A Cloud of Suspicion. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ God is the final judge of us all. Only He knows the soul of Dylan Renault.”

      Jocelyn laid a tip on the table. “Are you going to talk to Sam about the Christmas party?”

      Shelby hesitated. She didn’t actually know anything. It was more of a feeling. Still, Jocelyn and Ava were close friends. What if it got back to Charla that Shelby was talking about Dylan again?

      The college will be rubbing their hands with glee over their new donation, that’s what.

      “I’ll call Sam if I remember something concrete. Otherwise, don’t say anything about it. I feel silly for mentioning it.”

      After paying the check, the women left the café. With a round of quick hugs and promises to meet again next week, they parted ways. Jocelyn left for her office, while Shelby and Wendy walked toward the library. Shelby found herself checking the street for Patrick’s motorcycle, but to no avail.

      She had been stunned to see him again after all this time, but she was honest enough to admit that surprise had been only part of her pulse-pounding reaction to the man. He was dangerously attractive, even more so now than when she had last seen him.

      What she found truly disturbing was how much she wanted to see him again.

      After crossing Main Street, Shelby and Wendy cut through the park on a paved path that led toward the city library. The smell of damp, newly cut grass hung in the air and mixed with the scent of flowers and blooming shrubs. The two women hurried past the small white gazebo standing alone at the center of the park.

      At first glance, the lattice-covered structure looked picture-perfect in the setting, but on closer inspection one could see the paint was peeling and some of the slats were broken.

      People who lived in Loomis knew that a woman had been murdered inside the gazebo twenty-five years ago. The death of that young mother was the reason Loomis started their annual Mother’s Day Festival with their Mother of the Year Pageant.

      The pageant had grown from humble beginnings into the town’s biggest event with prize money worth thousands of dollars going to the mother who was chosen as the winner. Over the years, the money, gifts and prestige of winning had sparked some serious rivalries and even resulted in foul play among the women vying for Loomis’s most coveted title.

      The mystery of the woman’s death had been solved when Vera Peel confessed to killing the amateur photographer because she had been taking pictures of the bayou the day Vera killed her husband and his lover there.

      Even knowing how and why the woman had died hadn’t altered people’s perception of the gazebo. Only newcomers or visitors used it. The locals continued to give it a wide berth.

      Suddenly a creaking, scuffling sound made Shelby and Wendy spin around in fright. A dark figure sat on the floor inside the structure.

      It took a heart-stopping second for Shelby to recognize Chuck Peters, the town drunk who panhandled and did odd jobs around the city.

      “I didn’t see nothing. I didn’t,” he muttered, and lurched to his feet.

      Shelby sucked in several calming breaths, then took a step toward him. “Mr. Peters, you frightened us.”

      He swayed slightly as he peered at them through his thick, black-rimmed glasses. During one of his sober spells, Chuck had worked briefly for Shelby’s father at his woodworking shop. After her father passed away, Chuck started doing odd jobs for the reclusive Vera Peel. With his benefactress now in jail for murder, Shelby had to wonder how he was managing.

      Wendy tugged at Shelby’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

      “Mr. Peters, do you need me to call Reverend Harmon for you?”

      His eyes widened with fear. “No! Don’t call him. Don’t tell anyone you saw me here. Don’t tell. Swear you won’t tell!”

      Hoping to reassure him, Shelby added quickly, “But Reverend Harmon can get you a hot meal and a place to stay.”

      “No, I like this place. I can see who’s coming.” His eyes darted around like frightened birds seeking a way out of a cage.

      “You can’t stay here. The police won’t let you,” she said gently.

      It was obvious that he was more disturbed than usual. He ran his hands through his greasy, thinning red hair. “Don’t tell ’em I’m here. I didn’t see nothing that night. You can’t say I did.”

      “What night, Mr. Peters?”

      “Can’t say. Don’t know. Didn’t see nothing that night.”

      Wendy pulled harder on Shelby’s arm. “Let’s go. You can’t help him if he doesn’t want it.”

      Shelby allowed herself to be led away. “I’m going to call Reverend Harmon anyway. He’s dealt with Chuck in the past.”

      “That’s a good idea. Maybe he can get the old loony back into the mental hospital where he belongs.”

      “Wendy!” Shelby glanced back, but Chuck didn’t seem to be paying attention to them. He was making his way out of the gazebo with unsteady steps.

      Beyond him, Shelby noticed another figure lurking in the shadows near the path. The man turned away abruptly before Shelby could see who it was.

      “I’m only suggesting that Reverend Harmon can supply him with the professional help he needs.” Wendy defended her suggestion. “Let’s get out of this park. It’s creepy in here.”

      Shelby had to agree, although she had always enjoyed the peace and quiet of the secluded place. Now, the tall live oak trees hung with Spanish moss seemed vaguely threatening. The thick azalea bushes laden with blooms seemed to offer hiding places for danger along with their beauty.

      Like nearly everyone in Loomis, she found the fear of an unknown killer in their midst had changed her perspective of her hometown.

      Mustiness assailed Patrick as he stepped into the front parlor. Little had changed in the years that he had been gone. The same faded area rug still covered the center of the hardwood floor. The same beige sofa sat in front of the small bay window. Dirt darkened the armrests of the matching chair across the room.

      There was an empty coffee mug and stain rings on the small table beside the chair. He could picture his stepdad sitting there, staring out the window at the town that shunned him for raising a monster.

      Patrick shook off the vision. For some odd reason his stepfather had stipulated in his will that if Patrick came back and settled the estate in person, it would all go to him. He didn’t know why. Maybe the old man wasn’t quite right in the head toward the end.

      Patrick had almost refused. But the chance to gain enough to help him secure his future overrode his reluctance. Nothing else would have brought him back to Loomis.

      He had a week or two to go through the place and get the house ready to go on the market. After that, he didn’t have to hang around to make sure someone actually bought it. His father’s attorney had been clear on that issue. All Patrick had to do was go through the belongings in the house and see to the repairs.

      Looking СКАЧАТЬ