Body of Evidence

by Stella Cameron

  “Sandy Viator landed in the emergency room around an hour ago,” Billy said. “Looks like an overdose. Carl was out, so she called 911 when she decided she was slippin’. Just as well. Maybe she can get a handle on her problem.”

  “What problem?” Emma said. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly.

  Billy met Finn’s eyes. “Prescription drugs, they think. She had some of the stuff in her bag.”

  “I’d better get over there,” Emma said. “Why didn’t you tell me on the phone? You’d have saved me some time.”

  “No need to go. Her husband’s on his way, and she’s about out of it already. Nothin’ like a good stomach pumpin’ to bring a person around—and make ’em think twice the next time.”

  “Sandy?” Emma scrunched up her face. “There’s been a mistake.”

  “No mistake,” Billy said. “We’ll wait for the lab to figure out what she ingested. They’re thinkin she’s into cocktails. And I don’t mean the kind that come in a glass.”

  Finn felt ticked off. He didn’t like the way Billy had dropped information on Emma, as if he hoped to surprise facts out of her. What reason Billy could have for bringing the two of them in here together, he couldn’t imagine.

  He got up and pulled out a second chair for Emma. “Looks like we’re stayin’ where we are for a bit. Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled at her. She smiled back. He didn’t touch her, but he felt her.

  A call came in, and Billy took it. Some grunts and scribbles later, he hung up again. “Sandy’s doctor says he’s never given her diet pills or sleepin’ pills or uppers. Other stuff was mentioned. And he makes it a rule not to give out samples.”

  Emma looked more confused.

  “Would you two tell me if Rusty Barnes contacted you?” Billy asked.

  “Movin’ right along,” Finn muttered, and dropped back into his own chair. “What brought that up?”

  “So far, we haven’t had any luck turnin’ him up. But I’ll come back to that. Holly was killed the same way as Denise. Injection. She wasn’t raped.”

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut.

  “I’m not surprised that there was no rape,” Billy said. “No time. Plus he wouldn’t be likely to give us another DNA match. Now we’re supposed to think he didn’t have anything to do with it. Holly could have died just to get Rusty off the hook.”

  Finn didn’t take his eyes off Billy, who was too cool to be real. “So Rusty murdered Holly but didn’t rape her so you’d think someone else did it?”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  “You don’t believe that.” Not even close. “The DNA they found on Denise was mixed. Two men.”

  “Didn’t find the other one on Holly, either,” Billy said. The can of mints was open, and he scrabbled for a handful.

  “So how do you decide which one had the great plan to divert suspicion?”

  “Divert it?” Billy crunched for several seconds. “We don’t know who the second man is. We don’t have a match.”

  “So it’s Rusty—Denise’s boyfriend—by default?” Emma said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Have you talked to Rusty?” Billy said.

  She did exactly what Finn had feared she would. Emma blushed and shook her head.

  “That’s good,” Billy said, as if he hadn’t really noted her reaction.

  Finn wished he were close enough to hold her hand, then felt grateful he wasn’t.

  “They’re still workin’ on the van,” Billy said. “They got a bunch of trace evidence.”

  “Careless boy,” Finn said.

  “Some trace evidence,” Billy amended. “Maybe one thing. Or two. A hair.”

  “A dark red hair, I suppose,” Emma said. “Ooh, and Rusty has dark red hair. Don’t you have to check that against his mother or somethin’? I wonder if Rusty has a mother.”

  Finn hid a smile.

  Billy didn’t look amused. “I don’t have that information yet,” he said. “What I do have is this.” He opened the top file on his desk. “Seven years ago an actress died from a lethal injection. They never caught the perp.”

  Finn revolved his thumbs, one around the other.

  “One of those low-budget films. Hot sex, no plot, minimal wardrobe and single location.”

  “Back up,” Emma said. “You mean a movie actress work-in’ on some B movie got killed?”

  “You’re quick.”

  “I don’t know how many people get knocked off by lethal injection,” Finn said. “But even if there have only been three…ever… I hope there’s a connection.”

  “The film was made around an hour north of here.”

  “No shit—kidding,” Finn said. “What do you have there?”

  “I can’t just hand over stuff like this to civilians.”

  “Of course not,” Finn said. “Just like you can’t call civilians into your office and discuss cases with them.”

  “Unless it’s possible they have information they’re not sharin’ and they need a little push.”

  Emma gave Finn an anguished glance.

  “I need to find Rusty Barmes,” Billy said. “Frankly, I’m amazed he’s managed to drop out of sight. I wouldn’t have thought the guy had it in him.”

  “But you think he has it in him to kill people,” Emma said, her back stiff again.

  “What I think is that Denise got her hands on somethin’ she shouldn’t have and gave it to Rusty for safekeepin’—just in case.”

  Finn didn’t play games well. “Just in case what? He decided to rape and kill her?”

  “Your father liked Denise,” Billy said. “She pretty much got the run of this place.”

  “The chief had good taste, then,” Emma said. “Denise was a good woman.”

  More mints found their way into Billy’s mouth. “You were on your way to the Balou place after the party—night before last. You pulled over by the mobile home park to talk on the phone. Then you turned around and drove the other way. Patrolman had to stay well back to avoid you seein’ him. He stayed too far back and lost you, but you were well south of town. Same patrolman saw you drivin’ back later. Who did you go see?”

  Emma’s lips parted slightly, and she wet them. “Why would a patrolman take an interest in me?”

  “Because we wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

  “Thanks. But where I go is my business.”

  “You won’t tell me if you went to see Rusty?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Good enough.” Billy flipped pages in the file. “Nice of Rusty to pass the information on to you, Finn.”

  Billy Meche wasn’t just a pretty face. “You’ve got quite an imagination,” Finn said.

  “You got the stuff on your dad from someone, and you’re not talkin’ about who. The possibilities are limited. Mean-while, this town’s in an uproar. They want a murderer caught. I intend to give them one.”

  “We want you to,” Emma said. “Billy, we didn’t have anythin’ to do with those killings, and neither did Rusty.” She closed her mouth fast, but it was too late. “How are you comin’ with questionin’ Harold Chandall.”

  “We’re not. He’s got an alibi. The lady he turned to for solace the same night he found out Holly left him.”

  “Pig,” Emma said with feeling.

  Billy sucked one of his mints and stared at her. “You may be right about Rusty bein’ innocent, but I’m not wrong about you bein’ tight with him. Obstructin’ justice is a crime.”

  “Are you going to charge us with that?” Emma asked, her voice not quite so steady.

  “Uh-uh, not today. Got other fish to fry today. But I want you two to be careful, and I want you to start includin’ me in anythin’ you think might help this case. If I’ve got you figured as involved somehow, could be I’m not the only one. I’ll be back in a few.” He got up and left, closing the door behind him.

  “We’re supposed to look at that file,” Emma said.

  Finn nodded. “Billy’s real subtle.” He g
ot up, but Emma beat him to the desk. They turned the manilla file around and read quietly. At one point Emma gripped his arm. She must be reading the description of how the dead actress was found. In a bathroom stall, naked and propped on top of the toilet. No edible decorations on this one, but she’d been raped.

  “DNA,” Emma said.

  “If they kept samples properly, they’ll be checking it against the ones from Denise by now,” Finn told her.

  They carried on reading. The film had been made in a rural area.

  “Near Wells,” Finn said, frowning.

  “That’s right,” Billy said, coming in again. He carried a single piece of paper. “Thought this might have arrived. The movie was made near Wells. You can get there in forty minutes. Maybe thirty, if a speed trap doesn’t get you.”

  “Dad died near Wells,” Finn said.

  Billy shook his head. “Don’t go makin’ this more complicated than it already is. What happened to your dad a year ago had nothin’ to do with a killin’ on a set seven years ago.”

  He was probably right, Finn decided.

  Billy sat behind his desk again and looked at the paper in his hands. He got a wide-awake expression on his face. “It’s a match,” he said. “They’ve got samples from the actress, and they match what we found on Denise.”

  “Are you talkin about semen—DNA?” Finn asked.

  “Yup.”

  Emma’s exhaled breath came out in bursts. “Rusty’s?” she whispered.

  “The other one,” Billy said.

  34

  Driving his mother’s old Thunderbird, the one he kept in pristine condition in a back barn, Finn headed north through the darkness with Emma at his side.

  “If Billy finds out we’ve gone on our own fact-finding mission, we’re history,” Emma said. “We should have told him.”

  “He didn’t want us to tell him.”

  She took a moment to figure out what he meant. “You think?”

  “I surely do.”

  “He can’t get us officially involved, but he knows us well enough to figure our next move? I’m not sure I like that idea. I’d kind of prefer to be mysterious.”

  “You are,” Finn said, with laughter in his voice. “Take it from me.”

  “Uh-huh.” She rested her head back. “I think you read me real well.”

  His chuckle was the only response she got.

  They drove without speaking for several minutes. The narrow road wound through a tunnel of trees. The car headlights slid along peeling cypress trunks on one side, the side closest to the bayou.

  “What if there’s no room at the inn?” Emma said. “Or no inn, period? I don’t remember being in Wells.”

  “Maybe I have,” Finn said. “I’m not sure. We may not get to sleep at all, but if necessary, you’re in the backseat, and I get the front with the console. That’s the kind of nice guy I am. We agreed that every moment counts and we’d better beat any competition to the newspaper archives. If they even have archives in Wells. And you’re the one who said you had to be back in Pointe Judah by the middle of the day tomorrow, remember?”

  “True.” At Finn’s suggestion, she’d called on Eileen and Annie to go in and open up Poke Around in the morning. Emma expected them to do just fine, and they needed a way to get their minds off Holly’s death, but Emma worried that Orville could show up at the shop and ask questions.

  “I wish we had Rusty along,” Finn said suddenly. “He’d be better at approaching people at the paper than we will be.”

  “We’ll do fine,” she said, not sure she would be of any use at all if someone was rude to her or got angry. “Rusty would have been good to have along at the paper, though. This could be a really bad idea. It could be a dead end.”

  “If folks didn’t do things they thought could be dead ends, they wouldn’t do anythin’,” Finn said. “We’re lookin’ for somethin’ that was only a blip in the major media at the time. B-movie actress killed while we were all watchin’ hurricanes tear into Florida and look like they were comin’ for us next. The actress got lost. Now we’ve got to hope there’s still somethin’ to turn up locally. We’re primed for failure, so what do we have to lose?”

  “Nothin’,” Emma said. “If only we could find out somethin’ that’ll help us in Pointe Judah.”

  “I’m hangin’ on to that hope.”

  “You really think Billy hoped we’d come up here?” Emma said.

  “I know he’d rather not risk mixin’ it up with the sheriff in Wells. Not on this topic. Billy mentioned it when you were in the ladies’ room. He’d found out the sheriff didn’t do so well at the time of the investigation and a lot of reinforcements went in. I guess the guy’s still touchy about it.”

  “So Billy came right out and asked you to look around in Wells? I didn’t think—”

  “No. He was just fillin’ the time till you got back, and he mentioned what he’d heard, is all. Five more miles and we’re there.”

  Emma nodded. “It’s really not far.” She watched the headlights make a hole through the darkness. “I’ve had a bad thought about Sandy. I don’t even know if I should repeat it.”

  “Now you want me to beg you to tell me about it?”

  She crossed her arms and smiled. “You never let me get away with anythin’.”

  He glanced at her, and the dashboard lights put a glitter in his hazel eyes.

  “What if Sandy got the pills from John Sims?”

  Finn took his foot off the gas and coasted. “John wouldn’t give her drugs. He’d lose his job if someone found out.”

  “I was thinkin’ she could have taken them—stolen them. John’s a friend. He comes in the store every couple of weeks just to say he’s in town. He always has his bag with him.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a thought. She’s getting them from somewhere she shouldn’t.”

  “Unless she’s going from one doctor to another getting prescriptions,” Emma said. “I suppose some doctors might give her samples to try.”

  “From Billy’s description,” Finn said, “she got her hands on a lot of samples.”

  The sign for Wells popped into the headlights. The local citizenry had planted flowers around the base of the signpost, and a green elf held a plastic welcome banner.

  “It’s not that late,” Emma said, peering at her watch. “There could be somethin’ open.”

  The town, one central street five blocks long and a scatter of houses spreading behind on either side, had a gas station and a feed store that appeared to carry everything from groceries to machine parts. Emma knew about the store stock from an illuminated list of merchandise spread the length of an outside wall.

  A gray two-story building at the other end of the main street, designated A Street, advertised Eats, Beds, Barter and Beauty in a painted black arch over the open door. Light shone inside, and several men sat on the front steps with glasses in hand.

  Finn and Emma returned greetings on their way to a minuscule indoor mall. The beauty shop had closed for the day, but Buy or Barter was open for business, as was Jambalaya Jim’s, where a swamp pop band played foot-tapping music and what appeared to be everyone for miles around had gathered. A number of them, including children, danced between tables.

  “So where are the beds?” Finn said, raising his voice to be heard.

  “The back seat of the car is lookin’ good to me,” Emma said. “After some jambalaya.”

  A thin senior citizen, with white curly hair and skin he’d treated to plenty of sun, saw them and hurried from behind a counter where every stool was filled. He took Finn’s elbow and led him from the café back into the hallway.

  “Strangers.” The man looked them over with bright eyes. “You stayin’?” he asked.

  “We’re hopin’ to,” Finn said. “Just the one night.”

  “I’m Jim,” the man said, and opened another door. “Come on in. We got two rooms upstairs, but one of them’s taken. Could you manage with one?” He didn’t crack a smile,
although Emma thought he might be making some sort of joke.

  “One’s fine,” she said. “How much?”

  “Pay in the mornin’ after you have breakfast. You may see a doo-dad you fancy before you go, and I can just add it on to the bill. I’ll have you sign the book. You havin’ dinner?”

  They said they wouldn’t miss it when the food smelled so good and got a wide smile for their efforts. Jim showed them to a small, comfortable room in an upstairs corridor. The bathroom also opened off the corridor, with the second guest room on its other side.

  Jim didn’t mention their lack of luggage, though they each had a small bag in the car, and left them with the promise that he would cook them up the best mess they ever had.

  Finn looked at the undersized double bed and said, “Maybe one of us should sleep in the car after all.”

  “We aren’t going to be in the bed long enough to get insomnia,” Emma said, too on edge to be embarrassed. “Let’s eat.” She hadn’t been hungry until she walked through the fragrant, deep-fried smells below.

  Seated side by side in the end two chairs at a table that could seat ten, they put their heads close together. The immediate arrival of two bowls filled with unidentifiable chunks of something in deep gold batter put off the conversation. They used their fingers to eat oysters, crawfish, shrimp and some of the best catfish Emma had ever tasted. Hush puppies fell apart in the mouth, and big glasses of beer tasted unbelievably good.

  “This could be pay dirt,” Finn said in Emma’s ear. “If anyone knows anything in this town, this is the place to find out.”

  Emma got pulled into a two-step and circumnavigated the room with an enthusiastic if sweaty young man in dungarees and a baseball cap.

  “You’re not from around here,” he roared.

  “No,” she said, but didn’t say where she was from. “This is a nice place.”

  “The best, I’d say,” he told her. “Lived in Wells all my life. Wouldn’t live anywheres else.” He smiled down at her from a considerable height, and his honest face made her feel comfortable.

  “What’s the name of the local newspaper?” Emma asked, expecting to be told that Wells didn’t have one.

  “Wells,” the young man said. “It’s just called ‘Wells.’ Comes out once a week.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s right here, next door. They like to welcome folks who stop on their way through town. If you stop by the office, they’ll take your photo and put it on the front page.”