost kissed the woman right here in front of the kids.
Ty busied himself straightening some of the pandemonium before the boys’ mothers saw it, knowing his efforts would be inadequate, but still better than nothing. At least Pearl would never know about the pretzels in the aquarium. He’d managed to scoop what the fish hadn’t eaten out quick enough. Only time would tell if they’d live to tattle about it.
What the hell had come over him, leaning toward Beth that way? And—dammit all to hell—he grew hot and hard all over just thinking about how close he’d come to…to…His collar tightened around his throat, and his jeans tugged sensitive anatomy in a particularly uncomfortable, potentially embarrassing way.
He drew a deep breath or three and lined up the eating utensils the way Beth had placed them earlier—or guessed at it anyway. At least the kids hadn’t barged back inside yet. Thank God for small favors.
Beth was busy removing pretzels, chips, and confetti from the furniture. Good idea. The grandparents and parents would need places to sit while Mark opened the loot. He gave her a thumbs-up gesture and her cheeks reddened, even as she scowled. What a confounding woman. She blew hot and cold quicker than springtime in Tennessee. One thing he knew for sure: a man would never be bored with a woman like Beth Dearborn in his life.
He stiffened and gnawed the inside of his cheek. Not that he’d been bored with Lorilee, of course. Guilt pressed down on him. Where the hell had that come from? He shifted and cleared his throat.
“Break’s over,” Beth said over the thunder of sneakers and boots in the foyer.
“Stampede coming.” Chaperones were probably a good thing about now, he decided. They would help remind him to keep his hands—and other things—to himself. He glanced at the way the buttons of her white blouse strained against her breasts as she leaned across the table to right an overturned cup.
Maybe…
Behave yourself, Malone. He was acting like a horny teenager instead of a responsible adult and father.
The boys gathered around the righted tables, diving into chip bowls again, leaving trails of crumbs across the yellow tablecloths. “Right back where we started,” he muttered.
“Pretty much.” Was that humor or exasperation in Beth’s voice? He looked at her and saw mischief dancing in her hazel eyes. Why that pleased him, he wasn’t sure, and he sure as hell didn’t want to examine it now.
“What time will Grandpa get here?” Mark asked from his side, rubbing his hands together while wearing a greedy, eager grin.
Ty couldn’t help but return his son’s infectious smile, thankful to have his son to anchor him back in reality. He rested his hand on Mark’s bony twelve-year-old shoulder.
Lorilee’s dad still doted on the kids. Spoiled them rotten, when he wasn’t busy trying to mold them into his own image—at least as much as his young wife would allow. She only tolerated the kids in moderation. “I expect them anytime now.”
“Them? Oh.” Mark slouched a little.
“You didn’t expect Grandma Ruby to miss your birthday party.” Ty ruffled his son’s shaggy dark hair. Boy could use a haircut. “Did you?”
“I s’pose not.”
“ ‘Grandma Ruby’?” Beth echoed.
He didn’t realize she’d come over to the table until she spoke. “Lorilee’s stepmother. Her daddy remarried a few years after Lorilee and I got hitched.”
“Ah.” Beth slid her backpack off her shoulder and removed her notepad from yesterday, scribbled a few lines. “Thanks.”
Ty chuckled and shook his head. The doorbell rang and the mothers, along with Grace, Pearl, and Sarah, all started into the room, chattering away. “Lord, give us strength,” he prayed.
The boys and even Grace all giggled. Young fools—they actually thought he was kidding.
He met Beth’s gaze and she mouthed an amen, but he saw the corners of her mouth twitching. Heh. He figured her for about five minutes with this crew. Ten, tops.
With a sigh, he headed toward the sound of Pearl’s voice in the foyer as she greeted Bill and Ruby Lee Brubaker. Cecil had found some urgent chore or another to delay his arrival—smart man—leaving Ty the only adult male present, other than his father-in-law.
“Wilson over at the hotel gave me a call yesterday,” Bill said as he passed his Stetson to Pearl. “Said there’s a lady insurance investigator in town askin’ around ‘bout Lorilee. You know anything a—”
“Good to see you, Bill,” Ty interrupted, pounding his father-in-law on the back in greeting. Wilson’s been a busy old fart. “You should get over more often. The kids always enjoy your visits.” Even if they generally give me indigestion.
“That boy of yours needs to learn about running a bigger spread. Send him over for the summer, once school’s out.”
Ty avoided his father-in-law’s all-too-familiar dig about how much smaller his farming operation was than Brubaker’s. How many times had the old man tried to coerce and shame him into folding his farm into the larger family spread? But Ty and Lorilee had worked too long and hard to build this place, and he wasn’t about to let it be swallowed up by a power-hungry old man.
“Ruby Lee, I swear you look younger every time I see you,” Ty said, bending down to kiss the petite redhead’s cheek. And she did look overtly younger. Hadn’t Pearl mentioned a lift or tuck or something? The discreet pinch his housekeeper delivered to his rib cage was answer enough. “Come on into the parlor. The natives are getting restless.”
“Is it true about the investigator, Ty?” Ruby Lee asked, batting her heavily made-up eyes.
“Dunno why you couldn’t leave well enough alone,” Brubaker muttered. “Leave well enough alone, and let this matter rest in peace.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, sir,” Ty said, clenching his teeth. It was a wonder he hadn’t worn them down to nubs by now. “This is a birthday party. Okay with you two if we change the subject?”
“Sure, sure.” Bill appeared somewhat chagrined. He heaved a heavy sigh, patted Ty on the shoulder, then headed into the parlor. The kids greeted him loudly. The old man might be greedy and annoying, but he was a much-loved and loving grandfather, and had been a doting father to Lorilee. Ty always tried to remind himself that her disappearance had hurt Bill as much as it had him.
“Maybe the washed-out bridge will send that investigator packing her way back from where she come,” Ruby Lee said. “You think?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that.” Ty cleared his throat. “Let’s get to the party before the hellions tear the house apart.”
“What a plan,” Pearl muttered.
Ty met his housekeeper’s gaze, and the woman rolled her eyes behind Ruby Lee’s back. “That husband of yours is a coward, Pearl Montgomery,” he whispered as they entered the parlor.
“No, I ain’t either, Ty Malone,” Cecil said from behind them. “I married this feisty old woman, didn’t I?”
“Point taken.”
Pearl laughed as her husband leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then she looked up at Ty and asked, “Why didn’t you tell Mr. and Mrs. Brubaker about Beth Dearborn bein’ here, Ty Malone?”
Good question. He’d been about to, but something had stopped him. “I’m not sure. Guess I didn’t have enough time.”
“Hmm…” Pearl seemed unconvinced.
Frankly, so was he.
“Don’t matter now,” Cecil said. “Reckon they’re about to find out for themselves.”
Ty followed the direction of Cecil’s gaze. Beth had her trusty notepad in hand and was heading straight toward Bill Brubaker.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. The woman could at least wait for an introduction.
Cecil rested his large hand on Ty’s shoulder and chuckled. “I got me a feelin’ there’s nothin’ holy about it, son.”
The theme song from Dallas played in Beth’s head as she watched William Brubaker lumber into the room. “Larger than life” was an apt description for the Southern landholder, after whose ancestors the town had been named. Tall and broad through the shoulders, he carried himself like a far-younger man. Years of working outside had worn his skin to a leathery gold that contrasted handsomely with his thick head of silver hair.
So this is Daddy Warbucks.
Beth intended to waste no time getting to know Lorilee’s father. With her notepad and pen in hand, she wound her way between mothers whose names she didn’t yet know—and who stared at her with more-than-passing curiosity—and headed straight toward her target.
The bouncing redhead who bobbled in behind him couldn’t be “Grandma Ruby.” Could she? Beth hesitated a second too long, considering that possibility. Just long enough for Ty to intercept her on the five-yard line.
He gave her elbow a squeeze. A hard one. “Now, now,” he said for her ears only. “At least wait for a proper introduction before you unsheathe your claws.”
If they’d been alone, she would have demonstrated the precise move she’d used to earn her second-degree black belt. Instead, she hissed. Quietly.
“This is a birthday party.” He leaned closer. “Remember?”
With a sigh, she slipped the notepad into the pocket of her denim skirt, where it would be handy. “I promise to behave, if you promise to introduce me to people.”
He gave a curt nod. “I said I would, and I will. Thank you for behaving.”
“Sure. No problem.” Damn, but the man had more charisma—or something—than the law should allow. And she was a big girl. She should be way beyond this.
Get over it, Dearborn. With great effort, she turned her attention back to Lorilee’s big daddy.
“Twelve years old, Mark,” the older man said boisterously. “That’s almost a man.”
“Oh, boy,” Ty muttered through a sigh.
Even though she’d never been a parent, Beth somehow understood. “Yeah…”
“He’s center stage now, and there’s no stopping him,” Cecil said from behind them.
“I’m afraid so,” Ty confirmed.
Pearl had disappeared into the kitchen again. Sarah stood beside her grandfather, her pretty face pale, her eyes wide. Beth made a mental note to spend more time with the oldest Malone child. After all, she was the one who’d called Beth here last night, and—according to Ty—had asked to have her mother declared legally dead.
“Let’s eat this chicken before it gets cold,” Pearl suggested, emerging again from the kitchen. “Then we’ll get to the cake and, oh, maybe some presents, if somebody insists.”
Timing was everything, and Pearl Montgomery obviously knew exactly how to keep peace in this family. Beth made a mental note to stay on the woman’s good side. She could be a great ally in this investigation, but she could just as easily become an impediment, if she so chose. The woman had power and influence, whether or not she realized it.
Beth had a hunch Pearl knew it, but had too much class and genuine affection for her employer to use it casually. No, Pearl was smarter than that. And so was Beth.
“Better grab some food before it’s all gone.” Ty gestured toward the buffet table and grinned. “Mark picked the menu. Pizza and fried chicken.”
Ty passed her an empty plate. “Once folks settle down and start eating, I’ll introduce you to a few people.” He narrowed his eyes and added, “Remember, this is a birthday party.”
“Trust me, I heard you the first time.” So much for sexual tension. He’d certainly put her back in her place, and that’s exactly where she needed to keep her head. On her job and off her damned hormones.
Beth grabbed a drumstick and a slice of cheese pizza, silently blessing Pearl for managing to add salad to Mark’s menu. It seemed unlikely the fresh greens and vinaigrette had been a twelve-year-old’s idea.
She felt someone watching her as she poured iced tea into a glass, but forced herself not to look up to identify the culprit. Slowly, she brought the glass to her lips and leveled her gaze over its rim.
Grandma Ruby’s stare was icier than the tea. Interesting. The woman was obviously curious about Beth, and why shouldn’t she be? Everybody else here was a known entity.
“So, did you wash in with the storm last night?” a silky voice asked from right beside Beth.
She’d been watching the redheaded grandma and hadn’t noticed the woman beside her in the buffet line. “Something like that,” Beth said with a shrug. “I was on this side of the bridge when it washed out. I’m Beth Dearborn.”
The blonde looked over Beth’s attire with open curiosity. “Lucy Wilkes. The twins are mine.” She inclined her head toward the party table. “You aren’t from these parts.”
It wasn’t a question. Beth knew hostility when she heard it. This Southern flower was no shrinking violet by any stretch. “No, I’m here on business.”
“Business?”
So how much did Ty want these people to know about this investigation? Beth rocked back on her heels and blew a wayward curl away from her mouth. Right now she just wanted to sit down somewhere and eat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to—”
“We all heard there was an insurance investigator in town yesterday,” Lucy persisted.
Beth’s opportunity for a graceful escape disappeared. Where the hell was Mr. Remember-This-Is-A-Birthday-Party now?
“How about that?” Beth took another sip of tea and looked around the room. A few gazes riveted on her and Lucy, but most people were busy with their plates and conversation.
“So?”
“So…what?” Beth decided playing dumb was the better part of valor. “Really, I’m half starved, so I’m just going over here to—”
“Are you her?”
One of those… Lucy Wilkes had busybody written all over her. Beth narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line. She wished her hands weren’t full so she could clench her fists for effect. “Guilty as charged. Happy now?”
The woman had the audacity to blink in feigned innocence, as if she hadn’t coerced Beth into confessing her identity. At least Lucy finally slunk away and left Beth to her rapidly cooling chicken and pizza.
She found a vacant seat in the corner and settled down to eat, repositioning her backpack. Later, she would lock her weapon in the trunk of her car, so she wouldn’t have to worry about the children accidentally getting their hands on it. After all, the likelihood of her needing it here wasn’t high.
A voice interrupted her first bite. “So…it’s you. You’re the one.”
Beth looked up and saw a short, stout woman nod knowingly before pivoting on her heel to march away to a cluster of other moms who had their heads together.
“Oh, boy.” Beth bit into the drumstick. “Bet I’m the flavor of the week,” she muttered around a mouthful of herbs and spices that put the Colonel to shame. Pearl should franchise.
Beth cast a covetous glance toward the back staircase. What were the chances of smuggling a plate of fried chicken up the stairs to her room, or anywhere in this big old house that was unoccupied by either the living or dead?
Murmurs swept through the room, and the stares directed at her became more numerous and overt. No escape now, Dearborn. Besides, she was here to work. The sooner these people knew who she was and why she was here, the sooner she could get on with her life. Right?
Her conversation with Sam this morning had triggered that old mental soundtrack of her mother’s nagging voice. Marry a nice boy and settle down, Beth. A sad smile tugged at her lips as she set her empty plate on a nearby table.
The woman had died before Beth made detective, and had been harping at her only child for years about making her a grandmother. Acid joined the fried chicken and cold pizza in Beth’s stomach. Memory lane was not on her mental GPS today. Eject tape now.
Beth finished the iced tea—sweetened, of course—and wondered how long birthday parties lasted. How long would it take for everybody to get their fill of gaping and gossiping, before she could ask some questions? Shouldn’t they get to the “Happy Birthday” business soon? She walked around the buffet table and stared out the window at the cars parked in the circle drive. Hers looked even more out of place than she felt.
“How much will it take to make you go away?”
The whispered words were clearly intended to sound menacing, but Beth couldn’t suppress the chuckle that bubbled from her throat. This entire day was shaping up like a scene from the latest television-mystery cozy.
The cloud of expensive perfume already told her the walking, talking cliché’s gender. Despite that knowledge, she really didn’t expect to find herself staring down into the angry green eyes of Grandma Ruby herself.
The woman was about five feet nothing and built like Dolly Parton—easy to see why the old man had been attracted. “Would you like to repeat that?” Beth encouraged. Emboldened, she thrust out her right hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
“Oooookay.” Beth dropped her hand back to her side. “And you’re Mrs. Brubaker. Correct?”
“That doesn’t matter.” She looked around nervously, as if she actually might believe most of the mothers in the room weren’t staring right at them. “I just don’t want my Bill to be upset by…this.”
“This…?” Beth’s fingers itched to reach for her notebook and pen, but she folded her arms instead. This would be even better on tape. Pity she wasn’t wired. “This…what?” she repeated, knowing exactly what this Grandma Ruby meant. What Beth didn’t know was why it was so important to the woman.
“Investigation about Lorilee.” Ruby leaned closer. “Bill was crazy about his little girl, and when she ran off like she did…”
“If she did.” Beth definitely had to add the stepmother to the list of nonbelievers.
Ruby stiffened and her cheeks flamed, contrasting horribly with her dyed hair. The woman had obviously been a natural redhead once upon a time, but now covered the gray with far too much zeal. “She was spoiled rotten, that girl. Trust me, she stole her daddy’s money and ran off to Europe.”
Beth remained silent, waiting to see if Ruby would continue. When she didn’t, she nodded and said, “That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Brubaker—to find out for sure what happened to Lorilee.”
“But I told you—”
“There’s no proof.” Beth studied the woman’s face, making mental notes about her level of anxiety. “My job is to prove one way or another if she’s dead or not.”
“Not. Definitely not.” Ruby shook her head rapidly and fished a handkerchief from her pocket. After managing a few impressive tears without mussing her heavy mascara, she added, “She ran off and broke her family’s hearts. I just don’t want her daddy upset again. That’s all.”
Beth knew beyond any doubt that wasn’t all. She wasn’t sure why or how she knew, but she’d learned to trust her instincts—more than just her empathic ones—in this line of work. “I’ll do my best not to disrupt your family any more than necessary,” she promised. “But I have a job to do, and I intend to do it.”
Ruby pressed her lips into a thin line and narrowed her green eyes. “Damn Ty for stirring up this mess again.” Without another word, she spun around and returned to her husband’s side, her Italian heels clicking across the oak floor.
Beth noticed Ty emerging from the kitchen with the birthday cake on a wheeled cart, candles blazing. The crowd burst into the “Happy Birthday” song. Beth took that opportunity to fish her notepad from her backpack, so she could scribble down a few key points about her encounters with Lucy Wilkes and Ruby Brubaker.
So far it seemed the only person she could list as a friend to Lorilee Brubaker-Malone, outside Pearl and her immediate family, was Rick Heppel.
Interesting. Why had the woman once known as Brubaker’s “guardian angel” fallen from grace so far and so fast? There was more going on here than a simple disappearance. But what?
She wrote a question mark on her notepad and felt someone’s gaze on her again. Beth looked across the room toward the archway leading to the foyer, where she’d had the close encounter of the empathic kind. A tall, lean cowboy leaned against the wall, his hat pulled low over his eyes, obscuring his features.
The man was not here for the party—at least not as a guest. That was obvious. He must have been an employee, but why was he staring at her?
And why did she suddenly feel unreasonably comforted by the presence of her backpack and Glock?
The crowd burst into applause at the end of the song. She looked away from the cowboy long enough to watch Mark blow out his candles before his grandfather handed him an envelope and a package.
Ty looked up from his son’s activities and toward the foyer archway. Beth noticed the way he stiffened, and his brow furrowed. Tension radiated from the man.
She followed his gaze back to the archway.
But the cowboy was gone.