“Does that mean I’m no longer a murder suspect?” I gasped.
“In my book you never were, but I still had to avoid the appearance of impropriety. I explained all that last year.”
“Screw propriety.” I took hold of his polo shirt and kissed him again. He responded quite nicely, then held me against his chest. “I’m scared, Agent Wheeler.”
“I know, Merry. I won’t take long. Just act natural.” He bent down, pulled his knife out of the dirt floor, closed it and dropped it into his pocket. He turned away before I did. I didn’t think my feet would work right anyway. He unlocked the door and slipped it open a crack. “Lock this after you leave and don’t open it again until I tell you to.”
And don’t get killed in the meantime. I would definitely try not to, despite what Peggy calls my speaking countenance. I’m a terrible liar, which is why I try to tell the truth whenever possible. By the time I locked the deadbolt, Geoff’s Crown Vic was out of sight.
How was I supposed to make nice with Catherine?
How was I supposed to keep my mind on the show and not on that kiss?
How was I not going to tell Peggy?
I forgot to tell Geoff I knew why Catherine wanted Raleigh dead.
Chapter 35
Geoff
Geoff hoped Troy was too scared to refuse to drive to Mossy Creek when Geoff called his cell phone.
“What’ll I tell Catherine?” he asked. “She doesn’t want me to leave the show.”
“Don’t tell her anything. You won’t be gone long. Just come.”
“Can’t we do this by phone?”
“Troy, drive down to Mossy Creek and talk to me.” Geoff was annoyed. The kid was within his rights, but Geoff wanted to ask his questions face to face, see his reactions, watch his body language.
“Okay, I guess.”
Geoff spent the twenty minutes it took Troy to drive from Merry’s show to Amos’s office going over the ME’s reports on Raleigh and Gwen that had been faxed to Amos’s office. He also wrote out a time line that was more conjecture than fact.
When Troy knocked on Amos’s door, his first words were, “Catherine said I should have her lawyer with me when I talked to that sheriff.”
“That’s your right, but I’m not Sheriff Nordstrom. If you call your lawyer, I’ll have to hold you until he shows up. At the moment, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need clarification.”
Troy looked at the small police station. He obviously thought that Mossy Creek’s cells would be smaller and more uncomfortable than Sheriff Nordstrom’s. After a few seconds, he said, “If I want a lawyer later I can ask for one, right?”
Geoff nodded. “At any point you can refuse to answer questions and ask for a lawyer. I doubt you’ll have to.” He checked that the voice-activated tape recorder on the table between them was working.
Troy nodded. “Okay.”
Geoff opened his yellow legal pad and picked up his pen. The page was blank, but he hoped it wouldn’t stay that way long. “I’m checking out cell phone calls last weekend,” Geoff said. “You said Catherine called you at the motel early Sunday morning to tell you to meet her downstairs for breakfast. Correct?”
Troy nodded.
“You’ll have to say the words.” Geoff pointed at the tape recorder.
“Yessir,” Troy said.
“You’re certain she called you, not the other way around?”
Troy dropped his head into his hands. “I told you and that Nordstrom guy. Catherine called me just as I was coming down to breakfast Sunday morning to tell me to get my butt in gear.”
“You took the call? You didn’t let it go to voice mail?”
“Catherine hates voice mail. I picked it up.”
“How long after that did she come downstairs and join you?”
Troy hesitated, narrowed his eyes as though trying to visualize the scene.
“Five minutes? Ten?” Geoff pressed.
“Thing is, she didn’t actually come downstairs.”
“She was already in the breakfast room?” Geoff felt his heart speed up.
“Not exactly. She’d been out in the parking lot checking out the fog. It was so thick she was afraid people might not be able to drive their trailers to the Tollivers’ safely.”
Geoff steadied his breathing and nodded as though this new information meant nothing. “Okay. She came in from the parking lot. How long after she called you?”
“I don’t know, man. Does it matter?”
“It’s my OCD. I like to get things exactly right.”
Troy sighed, closed his eyes. He was visualizing the scene. Good. Another little bombshell would be helpful.
“Okay. She called as I came down the stairs. I told her I was already walking into the breakfast area. She asked if Morgan was driving out with us. I said she was still asleep. She was driving back to school after she woke up.
“I picked up some o.j. and a blueberry muffin, then after I put them on one of the tables, I went back and poured me some coffee. I was sitting down with the coffee when Catherine came in from the back door.”
“Not the lobby door?”
“No. I guess she’d walked around the building. I saw her come in and waved to her. She came on over and said she was dying for coffee.”
“Did she seem upset or worried about the fog?”
“Nope. She said it wasn’t too bad to drive through, but she said she had to go change her shirt because she’d gotten damp.”
“How about her hair?”
“Man, I don’t remember.” He sounded sulky. “Anyway, she was wearing that khaki jungle hat—the canvas one with the wide brim. Water just beads up on it.”
“What did you and Raleigh say to one another when he called you Saturday night?”
“What?” Troy sat up straight. “He didn’t call me.”
“Text you, then.”
“No, man. I told you. After what happened in the morning, I was staying way clear of him. I didn’t want him to make the connection between me and that banner. Man, I can’t believe we did that.”
“Neither can I,” Geoff said. But he understood it. The kid was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, and Morgan had all the electricity required to flip his switch. “So, he sent you a voice message?”
“No, man! How many times I have to tell you? The only people who would have called were Morgan and Catherine and they didn’t.”
“No calls to your room?”
“No!”
Geoff spread his hands. “Okay, settle down. Thing is, we pulled your cell phone records—yours and Catherine’s. They say you got a text message from Raleigh’s cell phone at eight-thirty Saturday night. It was deleted, so I’m asking you what he said.”
Troy came up out of his chair. “That’s not true! Ask Morgan. We cut out early. By eight-thirty we were already headed to the motel. Last thing I wanted was to run into Raleigh . . .” He cocked his head. “Why would Raleigh text me? I barely knew the man.”
Unfortunately, Geoff had no idea. But he’d bet Catherine knew why. “Calm down. I believe you. Your records say you called Catherine Sunday morning.”
“No way. She called me.”
“Your cell records a call from you to her on Sunday morning.”
Either Troy was a better actor than Geoff gave him credit for, or the confusion in his eyes was genuine. If it were genuine . . . “Can I see your cell phone?”
“Sure.” Troy handed it over. Geoff checked its history. One text from Raleigh Saturday night. One call six-thirty on Sunday morning from Catherine. “Your phone says you’re lying,” Geoff said. He held onto it.
“Huh? This is crazy.”
Geoff nodded. “Mind if I keep this for a little while?”
“Yeah, man, I do mind. I need my phone. If Catherine tries to get me, I have to answer or she’ll freak. I mean, she bought and paid for it.”
“Even on Saturday I can get a court order. I promise I won’t keep it long.” Geoff peered at
the phone. “It’s not an iPhone or a Droid, just a simple phone.”
“Yeah. Same as hers. She bought them at the same time—some two for one deal. I’d like an iPhone, but she says she can’t afford it and I sure can’t.”
“Go get one of those cheap pay-as-you-go phones at Wal-Mart.”
“Who’s gonna pay for it?”
Geoff pulled a twenty from his wallet. “Here. Get a cheap one. Then go back to the show.”
Big sigh of relief. Troy was only too glad to leave. As he started out the door, Geoff said, “One more thing.”
“What?” Not happy.
“Catherine ever use your phone?”
“Why would she? She keeps hers practically Superglued to her side.”
After Troy left, Geoff leaned back in his chair. He now knew how the alibi worked and why Troy had not met Raleigh at the dressage arena, but he was afraid he’d never be able to prove it.
Catherine must either have known or suspected that Raleigh was going to try to get in touch with Troy Saturday night, but Geoff had no idea how or why Catherine didn’t want Raleigh communicating with the kid.
She must have swapped phones with Troy—they were identical after all—sometime Saturday, then swapped them back after she called Troy on Sunday morning. She was taking a big chance that Troy would notice the phones had been swapped before she could change them back. Not so big a chance, however, as if Troy had been using a Droid or an iPhone with a bunch of apps.
She’d gotten away with it.
It was the only thing that made sense. Maybe Raleigh boasted he was going to hire Troy away from her. Did the kid matter that much to her? Apparently they weren’t sleeping together.
Say she’d swapped phones with Troy on Saturday night without his knowledge and intercepted a text message from Raleigh setting up a meeting before the show in the dressage arena. Why Raleigh would set such a time and place made no sense to Geoff, but it must have made sense to Raleigh.
Catherine used Troy’s cell to agree to meet Raleigh in Troy’s name. Then she used Troy’s phone to call him from the parking lot of the motel Sunday morning. Sometime, possibly during breakfast, she swapped the phones back. The kid had been too preoccupied with Morgan to use his cell phone Saturday night or Sunday anyway, so he wouldn’t have paid enough attention to his phone to know it wasn’t actually his.
Next he called the motel where the horse people had stayed Saturday night and spoke to the owner. “What’s your policy about late night incoming phone calls?” Geoff asked.
“No policy,” said Mr. Patel. “You call room directly, you get through.”
“How about if I don’t know the room number?”
“No calls.”
“Anyone ever ask not to have late night calls put through?”
“Oh, sure. No problem. We flip a switch at desk.”
“How about last Saturday night? Anybody request not to receive calls?”
“Man, how would I know?”
“Don’t you write it down somewhere? For the next person on shift, maybe?”
He finally got the name and number of the woman who had been the desk on the previous Saturday night. She was off duty this weekend, but Geoff was lucky enough to reach her at home. When he asked her if anyone had specifically requested not to receive calls, the phone went silent. Geoff hoped she was thinking and not painting her fingernails.
Finally, she said, “Yeah. There was a woman paid for adjoining rooms Friday and Saturday. She asked us not to route calls to either room Saturday night.” She snickered. “Guess the guy in the next room was sleeping in her room, and they didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“You remember if there were any calls?”
“Lord, I have no idea. We don’t keep records. Everybody uses cell phones anyway so they don’t have to pay extra.”
He thanked her and hung up.
He needed one more piece of hard evidence, but he was unlikely to get it until Monday at the earliest, unless he called Sarah Beth Raleigh. Dawn was at Merry’s show and he didn’t have her cell phone number. She probably wouldn’t return his messages anyway.
Sarah Beth hung up on him. He had busted the father of her unborn child for transportation of drugs with intent to distribute. He didn’t think Sarah Beth was involved, but that was Stan Nordstrom’s problem. He wondered whether Sarah Beth would post bail for Brock. If she did, he suspected Brock would jump bail and head for parts unknown.
He called back until she stayed on the line. Grudgingly, she gave him the name and cell phone number of Raleigh’s personal attorney in Atlanta.
Geoff expected to reach him at the eighth tee on his country club golf course.
“I’m not golfing,” Wilson Waters said. “And it’s your fault, Agent Wheeler. Raleigh’s estate is so screwed up, I’ll have auditors and IRS agents and the SEC and I don’t know who all in my hair for a year.”
“For which you are billing the estate by the hour,” Geoff said. “You actually owe me.” Geoff had encountered Wilson Waters several times in the course of his investigations. Atlanta might be big, but the legal community wasn’t. Not for a GBI agent who spent a good deal of time in court.
The man had an excellent reputation. He suspected Raleigh kept as many of his business transactions in other hands as he could manage, leaving his personal finances relatively clean. He hoped Waters was not only honest but cooperative. “I need the answer to one question.”
“Will it help arrest his killer?”
“And convict.”
“Ask away.”
Chapter 36
Peggy
Merry acted very odd at lunch. On one hand, her face had that glow Peggy’s got after an evening with Dick. On the other, she couldn’t sit down and didn’t pay attention to the people asking her questions. Very un-Merry.
The garden club ladies had pushed what furniture there was in the clients’ lounge against the walls and set up long tables and folding chairs for lunch. Since the alternative to their sandwiches was a drive into Mossy Creek, almost everyone participated.
Catherine couldn’t share tables with participants. Everyone was cordial to the judge at a show, of course, but there was a fine line that wasn’t crossed. The garden club ladies set up lunch for Catherine and Juanita Tolliver, who was scribing for her, under the judge’s tent by C.
“So far, so good,” Peggy whispered as they finished their chocolate cake.
“What?” Merry reacted as though Peggy had lashed her with a whip.
“I said, so far, so good. No accidents, no runaways, there’s still toilet paper in the restrooms, and people are picking up their trash. The clinic tomorrow is full and bound to be a success, and Sandi says we’ve cleared over two thousand dollars so far. Add the money from the food, and after we pay the expenses and Catherine’s fee, we should have enough for a down payment on Casey’s carriage and a nice chunk of change for the farm.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Dick whispered, “But I’ve already got a deal working on the carriage. I’ll make up the difference.”
“Dick, you can’t,” Peggy said.
“Shut up, Pretty Peggy. It’s my money. It won’t be much. I’ve got my eye on a Norwegian Fjord pony for her as well. Broke to death and kind as they come.”
No wonder Peggy was crazy about the man.
“Merry! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“What? Oh, yeah, Dick, wonderful.”
Peggy didn’t think Merry even knew what they’d been talking about.
“Anybody see Geoff?” she asked, scanning the room.
She didn’t wait for an answer, but dumped her leavings in the trashcan and left without a word.
“Before you ask,” Peggy told Dick, “I have no idea what that’s about.”
“We can talk tonight. You gonna give me a hand getting the cart ready for Casey?”
They had scheduled Casey’s dressage test first after the lunch break to give them time to set up her carriage and warm up for an extra-long
time before she drove her test.
Peggy was glad Dick was driving with Casey. The way Merry was acting, she’d drive off course. Unfortunately, Merry’s Halflinger, Golden, the old campaigner, was trying to develop an abscess in his right front hoof and was therefore slightly lame. That meant only Ned, Peggy’s Halflinger, was available for Casey to drive. Merry had suggested she scratch, but Casey would have none of it. “Is he safe?” She asked.
“Mostly,” Merry said.
“Then I’m driving,” she said. “Dick won’t let anything happen to us.” Ned had been a perfect saint since his dunking at the Tollivers’. Peggy figured he was afraid that if he misbehaved, they’d try to drown him again.
There was no shortage of helpers to get Casey’s wheelchair strapped into the cart. Her husband, Hank, the veterinarian, was a big man, and Louise’s grandson Pete had played high school football.
As Casey and Dick settled themselves and walked Ned around outside the arena to enter at A, Geoff found Peggy in the stable.
“Where’s Merry?” He looked grim.
“Looking for you. Why?”
“I have to talk to her now.” He peered around the arena and spotted Juanita Tolliver alone under the judge’s tent checking the afternoon dressage tests. The boxes containing the remains of their lunches sat on the table beside her. He headed for the table.
Peggy followed him. She wanted to hear what he said.
“Mrs. Tolliver, have you seen Merry or Catherine?”
“I think Catherine went to the restroom, Agent Wheeler. The last time I saw Merry she was back by the hazards course in the back pasture.”
Geoff started toward the lane between the pastures, then turned back and pointed to the open plastic lunch box on the judge’s table. “Is this yours or Mrs. Harris’s?”
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