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Authors: Meryl Sawyer

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BOOK: Half Past Dead
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Her mother gazed blankly at her, then the words finally reached her morphine-numbed brain. “I don't have much time.”

Tori collapsed on the sofa beside her mother. “I know. I want to at least be engaged to Clay before…”

A burst of laughter erupted from the television.

“I'm dying, Tori. I know it. You know it. I'm just hanging on to see you and Clay married.”

She shuddered inwardly at the thought of not having Loretta. Tori loved her mother. They'd always been close. If she could just wrangle an engagement ring out of Clay, her mother could die in peace.

“I'm going to ask Clay what he thinks. Maybe he knows someone who could help.”

There had always been a dark side to Clay. He gambled and hung out at the casino. It was common knowledge New Orleans mobsters owned the riverboat. Maybe one of them could help scare Kat into leaving town.

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
ORA KNOCKED
on Justin's office door shortly after Tori left. He'd asked her about the missing file on Kat, but Nora seemed shocked that it wasn't downstairs. As he'd suspected, she'd kept those files in order. “David Noyes is here to see you.”

What did Noyes want? Justin liked the old guy, but he'd already given him an interview about the murder. He had a load of paperwork to finish before he received the coroner's report from New Orleans. Then, with luck, he'd have a lead or two to investigate.

“Did he say what this is about?”

“No but he has the woman who robbed the bank with him.”

Kat Wells? She'd just missed her conniving sister by minutes. That would have been some scene. Justin wondered if he should warn Kat. He thought about it, then told himself to mind his own business.

“Send them in.”

“Yes, indeedy.”

To avoid staring at Kat, Justin kept his eyes on Noyes as they walked into his office. Noyes wore a charcoal-gray suit a shade darker than his short-cropped gray hair and a blue tie. He was tall but slightly stooped with age.

Kat strode in beside him, attitude oozing from every pore. She was dynamite in an outfit that emphasized high, full breasts without revealing them and showed off sculpted, showgirl legs. Tori overdid it when she tried to be sexy. Kat was hot without even trying.

“This is a surprise.” Justin stood and shook Noyes' hand, then reached for Kat's. He looked directly into her smoldering green eyes, and unexpectedly had an image of her in his bed, her hair fanned across his pillow—those compelling eyes wide with desire.

“We've received some information,” Noyes said.

“We'd like a confirmation from you before we go to press,” Kat added, dropping his hand the instant their fingers touched.

Deafening alarm bells chimed in his head, blocking out the image of Kat. Now what? Redd chose that moment to scratch himself, and the desk began to shake. “My dog's under there.”

“Really?” Kat's expression softened but she stopped short of a smile.

Evidently she liked dogs. A point in her favor. He reminded himself Kat Wells was a felon.
Don't start liking her,
he warned himself. “I rescued Redd. He'd been abandoned and was living in the woods. He's still a bit shy.”

Kat rewarded him with a real smile. A gorgeous smile.

“What would you like me to verify?”

Noyes glanced at Kat, obviously letting her handle this. It was surprising they were getting along so well so fast. Go figure.

“Is it true that you sent the murdered woman's body to the New Orleans coroner?”

How in hell had they heard about it? Justin had told everyone at the station to keep quiet. Then he remembered neglecting to warn Mayor Peebles. The leak must have come from there.

Justin tried to sound shocked. “Send the body out of state?”

Kat stared at him with a look that said she'd read his mind and knew he was bluffing. “A reliable source claims you did.”

Justin quickly weighed his options. He did not want this in the paper. It would just be ammunition for Judge Kincaid and Buck Mason to use against him. In a year, Justin would have to stand for election. Mason and Kincaid would back some other candidate and fling around crap about Justin.

“This is off the record.” Justin waited. He knew Noyes would realize he couldn't print the information, but Kat might not.

“All right,” Noyes said reluctantly. He turned to Kat. “That means—”

“We can't print it.” She glared at Justin with burning reproachful eyes. “Don't the people have a right to know? There's a killer out there. Others could be in danger.”

“Not necessarily. Some folks think a tourist visiting the casino committed the crime. You know, someone passing through. The woman died months ago, and no one else has been killed.”

“Is that your theory?” Kat inquired in a voice that was just a touch too sweet for the look in her eyes.

Hey, she could be tough. He hated to admit it but she already read him like no one else could. Justin saw Noyes smile slightly. No doubt, he would have asked the same question.

“I don't jump to conclusions when I'm working a case. I deal in facts. Theories make you miss things.”

“Okay,” Noyes said. “What were you going to tell us that's off the record?”

“I did send the body to New Orleans. I wanted as fast a turnaround as I could get. I should have the test results today.”

Kat put her hands on her hips. “This is too small of a town to keep this a secret.”

“True, but I'd rather not have people yelling at me. I have a few enemies in this town that I don't need to hear from just after I've been hired. With a little luck, I might discover who the murdered woman is and crack the case before word gets out.”

“Enemies?” Noyes asked. “You've been away for years.”

“Buck Mason and Judge Kincaid,” Kat said.

Noyes whistled and shook his head. “Two guys with a lot of clout around here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Noyes studied him with shrewd eyes. “What can you give us that's new?”

“There's nothing new on the case.”

Kat's lips curved into a smile that lacked a trace of warmth or humor. “There may be new information when you receive the report.”

Justin shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. What you could print is a plea for someone to step forward and ID the woman.”

“We've already done that,” Noyes pointed out.

Kat raised her hand, the other hand still on her hip. Sexy as hell. “You thought she might be Hispanic.”

“That's what the mortician who performed the autopsy here said. I sent a hair sample to New Orleans. They'll run a DNA profile on it and let me know.”

“Well, did you question Hispanics in town or just out at the casino?”

Prison certainly had changed her. She wasn't shy the way he'd been led to believe by Nora who'd known Kat for years. She didn't hesitate to ask probing questions. “I have a deputy who speaks some Spanish. He asked everyone he could find.”

“If they're undocumented, they might not be willing to tell what they know,” she said. “They could be deported.”

Justin had come to the same conclusion, but he didn't mention it.

“I bet I know a woman your deputy missed.”

“Who is it? I'll interview her.”

Kat shook her head, and her gleaming brown hair bounced alluringly against her cheek. “Let me talk to her—”

“You speak Spanish?”

“A little. I studied it in high school and again in prison.” She said this matter-of-factly, obviously not too embarrassed about doing time. “I think she might open up to me while a law officer is liable to frighten her.”

“I agree, but this is law enforcement work—”

“What can it hurt?” Noyes asked.

Justin shrugged, thinking that the deputy who spoke some Spanish had left yesterday for a two-week vacation. His own grasp of Spanish was limited to
cerveza
and the word for beer wasn't likely to get him far. Besides, many Hispanics
were
here illegally and were afraid to talk to the police. The woman just might talk to Kat.

“Okay, question the woman,” he told Kat. “If you find out anything that could possibly help with this crime, I want you to bring the information to me immediately.”

 

I
T WAS NOON
by the time Kat parked in front of All Washed Up. Waves of heat and humidity surfed upward from the asphalt. The scent of wild honeysuckle drifted through the heavy air. It was only May, but summer seemed to be coming early. Her hair had been bouncy this morning, but it was limp and damp around her neck and face. Naturally, the Toyota they'd provided had no air-conditioning.

She left the car clutching the notebook and pen David had given her. She liked David Noyes. At first she thought he was going to assign her to some menial task just to get her out of the way, but he hadn't. Calling Lola Rae had been a good idea that had paid off and had validated his confidence in her. Questioning Maria probably wouldn't be as helpful, but as David said—a good reporter checked all possible leads.

She smiled to herself for—what?—the hundredth time today. Not only was David Noyes training her to be a reporter, he trusted her to do her very first interview on her own. Pretty amazing. Even more amazing was that the sheriff had allowed her to question Maria. He probably knew it was a dead end, but he seemed nicer today than he had last night. David's influence, she decided.

She remembered standing in front of Justin's desk. He hadn't been wearing a uniform. His blue polo shirt gaped open at the neck and revealed a tuft of dark hair. He'd insolently scanned her body, finally meeting her eyes with a smile that would test a nun's vows. When he spoke, she felt his deep voice inside her chest, and a warm glow flared into something more when she gazed into his eyes.

Just thinking about him did ridiculous things to her pulse. No matter how attractive she found him, Justin wasn't on her side. He was looking for an excuse to send her back to prison.
Never forget it.

She opened the salon's door and a whoosh of blessedly cool air greeted her. She stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind her. Lola Rae was cutting an older woman's hair.

The line of the woman's jaw reminded Kat of her mother. Surely by now, her mother knew she was back in town. Kat hoped she would come to see her, but doubted this would happen. An ache too deep for tears assailed her. She managed to tamp it down and told herself that she would have to go see her mother herself.

Lola Rae glanced up and her deep brown eyes widened. “What happened to you?”

“A car with no air.”

“Well, sit down and I'll fix you in a minute. Know what I mean?”

Kat waved her off. “Thanks, but I haven't got time. I just dropped by to see Maria.”

Lola Rae's expression was questioning, but Kat didn't explain. “She's in the back.”

Kat found Maria in the storage room, cleaning brushes. It took Kat a few minutes and lots of hand gestures to make Maria understand what she was asking. Kat could see the young woman was fearful.

 

N
ORA RAPPED SOFTLY
on Justin's doorjamb. Her blouse had smudges of dust from moving around junk in the basement. He would have had one of his deputies do it, but they were down at the river where the noodling contest was in the preliminary stages. This was the only county in a three-state area where noodling was legal and it drew a big crowd.

Why anyone would want to catch catfish with their bare hands defied all logic, but noodling was a big sport in the area. A lot of drinking went on between rounds and that meant fights. He'd given Nora instructions to come get him to lift anything heavy.

“Need my help?” he asked.

“No. Kat Wells is here to see you…again.”

He was momentarily speechless. If she was back so soon, she must have found out something. I'll be damned, he thought. “Send her in.”

Kat walked into his office as fast as her shapely legs could bring her. By the eager look on her face, he could see that she had information. Well, so had he. The state crime lab might not know jack shit, but the coroner in New Orleans was first rate.

She sat down in the chair in front of his desk and leaned forward. “I have some information…off the record, of course.”

He couldn't believe her nerve. It almost—almost—gave him hope that she might make it. But the odds were against her. She was more likely to end up in prison again than to lead a normal life.

“Why is this off the record? Law enforcement doesn't do off the record. That's media stuff.”

Her lips twisted into a grim smile. “Do I look stupid?”

“Well, now that you mention it.”

“Very funny,” she shot back, standing up. “Obviously you don't want to solve this case. I'm outta here.”

“Sit down, sit down.”

She lowered herself into her chair. It was a simple movement, but he found it very provocative. Well, hell. He'd found her sexy from the get-go, but the more he was around her, the more intense the attraction became. He had to keep reminding himself who she was—
what
she was.

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Off the record.”

“Maria Sanchez told me that she thinks the murdered woman is Pequita Romero, an illegal alien who worked somewhere deep in the woods.”

“What makes her think the victim is the Romero woman?”

“The Hispanics in the area get together every Sunday. One guy was once a priest. He performs a short service, then they have a potluck. Pequita hasn't been around for some time. A man who worked with her claims she went back to Mexico. Maria doesn't buy it. She says Pequita is smart and aggressive and determined to make money quickly in the States.”

Interesting. None of the Hispanics his deputy had interviewed had mentioned a weekly get-together. He'd been right to let Kat question the woman. She'd had better results than his deputy.

“Where was this woman working?”

“She remembers Pequita telling her she worked near the river off Shady Hook Road. They were cooking stuff in big vats, according to Maria. I can't imagine what they would prepare way out in the boonies, then haul into town.”

Big vats. Something clicked in his brain. Kat had stumbled across some very useful information. “It might make perfect sense, if she worked at a meth lab.”

“Meth? There were a couple of tweakers in prison.” She wrinkled her nose. “You'd be amazed what can be smuggled into jail.”

“No, I wouldn't. Short of an elephant, I know prisoners can get just about anything.”

“True, but crystal meth is easy because it's a powder. Those gals were paranoid, delusional half the time, and concentration camp skinny,” she said, genuine sadness in her tone, as if she wished she could have helped them. She wasn't as tough as she acted.

BOOK: Half Past Dead
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ads

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