Swimsuit Body (16 page)

“Welcome to my world.”

“The difference is that I didn't choose this.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“She's seeing someone,” he says, after brooding in silence for a minute.

“Oh.” I'm at a loss. “Well, that sucks.”

He stares out the porthole on his side at the clouds skimming past. “We were talking about taking the kids to Disneyland this summer. The next thing I know, Barb is in tears, saying it's no use pretending. She's seeing someone.” His expression is sad and defeated when he brings his gaze back to me.

“Is … Um, is it anyone you know?” I'm careful not to be gender specific. You never know these days.

“No. Barb met him at the gym.” He says this as though he almost wished it had been a friend so he would have had an excuse to plow his fist into the guy's face. “He's in finance and his name's Keith, that's all I know. She says he's showing her how to ‘capitalize her assets.'” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “Meanwhile, my stock is at an all-time low.”

“Well, at least now you know.”

“Yeah. It's all over but for the shouting, and I hope it doesn't come to that for the kids' sake. The question is where do I go from here. I don't know who I am apart from being a husband and dad.”

“You're a cop.”

“I can't remember a time when I didn't want to be a cop. I'm talking about how I want to live my life as a man. I don't see myself hanging out in bars hitting on women ten years from now.”

“Is that what you're doing?”

“No. I was merely making a point.”

“That you're not in the habit of hitting on women in bars? I didn't think so. Not since you ditched those tinted contacts. They didn't make you look like Brad Pitt, by the way. I like you better in glasses.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“It was a compliment.”

“I'm never sure with you.”

I shrug and shift my body, angling it away from him when I notice that my kneecaps are brushing against his. “You go around complimenting people all the time, it can get boring.”

“Boring,” Spence says with a smile playing at his lips, “is not a word I'd ever use to describe you, Tish.” He pushes his seat back as far as it will go and closes his eyes. I hear him snoring softly a minute later.

   

It's dark out by the time we land at Yellowstone International Airport. A short while later, we emerge from the terminal into the cool air of summer in the high country, and a man with a friendly face wreathed in lines below a ten-gallon hat climbs from the official vehicle that's idling at the curb and walks over to greet us. His uniform and badge identify him as the sheriff of Gallatin County. I'm relieved that he came alone and not with his deputies. “Detective Breedlove? Cal Jarvis.” The two men shake hands before Jarvis turns toward me. “You must be Miss Ballard.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand and brace myself for the inevitable questions about my brother. I don't doubt that Jarvis will want to know what he could potentially be walking into.

But the sheriff only nods toward my bag. “Help you with that?”

I smile and hand him my overnight bag. Spence is carrying only his wallet. Typical guy.

On the drive to the ranch, Sheriff Jarvis gives us some background information on Lexie MacAllister. “Her husband, Craig, died of cancer a couple years back, but Lexie kept the ranch going. Don't ask me how. We're talking a thousand head of cattle, and it's just her and her foreman, Roberto. I grew up on a ranch and became a lawman, which tells you all you need to know about cattle ranching. It's always something. Last thing Lexie MacAllister needs is more trouble.”

“I don't expect any trouble,” Spence says. “The suspect isn't known to be armed or dangerous.”

“That would be my brother,” I pipe up from the backseat in a testy voice, “and he's innocent.”

“That so?” Sheriff Jarvis darts me a mildly curious look in the rearview mirror.

An hour later, we turn from US 191 onto a two-lane rural highway traveling in a northeasterly direction. The black outlines of mountains rise in the distance, shouldering the sky, which is a mass of stars in which a crescent moon hangs. Fields sprawl in every direction with buildings scattered here and there. It's ten o'clock by the time the sheriff makes a right turn onto a gravel road where we pass through a set of metal gates. We drive for another mile or so, through fenced pastures and past cattle sheds, before we finally arrive at the house. A two-story wooden structure with board-and-batten siding, it stands against a backdrop of aspens and evergreens. Parked in front of us in the driveway are an older-model blue Ford Taurus—the getaway car, I surmise, from its California plates and the road dust it's covered in—and a newer-model red Mercedes-Benz coupe.

Spence jerks his chin toward the Benz. “Looks like we've got company.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The air is fragrant with the woodsy scent of evergreens and the smoke rising from the chimney. A flagstone walk curves invitingly toward the front entrance, where I step onto a covered porch lit by the glow from the pair of coach lamps that flanks the door. The door swings open within seconds of Jarvis's knock and a black Lab comes bounding out, its owner not far behind, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair who grabs its collar as it jumps up on the sheriff.

“Bucky,
down
,” she commands, and the Lab sinks onto its haunches. The woman straightens, smiling, and I see that it's Lexie—I recognize her from her Facebook page. Early thirties with a lean, athletic build and brown eyes that are crinkled at the corners. “Hey, Cal. Sorry, he's usually better behaved. Must be all the excitement. It's been quite the scene since Mom and Uncle Howard got here. Well, don't just stand there, come on in.”

My heart sinks at the mention of Howard Sedgwick. So he's joined the party? Great. Just what we need. Lexie steps back, holding the door open to let us in. “Tish, we meet at last! And you must be Detective Breedlove.” She kisses me on the cheek and shakes Spence's hand, and when she leans in to whisper as she ushers us into the living room, “Don't worry. His bark is worse than his bite,” I know that she's referring to her uncle and not the dog. I can see Howard Sedgwick up ahead, jabbing at a log in the fireplace with a poker. He wears navy slacks and a cotton sweater in a shade of cranberry that matches his flushed face. His bald crown gleams with reflected firelight.

I enter a large, open-beamed room paneled in barn wood and dominated by the stone fireplace. My brother sits next to Gladys on the cowhide sofa opposite the fireplace, wearing a checked flannel shirt and jeans. He looks surprised to see me, while Gladys, bright and shiny as a new penny with her henna hair, wearing a coral twinset and pearls, beams with delight. Seated in the leather armchair to their right is a trim, blond woman, dressed in belted jeans and a pink button-down with a red cashmere sweater draped over her shoulders, who could only be Gladys's daughter and Lexie's mother, Kate. Howard Sedgwick straightens, still holding the poker.

“Cal,” he greets Jarvis, then his gaze shifts to Spence. “Gentlemen, is this really necessary? Detective Breedlove, you've come a long way when I could have told you over the phone my mother is safe and sound, as you can see.” He motions toward Gladys, who frowns at him.

“I'm afraid we're here on another matter,” Jarvis informs him in a serious voice. He looks at Arthur. “Son, Detective Breedlove would like to have a word with you.” Arthur freezes like a deer caught in headlights. Gladys reaches over to give his hand a motherly pat.

“What's this all about?” demands Howard.

“Tish?” Arthur looks at me, worry and confusion written all over his face.

I wish I could go to him and make it all better, but I can't. “It's okay,” I tell him, hoping I don't sound as disheartened as I feel. “Just do as they say, and we'll see if we can get this straightened out.”

Spence crosses the room toward him, and I experience a moment of panic, picturing the sheriff rushing in to cuff my brother and read him his rights while Spence pats him down, but neither of those things happen. Instead, Spence says, in a kind voice, “Arthur, why don't you and I talk in private.” Arthur nods and rises unsteadily to his feet. His eyes are huge behind his Clark Kent glasses.

“I'll show you to the study,” Lexie says, and they follow her down the hallway to the rear of the house.

For several beats, no one says a word. There's just the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace and the sound of Bucky's leg thumping against the floor by the hearth as he scratches himself. Finally, I feel compelled to offer some sort of explanation. “It seems that certain evidence has come to light that … that implicates Arthur in the murder of Delilah Ward.” There's a gasp from Gladys. Lexie's mother stares at me wide-eyed. “Of course he's innocent! That's why we're here. So Spe—Um, Detective Breedlove can take him in for questioning and get it sorted out.”

“So what you're saying is that he's here to arrest him,” Howard says, bluntly.

“No, not at all.” I dart a glance at Sheriff Jarvis. I'm aware that I'm standing on a technicality, since he'll be the one making the arrest, but he's nice enough not to correct me. “And I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from making any more false allegations about my brother.”

My words are the verbal equivalent of a matador's pick stabbing a bull's neck. “Allegations?” Howard erupts. “Dear God, I didn't know the half of it! I thought my mother had been taken in by a con man when in fact she was in the clutches of a dangerous psychopath!”

Gladys speaks sharply to him. “For heaven's sake, Howie, put that down.” She gestures toward the poker he's brandishing, and he quickly lowers it before dropping it in the bucket of fire tools on the hearth. “I won't have you talking that way about Arthur. Why, he wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“A warrant for his arrest says otherwise!” bellows Howard.

Lexie reappears just then. “What's all this? Uncle Howard, if you're going to shout, take it outside.” Good for her. She has her grandmother's gumption. Lexie turns to me. “Tish, I don't believe you've met my mother. Tish, this is my mom, Kate. Mom, this is Tish.” The older woman stands to shake my hand. Her expression is strained, but she rises to the occasion and smiles.

“I'm sorry if Arthur got into trouble because of what my brother told the police.” Kate shoots Howard a look of reproach. “It's just that we were worried about Mom. We had no idea where she was headed or what kind of person she was with. But of course now that we've met Arthur …” She trails off as if not sure she should be saying anything nice about a murder suspect.

“I appreciate that,” I reply. “And I can assure you that your mother was never in any danger.”

“The very idea!” exclaims Gladys. “We were having a perfectly nice time, and it's not as though I need permission from either of you.” Her gaze shifts between Howard and Kate. “Did it ever occur to you that the reason I didn't inform you of my plans was because I knew this was how you'd react?”

Howard adopts a placating tone. “If Kate and I were worried, Mother, it was only because we care. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. At your age with a heart condition …”

“It's called angina and it's nothing a pill can't fix,” Gladys snaps. “You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. I thought I raised you better. When did you get to be so damned pompous?”

“Now, Mother—”

She cuts him off. “Howie, there's something I've been wanting to say to you that you need to hear.”

“What?” he asks apprehensively.

“Put a sock in it!”

From behind me, I hear a muffled giggle from Lexie and a snort from Jarvis. Howard flushes, his face suffused with color from his cheeks to his bald crown. I see a flash of admiration in Kate's eyes. She goes over and sits down next to her mother on the sofa. “Of course you don't need our permission, Mom. I only wish you'd called to let us know you were okay.”

“Why? So I could get an earful?” replies Gladys.

Kate gives a rueful grimace. “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you needed my permission. Next time you decide to go on a trip, I'll come help you pack, as long as you promise not to leave without telling us where you're going.”

“Fair enough.” Gladys's angry expression softens. “Meanwhile, poor Arthur! I don't understand how the police could think he was in any way connected with the murder of that actress.”

“It would help if he had a solid alibi,” I say. “He says he was home alone, working at his computer, on the morning of the murder, but no one can corroborate it. None of his neighbors saw him.”

“Morning, you say it was?” Gladys frowns in confusion. “That can't be right. I don't know why Arthur would have told you that. We always go power walking in the mornings.” My pulse quickens as I realize this might be what I was praying for: Arthur's Get Out of Jail Free card.

“Every morning?” I ask.

“Without fail, unless it's pouring rain.” I remember that it was sunny on the day of the murder, which was why Delilah had been lying by the pool. “Once around the park and—”

“Breakfast at the Bluejay Café,” I fill in the rest of the sentence, recalling Gladys's words from when she invited me to join them. “Which means other people saw you.”

“Yes, of course. We always sit at the same table. Everyone knows us there. Emily—she's our waitress—she doesn't even bother with menus anymore, she just brings us our usual. Scrambled eggs and bacon for me, the blueberry pancakes for Arthur.” Her frown of confusion deepens. “What I don't understand is why he would have told you he was home when he wasn't.”

“I think I know why.” I feel ashamed at the realization. “He was worried I'd get the wrong impression if I knew he was seeing you. Not that there's anything wrong with … What I mean to say is”—I break into a sheepish smile—“I guess I need to put a sock in it sometimes, too.” This elicits a chorus of chuckles from Gladys, Kate, Lexie, and Sheriff Jarvis. Howard harrumphs.

Gladys jumps to her feet. “I need to speak with Detective Breedlove!” With that, she goes dashing down the hall, the low-heeled black patent-leather shoes she wears tip-tapping against the floor.

Lexie collapses onto the sofa, and I sink down next to her. “What a night!” she exclaims. “I wouldn't be surprised if a meteor came crashing through my roof next.” She glances up at the ceiling as if she half expects it to happen. “I can't believe we thought Grandma and Arthur were an item,” she says to me, adding with a twinkle in her eye, “though you have to admit they make a cute couple.”

“Except your grandma was saving Arthur for you,” I remind her.

“Well, she was too late because I'm already engaged.” Lexie ducks her head, blushing as she says this.

“You're
what
?” Howard stares at her.

“Congratulations,” says the sheriff, grinning. “Who's the lucky fellow?”

“Roberto.” I recall Sheriff Jarvis's mentioning a ranch foreman named Roberto. “We were going to wait until the Fourth of July barbecue to make the announcement, but being as you're all here now …”

Kate beams as she hugs Lexie. “Sweetie, this is wonderful!”

“You're not mad that I didn't tell you sooner?” Lexie asks her.

“Not at all. I couldn't be more delighted. You know how we feel about Roberto.” Kate looks over at me. “Not that we wouldn't have grown to love Arthur. He seems like a nice young man.”

I smile at her. “He is. But somehow I can't picture him as a cattle rancher.” Turning to Lexie, I offer my congratulations. “When's the wedding?”

“We haven't set a date yet,” she answers. “Maybe in the fall. We're thinking an outdoor wedding. You're invited. You and Arthur. Please say you'll come.” She reaches over to take my hand.

“I'd love to,” I tell her.
If I'm not dead by then
.

Howard declares, “Well, it's about time we had some good news in this family!” Bucky the Lab, who's stretched out on the braided rug in front of the fireplace, raises his head to look up at him. Howard bends down to scratch him behind the ears, and Bucky grins and wags his tail.

I'm thinking maybe this will all work out, that I won't be murdered or have to visit my brother in prison, when I hear the crack of a gunshot from outside.