Dead Men Tell No Tales

by Maggie Toussaint

  I sank into my seat, feeling relieved that Deena left but worried about her claim. “Do I withhold news because of my relationship with Ike?”

  “No way. Deena was trying to get your goat. She wants Sonny out of jail.”

  “If Ike’s still got Sonny, he has a reason for holding him. I wonder what it is.”

  “You’d be better served to discover what Deena’s hiding.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “When you asked her for background on Sonny, her skin blanched. She doesn’t want you to know a single thing about him.”

  “She may get her wish because that’s exactly what I have about the man right now.”

  Janey let those words sink in for a moment. “She wouldn’t have gotten in here if you still brought Bailey to work with you.”

  “Bailey is morphing from a news hound to becoming Trent’s dog. Ike and Trent are even talking about using her when they go marsh hen hunting later this month.”

  “You okay with that?”

  “Bailey will always have a special place in my heart, but I love my dog enough to share her with Trent and Ike.”

  “How are you handling having a child underfoot?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “What’s he call you?” Janey asked.

  “Ike told him to call me Ms. Lindsey.”

  “You want him to call you mom?”

  I rocked back in my chair, nearly tipping over. “Heavens, no. That’s Annette’s honor. I’d be happy with Lindsey. Mostly Trent tries to catch my eye before he speaks so that he doesn’t have to call me anything.”

  “Mark my words, he’ll call you mom before long.”

  Warmth flooded my entire body. “Oh my. That’ll cause problems.”

  “You want my advice?” Janey asked on her way out.

  “You’re going to give it to me regardless.” I braced my shoulders. “Go ahead.”

  “Trent’s a kid. If he calls you mom, roll with it. Don’t make it a big deal.”

  Alone, I scrubbed my face with my hands. Mom. Was I mature enough to be anyone’s mom? And what about that subtle ticking I heard from my own biological clock? Was conception in my future?

  Chapter 4

  “I was sitting in my office minding my own business,” I told Ike on the phone a few minutes later, “and Deena Mowrey blew in here, madder than wet fire ants. She swears Sonny’s innocent. Plus, she wants me to write a story about the gross miscarriage of justice because you’re keeping Sonny in jail.”

  “And?”

  “When I said I wouldn’t do it, she said she’d find a real newspaper.”

  “You are a real newspaper. Where’s she get off attacking you like that?”

  “It’s okay, Ike. I can fight my own battles. Get this. I offered her a chance to fill me in on Sonny’s background, and she clammed up immediately.”

  “That is interesting.”

  “You found it too?”

  “Found what?”

  I ignored his suspicious tone. “Sonny Mowrey has no digital footprint. Cousin Janey says Sonny is his legal name.”

  “You brought Janey into this?”

  I had information that might help him, and he jolly well would hear it. “She dropped by. Sonny and Deena were her real estate clients, so she knows them. They paid cash for their place out on the point.”

  “Interesting. And, off the record, a lot about Sonny Mowrey doesn’t add up.”

  He paused, and I so wanted to know what facts he knew. “You can trust me.”

  “I trust you. But I don’t reveal details of an active case with the press.”

  Another silence. I was learning that was how Ike processed information, so I didn’t rush to fill the void. Patience prickled my skin like a mohair sweater.

  “You were right about the angle of the shots,” he said in a bit. “Once the coroner took a close look, I sent Alice Ann and Jimmy back to the scene. We now believe John Starling’s death wasn’t accidental.”

  Which meant the shot had been intentional. Someone took aim at the bartender with intent to kill, and they pulled the trigger. Twice.

  “But the gun Sonny gave me doesn’t match the bullet in Starling,” Ike said.

  “He gave you a different shotgun to confuse the issue?”

  “Rifle. He gave us a different rifle. I asked him what he did with the other rifle, and he said nothing. The bullets and the distance of the shots suggests a sniper.”

  I stared at my office wall. “Sonny Mowrey is a sniper?”

  “Didn’t say that. He could be, but there’s no evidence of it.”

  “Was there evidence the rifle he gave you had been recently fired?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “And he had gunpowder on his hands?”

  “He tested positive for GSR, yes, but so did Starling.”

  My mind went to a strange place with two armed men discharging weapons in the swamp. The shootout at O.K. Corral, redneck style. “Was it a gunfight?”

  “No evidence of that either. I have to charge Sonny with something today or let him go. If he’s a pro, he’ll run.”

  My thoughts spun like a boat propeller. “If the rifle doesn’t match, what about his identity disconnect? Can you get faster results investigating that?”

  “I’ve got deputies searching for another rifle, but it’s slow going in the swamp. Meanwhile, I’m running Sonny’s prints through the system, but nothing yet.” Ike’s voice trailed off. “John Starling had a record.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Larceny and burglary, over in Alabama. I’m not sure if he turned over a new leaf or if he’s robbed locals who haven’t reported it.”

  “Interesting. Since it appears Sonny doesn’t have a past, maybe John discovered his secret. People talk to bartenders. Sonny or Deena might have let something slip. Sound feasible?”

  “Maybe. Even so, we’d have to figure out what John had on Sonny. I’ve got a team at his place now, but nothing there seems worth killing over.”

  “He might not have noted anything on his calendar. Someone who’s opportunistic isn’t a planner. What about money in his bank account?”

  “Looking into that too. I’ve got a call in to Henry at the bank.”

  “You thought of everything. You don’t need my help.”

  “You have a way of helping me focus, and I appreciate your insights,” Ike said. “But what I wish I had was Deena’s fingerprints.”

  I basked under his compliment before I tried to help again. “Deena didn’t touch anything while she was here. I could invite her to lunch and save her drinking glass.”

  “I don’t want you near her. I’ll get her prints.”

  “Are you going all Tarzan on me?” I asked.

  “I . . . I did it again, didn’t I? You’re a thinking, intelligent, beautiful woman. You do amazing things. And you’re street smart too. But the thought of anything happening to you freezes my insides. I can’t think. I can’t sleep. I can’t function. Your safety has a direct impact on my well-being. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I reveled in his heartfelt emotion. “I feel the same way about your safety, and your likelihood of coming in contact with a dangerous person is much higher than mine.”

  “We’ll each be careful. Hang on. I’ve got another call.”

  He clicked back on a minute later. “That was Henry. He won’t tell me about the Mowreys’ banking history without a warrant. Reading between the lines of what he didn’t say, the Mowreys aren’t big depositors at The Danville Bank. They might bank online.”

  “Where does that leave you?” I asked.

  “Heading home for an early lunch with you. Can you take off now?”

  My pulse jumped. “Meet you there in five minutes.”

  Chapter 5

  We ate cold pizza directly out of the refrigerator. I’d acquired the habit from Ike. He was right. Pizza tasted good cold.

  I chased a mouthful of pizza with iced tea. Ike reached over and drank from my
glass. “What are you working on today?” he asked.

  His heated gaze swept my length. My thoughts turned to how we’d passed the first part of our lunch upstairs. Even though we had dressed again, Ike had a way of looking at me that made me feel like I was the sexiest woman on the planet.

  “Background on the homicide, of course,” I said. “Thanks for the police report, by the way. The rest is routine. Two obits came in this morning, so I formatted them and uploaded to the Web. I’m headed out this afternoon for more church door photos.”

  I encouraged my readers to post pics of the door of the week on our social media page. Keeping readers engaged on multiple fronts was the name of the newspaper game these days.

  “I might be late tonight,” Ike said. “If something breaks on the case, I’ll see it through.”

  My turn to nod. “I understand.”

  ~*~

  I noticed the flashy red car after I stopped at the post office to return an online purchase. The coupe stayed behind me when I veered onto the spur, and again when I turned down New Faith Road.

  Not wanting to alarm Ike, I called Janey. She answered on the first ring. “Ike’s busy with the case, so I didn’t want to bother him. Cherry red sports car. Ring any bells?” I asked.

  “That’s Deena’s car.”

  “She’s following me, and I’m on my way to the North End Baptist Church.”

  “Odd.”

  “Very odd, considering how her visit to my office ended this morning. Anyway, I wanted someone to know she was following me in case anything happens.”

  “Should I drive out there?”

  “I don’t anticipate a problem. Deena could be headed this way for personal reasons.”

  “What’re you doing out there, anyway?”

  “Getting a church door pic for my series. It won’t take long.”

  “Call me back in ten minutes, or I’m calling Ike.”

  “I will.”

  After I ended the call, I parked in the church’s empty parking lot. The red car slotted in beside me on the passenger side. Great, I groaned to myself. The one person on the planet Ike told you to avoid followed you to a remote location.

  Nothing to be gained by hiding in my car. I grabbed my camera and stepped out of my vehicle for the door photo, making sure I had my phone with me. Oak-filtered sunlight bathed the church’s paneled double doors. This picture would come out nice.

  I took a few door shots from the parking lot, before moving forward to snap more. Deena’s car door snicked open behind me. My shoulders tensed in anticipation of another vicious verbal assault.

  “No one took me seriously,” Deena said, her voice petulant. “I called two other newspapers and the TV news in Savannah. Did you blackball me?”

  I turned and surreptitiously snapped a picture of her leaning against her little car. Her cotton candy pink hair didn’t quite go with the fast car look. “There is no story. Despite what some people think, print and digital media strive to report facts. You have no facts to support your claim.”

  She gestured broadly with both arms. “Sonny’s behind bars. That’s a fact.”

  “Talk to Ike.”

  “Can’t you put in a good word for me?”

  “I’m not a police officer, and I don’t know the facts of the case.”

  “It was an accident. Case closed.”

  “Someone died. Even if it was an accident, there are consequences. John Starling had a family. They will demand justice.”

  “He said he wasn’t married.”

  Bingo. She knew the bartender. I moved on, so she wouldn’t realize she’d let something slip. “He had parents, possibly siblings or children. I haven’t received his obituary yet, or I’d tell you exactly how many people survive him. His loved ones expect accountability for his death. That’s basic human nature.”

  “It isn’t fair. I need Sonny. I don’t want him locked up.”

  She wasn’t listening, which begged another question. “Why did you follow me?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Try again. You were behind me in town. Your red car shines like a beacon.”

  “Maybe I did follow you.” Her chin lifted. “I need someone to help me.”

  “I can’t help you. Talk to Ike. He’s running the investigation.”

  Her eyes rounded. “What investigation?”

  “Of the accident,” I said. “If you won’t talk to him about your husband, tell him what you know about the bartender.”

  “John was fun, but I don’t know much about him. He was a Scorpio to my Leo. He liked singing along with the radio. He hit on me at the bar, even though he knew I was married.”

  “Did you encourage him?”

  “I like male attention. I like all kinds of attention. Why else would I drive a red car?”

  I assumed her question was rhetorical and nipped past her. “I have to get back to the office.”

  As I buckled my seatbelt and prepared to drive, I felt the weight of her gaze. I refused to glance at Deena. I disliked her direct manner, though I’d known others with the same flaw and liked them. But the edgy aspect of her personality worried me.

  I got the sense that if I crossed her, I’d be sorry. It wouldn’t take much to provoke her into an over-the-top reaction.

  Her palm splayed over my closed window. She called my name, startling me from my thoughts. I cracked my window. “Yes?”

  She leaned close, her brown eyes burning into me. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind about Sonny?”

  A knot formed in my stomach. “What are you asking?”

  “I know five hundred reasons why Sonny’s innocent.”

  This again? “His fate is out of my hands.”

  “What about a thousand reasons? Does that sound more likely?”

  I had a light bulb moment. “Are you bribing me?”

  Her tight expression remained. “Will you convince Ike to let Sonny go?”

  “Ike Harper makes up his own mind.”

  “Very well, I can go two thousand, but no higher.”

  “I don’t want your money.” Disgust stiffened my spine. “I believe in our justice system. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the office.”

  Without waiting for her reply, I reversed the car and spun out of there. I sped all the way to town, all the way to Ike’s office. I burst in, nearly beside myself with emotion. “Deena tried to bribe me, and I’ve got her fingerprints!”

  Chapter 6

  “We agreed you’d steer clear of Deena.” Ike closed his office door.

  I walked over to his window, instinctively retreating from the stormy emotions flashing across his face. “You said you wanted me to stay away from her. I did that, but Deena didn’t get the same memo. She followed me out to the north end and waylaid me. She offered me three amounts of money. She called them reasons, but the way she was talking, she meant money. I didn’t take the bribe, of course.”

  Ike drifted closer, his gaze intent. “What did she want? To quash a story about her husband?”

  “I wish I had enough details on Sonny’s life to suppress them. At least then her behavior might make sense. Deena wanted me to exert my feminine wiles on you.”

  An eyebrow arched. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was supposed to convince you to let Sonny go.”

  “Curious.”

  “She thinks I wield all kinds of influence around here.”

  “She was right about one thing.” Ike’s tone turned grim. “If anyone could persuade me, it would be you.”

  A chuckle slipped out, followed by a grin. “Ike Harper, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. I respect your opinion, and you always discover information that helps me piece together crimes. You have influence around here because of your integrity, not because we’re sleeping together.”

  I tried to put a positive spin on his words. “Thanks. I think.”

  He pulled me close for a kis
s. “You are also sexy, beautiful, and smart.”

  “I like the sound of that,” I said a few minutes later when we surfaced for air.

  “I like the feel of you, and you know what I want to do right now.” His voice was bedroom soft. “Only the surefire knowledge that I get to do this tonight will tide me over. Meanwhile, you said you had Deena’s prints?”

  “I do.” Oops. The matrimonial phrase. I hurried to add something else. “Deena placed her entire left hand on my driver’s side window. Dust it and you’ll have her prints.”

  “Wait here.” Ike went to the door and instructed a deputy to dust my car window immediately and run the prints through the system.

  He returned, a thinking look on his face. “As a matter of intellectual curiosity, how much did she offer for us to look the other way?”

  “She started at five hundred and went up to two grand.”

  “Huh.”

  “She thinks you’re being mean because it was an accident. So, no harm, no foul.”

  “Doesn’t work that way. And it wasn’t an accident.”

  “You making progress on the homicide investigation?”

  “I’ve got my sister and Jimmy combing the scene for the murder weapon. Talked with the District Attorney. He said Sonny’s statement admitting he shot Starling and the autopsy results are enough to charge Sonny Mowrey with murder.”

  “But?”

  “But I’d prefer to have more evidence. Finding the murder weapon would be huge. Finding Sonny’s fingerprints on that gun would be even better.”

  “What did Sonny say about the gun’s whereabouts?”

  “Said he gave me the gun. Since that’s obviously a lie, I need to find out why. That gun has to be around, somewhere.”

  A crisp knock sounded on the door, and a fresh-faced deputy looked in. “A man out here says he’s Sonny Mowrey’s lawyer. Said you know him. Crash Considine.”

  Ike’s face brightened. “Send old Crash in here.”

  “Are y’all talking about Bobby Considine?” I asked.

  Before I finished speaking, Bobby “Crash” Considine, the senior voted “Most Likely to Succeed” in our class, swaggered in and bumped fists with Ike. Bobby matched the sheriff in height but won the prize for being the heaviest and having less hair. Ike and Bobby had been friends in school, and it looked like that hadn’t changed.