Free Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland Page A

and I slept like I’d been drugged, awakening to the alarm at eight, late for me. Ty was long gone.
    I opened the blinds, and conical beams of bright yellow light slanted across the old oak floor.
    Ty had left a note on the kitchen counter, an xo, followed by “To hell with being tired. Let’s go dancing tonight.” I smiled, grabbed my phone, and texted, “Dancing sounds great. Burgers, too?” While I waited for his reply, I made coffee, then checked my voice mails. I had three new messages, all from Wes.
    â€œJosie,” Wes had whined at seven this morning, his most recent message. Whining was Wes’s default I’ll-make-you-feel-guilty-for-ignoring-me tone. “I can’t believe you haven’t called me back. I’ve got a shockeroonie you’re gonna wanna hear.”
    He was right. I did want to hear what he had to say. Wes’s web of contacts was both deep and wide. I called him back and agreed to meet him on our favorite sand dune at ten.
    *   *   *
    I got to the dune, a mile south of the police station, first. The still-wet sand was hard to navigate, but the view from the top was worth the effort. Standing on the shifting sand, I had an unobstructed view of the ocean. The sun cast golden starbursts across the dark blue expanse. Waves rolled gently into shore, then ebbed away. Watching the steady, rhythmic motion was hypnotic.
    A car’s engine cut off, and I looked down at the street. Wes was stepping out of a red Ford Focus. A loaner, I thought. Wes’s car was a dingy, rusted-out maroon Dodge that had needed a new muffler five years earlier, and no doubt still did. Maybe he’d finally taken it in for service and the shop gave him the Focus for the day. He looked different, too. I hadn’t seen him in several months, but even so, the change in his appearance was startling. He’d lost about thirty pounds. His normally pasty-white skin looked ruddier, healthier. He was wearing slacks with a collared shirt and tie and lace-up shoes, not a ripped T-shirt, jeans, and dirty sneakers.
    â€œWhat happened to your car?” I called down.
    â€œI got a new one. New to me, I mean.”
    It was shiny. “It looks good.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œYou look good, too.”
    He grinned and fingered his tie as he started up the sandy mound. “A new image. If I want to be taken seriously, I have to dress like a grown-up.”
    â€œYou got that from a self-help book.”
    â€œNo, I got it from my girlfriend.”
    I grinned. “You’ve got a girlfriend.”
    He blushed a little. “Six months now.”
    â€œI had no idea. I’m thrilled for you, Wes. Who is she?”
    â€œHer name is Maggie. Margaret Campbell. She’s assistant manager of Rocky Point Community Bank.”
    â€œThat’s my bank. Wait! Is she the one who sits at the first desk on the right? Brown hair cut short and freckles?”
    â€œThat’s her.”
    â€œI’ve talked to her. She was both knowledgeable and quick, a great combination.”
    â€œShe is all of that. Ambitious, too, a real go-getter.”
    â€œSort of like you, Wes.”
    â€œYou think?”
    â€œYes. How did you meet?”
    â€œI got talking to her about a customer.”
    I stared at him, appalled to think that my banker would gossip with a reporter. “She’s one of your sources.”
    â€œNo. I tried hard, but she refused to tell me anything,” he said as he reached the top of the dune.
    I laughed, reassured. “You’re something like nothing I’ve ever seen, Wes.”
    â€œThanks.” His cheeks reddened again, and he cleared his throat. “So tell me what you know about Jason’s murder.”
    â€œMurder?” I asked, thinking that I was right, that I’d known it as soon as I’d touched the gaping hole in Jason’s skull. “I thought it was a trip-and-fall