Mr. Yates’s eyes bulged. “Why not?”
“After the murder, a man kept showing up at the hardware store, getting all nosy about the murder scene. Finally, one of the employees asked him why he kept showing up and buying weird things and he stopped coming in. But this weekend, he came back and he was trying to get to the storage room, where the murder took place.”
Mr. Yates’s face paled. I guessed I knew more than he thought I did.
I turned to Bruce. “The employees say he’s bald and mousy and usually wears nice clothes, like he’s a businessman. Do you know anyone like that?”
Bruce chewed on his thumbnail and shook his head. “No.”
“Can you tell me what happened the night you were in the hardware store?”
Mr. Yates leaned forward, glaring at me. “Do not answer her. My client is not taking the witness stand.”
“He’s tellin’ me, not the witness stand. I’m tryin’ to help him.”
Bruce looked down at the table, studying a groove in the wood.
Hunching down, I tried to make eye contact. “Bruce, I saw David last week. At the grocery store, after I got out of jail, which I got thrown into for tryin’ to help you. David told me that you heard Frank Mitchell arguing with his murderer. Is that true?”
He nodded, then moved on to a hangnail on his index finger.
“David said you heard Frank say he was never gonna sell and the other guy said he was gonna get was owed to him.”
He gave three sharp nods of his head. Yes.
“Did you hear anything else? See anything? Anything at all?”
“No.”
Mr. Yates banged his hand on the table and leaned forward, the light reflecting off the top of his bare head. “Bruce, I am warnin’ you. Do not talk to this woman. She can walk out of here and use anything you say against you.”
Bruce cringed, curling up his shoulders and trying to hide is face.
I softened my voice. “Bruce, I promise you that I only want to help you. I know you took the murder weapon because you thought they might pin the murder on you. You wanted to get rid of the crowbar, but David wanted to keep it as insurance.”
“David Moore needs to keep his thoughts to himself.” Mr. Yates growled through clenched teeth.
“Bruce, will you please tell me what happened?”
He took a deep breath and stretched his hand out across the table. “I decided to rob the hardware store. I’d just lost my job and my parents had kicked me out.” With a grimace, he rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t want to do it, but my rent was due…” I was surprised how soft and timid his voice was. How could anyone think him capable of murder?
“So what happened when you got there?”
“I expected that I was gonna have to break in, but the back door was standin’ open, so I slipped through. As I walked along the back wall to the office, I heard yellin’. So I got closer and hid behind some shelves. Two guys were fightin’ and shoutin’ at one another. Frank, he kept yelling ‘I’m never gonna sell, you rat bastard.’ And ‘crawl back into the hole you crawled out of.’ Things like that. ” Bruce’s eyes lit up. “Oh! And he called the guy cue ball.”
“Then what happened?”
“The other guy, he kept shoutin’ ‘I’m gonna get what’s owed to me’ and ‘I’m gonna get what I deserve’ which seemed really weird. Finally, he picked up a crowbar and whacked Frank on top of the head.”
“And then he went into the office?”
“Yeah, he was in there for several minutes before he came out and ran out the back door.”
“Did you get a look at the guy? Can you tell me about him?”
“No, he was wearing black clothes and a black stocking cap.”
“Even though it was April?”
Bruce shrugged.
“Was he tall? Short? Fat? Skinny?”
Rubbing his forehead, Bruce closed his eyes. “I think he was as tall as Frank. Not skinny, but not fat either.”
“Just average weight?”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
I tuned my attention to Mr. Yates. “How tall was Frank Mitchell?”
“How should I know?”
“Won’t it be in his file or something?”
“He wasn’t very tall.” Bruce cut in.
I’d forgotten that Bruce grew up across the street from the victim. “How tall do you think he was?”
He shrugged again. “I dunno. Maybe five-six. Five-seven.”
“And you didn’t see the killer’s face or hair?”
“No, he had on that hat and it was too dark to see his face.”
“So after the man left, you grabbed the crowbar and left too?”
Bruce looked down, chewing on his pinkie fingernail. “There’s something else I never told anyone.”
Mr. Yates sat up straighter. “Why not?”
“Because it freaked me out and I tried to ignore it.”
“What happened?” I whispered.
His eyes looked wild and crazy. “After the other guy left, I walked over to Frank and his eyes were closed.”
That didn’t make sense. “But the pictures of him at the scene showed his eyes were open.” I’d never forget that blank stare.
“Yeah, they were in the picture.”
“But…how…?”
“After I walked over, his eyes popped open. Frank was still alive when I got to him.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Bruce’s attorney bellowed.
Bruce shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was scared. And ashamed.”
“Why didn’t you call 911?” I asked, horrified.
“Because I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.” He looked up, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “He stopped breathing a little bit after I got to him. There was so much blood…” he rubbed his hands, as though trying to scrub it off.
“Did he say anything?”
He swallowed and nodded his head multiple times. “Yeah, he kept sayin’ Duane over and over.”
“Duane?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know anyone named Duane?”
Biting his lip, he shook his head. “No.”
I glanced at Mr. Yates. “Can we tell the police this?”
He looked down his scrunched-up nose at me. “What exactly will we tell them and what do you expect them to do about it? They have their suspect and they’re damn near close to their conviction. There’s nothing to tell.”
Bruce’s head jerked up in alarm.
“But…”
“Thank you for your persistence, but let it go.”
“But…” He was really going to ignore this?
Mr. Yates stood, his face hardening with his obvious dislike of me. “We are due back in court so that will be all, Ms. Gardner. Tell Mr. Deveraux I look forward to the use of his fifty-yard-line tickets to the Arkansas-LSU football game this October.”
“What?”
“That’s what he offered to set this up. I hope it was worth it. Most people would gladly give up their firstborn for those tickets.”
Mr. Yates pulled Bruce out his chair and toward the door in the back of the room. Bruce glanced over his shoulder, fear in his eyes.
I stumbled from the room and into the hall, trying to absorb everything I’d learned.
One, Mr. Yates didn’t want my help.
Two, Mr. Decker wanted my help but was afraid of Mr. Yates.
Three, I didn’t know much about football, but according to William Yates, Mason Deveraux just gave him coveted tickets as a favor to me.
Why on earth would he do that?
Chapter Twenty-Two
I knocked on Mason’s office door, wondering if he’d even be there. Bruce Decker and Mr. Yates were headed back to court, and I was sure that Mason would be too.
But he opened the door, a grim smile on his face, walking past me and calling over his shoulder, “How’d your meetin’ go?”
I hurried to catch up, falling in step beside him. “I�
�m not sure. I’m still tryin’ to figure that out.”
“That bad, huh?” He stopped and pushed the elevator button.
I ignored his question. “Why’d you give him your football tickets?”
His face paled and he shifted his weight. “How’d you find that out?”
“Mr. Yates.”
Mason clenched his jaw. “That damn son of a bitch.” Then he glanced down at me, his eyes widening in embarrassment. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Excuse my bad manners. Again. That was unconscionable.”
“I dislike him too.”
His hand dropped and he smirked. “Well, he doesn’t like either one of us, so it’s one big love fest.”
“You still didn’t answer my question.”
The elevator door opened and I followed him in.
He pushed the number three. “That’s hard to explain.”
“Lucky for you this is the slowest elevator in the world.”
He turned to me and grinned, the grin that lost his stuffy-pants attitude. He looked approachable like this. “I guess the best answer is there’s lots of reasons. I’ve been inconceivably rude to you. And I gave Skeeter Malcolm your name, putting you in danger. While you shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he narrowed his eyes, “at least you were smart enough to use an alias and I blew it. And finally,” he paused, watching me for a minute. “You have made this boring, backward town more tolerable with your antics. It only seemed fair and reasonable to give you something in return.”
I put both hands on my hips. My antics? Who did Mason Van de Camp Deveraux III think he was? Indignation and anger prickled inside me. “Let me get this straight. You’re sayin’ that you helped me because I’m entertaining? Like a show?”
His eyes sank closed for a second, then opened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“And is that why you came last night instead of sendin’ someone else? Because I’m entertaining?”
The elevator doors opened and his face tightened in indecision. “I swear to you, that’s not what I meant and that’s not why I came instead of sending someone else.”
I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my temper.
“Look Rose, I have to go to court, but I don’t want you thinking that I see you as a circus sideshow.”
“You see me as a circus sideshow?”
People in the hall stared into the elevator car. The doors started to close and Mason pushed the door open button. “No. I’m trying to tell you that I don’t, although I’m doin’ a very poor job of it. Let me explain it later, okay?”
Tears burned my eyes. “Just go to court, Mr. Deveraux. Tell me how much the football tickets were and I’ll reimburse you.”
He walked out of the elevator, anger and confusion in his eyes. “No. I don’t expect you to reimburse me.” Taking two steps backward, gave me a pleading look. “I have to go.”
“I’m not stoppin’ you.”
“I don’t want to leave you upset and thinking the worst of me.”
Hurt and anger had curled inside me like a snake and attacked. “Don’t worry, Mr. Deveraux. I thought badly of you long before I discovered this.”
Pain filled his eyes before his usual disdain replaced it. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
He walked into the courtroom as the elevator doors closed. I struggled to keep from crying. What was wrong with me? Why was I so hateful to that man? I was torn between being grateful for his help and horrified that my antics entertained him. The hurt on his face at my parting words stabbed my conscience. I needed to talk to someone.
Neely Kate.
Her office was on the first floor and she knew everything about everything when it came to people. She’d know what to do, although I suspected there wasn’t anything to do. I just needed to get over my pain and humiliation.
When I entered the personal property tax office, I found her at a desk behind the counter. She looked up and saw my face, her smile falling. “Rose?” She jumped out of her seat and came around the counter, pulling me into a hug. “What on earth happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. I’m so confused.”
Neely Kate lifted her chin to peer around the corner. “I’m takin’ a break, Jimmy.”
“Of course you are.” A sarcastic male voice echoed from the back.
Putting her arm around my shoulder, she pushed me out the door. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“No.”
She steered me toward the courthouse exit. “First things first. You need food. Let’s go to Merilee’s.”
“But haven’t you already been to lunch?”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. Jimmy’ll grumble, but he won’t do anything. He’s been distracted over all the pension mess and I’ve been getting away with murder.”
I winced at her choice of words, but she didn’t notice.
Once we were seated in the café, Neely Kate started her inquisition. “Is this about Joe?”
Shaking my head, I blew my nose. “No.”
Her eyes flew open. “Oh my stars and garters! Is this about last night? I’m so sorry I didn’t show up, but my grandma got chest pains and made me rush her to the hospital.”
I’d completely forgotten about her grandmother. Some friend I was. “Is she okay?”
She looked confused. “What?” she waved her hand. “Oh, yeah. It was nothing. Heartburn. It doesn’t matter how many times we tell her not to eat the ten-piece buffalo hot wings special at Big Bill’s Barbeque, she still does it. Every time.” She leaned over the table. “Did Mr. Deveraux show up?”
“Yes, but I cannot believe you called him, of all people. And until just a few minutes ago, I couldn’t believe he actually came.”
“What happened a few minutes ago?”
I sniffed. “He called me entertaining.”
She squinted in confusion. “What’s wrong with that?”
“That’s not what he said exactly. But that was his point. To be more exact, I think he said that my antics had made his stay in this boring town more tolerable.”
Her face was expressionless as she waited for me to continue.
“He insulted our town.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“He insulted me.”
She looked confused again. “Which part insulted you? I missed it. Rose, I think that was his stuffy way of saying he likes you.”
“What? No.”
She stared at the wall, deep in thought. “Who knew that Mr. Crabbypants had some humanity deep down?”
“Why did you call him to come check on me last night?”
Turning back to me, she shrugged. “Because he had enough guilt in him from your jail experience that I knew he’d help you. Besides, would you rather I call him or Officer Ernie?”
“Neither,” I grumbled.
The waitress brought our food and I attacked my hamburger, realizing I hadn’t eaten since the night before.
“Stop being such a baby.”
I shot her a glare since I couldn’t protest with a mouth full of food.
“Think about it. Mason Deveraux is new to town. A town he doesn’t want to be in. He’s a mean ol’ cuss, even if he isn’t old. He’s stuffy. He’s arrogant. And he’s got everyone in town scared of him.”
There was no arguing with that.
“Then you run right into him and tell him off. And you keep doin’ things to throw him off his carefully polished pedestal. For once, someone’s not kowtowing to him and is meetin’ him toe-to-toe instead.”
I wasn’t sure I liked where this was headed “What are you sayin’?”
“I’m sayin’ that Mason Deveraux is lonely, clearly by his own doin’, but lonely nevertheless. He doesn’t have any friends in this town. Maybe he wants to be your friend.”
“Me?”
“Sure. Why not you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know…”
She shrugged and poked at her salad. “Maybe I’m wro
ng, but that rarely happens.” She lifted her gaze with a wink.
I couldn’t help laughing. I suspected she was right about that part.
“Besides, he seemed concerned about you when I called him last night. What happened when he showed up?”
I filled her in on all the details of the evening.
A faraway look filled her eyes. “Mason Van De Camp Deveraux III stood up to Skeeter Malcolm. I would have liked to have seen that.”
“You know about Skeeter Malcolm?”
She snorted. “Who doesn’t?”
Me. Obviously. “And you didn’t think it was a bad idea to go there last night?”
“Well, no. There’s nothing wrong with shooting pool. But when I couldn’t go, I had a feelin’ you’d go and do something crazy and make Skeeter suspicious.”
Why did everyone always expect me to do something crazy? “I don’t think Skeeter killed Frank Mitchell.”
“Why not?”
I told her what I’d learned from Anne in the paint department.
“That does sound suspicious.”
“She says he’s a short, bald man. But Skeeter and the guys he hung out with aren’t short or bald. Did you find out anything else about that investment company?”
“No…”
“Maybe Frank’s murder didn’t have anything to do with him owin’ money. Maybe it was the person who wanted his house. What if they’re two separate things? Did you know there’s a superstore going in at the edge of Forest Ridge neighborhood?”
“Now that you mention it, Jimmy said something about it. Some of his rental properties in that neighborhood got bought up.” She watched me for a minute, her brow furrowing. “Rose, how did you know one of my flower girls was gonna get chicken pox?”
I nearly choked on my food. “Uh…I heard it was going around.”
“Well, Misty broke out all over in spots this morning.” Neely Kate bit her lip and slowly shook her head. “How do you know Bruce Decker is innocent?”
My heart thumped wildly. “I told you already. I just know.” My chest tightened and I had a hard time getting out the words.
RG2 - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons Page 23