“Forty-five. By the time I got one through college, I’d be pushin’ seventy.” He pointed at sky over the lake. “Look at that moon and the way it’s reflected in the water. Gorgeous, ain’t it?”
The lake was indeed acting like a mirror, but she didn’t give a damn about the moon. She wanted him to either tell her that she wasn’t a suspect or get up off his butt and go find the real killer.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Waylon said.
“I don’t intend to,” she said. “What are you doing in Bootleg in the middle of the week?”
“I told you that I have a little ranch in Mabelle. My folks owned it. My dad died several years ago and my mother last year. So I spend most weekends here and come and go pretty often through the week when I can get away from the desk. It’s not a long drive from Dallas,” Waylon answered.
“So you grew up in this area?” Kate asked.
He nodded. “Went to school right here in Bootleg. Know everyone in this town and quite a few in Seymour.”
“Hattie and Victor?”
Another nod. “Yes, and I knew Iris, too. So I already knew the scuttlebutt on Conrad Steele. And before you ask, there was not a shred of evidence that he caused Iris to have that heart attack.”
“I wasn’t going to ask. Conrad was smarter than that. If he had anything to do with her death, you would never catch him. Did you ever meet him?”
“No, but my mother told me about the little wedding reception at this cabin when they married.”
She’d been conned by Conrad with his compliments and pretty face. Waylon couldn’t begin to work his charm on her.
“How long are you staying in Bootleg?” she asked.
“A couple of days this time, but I’ll be around pretty often. How about you?”
“Until you tell me that I’m not a suspect.”
“Fair enough,” Waylon said.
Fair?
If life had been fair, Conrad Steele would have never entered her life.
Amanda dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She was doing better. This was the first time she’d gotten all misty eyed that day, but the sunset reminded her of lying on the deck in Conrad’s arms the last evening of their honeymoon. Tonight Conrad was supposed to be sitting beside her, his hand on her baby bump, smiling every time their son kicked. The only thing that made her happy was the decision she’d made about his name. When the boy was born, he would be Conrad Jonathan Steele Jr., and she would call him Jonathan or maybe Johnny.
She would raise her son to know that his father was a hero who’d tried to stop a robbery, and she would never tell him about the other two wives or about Iris. He would have to grow up without a strong male role model in his life. Amanda had not had a father figure in her life, either, just Aunt Ellie, but she’d survived. This baby would have a mother who loved and wanted him very much. She swiped at a fresh batch of tears.
She laid her hand on her stomach. “I wanted more for you, baby boy. I wanted you to have the storybook daddy who played catch with you and taught you how to throw a football.”
Aunt Ellie’s ringtone startled her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right then, but she answered the call. It was Aunt Ellie who’d saved her hide on more than one occasion, so she couldn’t be rude.
“I’m on my way home from work and thought we could chat while I drive,” she said. “We had a great day. Wanda and I went for the buffet down at the pizza joint on our way home to celebrate.”
“I’m watching the sunset from the deck. Don’t talk to me about pizza. I’m craving it, and all I had for supper was an omelet and toast.”
“You sound depressed. Are you okay? If that place and those two women are upsetting you, it’s not good for the baby. Come on home. Wanda has said she’ll help me out in the store the rest of the summer so you won’t have to come to work every day, but you’d be close to your doctor and you’ll be near the people who love you.”
Amanda managed a weak smile. “I’m only an hour away from you and my doctor, and I’m fine right here, where Conrad and I spent the happiest time of our marriage.”
“And those other two?”
“We’re staying out of one another’s way for the most part. Jamie and Gracie spend a lot of time down near the lake. The deck is mine unless Gracie decides to play out here, but she’s a good kid. She doesn’t bother me much. And the front porch is Kate’s.”
“Well, I hope you find some closure,” Aunt Ellie said. “I’m driving into my garage. Talk to you later. Love you, kiddo.”
Amanda flipped through the pictures of her and Conrad on her phone, taking time to touch his face on every one. He’d said his “sister” Kate called him Conrad but he hated that name. He’d always wished that their mother, Teresa, would have called him by his middle name, Jonathan, but his father’s name was Jonathan James Steele, so he had to be Conrad.
She rolled over to the last picture of them together. Aunt Ellie had taken it in the shop right before he had to leave the last time she’d seen him. His smile was genuine, and his eyes were twinkling. Yes, Conrad loved her. He might not have divorced those other two women, but she would never believe those stories about Iris or about him bringing other women to the cabin. Iris had probably only loved him like a son. If he was here, Conrad could explain the women that Hattie thought she saw at the cabin. They were most likely clothing store owners that he was trying to cultivate to sell him their sale merchandise at the end of every season.
Are you an idiot? a voice in her head shouted. Strange, but it sounded exactly like her best friend, Bailey, who had served as maid of honor at Amanda’s wedding. You should be throwing a hissy at that bastard, not moonin’ around after him.
She sat up a little straighter. Bailey was in Germany, stationed there with her husband, who was in the service, and Amanda hadn’t told her about the situation. Still, that was exactly what she would say if she knew.
Just to be sure, she sent a text to Bailey: Call me when you have time. Lots I need to tell you.
The phone rang before she could lay it back on the table beside her. Amanda hit the screen and answered. “Bailey, what are you doing awake at this hour? It must be four o’clock in the morning there.”
“It is, but I’m having one of those sleepless nights. Catch me up,” Bailey said.
“Conrad was killed,” Amanda said and went on to tell her the rest of the story.
“I knew there was something hinky about that man. I wouldn’t say anything only because you were so much in love with him. He had shifty eyes and wandering hands. I steered clear of him. What a mess.”
“I thought you’d support me.” Amanda pouted.
“Support you, yes. Listen to you defend a son of a bitch like that, no, ma’am. You need to wake up and smell the coffee or the roses or whatever the hell it is that you smell when you wake up. Take a lesson from those other two you told me about. Get an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude or I’d-like-to-kill-him-again one, but stop feeling sorry for yourself and see him for what he was, and that’s a con man,” Bailey told her.