Laina Turner - Presley Thurman 01 - Stilettos & Scoundrels Read online

  Ruth’s smile faltered a little, but only for a second. I could tell she was a little disappointed. “You have my number then. He is staying with us until he can get back on his feet. You know, his wife recently left him, awful woman. I always knew she wasn’t good enough for my Bobby. He needs someone who will treat him right.”

  Right. Awful woman? Please! The Bobby I knew was either stoned all the time or out chasing women. Did Ruth ever consider his wife might have had good reason to leave? I was sure Ruth would never see the error in his ways. That was probably part of the reason he was so screwed up. Even my mother agreed with me on that one.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Ruth.” Not in a million years, I thought. “I was actually hoping you could help me with something.”

  “What could I possibly help you with?” Ruth asked, looking puzzled.

  I was still undecided as to how I should approach this question, since I didn’t think casually asking Ruth who Helen might be having an affair with would be a great idea, though it sure would make things easier if I could be that direct. Instead, I decided to test the waters carefully. “I am sure you know I came to town to interview Senator Daniels.”

  “Yes. Your mother is very proud of that.”

  Ruth’s statement threw me off. My mother hadn’t said anything to me about my new job except to criticize how I got myself fired at my last job and good jobs were hard to come by. Oh and how I wasn’t getting any younger blah, blah, blah. “I was wondering if you had heard anything around town. You know, about who might have wanted the Senator dead or anything like that.” I tried acting nonchalant about the question, hoping it might help, but I knew I sounded really stupid. Hopefully Ruth wouldn’t notice.

  Ruth looked at me strangely, lips pursed. She didn’t seem too thrilled I was asking her this question. “I know that you probably think you are doing a good thing,” Ruth said and smiled sweetly, in an obvious attempt to be nice to me, since I doubted she really believed that. “But, I’m not one to gossip, even if I did know something. And if I did, I would go to the police. Shouldn’t they be the ones asking these questions?”

  “I thought you might have heard something that could point me in the right direction, you know, to get information to write a better story about the Senator.” I knew sincerity and flattery usually got you pretty far. She was still looking at me strangely as the smile slid from her face. Uh-oh. I began to think Ruth was realizing my motivations might not be entirely pure. She wasn’t stupid. I was sure Ruth could put two and two together and figure out I might want to do more than just write a story about the Senator. Maybe she knew some hot, juicy gossip she didn’t want me to find out.

  “Isn’t that a job for the cops?” Ruth said again. I saw that she was guarded, not sure how to take this or maybe not sure how to answer. Interesting. What would she need to guard against? Did she know something? Even if she thought I was trying to pump her for information in order to write about the murder, was is it really that big of a deal?

  “Of course it’s a job for the cops, and I’m not trying to interfere with that, Ruth. I’m just looking for some information,” I said, trying to sound innocent. So it was a little white lie, but all for good reason. White lies didn’t count with a good intention behind them, at least in my world. “Ruth, I just want to see who might have had a motive and maybe help the police, all in the name of writing an accurate article to share with the public. Do you know of anyone who would want to kill him?”

  “What are you getting at Presley? Why would I know?”

  “You are pretty good friends with Helen, aren’t you? I thought maybe something she said to you might be enlightening?” I was getting impatient, but didn’t want to offend Ruth, because then she wouldn’t tell me anything. Plus, of course, she might tell my mother.

  “What are you getting at, Presley?” Ruth asked again, clearly on to the fact I was looking for something; I just wasn’t exactly sure what.

  “I don’t know. Someone obviously wanted him dead. There has to be a reason he was murdered. I’m just trying to figure out what that reason was. You know, like maybe he had money troubles or something.”

  Ruth just stared at me, not biting at any of my hints, although I could definitely tell Ruth was suspicious about why I was asking. I weighed my options. If I didn’t come right out and ask, I wouldn’t know. If I did bluntly ask her about Helen, what was the worst that could happen? She would complain to my mother and I would have to listen to my mother yell at me. But if I did ask, then Ruth’s reaction might give me a clue about who Helen was seeing. Was it worth it?

  “I heard Helen was having an affair,” I blurted out. Hmmm… subconsciously, I must have felt it was worth it and the door was open now, no going back.

  “What?” Ruth exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed, and crossing her arms in front of her chest, she gave me a dirty look. “What right do you think you have, asking these questions?”

  “Well, if she was that would be a motive for someone to kill Tom, wouldn’t it?” I continued. Ruth was clearly unhappy to hear me talking about this, so I added quickly, “Not that anyone would blame Helen or anything…”

  Ruth interrupted. “First of all,” she said coldly, “Helen is not having an affair, and if she were, that’s not anyone’s business but hers. And, they’re not having money problems. Or any other problems for that matter.”

  “Ruth, I’m just saying…”

  “Secondly, you should be ashamed of yourself, spreading these kinds of lies about Helen and Tom,” she continued with her rant. “Have you no shame? Helen just lost her husband and you are accusing her of cheating. And murder.”

  “Ruth, I’m not accusing Helen of anything,” I said, hands on hips, trying to act indignant, which wasn’t that difficult as Ruth was making me feel defensive. I wasn’t trying to say anything bad about Helen. Each to his own and all that. I had made enough of a mess of my own life—I knew I had no right to judge. “I’m just saying that if she was having an affair, maybe things got out of hand. From all I have heard, she was entitled to have an affair with the way Tom acted.”

  Ruth walked out from behind the counter and pointed to the door. “I think you should leave, Presley. I will not continue to listen to you slander poor Helen. She’s been through enough.”

  I started walking toward the door when I turned back to Ruth and said, “I am not trying to start rumors about Helen. I just want to find the truth. It’s going to come out eventually. If something is going on, the cops will find out.”

  “Presley, this is none of your concern. You should be ashamed of yourself.” As the door started to shut behind me, I heard Ruth yell, “Don’t think I won’t be telling your mother about this!”

  I cringed at the thought. Maybe I just wouldn’t go home tonight. Or, I could wait until it was really late and my mother was in bed. Ha! Fat chance of that happening. Ruth was certainly not much help, at least overtly, but I got the sense that Ruth knew something interesting. I wasn’t sure what Ruth might be hiding, but my questions sure made Ruth defensive quick enough. Not that I expected her to spill all the beans, but what Ruth didn’t say and the way she looked when I mentioned Helen having an affair were the real clues. I hadn’t realized my HR skills would come in so handy. When interviewing job applicants, body language and what they didn’t say usually spoke volumes. This was a classic case of not what she said but what she didn’t say—or however the saying went.

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to help me think; I was trying to decide my next course of action. I was feeling somewhat deflated. My conversation with Ruth hadn’t yielded much except the general feeling that Ruth knew more than she was saying. Realistically, I knew I wasn’t going to get all the answers from the first person I talked to, but I’d hoped Ruth would give me something to go on. I decided my next stop would be Betty’s Baked Goods. Not only did Betty have the best peach cream cheese muffins in the world (I had eaten enough to know over the years and always made my parents bring
me some when they came to visit), but Betty also knew everything that went on in Alkon. If there was something going on inside or outside of the Daniels’ marriage, Betty would know it, and Betty was not shy about spreading gossip. She always said you shouldn’t do it if you didn’t want someone to talk about it. I agreed with that motto, at least when it was about other people. There were some things I would much prefer no one ever found out about—like the time I had too many cosmos and danced on the table at Muldoon’s, in a skirt. Or like that guy I had the one-night-stand with after I was dumped by Todd and before meeting Rick. Rebound sex always seemed like a good idea at the time but it was not always the same great idea afterward.

  I smelled the sweet treats as I walked up to the building and deeply inhaled the heady aroma of cinnamon buns and freshly made donuts. Yum. My senses drank in the flavor. It was enough to make one drool, and I quickly swiped my chin to make sure I hadn’t. Not that it had happened before, but you couldn’t be too careful.

  Deep into the daydream of fresh, hot muffins, I ran into something hard. “Excuse me,” I said, looking up and finding myself face to face with Simon Atkins. He had a coffee in one hand and a bakery bag in the other. He obviously had the same mid-afternoon snack idea I had. “Watch where you’re going, lady.” Simon looked me up and down. He found her very attractive, but he suspected she was going to end up being a big pain in his ass. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” I said as I watched him head down the steps.

  Taste buds in overdrive, I put all thoughts of Simon out of my head, and definitely thought it was time for a snack. This time of day at Betty’s was a slow time. The only people in the bakery were a couple of old farmers talking over late morning coffee, the cook in back, and, of course, Betty. I never knew of a time when Betty wasn’t there overseeing the place, making sure everyone was enjoying their food, and giving them a hard time. That kind of special attention was definitely one of the nicer things about a small town. Back in Chicago, people barely looked you in the eye while you were eating, much less cared if you enjoyed yourself, or engaged you freely in conversation.

  Betty’s back was to me when I walked in, so I snuck up behind her and said, “Any fresh peach cream cheese muffins today?” Betty turned around, startled, and then smiled when she saw it was me. Betty looked pretty much the same, as if time stood still for her. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, wisps going in many directions, and she had on her uniform of blue jeans and t-shirt with a flour-dusted apron tied around her waist. However, unlike most women her age, which was somewhere north of sixty, her blue jeans were fashionable, distressed looking wide-legs and she had a sassy t-shirt saying I’m too good for you on it.

  “Why, it’s Presley Thurman,” she said, reaching across the counter to hug me. “Of course, sweetheart, I always have fresh muffins. Although, you probably don’t deserve them, never comin’ around very often these days. I miss you and your friends stopping in here. Kids just aren’t the same these days,” Betty grumbled, good-naturedly. “Best peach cream cheese muffins in the state, you all used to say.”

  “They still are, and what do you mean state, Betty? These are the best in the nation. There is nothing in Chicago to even compare.”

  “Quit flattering an old woman. Here,” Betty set a hot, oozing muffin down in front of me. “These are fresh from the oven about five minutes ago. New cook back there,” she said, pointing her thumb in that direction, “still not sure if she is any good.”

  I took a bite of the still warm muffin. The soft peach-flavored cream cheese flowed into my mouth. I closed my eyes in delight. This was heaven. As I enjoyed my muffin, Betty sat down on the old worn out stool behind the counter—the one she kept around to use while chatting with customers. The food at Betty’s was good enough that it was worth waiting for if she was perched on the stool talking to folks. People knew better than to interrupt her. At least people from around here knew that, and if you weren’t from around here, you figured it out pretty quickly. I couldn’t count the times I had been in here and seen out-of-towners being put in their place after trying to interrupt Betty.

  “Haven’t seen you around here in a while. Where have you been keeping yourself,” Betty asked.

  “I live up in Chicago now. I am here visiting. Originally, I was supposed to be interviewing Senator Daniels, but,” I shrugged, “I did that yesterday before…you know…but I am at a loss of what to do now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Never found him that fascinating when he was alive. I was always surprised he was smart enough to be taken seriously as a politician. I think Helen married beneath her with that one.” Betty said. I chuckled. Only someone like Betty could get away with saying that. “You know, that man, he had a lot of enemies.”

  I was glad Betty hadn’t changed. I didn’t have to ask any questions and she was already spilling the beans, no dancing around here. If only it had been this easy with Ruth. “Like who?” I asked, licking my fingers. This muffin was so good; the information was just a bonus at this point.

  “Well,” Betty leaned closer to me, eyes sparkling with a secret, as if to keep others from hearing. Granted, nobody else was within earshot, but, hey, who was I to say anything. Besides it added a dramatic flair to it all and made it that much more exciting. “For one, I think he had a gambling problem.”

  Ah ha! Now we were getting somewhere. This was the same stuff I heard from Dirt, but if Betty knew, then it was common knowledge or that meant that at least people in town had been talking about it freely at Betty’s. The more common knowledge it was, the more chance there was of it being true. However, it did make me wonder where she always got her information.

  “Are you sure about that? I mean, how do you know?”

  “Are you questioning my information?” Betty said teasingly. “I heard from Mabel Winters, who heard from her daughter Ginny, whose son, Victor, was in Las Vegas a couple months ago when Senator Daniels was there,” Betty replied.

  Wow. My first thought was surprise that Mabel Winters was still alive; she was old when I was a kid. She must be positively ancient now. “That doesn’t mean he has a gambling problem,” I said, taking the last bite of my muffin. “Lots of people go to Vegas just to see the shows or even to gamble. It doesn’t necessarily mean they have a problem.”

  “Well, now let me get to that. Victor saw Senator Daniels at the Venetian. You see, Victor was there with some buddies from college. A bachelor party, I think.” The one thing about Betty was she always had a lot of back-story to tell and you couldn’t rush her. Trying to would get you nowhere. I sighed. I knew I would have to wait, but hoped she would get to the point soon before my resolve to not have another muffin weakened and my thighs took the hit forever.

  “That boy runs around too much. His mama worries to death about him.”

  Arg! Hurry up and get to the good stuff. Patience was not one of my virtues. “He’s old enough to take care of himself, Betty.”

  “So, Victor was playing craps,” Betty finally continued, ignoring me, “and I guess the tables were right next to the high roller room, whatever that means. As Victor was sitting there just enjoying his game, he said the door to the high roller room burst open and Senator Daniels came out looking angry.”

  Yes! I said to myself, mental fist punching the air. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

  “Victor, of course, recognized who the Senator was, being from Alkon and all, and was about to go up and say hi, figuring the Senator seemed friendly enough, when two other men followed him out of the room. Victor said these men also looked angry, and the three of them got into an argument right there in front of everyone.”

  “About what, Betty? What did Victor say they were fighting about?” I got excited.

  “Calm down, all in good time. Now Mabel said Victor couldn’t hear exactly, at least that is what Mabel’s daughter said. However, he said the two men who followed the Senator out were angry about some money the Senator owed them. Victor said they were threat
ening the Senator. Before he could hear anymore, the Senator’s bodyguards came and broke up the argument. According to Trudy, Mabel’s daughter, Victor said the Senator was not only angry, but also seemed really upset by this turn of events. Almost scared, she said.”

  I wondered if that included Cooper. “Now, Betty, how much of this do you think really was what happened and how much was embellished by the three people who gossiped about the events? Do you really think this could have anything to do with his murder?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Betty said, giving the already immaculate counter an absentminded wipe with her ever-present dish rag. “It’s as good a reason as any I suppose.” Betty seemed so calm about everything, as if this were an everyday occurrence. She must hear many interesting things that went on in the town. Maybe I should be interviewing her.

  “Have you ever heard anything about Helen having an affair?”

  “Nosey little thing, aren’t you?” Betty smiled, but not in a judgmental way. More in a conspiratorial way.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, I heard some things and thought you would be the person to ask. I tried asking Ruth over at the library, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled with my questions and all but threw me out of the library.”

  “Did she now? Ruth is as much a busybody as anyone. I don’t know where she gets off thinking she’s better than the rest of us for gossiping,” Betty snorted. “I don’t have any names, but yes, there has been talk that Helen was stepping out with someone. Though most folk, I think, would turn a blind eye. Tom wasn’t known for being faithful, and he should have thanked his lucky stars that Helen stayed married to him. I say it’s about time Helen got her own,” Betty said. “After all, aren’t women supposed to be equal? At least, that’s what I told that cute fellow, Cooper, when he stopped by earlier.”

  I laughed as I got up to leave. “I agree, Betty.” Damn that Cooper. He was already ahead of me on this.