Read Portrait of a Dead Guy Online
Authors: Larissa Reinhart
Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #amateur sleuth, #Contemporary, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #murder mystery, #humorous mystery, #female sleuth, #mystery series
Portrait of a Dead Guy (25 page)
“No, this is not about last night.” He peered out the window. His eyes roamed over the cars in the parking lot of a landscaping nursery. “But now that you mention it, I did buy you a lot of drinks. You were supposed to leave with me.” Ronny’s voice climbed like the reedy yap of a small dog. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. “Now I’m driving you around in the middle of the day where all of Halo can see us.”
“You’re embarrassed to be seen with me? I haven’t even agreed to go out with you.”
“Just shut up a minute. I’m trying to think and you keep yammering.”
“Excuse me? Did you just tell me to shut up? I need Sheriff Thompson, Ronny. And there’s no way in hell that I’m going out with you.”
“You think I want to date you? Christ Almighty, Cherry Tucker. Why would I be interested in a little nothing like you?”
I opened my mouth and clamped it shut, my lips disappearing from view.
Ronny laughed. “You are just like your momma. Did anyone tell you that? Thought the world revolved around her and every man was hers for the taking. She was no more than a bitch in heat. All blonde hair and boobs. And you only got the blonde hair.” He laughed harder.
I slid closer to the door and curled my fingers around the handle. “You are a genuine asshole, Ronny Price.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He flicked a glance at me. “Don’t think about getting out of this car.”
His left hand pressed the lock before dropping toward the floor. He fumbled beside his door for a moment, his eyes on the road and right hand gripping the wheel. He jerked his left hand up, pulling my Remington Wingmaster into his lap with a finger through the trigger guard. The barrel jutted around the center console, aimed at my knees.
I pulled my knees toward my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Getting something back that was stolen from me that I stole from someone else.” Ronny accelerated past the town limits toward the countryside. The blacktop felt extraordinarily bumpy.
I slid my legs underneath me. “What did you steal?”
“What do you think? The C.S.A. coins. Which you are going to produce because I know you have them. You have to have them. You have Dustin’s stuff. Everybody in town knows that.”
I swore under my breath and hugged my knees tighter.
“You just saved me a lot of trouble. I’ve been trying to get you to help me one way or another. Now when they find your body, everyone will think Avtaikin shot you.”
“But,” I stuttered. I had unwittingly set up a semi-innocent man.
For once in my life, my mind didn’t spin in all different directions. It had slowed to cold molasses. My thoughts dribbled into a dark puddle that dimly reflected Ronny Price and my gun in his lap. I watched the low-rent houses on the outside of town dwindle. The cleared land turned to sweeps of spindly Loblolly pine and scruffy hardwoods.
“You’re telling me you stole the coins from the Bear?”
“He probably stole them himself, the Ruskie bastard. He’s been robbing me blind with his stupid house accounts in that dungeon hellhole. Didn’t even want to let me play because I wasn’t ‘the right type.’ What a snob.”
I choked back a pot-calling-the-kettle-black remark and let him continue.
“When Dustin guessed I took the coins, he broke into my house and stole them. Which means Avtaikin already knows I have them or will figure it out soon. He’s already breathing down my neck for payment. That good-for-nothing Dustin tried to blackmail me. And after all I’ve done for JB. Years of service with crappy commissions.”
“So you killed Dustin?”
I still could not believe this was Ronny Price holding a gun on me and speeding off into the sunset. Ronny Price did not seem capable of murder. Gambling? Yes. Robbery? Absolutely. He ripped people off at the dealership all the time, so stealing the coins were probably not that far out of his wheelhouse. But murder? Ronny didn’t seem to have the balls for murder.
I studied Ronny’s trembling grip on the rifle and the sweat dripping under his slick sideburns.
“What about Creepy Pete?”
“Who? You mean the other guy that works for Avtaikin?” Ronny jerked the car onto a gravel road hidden between copses of trees. “Pete was watching your house the other night, probably waiting to search for the coins. Maybe he’s just a peeping tom, but I can’t take chances. When he cornered me behind Cooper’s, I shot him. I was feeling jumpy. That’s the problem with guns.”
Ronny focused on the bumpy narrow road. I winced and curled up between the console and seat back, not wanting to be in the line of fire if the gun accidentally went off. Of course, if he shot a load through the dash, he would probably blow us both up.
“Look, I’m not going anywhere. Can you put the gun away while we’re on this road? You’ll kill us both if it goes off.”
“Shut up,” he said but slid his finger from the guard and settled the gun between the seat and door.
We bumped along a road squeezed between pines and bracken. Gravel had long dispersed from the logging lane, compressed into the clay or sprayed into the undergrowth hugging the road. Hunters used this lane all the time during season. Unfortunately we were five or six months off hunting much of anything, except maybe wild turkey, so I didn’t feel too hopeful on meeting anybody in these trees.
“Where are we?”
“Behind Avtaikin’s property. Now shut up.”
Ronny’s face wore a sheet of perspiration. His eyes flicked over the landscape with the agitated vexation of a mother sparrow. I held my tongue as we drove deeper into the wood, winding up and down a ridge, thinking of anything to save my life.
“Aren’t you worried about this beautiful car?”
Ronny jerked from his musings with a start. “What?”
“You’re going to get it covered in dirt, and you know how hard it is to wash off clay.”
He stared at me, and I could tell I pointed out an obvious fact he hadn’t considered. “If Uncle Will can match traces of this mud to the same dirt from my body — assuming you plan to shoot me in these woods – he’s got you.”
His forehead began work on some new wrinkles while his right hand slipped to his hair, smoothing the pompadour with trembling fingers. The left hand kept a white-knuckle grip on the leather steering wheel.
“Besides that,” I continued, “how are you expecting to find the coins if you shoot me in these woods? And what about my gun? Why would Mr. Max break into my house to steal my old hunting shotgun when he’s probably got a nice armory collection at home?”
Ronny’s face reddened.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing I pushed my luck. “But I just don’t think you put enough thought into this crime. Uncle Will says that’s the problem with most criminals. They’re just not smart enough to consider all their options.”
“Shut up,” Ronny exploded. “Just shut the hell up or I will shoot you right now.”
He grabbed the gun with his left hand, swung it up in his lap, and braked. The car jerked forward. Our backs hit the seat with a soft thud. Ronny grasped the keys and wrenched them from the ignition.
“Slide over the console and don’t try anything funny.” Tucking the gun under his left arm, he grabbed my wrist with his right hand, and we tumbled from the car.
“Walk.” Ronny said, directing me with the barrel of the gun.
My boots scuffled against the red dirt road, kicking an occasional piece of gravel. I squinted into the woods, wondering how far we were from civilization. There was nothing to see but the colors of the forest: dull browns, grays, the dark evergreen of native holly, and the bright green of emerging leaves. If I concentrated, I could have picked out a wider variety of hue. However my mind, for once, refused to stray from the matter at hand. Which was the crazy man holding my daddy’s gun on my back.
“Dammit, you know I’m right. Give up this idiotic plan and turn yourself in before you add more years to your sentence. Shooting me is not going to solve your problems.”
“Shooting you will solve one of my problems.” His voice rasped behind my right ear, his breath hot on my neck. “It’ll keep your jaw from flapping.”
He sounded desperate and angry, and my stomach curdled at the growing realization that I wasn’t going to be talking much longer.
“Come on, Ronny,” I whispered. “I’m not like Dustin. I’m not trying to blackmail you or steal from you. You know my family. We’re not bad people.”
“The way I figure it, you’re the only person who knows about me, except maybe Avtaikin. He’s not one to talk to the police.”
I shook my head and tried to plant my feet, but he nudged me forward.
“Oh yes and you only know because I told you. I saw your little drawings on those napkins last night. Didn’t see my picture on one of them, but I saw the bear and the cow, which is probably Avtaikin and that piece of trash, Virginia. You even had a nice little sketch of JB’s stepson, Mr. Luke. Nice group of suspects. And not a coin drawn there, either. You seemed a little obsessed with belt buckles.”
I felt sick. From fear and foolishness and sheer stupidity. I had overlooked the obvious money for the artistic bling of those belt buckles.
Ronny chuckled. “Don’t worry, I made sure those drawings are safe. Your Uncle Will will get them. And by the time he starts looking at those little pictures, you’ll be dead and I’ll be in Mexico. I put in for a vacation the day I took those coins. Wanted it to look natural when I left for my condo across the border.”
Ronny jerked my arm and spun me around. “Now, are the coins at your house?”
I swallowed and nodded.
“Where? I tore through that rickety house pretty good.”
“I can’t tell you, I have to show you.”
“Tell me or I’ll start shooting body parts until you do. You will not stop me from getting my millions. I stole them, they’re mine.”
“Millions? Max said they’re only worth thousands.”
“You think you can trick me?”
I stared into his crazed eyes and knew Ronny Price was completely delusional. Which meant I was never getting out of this forest alive.
“You play games with me, I’ll play with you.”
He placed the gun behind his feet and taped my hands. A hard shove on my shoulders sent me sprawling on the ground. Pain shot through my tailbone while my brain scrambled over various pleas and plans. Ronny yanked off my boots and hurled them into the forest along with Todd’s keys. I heard them thud into the blanket of dead leaves and pine straw. He wrapped my ankles with the silver tape.
“You are making a huge mistake. This is never going to work.”
“Just shut up.”
Ronny clenched his teeth over the tape and tore a shorter piece. He waved the tape at me. “This is for your mouth.” A slight breeze blew the free end of the tape toward his hand. The tape stuck to itself.
“Damn it,” he cried and ripped off another piece. With eyes gleaming, he bent toward me. “Now tell me where those coins are. I’m warning you. I don’t want to hear anything else come out of your mouth.”
“No way in hell.”
Ronny tossed the tape and slapped my face instead. My ears rang and stars lit my vision. His grin revealed his pleasure in battering people. Ronny Price popped me with the flashlight, killed Dustin with a torque wrench, and completely enjoyed it.
He slapped me with such force it was nearly a punch, and I pulled my knees toward my chest and thrust them at Ronny, knocking him backward. I threw myself over the gun, trying to pin it beneath me. Ronny pitched on to his feet, leaned over, and easily pushed me to the side. My knees straddled the gun, and I heaved myself back on top. But then Ronny kicked me, hard. The kick sent me rolling and my knees drew up into my stomach. My eyes and nose ran while I inhaled the dirt and bits of leaves lying under my face.
“If I don’t find those coins, I am going to come back and kill you.”
My eyes widened as he snatched the gun. Ronny gripped the barrel and raised it high above me. I felt a light rush of air stir my hair, and the glossy walnut stock came crashing down. I rolled to the side and felt the gun catch my hair as it slammed into the ground. I continued the roll and found myself staring into Ronny’s astonished face. Before he could think to raise the gun, I drew in my legs. My feet shot out and smashed into his groin. He turned an astonishing shade of green-tinged white and buckled. I kicked again, this time slamming my heels against his nose. Blood spurted. Ronny tipped forward and the gun fell sideways.
I heard his faint cursing and knew the recovery period from getting kicked in the balls wouldn’t take long. And he would be pretty pissed about that broken nose. I threw my body on top of that gun again and shuffled inchworm style. My only thought was to get my daddy’s gun out of Ronny’s reach.
With my fingers curled around the gun stock grip and my chest flattened against the barrel, my Remington scraped across the ground below me. Weeds and vines whacked my swelling cheek. One tear trickled out my puffy eye.
“You get back here,” Ronny called. “Or as soon as I get up, I’m going to make you wish you had.”
Crawling to escape wasn’t an option. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to keep my back to him. I halted my creep forward and shuffled in a wide pivot to face him. Ronny sat with his knees pulled up, tentatively feeling his nose. Spattered blood besmirched his apricot shirt and tasseled loafers. His face looked none too good, but I feared it was a sight better than mine.
With an undignified half-roll, I hauled myself to sitting and scooted backward until my back hit a tree. I wedged the gunstock between my thighs and aimed the muzzle at Ronny. His laugh, short and brittle, sent a new flurry of goosebumps to prickle my skin.
“This is how it’s going down. You’re going to give me that gun and I’m going to leave you here. By the time you get to town, I’ll be on my way to Mexico.”
“You must think I’m pretty stupid,” I panted, fighting the nauseating clenching in my belly. I couldn’t catch a breath with the piercing pain in my side.
He pushed himself off the ground.
I slid my hands off the grip and to the trigger guard, feeling for the safety.
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“Guess you’ll find out.”
I waited a tic, watching his feet for a change in direction. I prayed he would take the smarter option and drive away. Approach me and he’d make a pretty big target. I couldn’t let him take my gun. My finger slipped around the trigger. I held my breath.
“I need those coins, Cherry.”
I pressed myself against the tree and slid my knees a little higher. If he didn’t take off this would hurt. Real bad.
“This is your last chance. Give me the gun.” He stepped forward.
“Stop where you are.”
A bird cawed and Ronny lurched at me. I pulled the trigger and screamed at the burn. Then I pulled off another shot. The scorching pain knocked me sideways. My head smacked the earth. An avalanche of sticks and leaves showered me. Out of the corner of my eye, I registered a large branch falling.
I took that crack to the noggin as blessed relief.