Goody Goody Gunshots (11 page)

“Max!” I shouted as I headed toward the drive-through window. I knew it wouldn’t do any good. When Max is in this mood, he doesn’t pay attention to anything. “Come back. Max!”

Struggling to follow him, I prayed that, since we were just half a block from Divinity, he’d turn up at home if I couldn’t catch him. With my lungs burning from exertion, I rounded the back of the building and saw Max straight ahead of me. Miraculously, he’d stopped running, and his attention was riveted on the hedge growing between the drugstore and the stairs leading down the hill I’d just climbed.

Even from a distance, I could see something mounded there, and another warning bell went off in the back of my head. I told myself not to jump to conclusions, but I had the sick feeling that either Max had discovered a hundred-pound bag of kibble, or there was something in that hedge I didn’t want to see.

My breath was coming easier now, so I tried calling him again. “Max? Come here, boy.” I kept my voice light, hoping I could lure him away, but he didn’t even lift his head.

“Max! Come.”

He burrowed a little deeper into the hedge, still not interested in anything I had to say.

“Abby?” A man’s voice came out of the darkness behind me.

My heart shot into my throat, and I whipped around on the balls of my feet, prepared to kick the living shit out of whoever it was. Marshall Ames materialized out of the shadows, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I’d known Marshall since we were kids in school. We hadn’t been friends as kids—he’d been part of one group; I’d been part of another—but we’d become a little better acquainted since I’d returned to Paradise, and he was a familiar, friendly face when I needed one most.

He strode toward me, lamplight gleaming off his blond hair and reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. “Is everything okay?”

I shook my head uncertainly. “I’m not sure.”

“Looks like Max has found something to interest him. Want me to get him for you?” He started forward without waiting for an answer.

I let him take a couple of steps, then reached out and snagged his arm. “No, wait. Don’t—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Max likes me, don’t you boy?”

“It’s not that,” I said, suddenly aware that a couple of people had paused in the act of getting into their cars to watch us. I dropped my voice and moved closer so they couldn’t overhear. “I think there may be something wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?”

“I mean—” I cut myself off. I had nothing but gut instinct to go on, and not even much of that. And what if my gut instinct was wrong? I’d look like a fool. I shook my head and backed a step away. “I mean he looks pretty intense. Maybe you should let me go up there.”

Marshall grinned and shook his head. “What are you talking about? He’s fine, Abby. Look, he’s even wagging his tail. Just stay there, and I’ll bring him back to you, okay?”

I nodded and bit back the rest of my protests. Even if my instincts were right, there was no law that said
I
had to find the body. Marshall was a big boy. He’d survive the shock.

He crossed what remained of the parking lot and reached for Max’s collar. Max looked up at him, his little dog face beaming with pride. Even as Marshall hunkered down beside him, I told myself that I was wrong. Marshall prodded the mound gently, and I told myself that my imagination was working overtime.

But in the next instant Marshall jerked backward, one hand over his mouth. He shot to his feet and tugged Max insistently away from the pile of rags in the hedge. I had to admire his composure. He didn’t say a word until he’d closed the distance between us. Then, in a very low voice only I could hear, he said exactly what I’d been expecting.

“We need to call the police, Abby. There’s a dead body over there.”

Chapter 14

It took the police a couple of hours to clear the
scene and transport the body to the closest hospital. I phoned Karen to let her know that I wouldn’t be back for a while, and why. She asked a million questions, none of which I had answers to. When she finally gave up asking, I hung out with Marshall and waited for the police to take our statements.

A small crowd of curious onlookers gathered along the sidewalk, and several inquisitive drivers pulled into the parking lot, hoping to figure out what the police were doing there. Red and blue lights bounced off the brick walls of the drugstore, casting eerie shadows all around us. Paramedics and police officers swarmed the scene, talking in solemn tones that didn’t carry to where Marshall and I leaned against the trunk of a police car.

I’d had to identify the dead man as the same man I’d seen at Hammond Junction, and images of the times I’d seen him alive raced through my head while we waited. Over and over again, I saw his eyes meet mine through the Jetta’s windshield and saw the horror reflected there. What—or who— had he been afraid of? Had someone actually tried to kill him that night?

All things considered, Marshall took the shock of finding his first dead body pretty well. At least, I think it was his first. I guess there’s no way to really know something like that.

Once the ambulance carrying the body left the scene, most of those who’d gathered to watch lost interest and wandered away. I’d tried to keep an eye out for anyone who looked more interested in the body than he ought to be, but if the other person who’d been at Hammond Junction was also in the drugstore parking lot, he—or she—hid their interest well.

Once, I thought I saw Karen and Liberty hovering near the edge of the crowd, but the police didn’t let anyone get close to the scene or to their witnesses. The next time I looked, they were gone.

Two hours after we found the body, Marshall and I were finally allowed to leave. He walked with me as far as Divinity, but we didn’t have much to say. I guess we were both tired of talking about the murder and answering questions, so we walked in silence. Still, I was surprised to discover that I appreciated not having to make the walk alone.

Karen had already locked up the store, so after Marshall and I said good night at the bottom of the steps, I climbed to the third floor apartment and locked myself inside. Questions continued to race through my head while I changed into a pair of soft, warm sweats and the faded Sacramento Kings sweatshirt I’d brought with me from California.

Who was the dead man? What was he doing in Paradise? Why had he been at Hammond Junction on Tuesday night and at the recreation center on Saturday?

Eventually, the events of the day caught up with me, and I realized that I hadn’t eaten since eight that morning. I dug through my refrigerator, which turned out to be an exercise in futility. I didn’t want to open the box of leftover Chinese that had been in the fridge longer than I could account for, and I couldn’t think of anything to make with mayonnaise and Mom’s strawberry jam.

I wondered if Marshall had gone back to his restaurant. It was late, but Gigi didn’t stop serving until nine or ten, and I’m sure he probably had paperwork to do. I decided he was probably back there now, indulging in something rich and hot and French while I tried to decide how old the lone can of soup in my cupboard was.

Yawning, I tried to decide whether I was hungry enough to have something delivered or too tired to wait for food to arrive. In the middle of my contemplations, a knock sounded on the front door. I opened it and found Jawarski leaning against my doorframe, a six-pack of Sam Adams in one hand, a Gut Buster Special from Black Jack Pizza in the other.

He gave me that lopsided smile of his. “Hey, slugger.”

My insides did the fluttery thing they always did when he smiled that way. “Hey yourself. You and Sam there at loose ends tonight?”

“Unfortunately. Know anybody who might be willing to let us hang out for a while?”

I wasn’t sure which of the three looked best to me. I stepped away from the door so they could all come in. “You must have read my mind. I was just thinking about ordering something.”

“I heard you were tied up at the drugstore for a while.” Jawarski put the pizza box and beer on my battered old coffee table while I went after paper plates. “How’d you happen to be there when they found the body?”

I found the plates and tore off a few sheets of paper towel so we could pretend to be civilized. “I was taking a walk on my dinner break, and Max got away from me.”

“And that’s where he went?”

“Not immediately,” I hedged. “But yeah. Eventually.”

Jawarski slid a look at me from the corner of his eye. “So how did Marshall Ames end up finding the body instead of you?”

I felt myself tensing. “Is this a social visit or a thinly disguised interrogation?”

He had the good sense to look sheepish. “Sorry. Purely social.”

“Good.” I relaxed again and realized that Marshall had never actually said why he was at the drugstore during the dinner shift. “Marshall was there at the drugstore,” I said, caving in spite of my protest and answering Jawarski’s question. “He heard me trying to get Max away from the body. Of course, I didn’t know it was a body at the time, but I wasn’t having any luck, and Marshall offered to get him for me.”

The look in Jawarski’s eye changed slightly. “And you let him? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’d just run up Grandview. I was tired and out of breath.

Now open up that pizza before I eat right through the box.” Jawarski laughed and did what I asked, and we settled like an old married couple on the atrocious plaid sofa I’d inherited along with the apartment. I helped myself to a garlic bread stick first. “So what do you know about the dead guy? Any idea how he died?”

Jawarski put his feet up on the coffee table next to mine and pulled two bottles from the six-pack. “Multiple stab wounds. Nice and quiet. No pesky gunshots to draw a crowd.”

I shuddered and uncapped my beer. “Do you know who he is?”

Jawarski took a long pull from his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not yet. He had no ID on him, his fingerprints aren’t on file, and we haven’t found any record of him at the local hotels. Yet.”

“No fingerprints on file means no criminal record, I guess. Did you find any prints on that metal bar I gave you?”

“On the slim-jim? Yeah, a couple of partials. It’s not wide enough to pick up a complete print.”

At least now I knew what I’d found, but why use a lockout tool to vandalize a truck? Why not use it to open the door and steal it? I was too tired to figure out the answers, so I filed the questions away for another time and asked, “And do the prints from the slim-jim match the dead man’s?”

Jawarski picked up a piece of pizza, cradling it just so to keep the toppings from sliding off. “They do, but that doesn’t really tell us anything. The investigation’s just getting started, though. We’ll know more by tomorrow.”

“In the meantime, you still don’t know what he was doing in town.”

“Not yet.”

“But at least you know he exists,” I said with a tired smile. “That’s a plus. I was getting tired of you thinking I was nuts.”

“Nobody ever said you were nuts,” Jawarski protested. “But I couldn’t very well run around searching for a mysterious limping man when there was no proof he even existed.”

“Nothing except my word.” I leaned back against the couch and let out a sigh. “A couple of other people have seen him, too. He’s been hanging around by the Curl. Paisley and her mom have both seen him, and Gavin has, too.”

Jawarski’s chewing slowed. “You’ve been asking around about him?”

“Does that surprise you? I couldn’t let you talk to the boys, but I figured someone else must have noticed him. If I could find someone else who saw him, you’d have to admit that he existed.”

“Hey, I believed you,” Jawarski protested again, “but you know how things work. I take orders. I don’t decide what I’m going to work on. If my lieutenant doesn’t believe there’s a mysterious limping man running around out there, it doesn’t matter what I think.”

I picked a piece of sausage from my pizza and popped it into my mouth. “Then you’re forgiven.”

Jawarski leaned across what little distance there was separating us and kissed me gently. “Thanks.”

I might have returned the favor, but my stomach rumbled insistently. I bit the point off my pizza and closed my eyes as I savored the mix of flavors. Jawarski’s a truly masterful kisser, but the Gut Buster Special is truly a pizza masterpiece, so you understand my dilemma.

I could feel Jawarski watching me, so I opened my eyes again and rejoined the regular world. “So what are you going to do now?” I asked.

“About—?”

“Finding out who the dead man was.”

Jawarski polished off one piece and reached for another. “We’ll keep looking. Keep trying. We’ve got a couple of guys checking missing persons reports, and that may turn up something.”

“There’s always a chance that he was staying with someone who lives around here,” I pointed out. “Somebody was waiting for him at the recreation center, you know.”

“Somebody in a dark-colored SUV? Come on, Abby, you know how many SUVs there are around here. If you’d seen even a partial plate, I’d have something to go on. As it is now . . .” He broke off with an expressive shrug and put his beer bottle on the coffee table. Slipping an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me close. “What do you say we stop talking about the murder for a while and do something more interesting.”

I admired his ability to switch gears at will, but I couldn’t make the jump so easily. He and I hadn’t slept together yet, but we’d been drawing relentlessly closer to turning that corner. On the one hand, I wanted nothing more than to see if he was everything I’d built him up to be in my imagination. On the other, once we crossed that line, we could no longer pretend that we weren’t involved. Besides, finding dead bodies isn’t so commonplace for me that I can just tune out the images. The idea of making out with Jawarski while the dead guy limped unrelentingly through my head didn’t exactly turn me on.