A Lethal Time (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 4) (10 page)

Chapter 39

Staying In Character

I paused, staring at my laptop. That was the third sighting, two of which were mine.
Was it
Jackson?
Most likely. Was he out for a simple hike, or checking the terrain for other endeavors? What was he looking for? Why was he walking their property? Was he seen
before
the stripping of the trees or after? I had to find out.

Why couldn’t Sara’s husband identify him? Probably because of the clothing, hat, and sunglasses. I saw George squinting when he was right in front of us. Bad eyes.

Then how did he spot that small stone? Good question.

Not too many males walked around with rubies in their ears, diamonds maybe, but not rubies. Was it the same person? Was it a noteworthy clue, or a silly observation by an old man, who seemed confused most of the time?

I’d make two more visits later. One was to the Fieldings. I had a feeling they knew more. The other was Jackson. I didn’t understand why he was so interested in staying in the area. Was it because of his murdered mother, money, or for something more sinister?

Crystal and Clay were due back shortly and we were all planning to head down to Weirs Beach for the evening. I was looking forward to the night out. With everyone’s assorted interests, it should prove to be interesting.

I was hopeful this time we would all stay together. Some of us, and I won’t mention names here, needed some supervision. Not that I didn’t trust them, but there was that safety factor that I felt responsible for. There was the age factor, too. I didn’t feel that comfortable leaving
the three troublemakers
alone for any length of time.

Safety was definitely a priority. I had gotten protective where they were concerned. They always seemed to pick up a scent and take it without any precaution, instead of weighing the risks. They usually up and ran with it.

Come to think of it, my mind walked in that direction, also. The irresistible temptation to snoop where I shouldn’t be far outweighed a normal person’s.

I leaned toward embracing risks now.

It gets me what I want most of the time. What I haven’t learned to embrace are the consequences. And because of that, I’ve learned to be suspicious of people’s motives.

As far as this evening was concerned, I was sure there would be arguing. I would be feeling the love/hate thing. It was sort of an adrenaline rush, knowing my life and safety hung in the balance with this bunch. I have always lived a sheltered life, at first feeling safe and secure with Stephen, but now I was embracing a new way of thinking. I was becoming a fearless protagonist
.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Chapter 40

Catching A Break

Once there, we scattered in different directions, deciding to meet back at Ciao Baby’s tattoo tent later on. I left Martha, Hazel and Betty behind after Clay assured me they would be fine. Crystal left to meet friends attending the rally from back home and Clay and I were on our own.

I hated to admit it, but I was somewhat relieved. This mother-hen thing was thinning. I breathed deeply as we walked off, determined to enjoy the evening.

We roamed around looking at the different booths and trying on jackets, vests, and anything else that struck us as interesting. After a while though, Clay spotted someone he knew and said he’d be back. I told him not to worry, waving my cell in the air as he walked away.

Then I noticed some leather items a couple of booths down and cut behind some tents to take a short cut from the crowds. After making the pass behind the back of the first tent, I was roughly accosted and almost knocked to the ground. Recovering, I turned to get a good look at the rude individual who had caused it. It was getting dark, and even though it was still early, he was wearing sunglasses. Warily, I checked the rest of him out.

The outfit was the usual, a leather bandanna, jacket, scruffy jeans and boots. I scanned his fingers. They had no claim on them. Not that it meant anything. Today, everyone played that game, the on-and-off-again ring game.

“Hey, baby. And how are you this evening?” he greeted.

I paused, acutely aware he was behaving too familiar, then said, “I’m fine, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some leather gloves waiting for my wallet at the next booth.”

He laughed. “Nice comeback.”

I started to move away, dismissing further talk, but he grabbed my arm to stop me. I turned to look, first at my arm, and then at his face. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Keep your distance from all that meddling. It won’t prove healthy and is ruffling some feathers.”

I could feel my perspiration materializing as I stared at his reflective lenses, while his mouth did all the talking.

Show no fear.

“That is what I do best, meddle. Now, if you will kindly remove your hand from my arm, I’ll be on my way.”

He laughed. “I suggest you heed my advice.”

I laughed back unsteadily. “I suggest you drop dead.”

He stood there, and laughed again. “Get in line, Sam.”

I froze. He knew my name! “…I will. Right after you.”

He squeezed tighter. “Interference could be lethal.”

I got right up in his face, hissing. “Don’t push me. I’m hormonal right now.” I shook him off and walked away on rubbery legs, but somehow managed not to show it.

Who was he? Why the warning?

Chapter 41

I’m So Shook Up

I stood with a pair of leather gloves in my hand, but I had no idea when I had picked them up, nor exactly what they looked like. You know, it was like when you are staring at something, but not really seeing it.

What was that encounter about? Who was warning me? Why? There I go again with the questions, but I couldn’t help it. My mind was always asking questions I had no idea how to answer. There was definitely something I wasn’t picking up on and it was bugging me. I felt a hand slip around my waist and I jumped.

“Whoa! It’s only me,” said Clay, moving in closer.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting jumpy lately.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked with sudden concern.

I described the confrontation and Clay quickly scanned around us, looking for anything out of the ordinary. What did he expect to see? Everyone around was dressed pretty much the same.

“What did he look like?”

I looked at the crowd. “Like everyone else here.”

Clay was still upset and frustrated. “I guess that’s to be expected. Whoever it was knew exactly how to fit in, and by concealing their eyes didn’t leave you much to go on.”

I frowned. “I don’t even think I could give you much of an accurate read on his voice either because it seemed strained, like he was trying to camouflage his real one.”

“Again, that’s something I’d expect. What’s bugging me is why was he going after you?”

“I wish I had the answer to that. Right now, I’m at a disadvantage because I’m not sure what is going on.”

“What’s your take so far?” he asked.

“I know there’s definitely a money angle, but I can’t pinpoint exactly who is involved. You know the missing timber? It’s a proven moneymaker, but that isn’t the only thing. There’s more here than meets the eye.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“As more relationships are discovered, it creates more suspicion because they all lead back to one common thing: Robinson’s property.”

“Maybe for confusion, obscuring what’s really there.”

I looked at Clay, intrigued by his take. “You know, you might be right. Maybe there are more shared relationships going on and they are using excess decoys to confuse and distract all of us.”

“The question is why?”

“That, my dear Watson, is what we have to figure out.”

Time to get back to work and figure this thing out.

Chapter 42

Walking My Baby Back

By the time we made our way back to the tattoo tent, Clay had offered to check the background of Jacob, the artist across the street. That left me free to see the Fieldings and Jackson Porter to find out what else I could dig up.

I also had plans for my three senior research buddies to visit
the
Smiths, knowing the trio could easily talk a snake out of its own venom. I’d send Crystal to ask Ciao Baby, the tattoo master, about the latest gossip. Maybe there might be something floating around involving a motorcycle angle, other than the normal riffraff trouble that an event of this kind always attracts.

Besides the hikers, motorcyclists were everywhere, so the locals wouldn’t necessarily give them a second glance even on a back road. Eventually, they became a part of the backdrop, like the mountain ranges.

Martha greeted us enthusiastically. “Well, they did it!”

“Who did what?” I asked, uncertainly.

She pointed over to Hazel and Betty. “They did”

Then it hit me. “…They didn’t!”

Betty came right over. “We got a small butterfly tattoo.”

I shot Martha a look. “You’ve become a bad influence.”

Martha grinned. “Why, thank you, Sam! I try my best.”

Still disturbed, I turned toward Hazel and Betty, not sure I wanted to ask exactly where those tattoos were located.

Hazel was animated. “It was thrilling. I’ve never done something like this before. Do you want us to show you?”

I took a step back. “Does this involve removing clothes? Because if it does, I’m not sure I’m prepared to see body parts again. I had my fill the other night.”

It was too late. She was already sitting on a chair and rolling up her pants on her right leg. To my relief, she stopped just above the ankle. There, perched on the inside, and just above her anklebone, was the smallest and prettiest butterfly I have ever seen.

Relieved, I finally smiled, and gratefully said to Ciao Baby, “Thank you for not letting them get carried away.”

“No problem.” He turned toward Martha, winking. “I like tattooing subjects that are hard to catch.”

She smirked, turning pink. “…But sting like a bee.”

Dismissing Martha, Betty called me over to show me hers. “Aren’t they adorable? How could we possibly go back home without picking up some kind of souvenir?”

Crystal grabbed that as a cue. “Speaking about picking up something, how about we all get some ribs and a beer?”

Agreeing, everyone headed toward the barbecue tent, including Ciao Baby, who was deep in conversation with Martha, as she giggled like a schoolgirl, totally enthralled.

I’ll end this part, but it didn’t end, not by a long shot.

Chapter 43

Chewing On More Than Baby Backs

Several bites in, I saw Ciao Baby grow still. He was staring off at something and nudged Clay who was sitting next to him. I was sitting on the other side of Clay. As a writer, I was so attuned to people’s body language that the minute I picked up negative vibes I stopped sipping my beer and tried to visually track what had caused so much attention, by not only Ciao Baby, but apparently Clay, too.

My eyes followed theirs. My breath hitched, not expecting what I was looking at. Across the way was Sarah Smith, but not
the
Sarah Smith I had met. This one was dressed from head to toe in leather. Her top was
busting
out all over with, well, let’s just say,
most
of Sarah Smith.

I subtly side-glanced Clay, and caught Ciao Baby whispering something in his ear. Mine perked up, trying desperately to hear what was being whispered back and forth. It was useless. I couldn’t hear a thing. If I leaned any closer, I’d be in Clay’s lap. He was so caught up in what Ciao Baby had to say he didn’t realize how far I was tilting in his direction to catch their conversation.

Suddenly, I felt eyes on me and caught Martha leaning forward, eyeing me from her seat next to Ciao Baby. She arched an eyebrow. Obviously picking up the same thing as I did. Something wasn’t right. Instinctively, we darted our eyes back toward Sarah. I almost said something, forgetting there were two males in between us, but caught myself.

She glanced back to me and gave me a questioning look.

I threw it back to her, not getting it, either. Why was Sarah here, of all places, and dressed like that?

Then I took another sip of beer and felt someone else’s eyes bearing down on me. They were Clay’s. I was staring straight ahead and now looking at Hazel and Betty.

He laughed. “You don’t fool me for a second. You’re like a fox and don’t miss a thing. You saw her, too, right?”

I turned and smiled at him. “So did Martha.”

Clay snapped his head around in Martha’s direction. She smiled at him, nodded, and then winked.

He turned back to me. “Are you two cosmically related? I’ve never seen two more-connected women in my life.”

I thought about the possibility. “No, I don’t think my sanity could handle her being related to me. Bad enough she works for me, is my friend, and fellow conspirator, but related? No, I don’t think so. My reputation’s bad enough.”

“What do you think of our visitor standing over there, talking it up with those three muscled, male rowdies?”

I looked back over at the four of them and shook my head in disapproval. “It’s baffling to say the least, seeing
the
Ms. Mayflower
at this event.”

“Yeah, but suppose that’s the
real
her?” he asked.

Yes, that was a real game-changer.