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He stood at the foot of the casket, his brain whirling with memories of his mother. She had been the one who had pushed him after high school to drive back and forth to the bigger city of Hattiesburg to attend college, where he’d received a business degree by the time he was twenty-one.
She’d then encouraged him to open Bo’s Place, her and his dad fronting him the money to begin the successful venture. One of his proudest days had been when he’d been able to pay them back every cent of their seed money.
“So, I figured I hadn’t seen the last of you.” The familiar deep voice coming from behind him tensed every one of Bo’s muscles.
He turned to see Sheriff Trey Walker and his deputy, Ray McClure. Both men had been Bo’s biggest accusers and both had been extremely frustrated that they hadn’t been able to put together a case that would see Bo in prison for Shelly’s murder.
“What are you doing here?” Bo asked, unable to hide a hint of hostility.
“We always come out to pay respects to one of our own,” Trey replied, his green eyes narrowed as he held Bo’s gaze.
“Maybe you should be spending this time looking for the person who really murdered Shelly,” Bo said.
“Already know the answer to that question,” Ray said. Ray was a mean little creep, built like a bulldog and as tenacious as one. He had been one of the loudest mouths proclaiming Bo’s guilt in Shelly’s murder.
Bo was about to tell the two of them to get the hell out of there when he heard a female voice calling his name. He watched as Claire ran toward them. Clad in a pair of slender black slacks and a white blouse, the sight of her immediately diffused some of Bo’s anger.
She reached Bo’s side and looped an elbow with his, as if presenting a united stance. At the same time Jimmy joined them along with Pastor Kimmel, who immediately took Bo’s hand in his.
His faded blue eyes held a kindness that warmed him as much as Claire’s surprising nearness and open support. “It’s a sorrowful day when we have to say a final goodbye to such a good woman.”
Bo nodded, unable to speak around the lump that had risen in his throat. Claire moved closer to his side, as if she sensed the myriad emotions racing through him.
Pastor Kimmel released his hand and stepped back, nodding to the other attendees. “Shall we get started or should we wait to see if others want to come to pay their respects?”
Bo glanced at the road by the cemetery. There wasn’t a car in sight and it was three o’clock. “Let’s get this done,” he said roughly.
So his mother would be sent off to her final destination by a pastor, a loving son, a surrogate son, two cops who thought her son was guilty of murder and a woman Bo hadn’t decided yet if she was completely sane.
* * *
CLAIRE HAD A FEELING few people would be here today. Brenda McBride had become a semi-shut-in after Bo left town. She and Jimmy showed up every Sunday morning for church, but other than that she was rarely seen out and about.
The service was short yet emotional, and Bo’s face and body radiated a soul-deep sorrow that Claire felt inside her heart. She didn’t know what it was like to have a loving, caring mother, nor did she know much about having a decent father, but that didn’t stop her from imagining the depth of Bo’s loss. She’d felt the same way when Shelly had been murdered, that something precious and beloved had been stolen away from Bo.
When the service was finished, Bo looked hollow-eyed and lost. His jaw clenched as Trey and Ray approached him. “You planning on staying in town?” Trey asked.
“Why? Do you intend to put up posters of my face to warn young women?” Bo retorted. He drew a deep, weary sigh. “Don’t worry, I just have a few things to clear up and I should be gone by the weekend.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Ray said.
Claire saw every muscle in Bo tense as a red flush rose up his neck. “Come on, Bo. I’m taking you home with me,” she said. Bo looked at her in surprise. “Jimmy, I’ll bring him home later this evening.”
She grabbed him by the hand and physically pulled him away from both the lawmen and his friend. He balked for only a moment and then went willingly with her.
They didn’t speak as they walked through the cemetery and to her compact car parked in the lot. She got behind the wheel as Bo folded his long legs into the passenger side.
“You have a car,” he said, stating the obvious.
Claire started the engine. “My usual mode of transportation around town is my bicycle, but I get the car out for special occasions and when the weather isn’t conducive to riding or walking.”
She felt his gaze on her. “Thank you for showing up today,” he said. “And for stepping in before I punched Ray in his face.”
“I figured you could use a stiff drink rather than a night in the jail,” she replied. “Besides, Ray McClure isn’t worth the effort of an uppercut. He’s a weasel who likes to chase anything in a skirt and hand out tickets for looking at him cross-eyed.”
“He was one of the loudest voices screaming my guilt all over town before I left,” Bo said. Once again she felt his gaze on her, warm and intense. “What am I doing in your car going to your home?”
She flashed him a quick glance and then focused back on the outer road as they rounded the tip of the lagoon. “I figure within an hour or so Jimmy will be leaving to go to work, which means you’ll probably be holed up in your house all alone, and nobody should drink alone.”
“What makes you think I’m going to drink?”
“Because I would if I were in your shoes. You just buried your mother. I don’t think you need to be by yourself right now.”
“You’re kind of a pushy woman,” he replied lightly.
A small laugh released from her. “I’m sure I’ve been called worse. I hope you’re a gin-and-tonic kind of man because that’s what I’ve got at the house.”
“Anything is fine,” he replied, his voice suddenly weary.
She pulled up in front of her house in the driveway that just barely held the length of her car. “Home, sweet home.” She unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car at the same time as Bo.
“Nice,” he said. “I don’t remember this place looking like this. You must have put a lot of work into it.”
She was acutely aware of his presence just behind her as she walked up the porch and unlocked the door. The hot, sultry air intensified the scent of him...a fragrance of shaving cream and pleasant woodsy cologne. “It took me a full year to get rid of what once stood here and make this a real home.”
“Looks like you have a gift.”
She turned and looked where he pointed to the edge of the porch, where a vase of flowers sat on a folded note. A wave of irritation swept through her. If this was some sort of a charming courtship game it had gone on long enough.
She grabbed the vase and note and then ushered Bo inside. “Apparently I’ve picked up a secret admirer.” She set the vase in the center of the table next to the one from the day before. “Take off your jacket and get comfortable.” She gestured toward the beige sofa with bright green and turquoise throw pillows.
He took off his jacket and slung it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Do you have any idea who your secret admirer might be?” he asked.
She pulled from a cabinet a large bottle of tonic and a bottle of gin, and then opened the refrigerator door to grab a couple of limes. “Not a clue,” she replied. “And honestly I think the whole thing is ridiculous. If some man is interested in me, then he should just step up to the plate and tell me. Lime?”
“Sounds good.”
As she cut up the limes he wandered the space, checking out the books on her turquoise-painted ladder bookcase, the green and blue knickknacks that she’d found to give the house a sense of home. He finally landed on the sofa. After handing him his drink, she sat on the opposite side of the sofa with her own.
“Why are you being so nice to me? Aren’t you afraid somebody in town will see you with me and you’ll be shunned?” he asked, his midnight-blue eyes holding her gaze.
She took a sip of the biting yet refreshing drink and then placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “I don’t pay much attention to what people think about me. I’m often on the unpopular side of an issue.” She offered him a sympathetic gaze. “You want to talk about your mother?”
He settled back against the cushion and took a long, deep drink from his glass. “Not really. I’ve had days to do nothing but think about her and now I’d much rather talk about you.”
“Me? Trust me, there isn’t that much to talk about. I was born and raised here. My mother ran off when I was six and I was left with a neglectful alcoholic father in a shanty that threatened to fall down whenever the wind blew. I went to college on a full scholarship and got my teaching degree. When I returned here my father had disappeared and I haven’t seen him since. And that’s my story.”
She leaned forward and grabbed her glass and then took another sip. She’d made her drink light on gin and heavy on tonic and had made Bo’s drink heavy on gin and light on tonic.
“So, your turn. Tell me what you’ve been doing for the last two years,” she asked. “Have you made yourself a new, happy life? Found a new love? I heard through the grapevine that you’re living in Jackson now.”
He nodded at the same time the sound of rain splattered against the window. “I opened a little bar and grill, Bo’s Place, although it’s nothing like the original.” His dark brows tugged together in a frown as if remembering the highly successful business he’d had here in town before he was ostracized.
He took another big drink and then continued, “There’s no new woman in my life. I don’t even have friends. Hell, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here with you.”
“You’re here because I’m a bossy woman,” she replied. She got up to refill his glass. “And I thought you could use an extra friend while you’re here.”
She handed him the fresh drink and then curled back up in the corner of the sofa. The rain fell steadily now. She turned on the end table lamp as the room darkened with the storm.
For a few minutes they remained silent. She could tell by his distant stare toward the opposite wall that he was lost inside his head.
Despite his somber expression, she couldn’t help but feel a physical attraction to him that she’d never felt before. Still, that wasn’t what had driven her to seek contact with him, to invite him into her home. She had an ulterior motive.
A low rumble of thunder seemed to pull him out of his head. He focused on her and offered her a small smile of apology. “Sorry about that. I got lost in thoughts of everything I need to get done before I leave town.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said.
He raised a dark brow. “About all the things I need to take care of?”
“No, about you leaving town.”
“What about it?”
She drew a deep breath, knowing she was putting her nose in business that wasn’t her own, and yet unable to stop herself. “Doesn’t it bother you knowing that Shelly’s murderer is still walking these streets, free as a bird?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you so sure I’m innocent?” he asked.
Claire had never had a problem speaking her mind or sharing her thoughts, but she found herself reluctant to truly answer his question, afraid that he’d think she was silly, or worse, the loony tune she already suspected he thought she might be.
“I’m three years younger than you and Shelly and I know it sounds crazy, but I was in love with your love for each other. You two were the shining example of what I wanted to find for myself someday. I watched you walking the streets, hand in hand, having ice cream outside the ice cream parlor.”
The words tumbled out of her, as if the more she spoke the less he’d think she was nuts. “I saw the way you looked at her, Bo. I know the reputation you had in town as being a caring, gentle soul, a loving son, and I don’t believe there was anything Shelly could have done that would have resulted in you hurting her.”
Bo stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a darker shade of blue than she’d ever seen them. “Thank you,” he finally said. “And of course it bothers me that her killer has never been brought to justice.”
“It bothers me so much I carry pepper spray everywhere I go,” she said. “I try to be inside the house with the door locked after dark.”
Bo took another drink, his gaze not leaving hers. “What does all this have to do with me leaving town?”
Claire uncurled from her position and moved closer to him. “I don’t think you should leave town. I think you should stick around and prove your innocence.”
Bo laughed, the sound deep and rusty, as if he hadn’t laughed in a very long time. “You are out of your mind.”
“I don’t think so,” she protested. “You know that at the time of Shelly’s murder there wasn’t really a thorough investigation. Law enforcement focused on you to the exclusion of anyone else.”
“Shelly’s case is a cold case that nobody is working because they all believe I did the crime. I can’t imagine Trey or Ray agreeing to reinvestigate it just because I’m back in town,” Bo said.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “They wouldn’t lift a finger to help you with any unofficial investigation, but I would.” She saw his dubiousness in his eyes and quickly pressed forward. “Think about it, Bo. We don’t even know if the sheriff and his men interviewed any of Shelly’s friends after her death. I don’t believe they did much of anything, but you and I could talk to people, see what they remember about Shelly’s life at that time, who might be a possible killer.”
“It’s a stupid idea.”
“Maybe it is, but isn’t it worth giving a little time to see what we might stir up? Wouldn’t you like to prove your innocence to all the people who doubted you?”
Bo took a drink and sat forward. He placed his glass on the table and raked a hand through his slightly unruly hair. He glanced toward the window where the rain had stopped.
“I need to go home. You’ve got me half looped and considering things that shouldn’t even enter my mind.” He stood and she did the same, wondering what it might take to convince him that staying in town and fighting for his reputation would be worth it.
Of course, she’d spent years trying to convince her father to put down his bottle and be a real dad because she was worth it, and that certainly hadn’t worked out.
Chapter Three (#u0da6de4e-430f-5309-bbad-ff3f821c793e)
“Why not hang around a few weeks and see what you and Claire can dig up?” Jimmy asked. The two men were seated at the kitchen table eating ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch.
Already that morning Bo had met with his mother’s lawyer, taken care of what paperwork needed to be done, and then had come back and packed part of the clothes in his mother’s closet in the boxes Jimmy had brought home from the bar.
“If I know you, you’ve hired people at Bo’s Place who are perfectly capable of running the business without you being present for a while,” Jimmy continued.
Bo released a sigh. “I tossed and turned all night. The idea of staying here and putting myself through it all again isn’t exactly appealing, and yet the idea of Shelly’s killer still out there has haunted me for the last two years. I want to know who and I want to know why.”
What he didn’t mention to his best friend was how attracted he was to the woman who had put the idea in his head in the first place. He tried to tell himself that it was merely a combination of grief, gin and her proximity. But he’d wanted to fall into the depths of her amazing blue eyes, reach out and run his fingers through her curly mop of hair to see if the strands were as soft and silky as they appeared.
He had no idea what force had brought her into his life and why she was being so kind to him. Although she’d tried to explain her total belief in his innocence, he wasn’t sure he understood her reasons. Still, the fact that he was innocent and she’d shown such belief in him had been a balm to a soul that had been scarred for two long years.
“How did you leave it with Claire last night?” Jimmy asked.
“She told me if I decided to stick around and become a crime investigation duo that she’d be hanging out at the school around two.”
Jimmy nodded. “Coach Cantor has a key to the school, and I think once a week or so he and Claire sneak into the school gym and play one-on-one basketball.”
“Coach Cantor?”
“Roger Cantor. He moved here about six months after you left. He’s your typical jock type, but a nice guy.” Jimmy looked over at the rooster clock on the wall. “That gives you about an hour if you intend to meet up with her at the school.”
It was two thirty when Bo finally made up his mind and backed his motorcycle out of the driveway to head to the school. He was late so he wasn’t even sure Claire would still be there, but if he didn’t find her there he knew he’d eventually find her somewhere. Or he had a feeling she’d find him.
It took him only minutes to arrive at the school, which housed students from kindergarten kids to seniors. Divided into two parts separated by a short breezeway, kindergartners through eighth were housed on the left and the right was for freshmen to seniors.
Claire’s pink bicycle was locked to an old, rusted bike rack and a car was parked in the lot, letting him know that she and the coach were still here.
He parked his motorcycle next to the car and then headed for the front door of the high school side of the building. Locked.
He made his way around the side of the building to the back where he knew there was a door that would take him into a hallway that led directly to the gym.
This door was unlocked, and as he stepped inside it was to the scents of pine cleaner and floor polish. Once school started again the clean smells would disappear beneath the odors of sweaty bodies and smelly gym clothes.
On either side of the hallway were doors that led to the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms.
Before he reached the gym he heard the sound of squeaky shoes pounding the floor and a male triumphant shout. He stepped up to the open doors and peered inside to see Claire facing off for a tip-off with a tall, pleasant-looking blond man who had the physique of a coach.
