Then he sent the same report to Brad. It would take showing his friend how badly Barnes botched the investigation to get him fully on board. His cell phone rang, and he turned the flashlight off before he answered. “Kincade.”
“Will. This is Madeline Starr. I understand you’re driving up to see Jimmy in the morning. Could you pick me up in Jackson and let me ride along with you? I hate that drive alone.”
“I’d be honored, ma’am.”
“Great. And it’s Maggie, not ma’am.”
“See you in Jackson, say nine?” A red glow on the street caught his eye. A man was standing at the entrance to the drive with a cigarette in his hand.
“Nine should be about right. I’ll be at the courthouse.”
“Great. See you then.”
Will hung up and sat still. The moon was covered with clouds and there was no overhead light on the side of the house, so he couldn’t see the man’s features, only shadows from the streetlights. He was only assuming it was a man by the size. Six-one at least.
The red glow bounced on the drive as the man threw the cigarette down then walked to the back of the house. Will scooted down in the seat and unstrapped his gun. He bunched his muscles, waiting.
With stealth, the stranger eased under the faint light from the porch. He was dressed in a dark hoodie and dark pants. As soon as he reached the steps, Will sprang from the car, his gun raised. “Police! Put your hands where I can see them.”
The man whirled around and broke for the street. Will chased him, tackling him at the corner of the house. Air whooshed from the man’s lungs.
“Wait! I’m a private investigator!” He reached toward his jacket.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
He halted halfway to his pocket and held his hands up. “Okay.”
Will climbed to his feet. “Stand up and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”
Grunting, the man pushed up from the ground. “Gerald Caldwell. Caldwell Investigations. I have my credentials in my front pocket.”
Will patted him down and pulled a .38 caliber Smith & Wesson from a shoulder holster.
“I have a permit to carry.”
“I don’t doubt that, and this is a good way to lose it. Let me see your credentials.”
Caldwell fished his wallet out and flipped it open. “Can we sit down somewhere? When you knocked me down, I hurt my knee.”
“How about at the CJC?” The credentials looked legit.
“There’s a Waffle House around the corner. How about there?”
Will might get more out of him at the fast food place, and he wasn’t worried about the detective running off, since Will knew where to find him. “I’ll follow you.”
After they arrived, Will followed Caldwell into the Waffle House. Two truckers sat on stools, leaving them their pick of booths. Will ordered coffee, but Caldwell ordered a full breakfast with waffles. In the lighted restaurant, Will remembered seeing the private investigator around the courthouse, and understood why some of the cops called him the Hawk with his hooked nose and dark eyes.
“Haven’t eaten since noon,” he said.
“So, tell me why you were snooping around Andi Hollister’s apartment.”
“A client asked me to contact her.”
Will waited.
“That’s privileged information.”
“I can always take you downtown and ask.”
“All right,” Caldwell grumbled. “I can give you maybe a little more. After her segment on runaways on Tuesday night, I got this call from a parent. She wanted me to contact Andi about her daughter.”
“So why were you lurking around the back of the house? Why not just call her?”
“I tried calling the station and was told they would give her my number. When I didn’t hear anything, I thought I’d stop by and see her. I tried the front door and no one answered,” he said. “When I saw there was a light on, I figured she was still up. It’s only ten, so I was going to knock on her back door.”
“How did you get her address?”
Caldwell eyed Will. “Uh, phone book?”
Andi was listed in the phone book? Was she nuts? That was an invitation to all the crazies in Memphis. He wondered if Brad knew. Something else occurred to him—he’d just seen Caldwell’s name in the list of people Barnes had interviewed. “Your name was in the case file on Stephanie Hollister’s death. Why?”
The private investigator shrugged. “Wasn’t that in the report?”
“I thought you might have remembered something since then.” Whatever was said between Caldwell and Barnes wasn’t in the report.
“Nothing has changed.”
“Then you won’t mind going over it again. Why did Barnes interview you?”
The waitress approached with his breakfast, and Caldwell leaned back. “Looks good, young lady.”
She set Will’s coffee in front of him. “Cream?”
He shook his head, and as soon as she left, he repeated his question.
“Give me a minute to remember.” He cut into the sausage and popped half a link into his mouth. “Okay, it was like this. I had a client who wanted the Hollister woman checked out. Seems her son was interested in her and she wasn’t happy about that.”
Will hadn’t expected that. “So, did you discover anything?”
“Should be in that report you have.”
“That wasn’t the question I asked.”
“Let me pull it together while I finish eating.”
Evidently, Caldwell suspected there was no report on his conversation with Barnes, maybe even knew there wasn’t. Will nursed his coffee until Caldwell finished his meal. His gaunt frame indicated he didn’t eat like this all the time, or he had an extra fast metabolism.
“That was good.” The investigator blotted his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t understand why you’re looking into the Hollister case. The woman is dead, and her killer is scheduled to be executed in three days.”
Will restrained himself from reaching across the table and grabbing the thin man by the shirt collar. If he knew that much about the case, he also knew Will was Jimmy’s cousin. Why was he baiting him? “I just joined the Cold Case Unit, and I’m looking into it,” he said evenly.
“It’s not a cold case. Jimmy Shelton was convicted.”
“Why do you know so much about this case?”
“How about I trade information? I’d like to know Jillian Bennett’s whereabouts. You give me that and I’ll tell you what I discovered when I investigated Stephanie Hollister.”
“Why do you want to know where Jillian is?”
“That’s confidential. How about it?”
When Will didn’t answer, Caldwell said, “It’s worth the trade.”
“I don’t have to trade, I can subpoena your files.”
“But then it’d be too late to save your cousin.”
20
AT NINE O’CLOCK FRIDAY MORNING, Andi viewed the changes she’d made to the video for the evening news. “Do you think you could let me into Stephanie’s studio?” Will’s question wouldn’t go away. She refocused on the video, and a few minutes later saved it to an online site for the producer.
Now if she could get an interview with Chloe. She dialed the hospital room, and Chloe answered. “Good morning, this is Andi Hollister.”
“Morning.”
“How are you?”
“Okay.”
One-word answers weren’t good. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to do an interview. She didn’t want the girl to think interviewing her was the only reason for Andi’s interest. “I’m coming downtown in a bit. Is there anything I can bring you?”
“No.”
“Are you upset with me, Chloe?”
There was silence on the other end. “No. I . . . I just don’t feel good.”
“How about a milk shake? That always perks me up.”
“No, really, I’m not hungry. But thank you.”
Chloe’s v
oice had that I-want-to-hang-up tone. “Okay, just call me if you need anything.”
“Andi . . .”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. Good-bye.”
The line went dead, and Andi stared at the phone. Something was bothering Chloe. She thought about her schedule, wishing she had time to stop by the hospital.
Her thoughts returned to Will’s request. Andi pushed away from the computer and paced her apartment. She’d like to help him. Really, she would.
She rubbed the front of her legs. Maybe it was time to face whatever it was that sent her into panic mode just thinking about entering Stephanie’s studio. Before she could change her mind, she texted Will to meet her at the studio at three thirty. Her parents had just resumed their Friday afternoon golf game with another couple, so they’d be away from the house all afternoon. He texted back a thumbs-up emoji.
When had she taken the last dose of Lortab? Had to be at least eight hours ago. What’s your pain level? Andi blocked Treece’s warning. Her friend didn’t understand. And as soon as Andi had time, she’d get off the pain pills. But right now, she needed them, not just for pain but also to curb the anxiety that dogged her.
An hour later, euphoria rode with Andi on the elevator to the district attorney’s floor at the Criminal Justice Center. A moment later, she was ushered into Laura Delaney’s private office. A side door opened, and Laura stepped into the room.
Andi had interviewed her a few times for the station, and each time she’d been impressed that the forty-year-old attorney could walk in four-inch stilettos. She swallowed a laugh at the image of herself in those shoes.
Gold bracelets clinked on Laura’s arm as she moved toward Andi in a white blouse and gray skirt that matched the gray heels. A matching gray jacket hung on a rack by the door, ready to be slipped on when needed. The district attorney was the picture of success.
“How can I help you today?” Laura took her place behind the desk and motioned Andi to a leather side chair.
“I’d like to make a documentary on your congressional race,” Andi said. She perched on the edge of the chair and put her feet flat on the floor to keep her legs from jiggling up and down. Suddenly her head swam, and she gripped the chair arms for balance.
“Really?” Interest lit Laura’s eyes, and she held up her index finger. “Let me get Spencer in here.”
Andi took a deep breath to clear her head while Laura texted her husband. A few minutes later, Spencer Delaney entered the office. He embodied the tall, dark, and handsome cliché, and if ever a couple were a perfect match, at least outwardly, it was the Delaneys. Andi could easily see them in a glossy brochure for a luxury car.
She laid out her idea for the documentary. “One last thing,” she said, wrapping up. “The documentary won’t air until after the election, four months from now, but it will air whether you win or lose.”
Andi was banking that Laura would win, though. The DA was well liked while her opponent was relatively unknown.
Laura’s shoulders straightened. “You are looking at the next representative from this district.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Andi said.
Laura stood and walked to the window that overlooked downtown Memphis. After a minute, she turned, and after a quick glance at her husband, extended her hand. “I look forward to working with you on this.”
“Good!” Spencer Delaney clapped, his brown eyes dancing.
Andi rose and shook her hand. Laura had perfected the political handshake. Not too tight, but firm. She’d perfected the smile as well with teeth showing and eyes focused totally on Andi as though she were the only person in the room.
Laura winked at her husband, then refocused on Andi. “Do you think you can keep up with me?”
“I’ll try.”
“I believe you. When you were a teenager, you were very determined even then to become a reporter . . . until you became ill.”
That was a time Andi didn’t like to remember. “Stephanie was a rock for me back then.”
A gentle smile curved the DA’s lips. “Stephanie was a jewel, and she was very concerned about the operation. She worried that you might not have it because of insurance issues.”
Nice way to say money problems. “I don’t know why she thought that. Le Bonheur takes what the family can pay, and the doctor donated his services.” But she had known that Steph worried about the money situation her family was in. And it was Steph’s life insurance policy that eventually paid the medical bills. A fact that made Andi determined to live up to Stephanie’s expectations of her.
Laura worried a tiny Band-Aid on her hand. “Your sister was very proud of you. Whatever happened to those movies you made when you interviewed the four of us about our overseas flights?”
“You remember the movies?”
An indulgent smile followed. “It was kind of hard to forget when you were always there with your camera.”
Her trusty 8 mm Kodak. She’d pestered the other flight attendants living with Stephanie until each of them allowed her to video them and answer her questions. She wondered where those films were.
“I really wanted to be a flight attendant,” Andi said. “But Steph wanted me to get my journalism degree and become a reporter. Wouldn’t hear of me following in her footsteps.”
Laura nodded in agreement. “She wasn’t happy flying. I think she would have liked being an artist, you know, with the clay, but there wasn’t a lot of money in that back then.”
Stephanie had loved creating her figurines. If only she’d had more time . . . “Money isn’t always the most important thing in life.”
“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said. “I think it ranks right up there at the top.”
Both women laughed, and Andi tilted her head toward Laura. “I didn’t know my sister the way you did. You know, as an adult. Can you tell me what she was like?”
“She was beautiful, inside and out.”
At times Andi couldn’t remember what her sister looked like, but today a clear picture of Stephanie surfaced with her long dark hair framing nearly perfect features. She had their dad’s hazel eyes that were more green than brown. But it was her vibrancy that brought it all together.
Laura returned to her desk and sat on the corner. “Stephanie was one of those rare people who could fit into any situation, and with her looks, she should have been in Hollywood.”
“I don’t believe that Jimmy killed her.” What possessed her to say that?
“Are you kidding?” Spencer said. “He was insanely jealous. Jimmy Shelton had motive, means, and opportunity.”
Laura agreed, nodding her head. “You never saw the bad side of their relationship, especially after she broke up with him. With him living next door, he could still walk into the studio anytime he wanted to. I remember one time in particular. We were working the same flight later in the day, and I had gone to see what time she was leaving for the airport.
“When I stepped inside the studio, Jimmy lay sprawled on the sofa, drunk as usual, and Stephanie was crying. The wet cloth Stephanie pressed against her cheek didn’t hide the bruise.”
“Jimmy hit my sister?” She didn’t remember any of this.
Laura bit her bottom lip and stared at a point on the wall over Andi’s head. “Stephanie said he didn’t mean to, and she even defended him. I tried to get her to call the police, but she was afraid he would go to jail because of the barroom fight he’d gotten into. I told her then he was going to kill her if she didn’t do something, but she didn’t believe Jimmy would seriously hurt her.”
She shifted her gaze to Andi. “Your sister was trying to help him, but she wasn’t qualified to deal with his problems.”
Andi had no idea of any of this. Was she wrong about Jimmy? Was it possible he really had killed Stephanie?
“Since yesterday when Sergeant Kincade questioned me about Stephanie’s . . . her death, I’ve thought a lot about that night.” Laura stared at a spot on the floor. “I re
membered how I kept after her to get a restraining order against him until finally she did. The night he killed her, I was home studying, and I called her. I begged her to call the police when I learned he was with her in the studio. But she assured me she would be all right, that he’d passed out on the sofa.”
Spencer jingled the change in his pocket. “And then Jillian and I made you go with us to get something to eat,” he said and turned to Andi. “We were at a barbecue place when we found out what happened.”
Laura raised her head. “I just regret that I didn’t call them myself after I hung up from talking with her. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Madeline Starr is trying to get a reprieve for Jimmy, but she’ll never get my help.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” Judging by the hard tone in her voice, there’d be no changing Laura Delaney’s mind about Jimmy’s innocence. Andi had felt the same way until Wednesday, and after hearing Laura’s story, it was hard to remember why she’d changed her opinion. The letter from Lacey.
She turned to Spencer. “You mentioned motive a few minutes ago. Did anyone else have a grudge against my sister?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Only the men she dated and discarded. Men like Jimmy.”
His words triggered a memory she’d long forgotten. “Did you ever date my sister? Seems like I remember seeing you two together in a red Mustang convertible.”
“We went out maybe a time or two.” He crooked a smile. “You have a good memory. I wish I still had that car.” He smiled lovingly at his wife. “You made me get rid of it because Stephanie liked it so well, remember?”
“Spencer Delaney, I did no such thing. I was never jealous of Stephanie.”
In spite of Laura’s words, her voice went up an octave. A nerve had been struck.
“Losing Steph was so hard, but I remember you being very kind to me at the funeral,” Andi said, directing her words to Laura. “In fact, all of the roommates were. I always felt bad that you had to find other places to live right after that.”
“We all understood. I’m sure it was hard for you and your family to move back.”
It was beyond hard. “I haven’t told my mom about Lacey yet. She was very fond of her.”
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