Ren carried his duffel and his guitar case into his condo and pushed the door shut behind him. God, that was a long way to drive for a two-day festival. He dumped his duffel and guitar case on the sofa and collapsed in the recliner. But professional and semi-professional musicians did it all the time. Kylie obviously thought nothing of it and instead mentioned that The Barstows were scheduled to perform in Missouri next month, which would be a twelve-or-more-hour trip hauling a camper. Not a trip he was looking forward to, if it yielded as little information as this one had.
Ren got a soda out of the fridge and scrolled down to Sawyer Ellison’s number. “So what did you learn over the weekend?” Sawyer demanded without preamble.
“Damn little. There was one odd incident but the rest of the weekend was on the up and up.”
“So tell me about the one odd incident.”
Ren recounted Royce’s remark and Kylie’s reaction to it. “I wouldn’t have thought so much about the crack if it hadn’t been for her reaction. What he said, it really got to her.”
“Interesting. And then there’s the question of whether he just made a random nasty crack that inadvertently hit the nail on the head or whether he really knows something. So give me his name, the clown who made the crack, and I’ll see what I can find out about him.”
Ren gave Sawyer both Royce and Archer’s names. “But again, except for her reaction to that crack out of Royce, I saw absolutely nothing amiss all weekend, and we were together most of the time. She did nothing even remotely suspicious. So I have to ask: is Kylie the only one responsible, or is somebody else involved?”
“Ren, I’ve never denied that somebody else in that club could be involved. In fact, it’s quite likely. So how well have you gotten to know the others?”
“Not all that well,” Ren admitted. “I’ve concentrated on her.”
“So branch out a little. Get to know the others in the band, and even the peripheral employees if you can manage it. Any more festivals coming up?”
“One in Missouri next month at the Hunter’s Villa Campground—what’s so funny?” he demanded when Sawyer started to laugh.
“Oh, man, that festival’s famous for the drugs. You have to hold your breath in the campground to keep from getting high, and there’s plenty of other stuff, too. Now, if Kylie or any of the others are dealing, that festival’s where it would happen. So between now and then, make big buddies with the rest of the band. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Sawyer disconnected from his end and Ren took a swig of his beer. So now getting to know Kylie wasn’t enough and Sawyer wanted him to schmooze the entire family. But Sawyer was right. It was not only possible but highly likely that Kylie, if she indeed was guilty of peddling drugs, was not peddling them alone. And it was less likely, though still in the realm of possibility, that she wasn’t the one selling them at all, but that another Barstow was guilty. So schmooze them he would, and see what he could turn up on the rest of the Barstow clan.
***
Ren pulled up in front of Kylie’s house and parked behind Cooper’s big Dodge pickup truck. Talk about an opportunity; he had been trying to find ways of getting to know the Barstow clan better when Danny and Bridget volunteered the news that the Barstow clan was throwing the family matriarch a birthday party on Sunday afternoon and asked if he would like to come. Surprisingly, Kylie seconded the invitation, assuring him that friends and Acoustics staff as well as family would be there and that he would be more than welcome. So here he was, with a bottle of wine for his hostess and a bouquet of flowers for the guest of honor and every intention of getting to know the rest of the family today. Hopefully he would also be getting a sense of who might be in cahoots with Kylie, or who might be moving the drugs on their own.
He plastered a smile on his face that turned genuine when Bridget opened the front door. “Come on in. The party’s all over the house and there’s food upstairs and down.”
Bridget led him up a half flight and through a crowded living-dining room into the kitchen, where finger foods and party sandwiches and big bowls of chips were spread out on the sizeable island. Kylie, looking fresh and innocent in a blue flowered sundress, was taking a sheet of fruit-filled tarts out of the oven and Timberlynn was filling paper cups with ice. An attractive redhead, somewhere in her sixties but with long curling hair and the sensuality of a much younger woman, was loading cookies onto a platter. “Come on, Mom, you don’t have to pull KP at your own birthday party,” Kylie protested. “Grab something with alcohol in it and go visit with your friends.” She turned around and smiled. “Well, hello, Ren. Glad you made it this afternoon. Mom, this is Reynolds Campbell, the guitar player who’s helping us out right now. Ren, my mother, Lexi Barstow.”
Ren smiled and handed Lexi the bouquet. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Barstow.” He put the chilled wine with the rest of the bottles on the counter.
Lexi smiled and smelled the fragrant roses. “How lovely of you, Ren. And make it Lexi, please. Mrs. Barstow’s my mother-in-law.” Lexi’s voice was low and smoky, nothing like Kylie’s sweet soprano, and Lexi had none of Kylie’s ethereal aura. She looked her fill at Ren and made no bones about sizing him up. “Kylie and Cooper are both singing your praises, and for them to do that, you must be one hell of a musician.”
“It’s easy to be one hell of a musician with a group as talented as The Barstows. You’re also a musician, I hear.”
“I was. Now I teach music and occasionally go in and sing. Not too often, since Timberlynn can sing all my parts.”
“I grew up listening to Aunt Lexi sing and wanting to sing just like her,” Timberlynn, Jake’s shapely wife, volunteered. “My parents were big fans of The Barstows and they took all of us kids to hear them every chance they got.”
Kylie handed Ren a paper plate. “Get you something to eat. Wine’s up here and beer kegs are down in the music room and out on the deck.”
“And the guys?”
“Pitching horseshoes in the backyard. Make yourself at home, please.”
Ren piled his plate with finger sandwiches and fried chicken wings and corn chips covered in cheese dip, not the hot queso he was used to in San Antonio but passable nevertheless. He wandered through a sunroom to the second-story deck, also teeming with guests, that looked out over a distant haze-enveloped mountain and almost an acre of backyard, where Cooper and Jake were pitching horseshoes with a big group of laughing, teasing men. Mindful of today’s objective, he polished off the plate of food, filled a paper cup from the beer keg and wandered down the outdoor stairs to the grassy yard. “Yo, Ren! Come over here and show us what you can do.” Jake’s smile was big as he motioned for Ren to join them.
Ren nodded. He stepped into the group of men and watched Cooper expertly land a horseshoe around the stake in the ground. “Not bad for a one-armed gimp,” Jake teased as Cooper shot him an amused go-to-hell look.
Cooper grinned and landed four more horseshoes around the stake. “Cousin of mine, I was doing this when you were still crawling around under Uncle Joe’s feet in a dirty diaper. Get over here, preacher, and show us what you think you can do.”
Jake retrieved the horseshoes and stepped up to the chalked line on the grass. Not anywhere as skillful as Cooper, he only landed two of the horseshoes around the stake and was greeted with a chorus of boos. “Jake, you better just stick to preaching,” Bradley teased as he retrieved the two horseshoes from the stake and the other three out of the grass.
Jake stepped back over to Ren. “So in your other life you’re a preacher,” Ren said.
“Sure am. That’s why I missed the festival in Arkansas—the church had a youth retreat that weekend. We have a small congregation and I pretty much do everything.”
“Timberlynn too?”
“That lovely lady more than pulls her weight as the preacher’s wife, but she also teaches kindergarten. We’re saving every penny we can so that at some point we can either buy into Acoustics with Kylie and Cooper or open something similar in Asheville.”
Ren looked at Jake thoughtfully. “Interesting. In the old days a lot of church people thought making music like we do in a club was a sin.”
Jake laughed. “That they did. And the funny part was, those good people were making some of the same music in their churches. Thankfully, none of my congregation seems to feel that way.” He turned to his brother. “Okay, Bradley, let’s see if carpenters are any better at this than preachers.”
Bradley got a respectable four out of five horseshoes around the stake. Some of the others took a turn and Ren, who hadn’t pitched a horseshoe in years, managed to land three. He finished off his beer and wandered back up the stairs, where an older man bearing a striking resemblance to Jake stepped out onto the patio. His gait was slow and measured and he leaned heavily on a cane. “Uncle Joe, why don’t you and Camille sit in the glider here,” Kylie said as she followed Joe out on the patio with a plate of food.
Joe took three more steps and sank painfully into the wooden glider. “Don’t mind if I do.” He took the plate of food and eyed Ren up and down. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”
Ren offered his hand. “Ren Campbell. I’m helping out until you’re able to return.”
“And I thank you for that.” Joe’s smile was warm and wide. “This”—he gestured to his midsection—“turned out to be a lot worse than it was supposed to.” He looked behind Ren and his eyes lit up. “There’s my Jake. Come here boy, and give your daddy a great big old hug.”
Ren stood aside as Jake grinned and obliged. A minute later Bradley came up the steps, but rather than share a similar hug, Bradley merely shook his father’s hand. Nor did Joe seem all that excited to see Bradley.
At that moment a thin, almost brittle-looking woman stepped out onto the deck. She looked around and her mouth tightened when she saw Joe with his sons. With disdain on her face for both Jake and Bradley, she stepped over to the glider and sat down beside Joe. “So where have you two been lately? Our yard needs mowing.”
“Oops. Sorry about that. We’ll take care of it.” Jake’s smile never faltered and he seemed unfazed by her rudeness.
Bradley’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t know you needed help, Camille. Dad should have said something.”
“Now honey, I didn’t call them,” Joe said to Camille. “The boys have things to do. They don’t have time to fool with our grass.”
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt them to help you a little.”
Ren stepped forward. “I’m Ren Campbell. I’m playing with the band until Mr. Barstow gets better.”
“I’m Camille Barstow. I gather you know my stepsons?”
Emphasis on “step.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
Camille turned back to Jake and Bradley. “So when can you come do the yard for your father?”
Jake and Bradley dickered around with a date and time and finally settled on Monday evening. And it was interesting—while Jake didn’t seem to mind in the least coming to help, Bradley was clearly put out by Camille’s demand, and his voice and posture were stiff as he and Jake took leave of Joe.
Camille sniffed. “Ungrateful little bastard.” She turned to Ren. “Brad’s not even a Barstow. Joe adopted him when he married Jake’s mother, Sadie.”
“Jake’s mine,” Joe said proudly.
And Bradley had been the odd man out all his life. Not that feeling left out in and of itself would make a man deal in drugs, but who knew how a burning resentment might manifest itself?
Ren made a bit more small talk with Joe and Camille before taking his leave. He wandered back in the house, where at Kylie’s urging he filled another plate and was headed downstairs until Lexi spotted him and patted the empty spot beside her on the sofa. “So, tell me about yourself,” she invited as Ren settled in beside her.
Ren launched into a brief version of his cover story. He finished that as quickly as he could and deftly turned the tables, asking Lexi about the early years of The Barstows. She rewarded him with an enthusiastic recounting of how she and Johnny and the rest of the band hauled old campers to just about every bluegrass and folk festival in driving distance, most of the time with Kylie and Cooper in tow. “It’s no wonder my kids ended up making music. Johnny and I didn’t give them much choice.”
“You didn’t give us much choice about what?” Cooper carried in a beer in his good hand and a plate of food wedged between the pincers of his prosthesis. He took a chair that had just been vacated and set his plate and beer on the coffee table.
“Making music. We had both of you up in front of audiences when you were younger than Bridget.”
“Aw, come on, Mom. It’s in our blood. Something in the Barstow genes.” Something Ren couldn’t identify flashed across Lexi’s face. “It didn’t seem to hurt either one of us.” Cooper popped a tart in his mouth. “And when we got old enough to make a choice, neither of us walked away.” He tapped his prosthesis with his good hand. “Even this didn’t make me quit, although I came damn near close. But then Dad told me I was a tougher SOB than that and he was right. He was right a lot of the time.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lexi murmured.
Cooper shrugged. “He never let me down. Speaking of letting kids down, Eileen took another month-long assignment overseas. She won’t be here when school starts.”
“And you’re surprised because?” Lexi turned to Ren. “This has been his ex-wife’s modus operandi for years.”
“I didn’t say I was surprised. She lets them down all the time. I’m just tired of it.”
“You’re tired, period. Things will look a lot better once Acoustics gets on its feet. So tell me: how are things going down there?”
Cooper glanced at Ren. “At the risk of scaring off our new talent, if it weren’t for the money Kylie’s putting up every month we’d be shutting our doors. Thank God she and Tommy were able to save so much. I hope to hell it lasts until the club gets on its feet.”
Was it his imagination, or did something flash across Lexi’s face for the second time? “Well, you just have to be glad of that and look on the bright side.”
“Bright sides are usually covered with a coat of tarnish. And on that note, I promised my girls I’d take them on in a game of World of Warcraft.”
“You can handle that with one hand?”
Cooper’s mouth twisted. “I do what needs must.”
Lexi watched with worried eyes as Cooper disappeared down the stairs. “He’s been like that since he lost his arm. Cynical about everything. But he’s a smart man, though, and nothing gets past him.” Like an undercover musician on the DEA payroll snooping around his club?
Ren picked up his cup. “Can I get you anything else?”
Lexi grinned. “Wouldn’t mind.”
Ren picked up her wine glass and went over a little of what he’d learned this afternoon. Jake and Timberlynn. Although he knew better than to completely discount anyone with access to that club, he couldn’t fathom a minister and a kindergarten teacher peddling dope. Bradley? The outsider with a chip on his shoulder? Maybe. Joe, or Joe and Camille? Two months ago he would have left them off the list, but after the debacle in San Antonio he knew full well that senior citizens weren’t above dealing if it suited their purposes. Cooper? He could very well be involved, and would be damned hard to catch if he was. And what about Lexi? She probably wasn’t down at the club enough to be involved with the drugs. But she definitely had secrets.
***
Kylie pulled what had to be the tenth cookie sheet of tarts out of the oven. “That’s the last of those, thank goodness. If these get eaten up they’ll just have to snack on something else.”
Timberlynn looked over the food-laden platters on the island. “I think we can keep ’em fed for the rest of the afternoon. Say, can you spare me a minute? Jake just came in the back door and he wants me for a few.”
Kylie nodded. Timberlynn disappeared into the dining room just as Ren came in the kitchen carrying a wine glass and a beer cup. “Your mom needs a refill.”
“Here.” Kylie took the glass from Ren, brushing his fingers in the process, and poured in the last of the Moscato. Although he had held her hand more than once, still the brush of his fingers against hers sent a shiver of awareness up her arm and throughout her body, causing her to smile a little as she handed Lexi’s glass back to Ren. He gave her a crooked smile that turned to puzzlement when a shrill whistle sounded in the living room. “Everybody, come in the living room and listen up.” Jake’s deep baritone resonated throughout the house. “Timberlynn and I have an announcement to make.”
The partygoers crowded into the living room. Jake took Timberlynn’s hand and held it high in the air. “We want all of you to know that in six and a half months, Timberlynn’s gonna make me a daddy!”
Kylie sucked in her breath as the old hurt punched her in the gut. “That’s good. That’s so good,” she murmured as the men yelled and the women cheered. She made herself smile as she turned to Ren. “They’ll be wonderful parents, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure they will. Shall we add our congratulations to everybody else’s?”
Kylie nodded and they made their way through the crowded living room. By the time they reached Jake and Timberlynn, Kylie had gotten past her momentary pain and was ready to offer sincere congratulations. She was happy for Timberlynn and Jake, and her smile was real and her warm wishes genuine as she shared in their happiness. But the news left her pensive, and she knew she was quieter than normal and hoped that in the bustle of the party and the excitement over the new baby that nobody noticed.
And nobody did, except Ren. He looked at her curiously a few times as the cake was cut and the party wound down, and when it would have been time for him to leave, he instead volunteered to help with the cleanup and shooed Lexi and Timberlynn out the door.
“I’d be noble and send you home, too, but I’m too tired,” Kylie said to Ren. “Any idea what shape downstairs is in?”
“Your brother handed garbage sacks to the mighty trio and bribed them with tickets to the IMAX if they’d get downstairs cleaned up. I looked down there after they left and it didn’t look too bad.” Ren started bagging the uneaten buffalo wings.
Kylie got out a garbage bag. “Thank goodness. So what do you think of our music room?”
“A musician’s dream come true. What all do you have down there?”
“Let’s see. Mom’s spinet piano, a 1914 pump organ that’s been restored, two portable keyboards, three acoustic guitars and Tommy’s dobro, two mandolins, two hammered dulcimers—Tommy’s mother’s and Danny’s new one—and six mountain dulcimers. A bowed psaltery I bought but haven’t learned to play yet. And we put in a wooden clogging floor when we remodeled a couple of years ago. Plus some portable amplification for when we do outdoor events. My late husband tended to go overboard when it came to his music. Among other things.”
Ren put the leftover buffalo wings in the refrigerator and started bagging up the chips. “Doesn’t sound all that unreasonable. My grandparents just about filled their living room with instruments. It was their only luxury.” He paused a minute. “How about the rest of the band? Do they collect instruments, too?”
“Oh, yes. Cooper has a house full of fiddles, three bowed psalteries, several dulcimers and a baby grand piano, and Jake and Timberlynn have a fiddle and banjo collection to die for. Although with a baby coming, they may not be able to keep on indulging. Not that I feel too sorry for them.” She felt Ren’s eyes on her and cringed at the bite in her tone. “Sorry. Bit of a sore subject with me.”
“Oh?”
“I’m happy for Timberlynn and at the same time as jealous as hell. Which makes me not a nice person.” She shoved a stack of dirty paper plates in her garbage bag.
Ren did not seem particularly surprised. “I get the feeling that somebody needs to talk about it. Why don’t I pour us each a glass of wine and we go out on the deck, enjoy the sunset and you can tell me why you feel the way you do.”
Why not? Maybe talking about it would help.
Ren poured two glasses of wine and they carried them out to the glider. “So you’re jealous of Timberlynn’s baby.”
Kylie sipped her wine. “Yes. I would have loved another child.”
“I’m sure you would have. So why just Danny? Did nature let you down after he was born?”
“I thought so for a long time. But no, nature didn’t let me down. Tommy did, even though I didn’t know it for years.” Kylie took a breath. “The rat bastard got a vasectomy and didn’t tell me. I didn’t find out until after he was dead and I read it in his medical records.”
Ren whistled through his teeth. “Pretty rotten of him.”
“Oh, he was capable of rotten, all right. He was with his girlfriend when they were murdered out in front of a sex shop in Johnson City. From what her family told police, Tommy had been stepping out with her for two years before he died. Stupid me, I believed him when he said he was working late because he had such a heavy client load.”
“Lawyer?”
“Accountant. And head deacon at Jake’s church. Helluva funeral sermon poor Jake had to deliver.”
“Did he lie about other things?”
You bet he did. “I don’t know. He lied well enough that I couldn’t tell when he was telling the truth and when he wasn’t. And it’s left me absolutely hating liars and lying. If there’s one thing I’m going to insist on the next time I get seriously involved with a man, it’s going to be complete and total honesty out of him. I’m simply not going to be lied to again.”
Ren was quiet for a moment. “And you deserve that. Every woman does.” He took Kylie’s hand, and they sat silently, sipping their wine and watching as the gleaming coppery sun sank slowly behind the distant mountains, leaving them a dark, mist-shrouded silhouette. The air was still and the croaks and coos of night slowly replaced the chirping birds and barking dogs of daytime. Kylie felt a sense of peace steal over her, surrounding her in its comfort. She was conscious of the man sitting beside her, the warmth of his leg next to hers, his smooth palm and calloused fingertips caressing her hand, his gentle breathing as he gently pushed the glider to and fro. Her troubles, her anger at Tommy, her jealousy of Timberlynn, and her worries about the future of Acoustics, all faded from her mind. All she could think about was the man sitting beside her.
Finally, Ren turned to face her. “Kylie, I’m going to kiss you,” he said as he let go of her hand and took her face between his palms. “I think it’s time.”
“I think it’s time, too,” Kylie whispered as she leaned forward to meet Ren’s lips.
The kiss began as a gentle one, as Ren gently touched and nibbled, but that was not enough for either of them and with a surprising surge of passion they came together, their lips open in mutual exploration as they deepened their embrace. Ren pulled Kylie closer to him, one hand behind her head and the other around her waist, his arms as strong as iron but his hands tender as they cradled her. Kylie slowly ran her hands around Ren’s body, touching him with unabashed delight as she explored his lean, muscled back and sides, glorying in the flex of the muscles under his knit shirt. Ren’s hand crept up from her waist to the warm skin of her back left bare by the sundress, his calloused fingertips especially tantalizing as he touched and stroked her naked skin. What was it about his man, she wondered as she opened her lips and boldly explored with the tip of her tongue. She hadn’t felt this kind of desire ever, not even when she and Tommy had first fallen in love. Where had this kind of depth come from? What was it about Ren that reached out to her so? How was it that a mere kiss could set her on fire like this?
Not that this kiss was a “mere” anything. Lost in mutual exploration, she barely noticed when Ren pulled her even closer, so that her breasts, already hot little points of need, were plastered up next to his rock-hard chest, and she could see the evidence of his desire for her in his snugly fitting jeans. They clung together for long moments as their lips and tongues and fingers touched and shared and explored, and it was with obvious reluctance that Ren finally lifted his head from hers and stared deeply into her eyes. “Wow.”
Kylie nodded. “Wow.”
“Better cut that out, hadn’t we, before we give the neighbors too much of a show.” Ren smiled at her crookedly.
Kylie gasped. “I hope it’s dark enough they didn’t see anything.”
“So should we…” He glanced behind him toward the door.
Kylie bit her lip and shook her head. “Not just yet. I—I’m not…I need more time, Ren. I need to know you better.”
Ren leaned forward for a quick, gentle kiss. “I figured that. I know you’re not that kind of woman. But I’d be a fool not to ask.”
“Thanks for understanding. And thanks for listening.”
“My pleasure.”
***
Ren stared out the car window at Kylie’s front door, cursing the ache in his groin that would be hours going away. Damn, he hadn’t been this hot for a woman in years, and if she’d taken him up on his invitation they’d be doing the mattress tango about now. Instead, they had shared a couple more kisses and then cleaned up after the party, and here he was staring at the house and cringing at the irony that was not lost on him. Kylie Richards hated lying. She hated liars and promised herself that she would never become involved with another liar again. And then she had kissed the socks off the biggest liar in Kingsport.
Or was he? Sure, he was lying up one side and down the other to her, but she was sure as hell lying, too. She knew damn well that Tommy Richards had been dishonest about more than the woman, and she was lying through her teeth about the money that was keeping Acoustics afloat. As to which of them was the bigger liar? That honor was up for grabs.
But the passion they shared? That was all too real, and while sex with Kylie would be spectacular, a part of him had been secretly relieved when she’d turned him down. He was at the core a decent man, and he hated the thought of using the genuine passion they shared against her. Not that he was convinced she was innocent. Far from it. But even if she was guilty, he wasn’t sure she deserved that kind of betrayal.