Murder Deja Vu

her and put his two front paws in her lap while he balanced on his one hind leg. “Hey, Pooch.” She glanced at Daughtry. “He’s a cute little fellow.”
    “Got hit by a car near my house. He didn’t have any tags or collar, so he’s mine. Vet fixed him up, but he can’t run after cars anymore.”
    “Because he can’t get off your property without being shocked.”
    “Better than dead,” he said with a penetrating stare.
    She couldn’t argue that. “Coffee?”
    “Thanks. Black.”
    She went inside, Pooch on her heels, and came out with a mug of coffee. He took it.
    “Looks like you have a new friend,” he said.
    “I love dogs.”
    “How come you don’t have one?”
    “Maybe now that I have my own place, I’ll get one.”
    Daughtry looked long at her, then shifted his focus to the hillside. “Beautiful view.”
    “It is, isn’t it?”
    “Want to show me the fireplace?”
    “Come inside. I want the whole wall designed, like the picture in the magazine.”
    “Okay.”
    He put on his glasses, unhooked a large tape measure from his belt, and measured up and across the wall. A collapsible ruler measured the depth of the fireplace opening. He lifted a small pad from his shirt pocket, wrote the dimensions, then returned his glasses and notebook to the same pocket. He told her his price for the work. She agreed.
    “Wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee if you have some.”
    She took his cup and refilled it. He’d taken a seat and was staring at the wall, trancelike. There was something appealing about the man. She knew it when they first met. She felt sympathy for his ordeal and cautioned herself not to be influenced by that. But caution fell to the wind when she thought about what it must have been like for a young man to be plucked from the wealthy life he knew and thrown into a netherworld of hard convicts. What did it take to survive?
    He caught her looking at him. “Something wrong?”
    “No, why?”
    “You were looking at me kind of funny.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to get this out in the open because that’s how I am. Whatever you heard about me—the gossip—it’s all true. I was in prison for fifteen years for a crime I didn’t commit. Some people still think I did it, and probably nothing’s going to change their minds. But if you’re worried—”
    “It wasn’t that at all.” She looked away, debating whether she should let it pass and decided not to. “I was wondering what it must have been like.” She doubted the question had come up. People felt more comfortable talking behind backs than face to face. He met her gaze with an intensity that made her heart race.
    “Wonder no more. It was hell.” He stood to leave. “If you’re comfortable with me being around, I’ll be here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”
    “I’m comfortable.”
    He nodded, then he was gone.

Chapter Three
Ignoring the Facts

    P rickly heat rose on Robert Minette’s face. He found Harris Stroud in the office of the Regal Falls Banner , redlining an article that would make the morning paper. Harris didn’t like being interrupted when he was working, but Robert didn’t care.
    “I heard that ex-con was at my wife’s new house? Don’t tell me he’s building her a fireplace.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “One of her neighbors.”
    “Are you paying someone to keep watch?”
    “What if I am?”
    Harris pushed back from the desk, looking relieved that the massive piece of mahogany furniture acted as a buffer between them. He shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. First of all, Robert, the charges against Daughtry were dropped. Second, she’s your ex -wife, a fact you keep forgetting. And third, yes, Daughtry is building Dana a fireplace.”
    “Of all the…son of a bitch. And Dana’s my wife, Harris. She’s always been my wife, and she’ll always be my wife. She’ll come back, you’ll see. But that stone man is building her a fireplace to get back at me. You know that, don’t you?”
    “Have you forgotten you did everything to stop him from buying his land. You brought it to court, for chrissakes. You think he might have remembered that when you asked him to build you a fireplace? Hell, you’re the last person he’d build one for.”
    “I was trying to protect the children of this county from a murderer.”
    “By stepping on his civil rights? Bullshit. You were looking for publicity, and it backfired when his lawyer made you look like a second-year