“I see,” I said. “So Vance Rockwell thought if she’d been married to him, she would have had a better doctor. What a rat he was to throw that in Walter’s face.”
Gigi agreed. “That he was, but in this case he told the truth. Any doctor but that damned quack Raney would have known she had something more than female problems.”
Grandma said, “Still, there was no cause to make Walter feel worse than he already did. It couldn’t bring Nora back, and it was her choice to see Dr. Raney instead of going into McKinney or Dallas.”
I agreed then told them about my visit to the Rockwell estate earlier. “Wonder who Sam was arguing with?”
Grandpa scratched his cheek. “Could have been Devlin’s aunt, I suppose. Kay’s her name, isn’t it, Meg?”
Grandma said, “Yes, Kay Douglas, and she works in the company. Bookkeeper, I think, and holds some stock. Then there’s Vance’s attorney. I’ll bet he’s in town. Hmm, I think his name was Hyatt.”
“No, that’s not quite right.” Grandpa snapped his fingers. “Wyatt, that was it. Lionel Wyatt. Another crook, but he kept Vance out of jail all these years.”
“So what if Vance and Walter had an old rivalry and feud.” I shrugged and tried to convince myself. “I still don’t think Walter killed Vance.”
Grandpa met my gaze. “I hope he didn’t, honey, but you have to face the possibility that he did.”
“Grandpa, how can you say that about your friend?” I hated that my grandfather had spoken the words I was afraid to voice.
Dear Lord, please let Walter be innocent.
“No matter what we believe, look at how it must seem to the police.” Grandpa ticked off his fingers. “Walter and Vance had a long standing feud. Walter attacked Vance on at least two occasions and was heard threatening to kill him. Walter has been arrested for brawling when he’s been drinking. He was drunk last night and can’t account for his whereabouts at the time of the murder. He has scratches and bruises, as if he’d been in a fight recently.”
“He said he fell last night.” I remembered that he’d said he thought he’d fallen. What if Rockwell had inflicted those wounds?
I knew it looked bad. I didn’t think Walter could kill anyone, not even Rockwell. But what if I was wrong? The evidence was damning.
“Grandpa, the police will stop looking now that they have Walter. If we don’t find the real killer, Walter will go to jail and the real murderer will go free.”
“Now, Heather, honey.” Grandpa shook his head. “You can’t go butting in where murder’s involved. You let Scottie and the police handle this.”
I geared up to say Walter’s life was too important for me not to do all I could, but the doorbell rang.
Ruby looked up from pouring hot water into the jars stuffed with green beans while Grandma sealed them. Sweat beaded on Ruby’s face and her black eyes sparked.
“You think Meg or me’s gonna get that, you better think again. We have our hands full here.”
I’d already risen. “I’m going.” I pulled off my apron and laid it over a chair then hurried to answer as the bell chimed again. Through the door’s beveled glass panes, I was surprised to see Detective Steele standing on the porch.
I opened the door. “Why, it’s Detective Eel. Out looking for accomplices, detective?”
Detective Steele did a double take and referred to a piece of paper in his hand. “Miss Cameron?”
I stepped aside and let him enter.
He consulted the note again. “I’m looking for Richard Gillentine. Does he live here?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Could I speak with him?” He gave me a slow up and down appraisal.
The appreciation I saw in his eyes made me glad I was still dressed in my fitted black sheath, and that I’d removed the apron. “My grandfather’s in the kitchen. Come on through.”
I gave my walk that extra wiggle again as he followed me. Gigi would have called it sashaying. Heavens, what on earth was wrong with me? You’d think I was wearing a hoop skirt and carrying an ivory fan. If I didn’t watch myself, I’d be inviting him for mint juleps on the veranda.
I glanced over my shoulder in mid sashay. “Do you know how to snap green beans?”
“What?” His perplexed expression answered my question.
“Never mind. Since you’re a guest, maybe Ruby won’t shanghai you.” I held open the swinging door into the kitchen while he stepped through. “Detective Eel, this is my great grandmother, Elizabeth Gillentine, whom I call Gigi. Standing by the counter on the right is my grandmother, Meg Gillentine. Next to her is their housekeeper and friend, Ruby Crawford. You’re a detective, so you figure out who in the room is my grandfather.”
He gave me an amused glance then offered his hand to Grandpa. “It’s Steele, sir. Kurt Steele.”
Grandpa stood and shook hands. “Have a seat, young man.”
Grandma developed a speculative gleam in her eyes. “Detective Steele, I read an article in the newspaper a while back about you joining our police department. Weren’t you in Special Ops before you turned to police work?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her smile beamed floodlight strength
I whispered “Grandma, what sharp teeth you have.”
She elbowed me and otherwise ignored me. “And then that famous SWAT team in Dallas?”
He looked so uncomfortable, I expected him to give out with an aw shucks. Instead, he said. “You have an excellent memory, ma’am.”
Grandma gazed at him as if he were the prodigal come home. “Welcome to Gamble Grove, detective. Would you care for some lemonade or iced tea? Or perhaps a soft drink?”
“Mint julep?” I waited for his answer.
Pop!
I jumped and almost yelped at the sting of Ruby’s flicked towel against my rear. Through the years she’d used a towel pop to keep me in line. The fact I was grown didn’t change her treatment when she judged I’d misbehaved. I guess she didn’t care for my Southern belle imitation.
Kurt Steele gave me a puzzled glance before he settled into the chair across from Grandpa. “Lemonade sounds nice. It’s been ages since I drank any.”
Ruby stepped beside me and said, “It ain’t that chemically-tasting kind you get lots of places neither. This is from honest to goodness lemons, fresh-squeezed.” She turned back to the counter, but not before she raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes at me.
Let a living, breathing man within spitting distance of me, and the whole household started playing matchmaker.
I poured a glass of lemonade and passed it to the detective. “Anyone else?”
Everyone wanted one, so I got out more glasses and filled them with ice.
“Give Detective Steele a piece of that cake, Heather.” Grandma smiled at the detective, as if he’d come on a social visit instead of a murder investigation.
“I could stand a piece myself.” Grandpa patted his stomach. “The canning smells in here are making me hungry.”
After I served everyone and we were all sitting down, I looked at Kurt Steele. “So, did you come to arrest someone else?”
“You never know when I might.” He grinned at me, then turned his attention to the others in the room. “Mr. Sims can’t remember where he was after five o’clock yesterday. I know he was in the Alibi Lounge until around midnight. I need someone who can corroborate his whereabouts after that.” He pivoted on the chair to look at Grandpa. “Apparently, Mr. Sims places a lot of value on your opinion and resources, Mr. Gillentine. I hope you can help.”
Okay, I admit I was surprised. I’d been certain the police would stop looking now that they had Walter. “Grandpa, I talked to Billy Ray and he stayed at the Alibi when Walter left.”
Grandpa drummed his fingers on the table. “Walter goes to the cemetery, which is where Heather found him today.”
I shot a glance at the detective before patting my grandfather’s hand. “He knows that, Grandpa. Remember, that’s where we were when Detectiv
e Steele took Walter into custody?”
“Of course, sorry. Let me think.” Grandpa rubbed at his chin for a few seconds. “Might have gone over on Jackson Street where his old house stood. It burned some years back and Walter never rebuilt. Keeps a couple of old metal lawn chairs in the back yard there under a big live oak. He also goes to the little park on Mulberry. There’s a bench he favors about midway between the street and the bandstand.”
Grandpa lowered his voice and spoke behind his hand. “Did you check with Sharee Ormond over on Mill Street?”
I laughed. “You can quit whispering, Grandpa. We all know about Sharee.”
I figured the police knew about her too, for solicitation, and from when one of her visitors started a ruckus. Sharee was an attractive and deceptively strong woman who’d taken karate. She’d turned the tables on more than one would-be abusive john. And three years ago, when someone tried to rob the convenience store she managed, she snatched the guy’s gun from him and held it on him until the police arrived.
Detective Steele appeared to fight a grin but his nice blue eyes twinkled. “Yes, sir. We asked Ms Ormond, but she had another, um, friend over last night.”
Gigi snorted. “Hmph, likely she did. Girl’s a hard worker, not like her no-account lazy brothers.”
Ignoring Gigi, I asked, “So, do you have other suspects? Since Walter is innocent, you should be questioning all the people who might have had a reason to kill Rockwell.”
“Thanks for that tip, Miss Cameron. We’d never have thought of that on our own.” He polished off his cake and took a sip of his lemonade.
Gigi laughed again. “Hot damn, you’re quick. You married?”
He did a double take, obviously surprised at her frankness, but chuckled. “No, ma’am. You available?”
It was Gigi’s turn to blink. “As a matter of fact, I am. If I were a little younger, I’d be after you like fleas on a dog.”
“You’re as young as you feel.” He toasted her with his lemonade then swigged the rest of it and set the glass down. “Mr. Gillentine, I understand there’s been a long standing animosity between Mr. Sims and the deceased Mr. Rockwell. I’d like to hear your version of the feud.”
Grandpa sent a worried glance at Grandma, then launched into the tale I’d heard only a few minutes ago. Of course, he related only the bare facts, and omitted the fight that Walter and Rockwell had after Nora’s funeral. Thank goodness, I didn’t want my family to add to Walter’s problems.
Steele looked at me, then at Grandpa. “I understand there was another fight between these two men when Mr. Sims’ wife died. Did you witness it?”
Dang, Grandpa had said that not many people knew about that one. I wondered who had spilled the beans?
Grandpa looked embarrassed to be caught leaving out facts. “Not much to tell. It was over fast. Walter was too grief-stricken to put up much of a fight. We pulled Rockwell off, and told him to go back to Dallas. I guess he did, but he’d done his damage.” He related Rockwell’s accusations.
“And was Mr. Sims drunk at that time?”
Shaking his head, Grandpa said, “No, never knew him to have more than a single beer before Nora died. Lord knows he’s tried to drown his sorrow in a bottle after that.”
When Grandpa had finished, Detective Steele looked at Grandma. “Mrs. Gillentine, is that the way you remember it?”
Grandma wore what I called her prissy face, the one she used when she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking. But I knew she was steamed at being questioned by the police, even by a handsome young detective. “Yes. It was fifteen or more years ago and it really doesn’t have anything to do with the murder this week.”
“I hope you’re right, ma’am.” He turned to Gigi. “Is there anything you’d like to add to Mr. Gillentine’s story.”
“Just that I’m surprised someone didn’t kill the son of a bitch years ago. Bastard had the nerve to send Walter a card at every holiday reminding him how old Nora would be if she’d lived. Making his shitty digs. Made me mad enough to bash his head in myself.” She perked up and looked at Steele. “Wish I’d thought of it. I’d a been smart enough to get rid of the body.”
Detective Steele tried to hide his grin. “I’ll bet you would have. Thanks for not turning to a life of crime, Mrs. Gillentine.”
“Who said I haven’t?” Gigi tilted her head and gave him her flirty smile. “And you can call me Gigi.”
Dang, for a great-grandmother, she still had a lot of sass.
Steele looked at each of us, then directed his question to Grandpa. “Just for the record, can you tell me where you folks were late yesterday evening?”
Obviously surprised, Grandpa said, “We were here in this house, all of us, except for Heather. I believe you already questioned her. The rest of us watched the ten o’clock news together, then turned in.”
Gigi shook her head. “Not me. I watched David Letterman.”
“You agree with this, Ms Crawford?”
Ruby shook her jar holder at Steele. “Don’t you start in on me, young man, ‘cause I was right here minding my own business. I’m a God-fearing, law-abiding woman. But if I were the murdering kind, that Vance Rockwell wouldn’t have been at the top of my list. No siree, heading it would’ve been that no-account Calvin Crawford who run out on me twenty years ago.”
“I see. Thank you.” Steele handed Gigi his business card, and also gave one to Grandpa. “If you think of anything that might help us, please give me a call. In case Mr. Sims is innocent”—he glanced at me—“we’d like to be able to follow his trail from last night.” He stood. “Thank you for the refreshments. Haven’t tasted anything like this since I last visited my grandmother.”
“Heather, you show the nice detective out.” Grandma appeared over her snit at being questioned and had returned to being hopeful for her granddaughter’s nuptials.
Certain Grandma was ready to order wedding invitations, I stood. “This way, nice detective.” I walked toward the front.
In the parlor, he stopped. “Interesting folks.”
I faced him and rolled my eyes. “That’s an understatement. And you haven’t met the rest of the kin yet. I love my family, but I’d be the first to admit they’re, um, eccentric.”
“I liked them. But this morning you said you live alone.”
Heavens, was that only this morning? It seemed like days ago. “I do. In the apartment over the garage.”
“And I thought you managed the garden center, but here you are all dressed up and at home on a weekday.”
“Tuesdays are my afternoon off. Usually I spend at least part of it with my grandparents.” I wished I hadn’t added the part about spending my afternoon off with my grandparents. I wanted him to know I had a personal life. Sort of.
“This is one great place.” He looked around the parlor slowly in a way that made me think he liked what he saw and memorized it.
I tried to visualize it as if I hadn’t lived here all my life. The windows were open and a breeze fluttered creamy sheers between green jacquard drapes. Hardwood floors gleamed at the edges of the thickly padded Persian rug. Paper in soft green covered the walls above gleaming dark Victorian wainscoting. Green marble and slate formed the hearth and fireplace. The furniture was mostly Eastlake and too dark for my tastes, but it suited the room.
“Your parents live here too?”
“They died when I was eight.” I walked to the mantel and touched the silver-framed photograph of my parents, shown with a scrawny me standing in front of them. “This was taken just days before their car wreck. My dad had three sisters, but mom was an only child. My grandparents raised me.”
“Tough for a kid.” He came up beside me. “And you prefer a garage apartment over this?” He gestured around us.
“Not exactly. I adore my grandparents and I love this house, but...” How could I explain my need for one small area of independence when I was so involved with my family? I faced him. “Did you grow up in a small town?�
�
He shook his head. “Military brat until I joined the Marines. Never lived anywhere over a couple of years. I’d attended eleven schools by the time I graduated high school.”
I jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “Gigi, the great grandmother you met in there? Her grandfather Gamble built this house in 1899.”
“Man, to have that continuity must be pretty nice.” He did a double take. “Wait, you mean Gamble, as in Gamble Grove?”
“The same. His grandparents had founded the town forty years earlier.” I held up a hand. “I know, sounds great, doesn’t it? Here’s the bad part. Half the people in this town—even those few who aren’t related to us—know everything about me, right down to what I had for dinner and with whom I ate it. My apartment is as close to solitude or privacy as I’ll ever come in this town.”
“I see what you mean. Still, it seems nice to me, knowing your roots and having your folks near.” He sounded wistful.
“It is.” Remembering Grandma’s speculative look when she met this handsome detective, I figured she’d be grilling me on what I thought about him. I added, “At least, most of the time.”
We’d reached the door. He opened it and stepped onto the wide porch, but I had the feeling he would have preferred to linger inside.
His gaze rested on the garage. “So, that’s where you claim to have been last night.” He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Sleeping alone, wasn’t it?”
I gave him my wide-eyed innocent act again. “I confess, I lied.”
Chapter Seven
The disappointment in Kurt Steele’s expression boosted my morale.
His tone gruff, he asked, “Yeah? Then you have an alibi?”
“Not exactly. My cats are highly intelligent, but neither actually speaks. Now that I think about it, neither does my dog, but he’s not allowed on the bed anyway.” I held out my arms dramatically. “What a shame. Guess you’ll have to take my word for it after all.”
Digging For Death Page 6