Murder in the River City by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online Page B

here to deputize you. I’m here to tell you to back off.”
    “Like hell I will. That Detective Black—is he a friend of yours? Because he’s an ass and doesn’t believe me. I know there’s something wonky about the killers leaving the Babe Ruth baseball. They knew it was a fake, otherwise they would have taken it.”
    Her instincts, her gut, told her she was right, that the theft wasn’t what it appeared to be. She bit her lip and looked at Sam. It was bad enough he was back in Sacramento—to remind her of what a fool she’d been—but she thought for sure she’d have until the next family gathering before having to see him. She’d have forewarning, Mike would have clued her in. She’d have gone prepared. Ready.
    Instead, wham!
    She hadn’t been ready. She doubted she ever would be. But it was nice to think she might have been prepared if she’d had just a little more notice.
    “Shauna?”
    “Promise to just listen.”
    He nodded and leaned forward. “All ears.”
    She hesitated. She wanted to trust him—Sam was not only a cop, but he was a family friend and he knew Mack. He cared about Dooley. But if Detective Black’s response was any indication of how the police were treating this matter, would Sam be any different? He was one of them. Sam probably liked the big, bad cop.
    “Well,” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one could overhear, “I think whoever killed Mack is a regular.”
    “Of Dooley’s ?” Sam asked, his voice full of skepticism.
    She put her hands on her hips. “What’s so strange about that? And didn’t you not one minute ago promise to listen and not jump to conclusions?”
    He put his hands up. “You’re right. I’ll hear you out.”
    “They left the Babe Ruth baseball!” she exclaimed, exasperated, then glanced around. No one appeared to be paying attention. Charlie sat a couple seats over with his pal Skip drinking drafts. At the table behind Sam, three guys from the nearby Campbell Soup factory had come in after the early shift and were filling up on long necks and pretzels.
    She leaned closer. The scent of Sam’s soap with a hint of Bay Rum hit her nose. She lost her train of thought for a moment.
    “Babe?” Sam asked, his voice low.
    “Ruth,” she said. The baseball. Right. She took a deep breath. “It’s a fake,” she reminded him.
    “And?”
    “And they left it but took the others. Anyone who knows anything about baseball autographs knows that Mickey Mantle is the most forged signature, but Dooley had an authentic Mantle. Babe Ruth? It’s worth even more if real, but they left it.”
    “Probably knew it was a fake,” Sam said.
    She threw her hands up. “That’s what the stupid detective said! Do you guys all go to the same detective school?”
    She stomped over to the Guinness tap, this time taking care in building her beer. Calm down . He’s only trying to help , she reminded herself. It wasn’t his fault she’d been half in love with him from the time she hit puberty. That she kissed him when he graduated from college, without even thinking he’d be freaked out about her being seventeen. And then she threw herself into his arms when she learned he was getting a divorce from that bitch Emma. Okay, okay, maybe Emma wasn’t really a bitch. Shauna didn’t know because she steered clear of her. But she’d married Sam. The witch .
    And then she cheated on him.
    Okay, she was a bitch. Shauna, who only went to church because her grandfather guilted her into it, was conservative enough to believe wedding vows meant something. Commitment. Loyalty. Love.
    She’d been ready to marry Jason Butler because Sam was married, which meant he was completely off-limits, and she wasn’t going to pine away for the rest of her life over a man she could never have. When Sam arrested him for fraud, she’d been devastated—she hadn’t seen it. Jason was a nice guy, all the way around. She didn’t believe it … except he was convicted. Yet, she’d