Alissa’s eyes widened, and she looked alarmed. Then she nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” Kanesha said. “I know it’s hard, but we have to be certain.”
“I understand,” Alissa replied. “Nobody here knew my brother.”
Haskell joined us at the table and drew out his notebook and a pen. He found a blank page and prepared to take notes.
“Why did your brother come here, Ms. Hale?” Kanesha asked.
“He thought he’d inherited my grandfather’s property,” Alissa said. “He wanted to see about it. He thought maybe we could move here. Him, my mother, and me.”
“He was not aware of the fact that your grandfather had leased the land and didn’t own it?”
“Not when he left California,” Alissa said.
“But he found out after he got here?”
Alissa nodded. “He called me four days ago and told me. He was really angry with our grandfather. Marty was all set to be a big man like our grandfather claimed to be, inheriting land and money.”
“Did he tell you what his plans were then?”
“He said he’d found a lawyer who was going to get the land for him. Said he had a good case.”
Kanesha glanced at me, and I nodded to indicate that I was aware of this.
“Did he mention talking to Sean Harris, Mr. Harris’s son, who is also a lawyer?”
“He mentioned another lawyer but didn’t tell me his name.” Alissa shot me an apologetic glance. “Marty said this guy was a slick operator, and he didn’t really trust him.”
“How did you respond to all this when you talked with your brother?” Kanesha asked.
“I believed him, at first,” Alissa said. “I always believed him, at first. He always had some scheme or other going, trying to make money without working for it.” Her tone turned bitter. “I was the one working two jobs and keeping food on the table and getting the rent paid.”
“When did you begin to think your brother was wrong about the ownership of the property?” Kanesha said. “Did you talk to your brother again after that conversation?”
I wondered why Kanesha was so focused on this. I supposed she was trying to ascertain whatever she could about Marty Hale’s actions by what he shared with his sister.
“That was the last time I talked to him,” Alissa said. “I tried calling him a couple of times, but he didn’t answer. To answer your first question, I thought he might be wrong, because my mother always said you couldn’t rely on what my grandfather told us.” She paused. “I guess I just really wanted to believe him. I hate my life, and I wanted a new start somewhere.” The anguish in her tone saddened me.
My heart ached for her. I was no longer surprised she had been so hostile toward me when she first arrived. Her hopes for a new life had crashed all around her, and her brother had been murdered. I wanted to reach out and pat her hand, but I kept still.
“We found out that your brother arrived in this area nine days ago, yet he didn’t talk to either lawyer until earlier this week. Did you talk to him often after he arrived here?”
Alissa shook her head. “Only two other times before the last call.”
Kanesha said, “Did your brother mention anyone he knew here, other than the two lawyers he talked about? You see, as far as we’ve been able to ascertain, your brother didn’t have a vehicle to use, unless it was your grandfather’s truck.”
Alissa frowned. “My grandfather said he lent his truck while he was gone to the man who drove him to the airport. I don’t remember him mentioning a name, though.”
“We haven’t found the truck,” Kanesha said. “I guess the man who borrowed it still has it.” She nodded at Haskell, and he rose and walked out into the hall. I heard him talking after a few seconds, and I reckoned he was communicating with the sheriff’s department to put out an alert for the truck.
“Did your brother tell you anything about how he was getting around?” Kanesha asked.
“He said he met a guy in town. He took a bus from Memphis to get to the town, he told me. This guy he met offered to give him rides when he found out who he was.”
“I don’t suppose your brother mentioned his name,” Kanesha said.
“Not that I recall,” Alissa replied. “Marty never had any problem picking up guys. He was really handsome.”
Kanesha blinked at that. “So your brother was gay.”
Alissa nodded.
Kanesha pondered that for a moment. I knew she was assessing whether that could have had anything to with his murder. I hoped it didn’t.
“Marty did mention one other guy,” Alissa said, sounding pleased. “No name, but he said the guy was a farmer who knew our grandfather.”
“Did he give you any other information about this farmer?” Kanesha asked. The elder Martin Hale had probably been known to many farmers in the area.
“No, he didn’t,” Alissa said. “Marty was pretty cagey about things. He always liked knowing more than anyone else.”
The picture Alissa was painting of her brother’s character was not a particularly appealing one. I was curious to see a snapshot of him, wondering if he was really as handsome as she seemed to think. Sean had told me he thought the young man was an addict of some sort because of his nervous behavior.
I raised my hand, and Kanesha fixed me with her basilisk gaze. “Yes, what is it?”
“I have a question for Alissa, based on something Sean told me about Marty Hale,” I said.
Kanesha nodded slowly. “All right, go ahead.”
I turned to Alissa. “Marty came to see my son, Sean, a few days ago about the property. Sean mentioned that Marty seemed really nervous, almost edgy.” I hesitated. “Sean wondered if your brother might be an addict of some kind.”
Alissa frowned. “I don’t think he was, but I actually didn’t see him that often back home. I work two shifts during the day, and by the time I get home, I’m ready for bed. Marty was never up in the morning, and he usually came in after I was in bed. While my grandfather was with him, I saw him a few times, and he seemed fine then.”
“You can’t say for sure that he wasn’t?” Kanesha asked.
“No, I can’t.” Alissa sounded unhappy. “I always thought he was too smart for that. My mother wouldn’t have liquor in the house, even beer. She said it was because of my grandfather.”
“Did your mother ever talk about your grandmother?” I asked, hoping that Kanesha wouldn’t smack me down.
Kanesha shot me a look but didn’t speak.
Alissa appeared confused. “My grandmother died before I was born, before my father was killed. I don’t think my mother could have known her very well.”
Interesting, I thought. Had Alissa’s mother lied to her children? Or did she really think her mother-in-law had died?
TWENTY
I watched Kanesha intently to see how she reacted to Alissa’s statement. I had speculated that Kanesha knew the truth about Mrs. Hale’s disappearance, but she gave no sign of it. I should have expected that. The woman could be the Sphinx incarnate when she chose.
Too bad Haskell was out of the room when Alissa answered the question. He might have given something away, although he had an exceptionally good stone-face himself. My curiosity remained unsatisfied.
Haskell chose that moment to return. He caught Kanesha’s eye and nodded before he resumed his seat. Alissa glanced at him curiously but did not speak.
“Your brother mentioned a farmer during one conversation,” Kanesha said. “Did he say anything at all about the man?”
Alissa considered this for a moment. “I think Marty said he was old, but that was it.” She shrugged. “To Marty, anyone over forty was old, even though he was thirty-two, almost thirty-three.”
He could have been talking about either Gil Jackson or Asa Luckney, I thought. They probably would have s
eemed old to him.
“Can you think of anything else your brother might have told you that could give us a clue to what he was doing while he was here?”
“We didn’t usually talk for very long,” Alissa said. “Marty didn’t like talking on the phone, and his connection was kinda spotty. He said reception out there wasn’t that good.” She thought for a moment, then frowned. “He did say that he had seen some interesting stuff while he was out walking around the farm, but he wouldn’t say what that was.”
I wondered if he had stumbled across Gil Jackson’s still. That would qualify as something interesting, I thought. I figured Kanesha and Haskell would agree with me.
“If you think of anything else, I’d appreciate it if you’d write it down,” Kanesha said. “We don’t have any strong leads at the moment into your brother’s death, so anything you can tell us might help.”
“I will,” Alissa said. “I want whoever did this to be caught and go to jail. Marty could be annoying as hell, but he was the only brother I had.” She rubbed away the sudden tears that had begun to fall. I pulled out my handkerchief and handed it to her. She gave me a tremulous smile when she accepted it to dab at her eyes.
Kanesha rose, and Haskell followed suit. “One of my officers will come by in the morning to pick you up at nine to drive you to the morgue. I’ll meet you there for the formal identification.”
“All right,” Alissa said. “I’ll be ready.” Diesel, who had not left her side during the interview, rubbed his head against her thigh and warbled softly. Ramses had tried a couple of times to crawl into her lap, but each time Diesel had swatted him down. Alissa hadn’t appeared to notice.
Haskell followed Kanesha to the front door, but he returned to the kitchen after he saw her out.
“Are you done for tonight?” I asked as Haskell finally poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot he’d made.
He settled in his chair and leaned back. “I am.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked. “There’s plenty of food. Stewart said he’d fix you anything you wanted.”
“Yes, I did,” Stewart announced from the doorway. He walked over to his partner and laid a hand lightly on Haskell’s shoulder. “What would you like?”
Haskell looked up at him and smiled. “Whatever’s handy. I’d eat a pickled ox about now.”
Stewart laughed. “No pickled ox, but I can warm up the fried chicken, biscuits, and rice. I know you don’t want any butter beans.”
Haskell grimaced. “No butter beans. Can’t stand ’em. We had them all the time when I was a kid. Everything else sounds great.”
“How about you? Are you ready for something other than a snack?” Stewart nodded at Alissa.
“No, thank you.” She rose from the table. “If you don’t mind,” she said to me, “I’m going upstairs. It’s been a long day.”
“You go right ahead and get some rest. If you need anything during the night, ask me. My room is the first one by the landing on the side opposite yours.”
She thanked me, smiled at Stewart and Haskell, and left the room. Diesel stared after her, and I told him he could go with her. He padded after her, but Ramses, perhaps hopeful that more food would be forthcoming, stayed in the kitchen.
While Stewart worked on warming up the food for his partner, Haskell sipped his coffee and eyed me warily. I wanted to ask him questions about the case, but I also knew he was tired and probably didn’t want to talk about it. I also wondered why he hadn’t mentioned to Alissa that they were cousins. He must have his reasons.
Haskell surprised me by saying, “Go ahead, Charlie. I know you’re dying to ask me questions. I don’t mind.”
“If you’re sure,” I said, and he nodded. “Okay, then, there’s one that I’ve been really curious about.”
“My aunt,” Haskell said before I could frame my question.
I nodded.
“The answer is, I don’t know what happened to her. I was maybe five at the time. All I was told was that she left her husband,” Haskell said. “I told my mother about the bones in the attic, and she just shook her head. All she said was, ‘Not my sister.’ That’s all I could get out of her. My dad didn’t say anything at all. I tried to question them further but got nowhere.”
“That must have been really difficult for you,” I said.
Haskell shrugged. “I’m used to difficult when it comes to my parents.” There was a faint tinge of bitterness to his words, and I could understand that.
“I’m sure if your mother had any thought those bones belonged to her sister, she would speak up,” I said. “I guess we’ll have to take her word for it. Those bones belonged to someone else. Possibly the wife of either Gil Jackson or Levon Luckney.”
“Or even yet another runaway of some kind,” Stewart said as he refilled Haskell’s coffee. “Almost done with the warm-up,” he added.
Haskell flashed him a smile, and I marveled again at how perfectly these two seemed to go together. Haskell, normally taciturn around most people, appeared to blossom when Stewart was near, and Stewart treated Haskell with such loving care he had to know he was cherished. In these ways they reminded me very much of Helen Louise and me and our relationship, although neither of us could ever be described as taciturn. I almost laughed aloud at the thought.
“We’re checking on the whereabouts of Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Luckney,” Haskell said. “The trail is pretty cold for both of them, though. If anyone saw them leave, or knew where they intended to go, they’re not saying.”
“That’s really frustrating,” I said. “It would be helpful at least to be able to rule one or the other of them out.”
Stewart set a plate in front of Haskell, and Haskell sighed happily. “Perfect. God bless Azalea.”
“Amen to that,” Stewart said. “My fried chicken is good, but hers is always better, even warmed up.” He sat and picked up his tea.
“I suppose there’s a chance those bones could have been in the ground long before either of these two wives disappeared,” I said. “Has the dog been used yet?”
“She worked in the area around the house,” Haskell said. “A few acres. Didn’t turn up anything. Seton’s going to have another go tomorrow. Weather should be fine.”
“I really wish I could see her in action,” I said. “Kanesha said I couldn’t, though.”
Haskell put down a drumstick devoid of any meat and said, “You can’t follow around with the dog, but there’s no reason you can’t be in the house while she’s working. I imagine you need to take Ms. Hale out there to see the place.” He picked up a thigh.
“I think you’re right,” I said.
Stewart grinned. “Just don’t tell Kanesha he said that to you.”
I put my hand over my heart. “I swear. I’ll make her think it was my idea.”
“She’ll believe that,” Stewart said.
Haskell nodded and helped himself to a forkful of biscuit and gravy. Watching him eat biscuits and gravy made me feel hungry again, but I knew the feeling would pass. I was still stuffed from my own meal.
Haskell dropped a few bites of chicken for Ramses, until Stewart shook his head at his partner. Thereafter Ramses sat watching Haskell forlornly, uttering the occasional sad meow.
“Was there anything around the murder scene to give any clues?” I asked.
“Footprints,” Haskell said. “Boots, by the look of them, but the way the tree fell on the area, they were badly disturbed.”
“Not really usable,” I said, disappointed.
Haskell shook his head and reached for his coffee.
“You don’t have much to go on,” Stewart said. “This could be one that won’t get solved.”
“Maybe,” Haskell said. “It’s early days, though. We’ve still got a lot of canvassing to do. We need to find whoever was giving Hale rides back and forth to town. That road isn�
��t a busy one, but people do drive it on a regular basis. We’re hoping someone will come forward with the sighting of a vehicle turning in there or in the yard. Or seeing Hale in town with someone.”
“People might not have thought anything much about it,” I said. “Did anyone know Mr. Hale had gone to California? Or that he died there?”
“They might not have known he was out of town, but after his obituary ran in the paper, they would have probably seen it,” Haskell said.
“Provided that they take the paper,” Stewart said.
“You’re forgetting the county grapevine,” Haskell said with a brief smile. “The minute one person finds out about a death, the news starts spreading. Same as here in town. Just ask my mother. She spends half her life on the phone talking to somebody.”
“You’re right,” Stewart said. “Should have realized.”
“What if the person who was giving Hale rides is the one who killed him?” I asked.
“That’s entirely possible,” Haskell replied. “But not certain.”
“What about the real estate guy? Marvin Watkins,” I said.
“Hard to come up with a motive for him, I should think,” Stewart said.
“Hale may have led him on about the property, which Watkins seems to want pretty badly,” I said. “When he found out Hale had no rights to it, Watkins might have killed him in anger.”
“Not if it meant getting one of his three-thousand-dollar suits wet.” Stewart laughed. “Marv, as he insists you call him, goes to our gym. He’s a slave to his wardrobe.”
“I can’t see him killing Hale out in the woods,” Haskell said. “Stewart’s right. Watkins is one of the most fastidious guys I’ve met.” He glanced at Stewart. “Even more so than this one.”
Stewart rolled his eyes. “Just because I like things neat doesn’t mean I’m fastidious.” He pronounced the word as if it were a nasty insult.
“Sure,” Haskell said.
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