Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies Read online

  Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies

  Rose Gardner Mystery #8

  Denise Grover Swank

  DGS

  Contents

  Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  About the Author

  Thirty-Five and a Half Conspiracies

  Rose Gardner Mystery #8

  Rose Gardner has survived plenty of close scrapes in the past, but her latest bit of trouble has landed her in the Fenton County holding cell on trumped up charges. The most powerful man in southern Arkansas, J.R. Simmons, is determined to put her behind bars for good and destroy everything she holds dear, including her boyfriend, Mason, and her friend Skeeter, reigning king of the Fenton County crime world. In a stunning betrayal, it seems as if J.R.’s son, Rose’s ex-boyfriend, might have turned tail and joined his father.

  But Rose doesn’t have to face this fight alone. Her tight-knit group of friends is dedicated to helping her figure out—and foil—J.R.’s plan for ruining her, Mason, and Skeeter. But even with their support and the use of her special power, Rose is at a disadvantage. J.R. is a criminal mastermind who has been using his money, power, and web of influence to hide his conspiracies for years. How can she hope to find solid evidence implicating someone who’s mastered the art of not getting caught?

  Time is running out, and soon Rose realizes that reassuming her role of the Lady in Black might be her only chance at ferreting out the evidence that will save them all. In so doing, she will risk not only her life, but the possibility that her secret identity will be unveiled to all.

  Copyright © 2015 by Denise Grover Swank

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  They say sitting in a jail cell can make you reevaluate your life.

  As I sat in Fenton County lockup—charged with my own momma’s murder—I was definitely learning the truth of that statement.

  I sat on the lower bunk of a bed while the three women who shared the cell eyed me liked I’d just announced I was from the planet Jupiter. Of course, their reaction might have had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t stopped crying once in the last hour.

  One of the women sat down next to me. She had long blond hair and looked to be in her late twenties. If it weren’t for her rotten teeth, she would remind me a little bit of my best friend, Neely Kate. “I’m Rhea, and these two are Tawana and Janie.”

  The dark-complected woman sitting cross-legged on the bed across from me lifted her hand at Tawana, and the older gray-haired woman standing in the corner nodded at Janie.

  “I’m Rose.”

  Rhea patted my hand. “Is it your first time getting arrested, honey?”

  I nodded and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. I considered telling her I’d been locked up before. But I was pretty sure neither time counted since this was the first time I’d been put in full lockup in a bright orange jumpsuit.

  “What were you arrested for?”

  “Murder.” I broke down into tears again, thoroughly disgusted with myself but unable to stop.

  This was bad. Very bad. I wasn’t sure my boyfriend, Mason, could get me out of it now that he’d lost his job as the Fenton County Assistant District Attorney.

  The other two women eyed me with new respect, and Rhea moved away a few inches. “You don’t say.”

  “I didn’t do it, though,” I gushed out. “I was framed.”

  Tawana tsked as she crossed her arms and shook her head. “Ain’t we all, baby girl. Ain’t we all.”

  “Was yer man beatin’ ya?” Rhea asked. “So you killed him in self-defense?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It was my mother.”

  “Damn,” Tawana said, shaking her head. “That’s cold.”

  “But I didn’t do it,” I protested. “Daniel Crocker did it. But J.R. Simmons made it look like I paid him to do it.”

  All three women were now openly staring, and it occurred to me that I should probably have kept all of that to myself.

  “Let me get this straight,” Janie piped up from the corner. “You paid Daniel Crocker to kill yer momma?” She scrunched up her face. “And he did it?”

  “No. He killed her, but I never paid him to do it. In fact, I’m pretty doggone sure he intended to kill me instead.”

  “Rose.” Tawana snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Well, I’ll be damned. Yer Rose Gardner, ain’t ya?”

  I wasn’t sure admitting that was a good idea either.

  Janie gave me a long cold stare. “Yer the one who killed him.”

  There was no use denying it. I’d killed him in self-defense, but I’d long since learned that quite a few people in Fenton County had practically worshipped the man. They liked to ignore the fact that he’d been a sadistic sociopath.

  Janie began to stalk toward me. “I worked for him. At least I did until you killed him.”

  “So why don’t you work for Skeeter Malcolm now?” I asked. Hopefully my question would distract her from physical violence.

  She laughed, but it wasn’t a friendly sound. “What does a Mary Sue like you know about Skeeter Malcolm?”

  A whole lot more than she’d ever suspect. “What did you do for Crocker?”

  She released a bitter chuckle. “What? You conducting a job interview?”

  I shrugged, happy that I’d been distracted enough to stop crying. “I’ve got nothing but time, so why not tell me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I worked in his greenhouse. Used to grow his pot.”

  “Maybe I can help you get a new job. What are you willin’ to do?”

  Janie started to speak, but Tawana leaned forward and whacked her on the arm. “What are you doin’? Don’t you know who she is?”

  Janie nodded. “Yeah, she’s Rose Gardner. The woman who killed Daniel Crocker.”

  “She’s also Rose Gardner, girlfriend to the assistant DA.”

  The woman’s eyes widened in fear.

  “But he’s not the ADA anymore,” I said. “He lost his job tonight.”

  “I still wouldn’t trust her,” Tawana harrumphed. “She also used to date the chief deputy sheriff.”

  “Damn, girl,” Rhea said a little wistfully. “You get around.”

  There was no denying I’d dated both men, but I was fairly sure they didn’t want to hear that my former boyfriend had taken a front-row seat while that witch Deputy Hoffstetter arrested me.

  Tawana crossed her arms. “They put her here to spy on us.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m not spying on anyone.”

  Janie closed the distance between us. She grabbed my arm, hauled me to my feet, and slammed me against the bars. Grabbing my jumpsuit in her fists, she leaned in until we practically stood nose to nose.

  “I don’t like snitches,” she snarled.

  And that’s when I felt the beginning of a vision.

  I would have groaned if I had been capable of it, but once a vision got its hooks into me, it wouldn’t let go until it was done. The visions only lasted a few seconds, and I looked kind of zoned out when I was having one. That was easy enough to explain, but the fact that I would uncontrollably blurt out a description of whatever I’d seen? Not so much.

  My vision grew fuzzy and the jail cell disappeared. I was standing in a kitchen next to a man in a white tank top and basketball shorts. He had a respirator mask in his hand.

  “I don’t want to do any more jail time, Titus,” I said in Janie’s voice. “Next time I’m going back for good.”

  “Then get the hell out,” he said. “I ain’t gonna quit a six-figure job to save your sorry ass.”

  When the vision faded, Janie’s eyeballs were inches from mine.

  “He ain’t gonna quit to save your sorry ass,” I said. “He told you to get out.”

  Her eyes flew open and her fists tightened on my jumpsuit. “What did you just say?”

  “Makin’ friends already, I see,” a man said in a dry tone. With great hesitation, I took my gaze off the threat in front of me to assess the possible threat beyond the bars.

  Carter Hale gave me a sardonic grin as he hooked his thumbs on his belt. “I see you’ve met Janie. She’s a gentle spirit.”

  I wouldn’t have used that phrase to describe her, but who was I to quibble when she was about to strangle me?

&nbs
p; Carter gave her a frown. “Janie, would you be kind enough to take your hands off my client?”

  “Your client?” both of us screeched.

  Janie dropped her fists from my jumpsuit and scowled at the defense attorney. “You defending this white bread bitch?”

  He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Looks like it, and I’d like her to show up for her arraignment on Monday without a bruised face, so I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands off her.”

  “She’s gonna snitch to Simmons about what we’ve done.”

  “I’m pretty damn sure she has enough of a beef with Chief Deputy Simmons that she has no plans to talk to him any time soon. Which means your secrets are safe.”

  Janie grumbled as a guard approached the cell door.

  He scanned the room and his gaze landed on me as he opened the door. “Gardner, I need you to step out.”

  “Do I get to go home now?”

  Janie laughed. “She don’t know shit, does she?”

  Carter’s smart-ass grin softened as I walked through the opening. “Sorry, that’s not likely to happen until Monday. This is just a chance for you and I to have a little get-to-know-you chat.”

  The guard led us down a hall and into a small room with a table and two chairs. Once we were alone, Carter gestured to one of the chairs. “After you.”

  I took a seat and waited as he pulled his legal pad out of his bag and placed it on the table in front of him. He glanced up and shot me an ornery grin. “It looks like you needed that get-out-of-jail-free card after all.”

  Before I was arrested, he’d handed Neely Kate and me a business card, telling us he had a feeling we’d need it. It was hard to believe it had only been the day before.

  “Where’s Mason?” I asked.

  His shoulders shifted in a lazy roll. “Hell if I know.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Didn’t he hire you?”

  He looked me over and leaned his forearm on the table. “Here’s the thing, I’m not supposed to tell anyone why I took this case … including you. But that hardly seems fair considering you’re trusting me to represent you.” He shifted his weight as his eyes pierced mine. “And I confess, my curiosity is piqued. So how about I answer your question with a question of my own: How do you know Skeeter Malcolm?”

  The blood rushed from my face. “How would I know Skeeter Malcolm?”

  A lazy grin lifted the corners of his mouth as something flickered in his eyes. I realized that while Carter Hale oozed the persona of laziness, he was anything but.

  “I suppose it’s not important who convinced you to take my case,” I said, hoping to distract him. “Just that you took it.”

  He nodded and cocked his head, fiddling with the pen in his hand. “I guess we should start with the obvious question. Did you do it?”

  “Are you kidding me? Everyone and their dog knows Daniel Crocker killed my momma.”

  He stopped playing with his pen, and his mouth puckered. “That’s not in dispute. The question is whether you paid Daniel Crocker money to do it.”

  “No.”

  “So why does the DA think you did?”

  What should I tell him? I’d kept so many secrets for so long, it was hard to know what to keep quiet now. But this man was supposed to help keep me out of prison, which meant he needed to know everything there was to know about my case.

  So I told him almost everything.

  I started off by telling him about dating Joe—how I’d met him while he was working undercover to bust Crocker. And how Joe had kept the information about his family secret for fear they would destroy us. And how they ultimately did destroy us when Joe’s father, J.R. Simmons, the richest and most powerful man in southern Arkansas, fabricated evidence against me to blackmail Joe. And I also told him about all the dirt J.R. had gathered about my family—my sister Violet’s affair with Henryetta’s mayor, Brody MacIntosh, and the business mistake made by soon-to-be-ex brother-in-law. And I told him about Hilary—Joe’s ex-girlfriend—who’d shown up in Henryetta a couple of months ago, pregnant with Joe’s baby. And about Kate, Joe’s sister, who’d come to town after Christmas following a mysterious two-year disappearance.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I told him about my visions too. I didn’t usually volunteer that information willingly, so it was at once frightening and liberating. He gave me a weighing look, but he didn’t question me or call me crazy. He just kept scribbling down notes.

  I didn’t tell him about how I’d started working for Skeeter Malcolm. Or how I’d used my gift of sight to help Skeeter win the Thanksgiving Day auction that had granted him the right to run the Fenton County criminal world. And I most definitely did not tell him that I was the Lady in Black.

  After I had talked myself breathless, Carter released a low whistle. “You could write a book about all of this. I bet it would be a bestseller.”

  I shook my head, embarrassed. “I assure you, Mr. Hale. No one wants to read about my life.”

  He smirked. “I bet you’d be surprised.”

  “You believe me about my visions?”

  “Trust me, I’ve heard stranger things in this room. And besides, it fills in a few blanks you didn’t bring up.”

  Oh, crappy doodles. He’d guessed the truth—I could see it in his eyes. And if he’d made the connection this quickly, how long would it be before Mason did too?

  But before I could say a word, Carter’s expression changed. He looked down at his notes and then lifted his face, wearing a grim expression. “I’m gonna shoot it to you straight, Rose. J.R. Simmons is not a man to be trifled with. He never does anything half-assed. This case is as thin as the ham they put on the sandwiches at Tucker’s Deli, and I suspect the evidence is flimsy at best. If he weren’t involved, I’d count on getting it tossed out before trial. But Simmons is involved, so you can bet he has all his ducks in a row.”

  He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already suspect.

  “He got Deveraux out of the way so he could set this in motion, which means he’s got the DA, and most likely a judge, in his back pocket. Not to mention his son’s involvement.” He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “The trial’s gonna be a waste of everyone’s time because there’s no doubt whatsoever what the verdict will be.”

  “Guilty.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew that too.

  He pushed the notepad away, his forehead wrinkling. Finally he sat up. “There’s no use fighting this in court when every last one of them is probably on his payroll.”

  “So what are you sayin’?” I asked, my anger rising. “That I should just plead guilty and expect to live out the rest of my days in the state pen?”

  “No. But I’m warning you that short of a miracle, you’re gonna be convicted.” At least he didn’t look too happy with his declaration.

  “I think I want a new attorney.”

  He chuckled, but he stayed firmly seated in his chair. “I assure you that no one else wants this case. Hell, I didn’t even want it. When your boyfriend showed up at my door a few hours ago, I told him no.”

  “Mason asked you to take my case?”

  He frowned, looking displeased. “It doesn’t matter who asked me or why I took it. The fact is that I’m the only one who’s willing to take it on.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I could see he was holding back information, and I was sick to death of people hiding things … including me. “If I’m expected to tell you everything, then I need you to tell me everything too.”

  His eyebrows lifted in mock reprimand. “Oh, but you haven’t told me everything, have you?”

  My blood ran cold. “There are things that don’t seem pertinent to my case.”

  “Yet they seem pertinent to the reason why I’m here.”

  I was in deep trouble. He knew, all right. I might as well be wearing the Lady in Black’s veil right now.

  He released a sigh and picked up his pen, twirling it in his hand. “How about we go at this another way?”

  “And which way is that?”

  He stopped to ponder his words for a moment, then said, “I have a client who keeps me on retainer. We have an … understanding.”

  I sat up in my chair. He was talking about Skeeter.

  “I take the cases he requests that I represent. Some seem hopeless—not as hopeless as this one, mind you,” he said with an ornery grin. “But hopeless nonetheless.”