Chapter Nine
April 12th. 2009© 2009 Kimberly J. Fish
Chapter Nine
Lacy Cavanaugh didn’t often chew her fingernails, but sitting inside the Kendall County sheriff’s office and staring at an out-of-date rodeo poster suggested that nibbled nails should be the least of her worries. She’d already called her sister and her friend, AJ Worthington. God only knew where they were because they weren’t anywhere near their cell phones. Still.
She felt a warm, masculine hand pat her knee.
“This is all a case of mistaken identity.” Henry Robinson’s complexion was pale, but otherwise just as confident as he’d been in Inga Steinmeyer’s storage unit. “That confession letter doesn’t implicate us.”
“Except that we had the key to a lock that had been jammed by something sharp, a hundred thousand dollars worth of family heirlooms-previously valued by a San Antonio insurance expert-are missing, and you were holding a letter that essentially confesses to doing away with a local school teacher. Of course, there’s nothing to worry about. My former boyfriend, the deputy, will brush the storage unit for fingertips and see ours all over everything and naturally assume we had nothing to do with any of this.”
“I’m so glad your faith in a higher plan is firmly at work.”
Lacy cut her gaze to him hoping he felt the full force of her disdain. “God is in this?”
“His fingerprints are all over it. I’m a little surprised you don’t see the incongruity of the situation. This smacks of a God-thing if ever I’ve seen one.”
Lacy rubbed her fingertips into her scalp. “I really don’t want to have a theology discussion right now.”
“It’s the perfect time. God loves it when we cry out to Him in our times of distress.”
“Ah, ha! So you admit we’re in too deep for our own good.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that when a woman who probably spent good money on her manicure tears her nails to shreds, I think maybe she’s worried and needs to turn her concerns over to God. Trust that He has a plan in all of this. That’s all. No great theological discourse on subtext and implications of the Psalms.”
Lacy glanced at him and almost laughed. He really did seem at ease. “You can take your hand off my knee now.”
“And I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”
She smiled. “Isn’t a chemical reaction exactly what you’ve been hoping for since the first afternoon we met?”
Henry leaned closer to Lacy’s shoulder and whispered. “Yes. But not with your eagle-eyed, former Marine, ex-boyfriend staring at us.”
She reached across his arm and patted his knee in return. “Then you shouldn’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
“Oh, I intend to finish this. And for the record, I think a Valentine’s Day wedding would be very romantic.”
Lacy didn’t often feel like her mouth had hinged loose like a barn door in a wind storm, but this was that moment.
“Lacy, the Sheriff wants to talk to you, now.” Deputy Michael offered to help her stand from the chair. “Alone.”
Lacy stared at his large, scarred hand. She wobbled when she grasped Michael’s hand. Her mind spinning in small circles related to how little she actually knew about Henry Robinson.
“Go in peace, Lacy. You have nothing to fear,” Henry said.
She glanced over her shoulder to see him, his hands folded together as if he had plenty of time to waste sitting in a rural law enforcement office. Either he was a better than average player or he really had no anxiety over the complexities of being accused of crime.
For the briefest of moments, she had a flash-forward of them sitting on Kali and Brad’s deck reminiscing with party guests about the funny day Henry had proposed. She shook her head to knock away the insanity. Turning to face Michael, she let go of his hand. “Am I going to need an attorney for this conversation with the sheriff?”
“Only if you have something to say that might incriminate you.” Michael winked. “Like that would happen.”
“It could. I might teach Vacation Bible School, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few ghosts in my closet.”
“As long as those ghosts weren’t hanging around the elementary school last month your reputation can be as bad as you want it to be.”
“And doesn’t that give me something to look forward to,” Henry said.
Michael and Lacy both turned to stare at Henry.
He shrugged. “I can appreciate the many facets in a woman’s personality, and her past. That’s what makes them so fascinating.”
Michael gripped Lacy’s elbow. “Come on, heartbreaker. Let’s get you in for questioning before the sheriff decides he’s sleepy and closes down the office for his afternoon nap.”
As Lacy walked beside Michael she was tempted to glance back to see if Henry was still watching her with the same intensity she felt seconds before. Facets, indeed.
Michael stopped outside the sheriff’s office. He leaned close to her ear. “If there’s anything you need from me, anything at all, don’t hesitate to yell. Understand? The sheriff can be intimidating and he always gets a confession.”
“But I have nothing to confess. I’m innocent. Inga gave us her key. You have called her, haven’t you?”
“The sheriff took me off the case. He said I was too close to be objective.”
“You’re the only deputy in this office.”
“He brought in a guy from Kerrville. That’s why you’ve had to wait so long for questioning.” Michael’s quick survey covered both ends of the hallway. “Don’t look the sheriff in the eye. Stare at the ugly wart thing between his brows and you’ll be fine.”
“Michael, I’m innocent.”
“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t cover for the slicker back there. I’ve seen his type before. They flatter, they wine and dine, and then-bam-they have the babe emptying her checking account and covering his gambling debts.”
She stared into Michael’s cool gray eyes. “This is not a Law and Order episode.”
“It’s cruel world out there. And you’re too special to be tarnished by a charmer with sticky fingers.”
Before she could retort, the sheriff’s office door jerked open. A grizzled, old man with a puffed scar between his eyebrows stared at her like she was personally responsible for ruining his life.
“If you two are through with this chit-chat, I’d like to get on with the business of solving the case.” The sheriff turned his gaze to Michael. “And you’re supposed to have gotten that O’Banshee woman out of my department. I can still hear squawking from the parking lot.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sheriff stood away from his door implying that Lacy better hustle to the chair near his desk.
“I’m innocent and if you’d just call Inga Steinmeyer’s, Henry and I would be cleared of this nonsense.”
“Hey, I get to run the investigation. I’m the one with the badge on my shirt.” The sheriff slammed the door in Michael’s face. “Now, sit. And don’t say another word until I get some aspirin.”
Lacy watched the man limp over to the credenza. He grabbed a file from the pile teetering near the edge, stuck it under his arm, and then reached for the quantity size bottle of aspirin acting as a paper weight for his stack of Comfort Times. He stopped to swig from a bottle of water and tossed a handful of pain relief onto his tongue. He ambled to his desk, dropped the file on a doodled ink blotter still bearing a 2000 calendar at a glance, then collapsed in a swivel chair with a rusty spring.
Once he leaned back sufficiently to prop his swollen ankle on a opened file drawer, he narrowed his gaze on her. “So, you’re pretty well connected in Comfort. A real town doll.”
She tried not to stare at the puffy, brownish blob near his charcoal eyebrows. “I’ve lived here too few years to qualify for doll status. Last I heard, there was a test and a naturalization process to go through just to get on the Ocktoberfest committee.”
He grinned, a bit. “That sense of humor get you very far with the darker side of the antique world?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, don’t play dumb now. I know you’ve started a business dealing ‘furniture.’ If you’re really into antiques, and I mean the good stuff, not the knock-offs, then you’ve got to have one hand in the pocket of some questionable associates. Usually ones with big city connections and vast avenues to move valuable pieces fast.”
Lacy looked around the room suddenly wondering where the deputy from Kerrville was hiding. “I came here to talk about the missing school teacher.”
He shrugged. “That letter was the last clue in a case I’ve had pending against Inga’s nephew. He and the little lady faked her death so she could disappear from credit card bills. That kid could never spell. Now, it’s just a matter of finding them and bringing them in. I could care less about your role in a playground episode of hide and seek.”
Lacy coveted his bottle of aspirin. She was desperate to stamp some relief on the pounding under her scalp. “Well, why am I still here? Why hold Henry?”
“Glad you asked.” The sheriff leaned back even more causing his chair to groan in protest. “I think you and Mr. Robinson have a little scam going. Rob the elderly of their valuable family heirlooms and pocket the savings for your next store-front. Tell me when I start to get warm. I really hate to waste good man-power chasing down such obvious cases of fraud.”
“I am not robbing anyone!”
“And yet, sweet old Missus Steinmeyer is claiming otherwise.”
“She gave us the key!”
“Two days ago. That’s plenty of time to clear out her belongings, fence them in the city, come back here and stage the big scene at the DQ, and cause the ruckus with my deputy out there so it looks like you’re an innocent bystander.”
Air had left her body. Lacy leaned into the hard plastic chair as if it was the only thing between her and the Mad Hatter’s hole in the floor. Despite Michael’s warning to the contrary, she did look the sheriff in the eye. It was the last thing she could do to validate her integrity. “I’m not a thief. I’m not a fence for valuable antiques. And I resent your implication that I could do that sort of thing.”
“This coming from the girl with a few ghosts in her closet?”
Lacy’s heart pounded in her chest. “You listened in on my conversation?”
“You’re in a sheriff’s office, enough said.”
“I can’t believe this.” Lacy glanced around the room, barely noticing the 12-point buck prize nailed to the wall. “I’ve never stolen anything. Well, except for the bag of candy when I was a kid, but I was caught and redirected from my life of crime. I pay my taxes on time and I’ve been the treasurer for every organization I’ve ever joined. No one has ever accused me of stealing stamps, much less large pieces of heavy furniture.”
The sheriff shrugged. “That’s what I thought too when I saw your impressive resume.”
Lacy waited for the punch line, suspecting that whatever it was she wouldn’t be any less nauseous than she was at this very minute.
“That’s why I want you to turn state’s evidence on your lover boy.”