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  He fought a smile. “Now what makes you think I’d come in here to tease you? I was going to say, now that I’ve seen you; pink is my new favorite color.” He locked his eyes on hers and released his smile.

  She grinned and took a breath, then turned to go.

  “Pinkalicious,” he said.

  She spun around to face him. “What did you say?”

  Ridge smiled. “I said pinkalicious. Anybody called you that?”

  She took her bottom lip between her teeth. “No.”

  “Well… they should have.”

  She smiled and raised her brows. “That’s a good one, Cooper,” she said and wheeled away.

  Dan pursed his lips and tightened his gaze. “Was that foreplay, too, Cooper?”

  Ridge’s smile stayed in place and he ignored the question.

  * * * * *

  The road leading to the Weston home was long, winding and paved. Ridge guessed the pavement probably cost as much as most homes in Brownsboro. Not visible from the main street, the house was a two-story sprawling contemporary, all stucco, glass and metal, and had a four-car garage. A workshop sat adjacent to the structure. And in the back yard was a pool with a guest house and cabana.

  Since Ridge had called ahead, the Weston’s housekeeper was expecting him. Elsie, an African-American in her sixties, was short, thin and pleasant. Her hair was slicked back and twisted into a knot at the base of her neck. Silver barrettes held the strands above her ears in place.

  She spoke softly when she answered the door. “Come in, sir. Can I offer you something to drink? Tea . . . water . . . coffee?”

  “No ma’am, but thank you. I’ve been eating and drinking all morning. The ladies at the church filled me up.” He removed his hat. “I appreciate you talking to me. I only have a few questions.”

  She motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa, and she took the chair facing him. “Yes sir. I’ll be happy to help any way I can. I still can’t believe Miz Marlene’s gone.”

  “Yes ma’am, I understand. How long have you worked for the Westons?”

  “Oh mercy. Almost twenty years.”

  Ridge smiled and placed his hat next to him on the sofa, then removed the small notebook from his shirt pocket. “Can you tell me what kind of relationship Mr. and Mrs. Weston had? Did they get along? I understand all couples argue, so I’m talking for the most part.”

  “Yes sir, they did. Of course, they didn’t spend much time together. Before the kids were gone, Miz Marlene was busy with their lives and activities. Once they left home, Mr. Carl was either at the bank or in his shop, and Miz Marlene at some sort of church or community meeting. At least two weekends a month she went to Dallas to be with the children.”

  Ridge continued making notations in his small black spiral and noticed how perfectly every item in the house was positioned. Every book on the shelves was arranged by height and color, figurines properly displayed, each magazine stacked neatly on the coffee table. He thought back to how Marlene had been described at her memorial service as perfect in every way. Her house confirmed it.

  He drew his attention back to Elsie. “Mr. Weston said he didn’t know his wife was missing until the next morning. Do you know if he sleeps that soundly? Don’t you think he might wake up at some point during the night and realize she wasn’t in bed?”

  Elsie tightened her lips and drew a breath. “He might have, if they slept together.”

  Ridge dipped his head down and rolled his eyes up. “So you’re saying Mr. and Mrs. Weston didn’t share a bed?”

  “Oh, no sir. They didn’t share a bedroom.”

  “How long had that been going on?”

  “They’ve never shared a bed since I’ve been working for ’em. Miz Marlene said Mr. Carl snored too loud and she couldn’t sleep in the same room with him.”

  “Did you think that was strange? I mean, twenty years ago they were in their twenties. I don’t know of many married twenty-year-old men or women for that matter, who wouldn’t want to sleep together.”

  “Well, sir, I can only speak for myself. I’d want my man next to me, but they seemed to be all right with it. We all know you don’t need to sleep together to get busy. It wasn’t my place to ask questions. They’ve been good to me, especially Mr. Carl.”

  “What about Miss Marlene? Was she difficult to work for?”

  “Miz Marlene was picky. But once I learned how she wanted things, we got along.”

  “You mentioned the children. They’re at college?”

  “Yes sir. Miz Avery and Mr. Carl Junior, we call him CJ, are at SMU.”

  Ridge nodded politely. “What kind of relationship did Mrs. Weston have with her children? Were they rebellious? Did they have friends she didn’t approve of? Either one of them ever get into any trouble?”

  Elsie shook her head. “She got along fine with the kids. They never gave her much trouble other than normal kid stuff. I think she liked their friends. She never talked to me about anything like that. What I know, I heard from the kids. They’d complain to me sometimes about their mother when she grounded them. But for the most part, they got along.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Mrs. Weston or her family?”

  “No sir. Miz Marlene could be hard to get along with, but I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill her.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ridge reached for the handle of the back screen door and noticed the yellow sticky note. Supper at 5:30. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, fried okra, and peach bliss. You’re welcome to join us. Tizzy.

  His stomach growled. He glanced down at his watch. Five-fifteen. He jerked the door open and raced toward the bathroom undressing as he went. After rushing through a shower, he quickly dried off and pulled on a pair of black walking shorts and a Pittsburg Steelers tee shirt. It only took a minute to secure his side arm in the lock box under the kitchen cabinet. He carried his ankle gun in place, walked across the lawn and knocked on her door.

  From the other side, Tizzy yelled, “Come in.”

  Ridge pushed open the door and Gracie ran to him. Before he could say anything, Tizzy rushed around the end of the counter and snapped at Gracie. “Get back in that corner, little girl.”

  Gracie ducked her head, returned to the corner, stuck her nose in it, and started to cry. “When can I get out, Mama?”

  “I set a timer. When you hear the bell, you can get out,” Tizzy turned to Ridge. “I’m glad you wanted to join us.”

  “Are you kidding? You had me at fried chicken.” He placed his gun on top of the fridge, and straddled a bar stool. “Peach bliss sounds interesting.”

  Tizzy licked her lips. “It’s one of my favorites during peach season. You take fresh peaches mixed in light sugar syrup, pour them over baked meringue, add a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a dollop of whipped cream. I should warn you, once you eat it, I’ll be able to make you do anything I want.”

  Ridge crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You know, mow my yard, clean out my garage . . . whatever,” she said, grinning back at him.

  “I was hoping for something a little more personal.”

  “Oh,” she said, swallowing the word. “You enjoy doing that, don’t you?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Embarrassing me. Teasing me. Gettin’ my goat.”

  He kept his grin in place. “Yes, yes and yes.” Then he laughed and changed the subject, deciding he’d tortured her enough. He glanced over his shoulder toward Gracie. “Does she have to stay in the corner?”

  Tizzy shook her head. “Oh brother. Mr. Macho Texas Ranger turns out to be a wuss.”

  “I’m not a wuss. She’s only three years old, Tizzy. Whatever she did couldn‘t be too bad.”

  Tizzy tilted her head to one side. “Guess what, Cooper? Every person you’ve help put in prison was once three years old. She misbehaved. She needs to be punished.”

  He checked the timer. “Only t
wo more minutes, missy prissy.”

  Tizzy placed her hands on her hips. “Really, Cooper?

  “I’m sorry, Tizzy, but it breaks my heart to see her cry. What’d she do anyway?”

  “She sassed me and you need to stay out of this or I’ll put you in the corner, too.”

  He smiled and lifted his brows. “I’d rather you spank me.”

  Tizzy blushed and her mouth fell open. “You are so bad. I bet you spent a lot of time in the corner when you were little.

  He laughed out loud, the timer dinged and Gracie ran to him. He lifted her into the air and twirled her around. When he stopped, he set her on the counter, leaned down and looked her eye to eye. “Don’t you think you should apologize to Mama?”

  She puckered out her bottom lip and ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Tizzy leaned over the counter and hugged her. “Thank you, baby. I love you. Now, why don’t you go color Trooper Cooper a picture to take home with him?”

  Ridge helped her down. “I’d love a picture.”

  “Okay. How ‘bout a kitty?” Gracie asked.

  “I’d like a picture of a kitty. I’ll put it on my refrigerator,” he said.

  Gracie ran to her table and got to work.

  Ridge turned to Tizzy. “So . . . you think I’m macho?”

  Tizzy laughed, shaking her head. “Shut up. Do you want a beer?”

  He pulled out the bar stool and sat back down, laughing. “So far, this has been as much fun as reading Town Talk,” he said. “Yeah, I’d love a beer.”

  “Oh my gosh. You’ve read Town Talk?” She took a beer from the fridge, opened the bottle, and handed it to him.

  He took a long pull. “Are you kidding? Mrs. Easton’s article was the highlight of my day . . . until now. How ‘bout yours?”

  She widened her eyes. “You’re interested in my day?”

  “Yeah.”

  She gave her lashes a slow flutter. “It’s gettin’ better all the time.”

  Ridge took a breath and eyed her from head to toe. She was wearing black shorts with a white button-up shirt. The fabric was soft and billowy and floated as she moved. The top button was undone. Her hair hung loose. She was barefoot, her toes painted pink and each one had a daisy on it. He thought about her naked, her body pressed against his, his lips on her face, his hands on her skin.

  “Cooper! Cooper!”

  The sound of her voice snapped him back to reality. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” he asked.

  “I said Rayann and Bubba will be here in a minute.”

  “Oh. That’s great,” he said.

  * * * * *

  Tizzy’s heart was getting a workout thanks to Ridge. First, with all the sexual innuendo, and when he’d helped her reach a dish from the top shelf of her cabinet. Their bodies didn’t touch, but she was fully aware that if she’d exhaled they would have. Later, when he’d offered to set the table, and now, damn him, he was engaged in a tea party with Gracie. Sitting there looking so sexy, even with a pink feather boa wrapped around his neck, holding a plastic teacup, little finger extended.

  This pisses me off, she thought, the very idea of the perfect tough lawman being so domestic.

  The tap on the door was a welcome distraction. “Y’all come in. Rayann get Bubba a beer,” Tizzy said, pointing to the back porch. “Ridge is out there. But I better warn you, if you go out, you’ll probably be forced to drink your beer from a teacup.”

  “Okay,” Bubba said, taking the beer and making his exit.

  “Can I do anything to help?” Rayann asked.

  “We’re almost ready to eat. You can get some glasses and fix the iced tea,” Tizzy said, unable to take her eyes off Ridge.

  Rayann sidled up to her. “Look at him. Man, if he’s not good daddy material, I don’t know who is.”

  “Hush up, Rayann,” Tizzy snipped, coming out of her trance.

  “No, I won’t. You like him, Tizzy. I don’t know why you won’t admit it.”

  “I won’t deny there’s some attraction between us, but he knows as well as I, we can’t let it go anywhere,” she said, staring into blank space.

  Gracie rushed in and went straight to the refrigerator. “Mama, I need another juice pouch.”

  “No, baby, you’ve had enough juice. We’re fixin’ to eat.”

  Tizzy lowered her voice and turned back to Rayann. “I will admit, I’d love to get between the sheets with Trooper Cooper, just once,” she giggled.

  Gracie spun around and chanted. “Trooper Cooper, Trooper Cooper.”

  Tizzy and Rayann laughed. “Gracie, why don’t you tell Bubba and Trooper Cooper that supper is ready?”

  “Okay, Momma,” she said, and scooted to the back porch.

  Both women watched Gracie climb into Ridge’s lap, squeeze his cheeks together, and give him a kiss.

  Tizzy brought her hand to her chest. “Oh, God, she’s crazy about him. You know, he’s the first man she’s been around other than family. What am I gonna do?”

  Rayann slid her arm around Tizzy’s shoulders. “He’s everything you want in a man, isn’t he? He’s strong, sensitive, likes Gracie, and on top of all that, he ain’t bad looking! Don’t you lie awake at night and think about him? That lawman swagger . . . the way he smells . . . the size of his . . . feet!” Rayann bent over with laughter.

  “Rayann, you’re crazy.”

  “Yeah, I may be, but I’m right. You say you’d like to get between the sheets with him, so do it. Lord, if anyone deserves some sex, it’s you.”

  “No! I’ve never had meaningless sex and I’m not gonna start now. As soon as the case is over, he’ll be gone. Until then, I’m gonna try to be friends with him. Just friends. Nothing more.”

  “Sorry, Tizzy, I don’t buy it. I think you already have feelings for him.”

  Before Tizzy could respond, the back door opened and Gracie and the men came in and took their places at the table.

  “You know what, Trooper Cooper?” Gracie asked.

  “No, what, Gracie?”

  “My mama loves your sheets.”

  Tizzy almost dropped the platter of chicken.

  Rayann burst into laughter.

  Ridge eyed them both, then smiled at Tizzy. “Does she, now? Anything else your mama says she loves?”

  “Nope, just your sheets.”

  Tizzy quickly interrupted. “That’s enough, Gracie. Let me cut up your chicken for you.”

  Rayann smiled at Bubba. “Tell Tizzy who you ran into today.”

  “You’re never gonna guess who’s back in town,” he said to Tizzy.

  “Who?” she asked, thankful for the change of subject.

  “Your old friend, Carla Ferguson.”

  “She’s no friend of mine,” Tizzy snipped, passing the okra to Bubba.

  Ridge cut his eyes to Tizzy. “Why is that?”

  “No particular reason.”

  Rayann spoke up. “Oh, she has a lot of reasons, the main one being Boone. Carla was always after him. Carla’s a slut.”

  “What’s a slut,” Gracie asked.

  “A woman with a lot of boyfriends,” Tizzy said, cutting Gracie’s chicken into small bites.

  Ridge smiled at her explanation. “So, this goes back to high school,” he speculated, stabbing a piece of chicken for himself.

  Tizzy enlightened him. “Yeah.”

  “Well, she hasn’t changed much,” Bubba offered. “She told me she’s gonna be here all summer. Moved in with her mama a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you haven’t run into her. Pass the gravy, baby,” he said to Rayann.

  “Just good luck, I guess. Hope I don’t run into her,” Tizzy declared.

  Ridge raised his brows. “Let me get this straight. This Carla person comes back to town a few weeks ago and she was always after Boone. Tell me. How did she feel about Marlene?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Time was important for the self-employed, so Ridge called and made an appointment with Norma Harkey at her salon for the inter
view.

  Clippity-Do–Da, a one-woman operation with one shampoo bowl and two hair dryers, was decorated with a French theme. Black and white checkerboard tiles covered the floor and pink blinds hung on the windows. A chandelier hung suspended above the counter, and a wallpaper border with the words ‘ooh-la-la’ circled the room at the ceiling.

  A small bell tinkled when Ridge opened the door. It took a moment to register the woman in the black smock as Norma.

  “Come in, Mr. Cooper.”

  She was attractive, petite with delicate features. Her brown eyes twinkled and her mouth naturally curved up at the corners.

  “Hello, Miss Harkey. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me. For a second there, I didn’t recognize you.”

  Bouncing her hair with her palm, she smiled. “Ah, the prerogative of a stylist. Today, Red Pulse, next week, Fun-to-go-Blonde. I think when we met at Marlene’s service, I was Warm Umber. I’ve changed my color so much that I don’t remember what my original shade is anymore.” She chuckled. “Please take a seat. Now, what would you like to know about Marlene?” Her eyes misted as she pulled a tissue from her smock and dabbed at them.