Thanks to age and a good memory, Elinor knew that Betty Blanton was something of a newcomer to John’s Valley. She had succeeded in establishing a busy law practice, but not through the traditional avenues of church affiliation, civic club membership, or even running for office as Patrick Allen Childers had done. Rather, Betty Blanton relied on word-of-mouth and an unadorned little notice that appeared every week in the Johns Valley Sun, unchanged over the years but for the recent addition of a web address.
Elinor could not recall seeing Betty at social gatherings, or even in the company of another person, male or female. It was likely she kept her private life private so as not to flaunt her sexual affiliation in this conservative corner of Oklahoma. But what if the woman’s assertive manner and ambiguous fashions were mere theater? People liked to think they were getting a tough, aggressive fighter as their legal representative, when the truth was, lawyers, like English teachers and librarians, spent much of their professional life reading.
Elinor wished she had been able to access Patrick Allen Childers’ phone to see the photo he had taken so she could judge for herself its emotional tenor. Did Blanton and Weathers meet over barbecue to discuss his divorce settlement? Seems like he would’ve sent his own lawyer to such a powwow.
Suddenly, Elinor remembered something that happened during the Fourth of July parade. Kate and her absurd little house had just rolled past, as had Guy in his vintage automobile. Then came Buck Weathers driving a classic Thunderbird convertible. She had heard Betty Blanton swear under her breath. Elinor had taken it as an expression of outrage on behalf of her client Judith Weathers. But maybe Betty had been expressing her own feelings about seeing Buck with a carload of half-clad beauties.
The Saturday before the parade, as they were trying to close down the library for the long holiday weekend, Buck Weathers had asked for an old newspaper article. Other patrons waiting to check out were annoyed, as were Dot and Libby who had to fill the request. Was it a diversion to cover any stir that might arise from a collaborator slipping through the back door and thrusting a knife in the throat of an elderly nurse? Betty Blanton’s car near the library’s back door offered a ready escape. But what would be their motive? What could Betty Blanton and/or Buck Weathers want with Eula Wyckham’s laptop? Did it have anything to do with the imminent loss of Thunderbird Ranch?
Now a second victim lay dead, complicating an explanation. The ball of yarn was getting untidy again. Elinor massaged her neck. She was tired, hot, hungry, and in need of a good night’s sleep. It was time to admit defeat and call it a day. She would see Betty Blanton tomorrow and give up the advantage of surprise.
Then something interesting happened. Buck Weathers drove past. Elinor saw him clearly in profile. A moment later, Betty Blanton whipped into the parking spot next to Elinor and was halfway across the street before Elinor could get out of her own car. She was stiff from having sat so long.
“Ms. Blanton!” she called.
Betty Blanton turned back in surprise. “Were you waiting for me?” She did a quick scan of Depot Street. Looking for Buck Weathers?
Elinor caught up with her. “He just drove by.”
“Who?”
“Your lover.”
Betty Blanton looked at her for a moment. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
*****
“He’s a free man now,” Betty Blanton said. “Judith Weathers moved to Dallas today.”
“I’m not here to question your professional ethics, Betty. There’s a more serious issue at stake. Patrick Allen Childers was murdered last night.”
“Yeah, I heard the buzz over at the courthouse. I don’t know what that has to do with me and my love life, though.”
“Did you know that Mayor Childers was something of a busybody who collected snippets of information as he went about in the world?”
“I did not know that.”
“One of those bits of intelligence was a photo he took of you and Buck Weathers eating barbecue.”
Betty Blanton’s expression sharpened into wariness. “Well now, you’ve got me there. I did eat barbecue with Buck Weathers yesterday, but I never saw Patrick Allen Childers.”
“He died with a sack of barbecued ribs in his car.”
“Jeez Louise!”
They had progressed no further than a small kitchenette at the back of the suite. Suddenly there was a rap on the back door. Betty reached over and yanked the door open.
“Come on in, Buck. We’ve got trouble in paradise.”
On seeing Elinor, Buck Weathers did a double-take. “Well, gosh darn, what’s going on here?”
“Shall we sit?” Elinor suggested. “Not in your office, Betty. I need upholstery.” She led the way into the waiting area where she had spent a fruitless hour earlier that afternoon. She took the over-stuffed chair, forcing the other two to settle on the large leather sofa facing her.
“Buck, did you see Patrick Allen Childers snap your photo yesterday at the barbecue joint?”
Buck’s mouth flew open in surprise.
“Don’t say anything,” Betty Blanton warned. “You need some legal advice first.”
“Actually, he needs his old English teacher’s advice,” Elinor said. “I’ve known Buck all his life and I can tell when he’s done something he’s not proud of.”
Buck Weathers hung his head. “I’m sorry, Betty. I just wanted… ”
“Hush,” she said.
“The police took forensic evidence at the scene of Patrick’s murder,” Elinor said. “If they find a fingerprint or a bloodstain that leads them to you, Buck, it’s going to go hard on you that you didn’t come forward to report his death.”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk today, baby,” Buck said to Betty.
Betty ignored him and said to Elinor, “Please leave so I can talk to my client.”
Elinor shook her head. “I’m not leaving, and Buck Weathers is not your client. Buck, did you see anyone else in that alley?”
Betty issued another sharp warning. “He wasn’t there!”
“Come on, honey,” Buck said. “She knows I was. I was just going to make him erase that damn picture… ”
“What time were you there?” Elinor asked.
“It was after ten. Took me that long to find the little bastard. I had been watching his house, waiting for somebody to come home. There were lights on, but no cars in the carport. I remembered there was a big shindig going on over at Community Church, so I went over there and cruised the parking lot. Didn’t see his car there, either. I thought about where else he might be and remembered that it was Elk’s night, so I drove out south of town to the lodge. They were just breaking up, and I figured I’d missed him on the road and he’d be back home by now. So, I went back and, this time, Lucy’s car was in the carport.”
“You know what Lucy Childers drives?”
“I may not can tell when a woman’s wearing new shoes, but I damn sure know what people drive. Lucy Childers drives a gray Lexus.”
“And you’re certain the carport was empty when you were there earlier?”
“Yup. I decided to head home, try to catch him in the morning. I was coming through town when I had the idea to swing through the alley and see if his car happened to be there. He parks back behind his building. I figured if he rode with somebody, he might’ve left his car there. And that’s where it was, lights on, engine running, window down.”
“Did you see anybody else? Any other cars in the alley, perhaps driving out the other end?”
“It’s like Hades’ waiting room downtown after dark. I didn’t see nobody. Didn’t even see him at first. Fool thing to do, go off and leave your engine running. I got out of my truck and went between the cars, leaned down, and that’s when I smelled barbecue.”
“Precious Petunias!” Betty Blanton swore.
“He was bent over the steering wheel. I thought he was drunk or asleep. I called his name and reached in and shoved him in the shoulder. He kind of slid over sideway
s. That’s when I knew the rascal had taken his last sniper shot with a cell phone.”
“Damn, Buck! How’m I going to get you out of this?” Betty lamented.
“I figured since nobody saw me, nobody’d know if I went ahead and got what I came for. I reached down inside the window and popped the door open. The dome light came on and I could see blood on his white shirt collar. It had to be ninety degrees outside, but the interior of that car was like a meat locker. Had him chilled down like a side of beef. I couldn’t find his phone, didn’t have the stomach to go through his pockets. Good god a’mighty! I’ve seen dead animals in my time, but that’s the first time I ever run across a man with his throat cut in a dark alley. I’m still shook up about it.”
“Why didn’t you call me, Buck?” Betty said.
“You had an early morning court date, hon.”
“I never saw him in that barbecue joint.”
“You had your back to him. I spotted the little weasel out of the corner of my eye, saw him raise that cell phone. And I knew right then what he intended to do with it. Dadnabit! I should’ve taken that phone away from him, but I figured I’d do it in private, settle it man to man.”
“How long have you two been seeing each other?” Elinor asked.
Buck grinned, rueful. “I would’ve divorced that wife of mine a long time ago if I’d known a man could find real companionship in a woman.”
“Judith came looking for a divorce attorney,” Betty Blanton said. “I couldn’t tell her she was trying to hire the very woman who wanted to take him away from her.”
“I can see how that would be awkward,” Elinor agreed.
“I advised her to hire the other divorce attorney in town, but she said she didn’t like the settlement he got for her friend Myra. Said she’d heard good things about me, though.” A faint smile curled Betty’s upper lip and she reached over and slapped Buck on the knee. “So, Bucky, you’ve still got your daddy’s old place. That’s what you wanted.”
“I never liked that big house anyways,” Buck said. “Took a map to find the bathroom.”
Elinor broke in. “Before you start feeling that you’ve cleared this hurdle, Buck, let me remind you that you have now placed yourself at the scene of another murder. You were in the library the afternoon Eula Wyckham was killed.”
“Now hold your horses! I admit to being mad as hell at that sawed-off little mayor, but why would I kill a nice old lady who took care of me when my leg was busted?”
“I have no answer to that. In fact, I can’t see who benefits from either death.”
“Buck wasn’t the only person in the library that day,” Betty Blanton pointed out.
“But we only know of three people who were at both crime scenes,” Elinor said.
Buck looked surprised. “Are you saying somebody else was in that alley?”
“Rexie Roberts saw Patrick that night, but she came and went through the front door.”
“How do you know she didn’t follow him into the alley and kill him?” Betty Blanton demanded.
“If she was guilty of murder, I doubt she would have shown me his cell phone.”
“Rexie?!” Buck exclaimed. “What was she doing with Childers’ cell phone?”
“Apparently she’s braver than you are, Buck. She took it away from him. And saw the photo of you two eating barbecue.”
“So that’s why you came knocking on my door,” Betty said. “Why didn’t Rexie go to the police with that information?”
“When she heard what happened to Patrick, she realized that Buck had an interest in that phone, but she didn’t think Buck would kill for it, so she left it out of her statement to DeWayne.”
“I think we can raise reasonable doubt,” Betty Blanton said.
“I feel bad siccing Judith onto that little gal,” Buck said. “But, by gum, Rexie sure kept her pinned down long enough to get that settlement signed.”
Elinor stood to leave. “I’ll let you counsel your client now, Betty.”
“I don’t need no counseling,” Buck said. “I know what I gotta do. Blame it all.”
*****
It was dark enough when Elinor turned into her driveway to need the headlights to cut through the gloom of the tree-canopied lane. The farmhouse had never seemed less inviting. It was one thing to work at the intricate knots and kinks of crime during the daylight hours, to puzzle through a skein of conspiracy and intrigue sitting in a crowded café with Dot, or casually discuss theories with the police chief within earshot of armed officers. But it was another thing entirely to contemplate those matters alone, after dark, approaching a house no longer guarded by a vigilant and loyal dog. Her nearest neighbors were some quarter mile away. They wouldn’t hear the scream of an elderly librarian getting her throat slashed, assuming it was possible to utter a scream.
“Oh, this is nonsense,” Elinor said out loud. A throat slasher would have to walk a long way from the road in order to not give away their presence with a parked car in her driveway. Still, as she entered her kitchen from the carport, she turned on lights as she passed through the house to her bedroom. She regretted not asking Rexie Roberts to spend another night.
Washing up in the bathroom, Elinor realized how tired she was. It was tempting to do without dinner, to lie down on the bed and let forgetfulness wash over her. Instead, she changed out of her good clothes and pulled on comfort clothes, headed back to the kitchen to find something to make a meal of. She had fallen behind in her domestic chores. The cupboards were bare. The refrigerator reproached her with its cold empty shelves. The house could use a thorough dusting, too. Maybe Kate was right. Time to downsize. Move closer to other people.
Of course, if she stayed home and took care of domestic matters, she could have a clean house and well-stocked pantry. But it was too fun to open up the library every day, see who came in, how she could help them find what they were looking for. If she stayed at home she would miss the camaraderie she enjoyed with Dot, Libby, and the other volunteers. She would even miss their curmudgeonly suite mate, DeWayne.
There would be no dinner and downtime for DeWayne tonight. He would be called back to the office to take a statement from Buck Weathers, quiz him on the delicate matter of his complicated love life. How it would make DeWayne squirm to ask such questions! For even stripped of his acreage and big house, Buck retained his most valuable asset, the Weathers name. Tomorrow, Elinor would have to hear yet again how irritated DeWayne was that Elinor had somehow beaten him to another clue, hear again how, despite the overtime his department had put in, not to mention the forensic expertise of the state crime lab, he was no closer to identifying the killer behind the bloodletting.
Nor am I any closer, Elinor thought. Helpful as it was to eliminate suspects, she still could find no meaning in the two deaths. If you ignored the obvious suspects—Buck Weathers, a man who was present at both crime scenes and who admitted to laying hands on Patrick Allen Childers’ bleeding corpse, and Gary “aka Guy Pettibone”—who did that leave? How much deeper would they have to dig?
There had to be some pattern, some fact heretofore uncovered, that linked the victims. Think, Elinor! What did they have in common? Who did they both know? What did they know that threatened someone enough to commit the act for which there was no atonement, recovery, grace? Or was it all meaningless, random, a killer devoid of conscience fueled by a lust for blood?
Stop it! she thought. Stop pulling at this ragged ball of yarn, this snarl, this tangle. It was an intractable riddle whose answer would come when she wasn’t looking for it. In the meantime, she needed to rest her mind and body. She needed sleep. Or rather, first a shower, then food, then she would climb into bed with a good book and let literature take her mind off questions she couldn’t answer. How did “Brain” turn off her overactive mind? Dot tackled insanely hard crosswords, that’s how.
Finally, Elinor gave up on the idea of preparing herself anything like a well-balanced meal and opened a quart of cowpeas she had put up t
hat spring when they came on the vines in such abundance she couldn’t eat or give away enough. A handful of stale crackers rounded out her meal. Opening a drawer to get herself a napkin, she was surprised to find a book there. It was Eula Wyckham’s Bible where Dot had shoved it when Rexie arrived that morning. She took the volume with her to the table and idly flipped pages while she ate.
Who were these people that a young Eula Wyckham had valued enough to commemorate their rites of passage in her Bible? How did the woman end up so alone in the world that the only person to whom she could leave her estate was not related to her? Why had Nurse Wyckham switched careers? Even though she remained in health service, there was a big difference between midwifery and other kinds of nursing. The birth of a baby was almost a social occasion, with many parties contributing to a group effort. But an older Eula Wyckham had worked alone, driving long distances between rural patients. She had made few social connections in the community, never invited the neighbors in. But lately, that had changed. She had begun attending New Community Church. Why did she feel the need to tend to her spiritual life just now? She couldn’t have known she was about to be murdered.
Having eaten all the peas and crackers she could stand, Elinor put away the Bible and tidied up the few dishes she had used. Tomorrow she would make time for grocery shopping. She checked the back door latch, turned off the lights, and left the kitchen.
She had always valued the peace and quiet of living in the country, but tonight the quiet was unsettling. She paused to listen. Was that a subtle shift in the air pressure inside the house? As if someone had raised a window or quietly opened a door? She retraced her steps and turned on the kitchen lights again. She made the rounds of the other rooms, forcing herself to look into closets and peer under beds.
I’m going to have to move, she thought. These murders are making me paranoid.
Chapter 9
“I’m not making any headway with this genealogy stuff,” Dot said, straightening her spine and resettling the glasses on her nose. She exited the program she was in, stretched and yawned. “Maybe because I haven’t been sleeping all that well.”
Death In The Stacks: An Elinor & Dot library mystery Page 15