“As far as you know.”
“Precisely.”
I wasn’t ready to give up. “There must be some way to squeeze the truth out of them. What about lie detector tests?”
“We tried that,” Matt interrupted him. “Submitting to one is strictly voluntary. Both men scoffed at the idea.”
So more had been going on behind the scenes than I’d been let in on. Though I knew I was being unreasonable, I was a bit miffed, all the same. Matt sure had held out on me. He stared at me now, looking as if he understood how I felt, waiting for some kind of snarly remark, but I was too low to say a thing.
Bradshaw favored me with another non-smile. “Not to worry, Miss Ingersoll. We haven’t given up yet. Not by a long shot.”
Maybe not, but I didn’t see what else I could do or even where the case would go from here with no leads, no proof, no nothing.
Discouraged that my big breakthrough hadn’t so much as scratched the surface, I left the station with Matt’s eyes burning holes in my calves, or so I imagined. That was one of my problems. I imagined too much.
Once outside, I headed for the grocery store to stock up on girl food. TV dinners, deli soup, skim milk, strawberries, diet soda, fluffy stuff that wouldn’t put on a pound or cause me to rush to the supper table either. I sure did miss Mrs. Otis’ meals, but when hunger pangs struck with force, I could always rely on Josie’s.
Back home, I put away my supplies and drove over to Amelia’s. No need to worry about Joe today. He was a guest at Yarborough County Jail, thank God.
Four little sandals sat by Amelia’s front door. From the look of them, the boys must have had a wonderful time in a mud puddle somewhere.
Joey yanked open the door on the first ring. “Hi, Auntie Honey.” He eyed the bakery bag I held. “Did you bring us some treats?”
“I answer no questions before I get a hug.”
He threw his chubby little arms around my legs and squeezed me tight. “There! So what did you bring?”
“Joey?”
At the scold in his mother’s voice, Joey peered at me with an impish grin. “It’s not polite to ask for things.”
“That’s right,” Amelia agreed, coming to the door with Jimmy in her arms.
One glance at her, and I could tell last night had gone well. She was all aglow, almost a girl again. I gave her a hug and handed her the bag. “For the boys,” I whispered.
“Treats?” Joey asked.
“Yes,” Amelia said, “for after your naps.”
“I don’t want a nap.”
“Don’t want one,” Jimmy echoed.
“Come along now, Joey. Aunt Honey will tuck you in. If you go to sleep, she’ll leave the treats for you. Otherwise, she’ll have to take them back home.”
“Oh, all right.” Resigned to his fate, he padded on bare feet toward his bedroom.
“Bathroom first, remember?”
“I guess so, but you can’t come in, Auntie Honey. I’m a big boy now.”
“Okay. I’ll wait here in the hallway for you.”
A few minutes later, he came out rubbing his eyes and climbed into his bed with a grateful sigh. I covered him with his cowboy blanket, kissed his warm, soft cheek and tiptoed out of the room.
Amelia met me on the porch swing with iced teas.
“So,” I half turned to grin at her, “how did it go last night?”
“Fine.” She colored and took a cooling sip. “We all had a wonderful time.”
“We all?”
“The four of us.”
“You took the boys?”
“Yes. Cletus invited them.”
“Oh.” For her sake, my heart sank a little. So she hadn’t had a candlelit, romantic evening after all.
“Cletus insisted they come, even though I told him they had never been to a proper restaurant before and might act up.” She smiled. “But they didn’t. They were perfect gentlemen. Sat in their booster chairs, said ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Joey first, of course.” She laughed. “I think they were overwhelmed by the experience. So out of their element they didn’t dare misbehave.”
“Well, that sounds … interesting.”
“Uh-huh. Cletus was just wonderful with them, telling them stories, answering their questions, letting them order what they wanted, chicken fingers and chocolate milk. Then ice cream sundaes for dessert.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Any dessert for you?”
“No, I don’t … oh, very funny.” She sipped some more, staring straight ahead past the hanging basket of Boston fern out onto the front lawn. Finally, she gave me a big-eyed, big-toothed grin. “The answer is yes.”
I whooped.
“And that’s all I have to say on the subject.”
“That’s enough.” I swallowed a gulp of tea and felt better for it. Sometimes things do work out well after all. Too bad I had to be the spoiler, but there was no help for it.
“After your lovely evening and all, I hate to barge in with bad news, but I called the county about the zoning rules.”
“Yes?”
“In-house businesses are not allowed in your neighborhood. So, I’m afraid the daycare idea won’t fly.”
“Oh.” Suddenly she seemed fascinated with the inch or so of tea left in her glass. “Maybe I won’t need to go into business after all.”
“Meaning?”
“I can’t tell you right now, Honey, but I know you’ll be happy for me when I do.”
Cletus.
We sat quiet for a while, taking pleasure in the warm afternoon and the peaceful naptime. Then Amelia brought up the elephant in the room, Joe Swope. “Matt Rameros came by to tell me what Joe did and how you stopped him. I want to thank you for that, Honey, and say how sorry I am he assaulted you.” Tears filmed her eyes. “Sounds like now we’ll all be safe from him for a long time to come.” Her chin came up. “Life’s going to be different for the boys. I’m determined to make it so.”
“From the silence, I guess they’re sound asleep.”
She nodded. “Between the excitement last night and our outing this morning, they’re all tuckered out.”
“What happened this morning?”
A cardinal, a ruby-red jewel, lit on the fern.
“They begged to go wading in the creek. So I took them up to the Norton place for an hour or so. We ran into some of our neighbors there, hiking around, picking wildflowers, enjoying the view. Put me in mind of Violet. She spent many a day roaming Pea Pike, looking for herbals. She’d cover a lot of ground, wandering from her place to the Sloanes and the Hermanns and back again.”
Omigod. I nearly dropped my iced tea on the porch floor. Of course. Why hadn’t I seen it sooner? The day Tallulah was killed, Violet could have been roaming around the pike. If so, she might have run into the killer.
I forced myself to sip the tea. She couldn’t have witnessed the murder or she’d have been killed on the spot. Without knowing anything evil had happened, she had simply disappeared into the woods. The killer had recognized her and gunned her down a few days later.
Why not right away? Didn’t want to chase her through the woods, wanted to get away fast for fear of being seen by someone else. Knew Violet lived alone and wasn’t likely to talk to anyone. Came back a few days later and silenced her once and for all. Just in case. And what if that same person had killed Tallulah, who was the lover of Senator Lott, who was a driving force behind the whole casino enterprise?
The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together. I huffed out a breath. Now I had to get the police, especially Matt Rameros, to agree. And I had a heavy suspicion that wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Promising to get together again soon, I left Amelia before the boys woke up. I needed time to think things over. For even without any proof as backup, I was pretty darned sure Violet had seen something or someone that led to her death.
I knew of only one person who might help in finding that someone. Earl Norton. This time I heav
ed a sigh so heavy it fogged up the car windshield. The day he chased me across Violet’s yard, we hadn’t exactly parted friends. I’d probably have to grovel to get him to say hello, never mind anything else. My hand brushed against my thigh. Right! Shorts were cool and hot at the same time. As my daddy was fond of saying, nothing bet, nothing gained.
For all the do-it-yourselfers around town, the lumberyard where Earl worked was open on weekends. With a little luck, he’d be on the job today.
I pulled onto the dusty lot of Lumber Stop and parked between a couple of well-used pickups. I’d only taken a step or two when a wolf whistle split the air.
Leaning out of the cab of his truck, his John Deere cap on backwards, a guy hollered, “Great laigs, gal.”
The shorts. I waved without replying and kept on moving.
Inside the automatic sliding doors, a bored, gum-chewing cashier stood behind the register.
“Earl Norton on today?” I asked, peering at her uniform name tag. Darlene.
She shifted her wad to the other cheek. “Who wants to know?”
“A friend of his, Darlene. Honey Ingersoll.” A stretch, but I needed something that would flush him out into the open.
“Can’t help you, Honey. He works in back, and customers aren’t allowed out there. Too dangerous what with the ripsaws and all.”
“You know when he’ll be off?”
She popped her gum. “I gotta ring this one up.”
A man pushing a dolly loaded with plywood approached her station.
After he checked through, I went up to her again. “Any way you can find out if Earl can see me for a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I can phone out back. He might be coming up on a break.”
She made the call. “Somebody here wants to talk to you, Earl. Says her name is Honey. Yeah, that’s what she said, Honey.” Her chin came up at me. “Can you wait a half hour? That’s when he gets his break.”
“Yes, I can. Tell him I won’t leave. I’ll be setting right here by your register.”
She gave him the message and hung up. “You go for his type?”
“Absolutely. Can’t get enough.”
A bubble burst all over her cheeks. “Well, praise the Lord.”
“Yup. Earl’s my kind of guy.”
I sat on a scratchy plank bench to wait. Above it a sign with a picture of a hammer and a saw read, “You Can Make Me. Directions Free at Customer Service.”
A few funny glances came winging my way, but I paid them no mind. My mind was on what I’d say to Earl. And on what he’d say to me.
He showed up in twenty-five minutes flat, the brim on his John Deere shielding his nape, his coveralls sprinkled with sawdust.
Showtime. I leaped up. “Earl! Well, if it isn’t good to see you.” Beaming big ones, I took his hand and led him to the bench.
“Never expected to see you again. Thought Darlene over there had the name wrong. So, what brung you?”
“I, ah, I’ve been feeling bad about what happened out at Violet’s.” I lowered my gaze, hoping that made me look kind of soft and sexy. “So I didn’t want to let any more time go by without making amends. I, ah, I’m here to—”
“To suck up to me.”
I glanced away from my fingers into two gleaming, weasel eyes and forced a nod. “Yes,” my voice a kitten’s.
“Wal, since it’s you, I figure it’s okay.”
“Oh good. That’s a big load off my mind. You still go out there? To the farm?”
“Yeah, huntin’ rabbits. But not for long. The new owners are plannin’ on bulldozin’ the top of the ridge soon. What all for, I dunno. Said I’ve got till the end of next week to empty out the house.” He plucked off the John Deere to scratch at his scalp with a fingernail. “I won’t bother, though. I got the diamonds. And a check for the land. As for that ol’ stuff of Violet’s, I don’t want any of it. My girlfriend don’t neither.”
He stopped, coughing over what he plainly saw as a slip-up, quickly covering it with, “Don’t go worrying your head about my gal. I got plenty to go around.” He winked. “Know what I mean?”
“A man like you? Of course I do.” I raised my right hand then dropped it, palm down. “You sure you don’t want anything of Violet’s.”
“Yeah, I got no use for it.”
“In that case, I’d be pleased to buy the Welsh dresser from you.”
“That big old thing she kept her pre-serves in?”
I nodded. “I like antiques and would love to have it. Name your price.”
“Hell, you can have it for free.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather pay you.”
He grinned, giving me a good look at his Halloween teeth. “You got yourself a deal, and I got just the payment in mind.”
Gross.
“That sound good to you?” He looked hopeful.
“Sure does. Suppose I rent a truck and meet you out there some night this week?”
“How about Friday? My girlfriend works Friday nights. She don’t need to know nothin’ about it.”
“Fine with me.” I gave out one of those long, soulful sighs. “Yes, I’d surely enjoy having something that belonged to your aunt. Kind of a memento, you know? She was such a sweetie.”
“Violet?” That one word and his mouth fell open. My whopper had stunned the starch right out of him.
“Yes, Violet. Roaming around those hills like she did, searching for herbs and roots, wanting to do good for people, help them ease their aches and pains.”
“I guess.” He sounded kind of reluctant like.
“People used to come across her in those fields all the time. And you know something, Earl?”
“What?” His eyes squinty with suspicion.
“The day the Bixby woman was killed, Tallulah by name, I wonder if Violet saw who done it? I mean did it.”
“Doubt that.”
“She might have run into somebody that day, you know, while she was searching for herbs.”
“She wasn’t a great one for talkin’, but that particular day does stick in the mind, don’t it? I ’member her saying she was tired of seein’ folks around them parts who had no business being out there.”
My pulse quickened. “Think she knew them … those folks?”
“Didn’t say. Could have.” He checked his watch. “Break’s about up.” Quick as a flash, he laid a hand on my left thigh. “See you Friday night.”
“Looking forward to it. Seven?”
“I’ll be there. Waitin’.”
But I won’t.
He squeezed my leg then stood and swaggered off. I sat on the bench a while longer, idly watching Darlene do her thing and wondering what use I could make of Earl’s tellings. He might have lied, of course, but I didn’t think so. Saying nothing would have been easier. Not that he said much, just enough to perk up my curiosity. The day of Tallulah’s murder, I’d lay odds Violet had seen someone on Pea Pike who didn’t belong there. The question was, who could it have been?
Finally, head throbbing, I got up from the bench and sent Darlene a farewell wave. I had to get home and wash my left thigh.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The next couple of days, I holed up in my apartment doing girlie stuff, cleaning out my clothes closet, taking care of laundry, flipping through back issues of Town and Country. I still did that every so often, to keep my eye trained on the uppity look Lila Lott had no doubt nailed by the time she was twelve, the look Sam admired and that Billy Tubbs and his like would never understand. To be honest, I didn’t understand it very well myself. Though I did know about wearing black to funerals and suits to work. And I’d caught on that, for reasons known only to the Lord and the glossy-type magazines, pearl earrings were more acceptable than rhinestone danglers, but darned if I could figure out why.
I also spent quite a bit of time on my computer, fiddling with ideas for a Deal of the Week flyer. The graphics had to be eye-catching, so I tried different colors and letters till I found a red and yellow com
bo that was pleasing. I’d already picked the first week’s deal. A 1930s bungalow with a front porch—that being almost a requirement around these parts—original Craftsman-style moldings, a wood-burning fireplace, two bedrooms, and a big, if outdated, kitchen. I ended the flyer with a teaser.
****PRICED TO SELL****
Call Ridley’s Realty at 555-6888
By keeping the colors the same but switching out the sale property each week, we’d have an ongoing ad folks would easily recollect. Pleased, I printed out a copy to show Sam. In December, when I left Eureka Falls for good, I’d take a sample along with me. Use it as a bargaining chip for a new realty job. But that was months away, and while still working for Ridley’s, I wanted to earn my money fair and square. Also do everything possible to help nab the murderer. Though, when you came right down to it, what could I do except wait on the police?
That was what I thought anyway. Until Wednesday evening, when fidgety in front of the TV, I had a great idea. Like one of Darlene’s bubbles, it suddenly popped up and out into the open.
I’d wear a wire. Do a real-life police-approved entrapment.
Yes, yes, and yes!
To celebrate, I padded to the fridge for a cold beer. Hey, wait a minute. Before I could twist open the cap, like Darlene’s bubble, my idea collapsed all over me. Entrap who?
I set the bottle back in the fridge and meandered out to the living room. What good was my idea without a commonsensical target? I turned off the TV so I could think, and I kept getting the same thought. Whoever killed Tallulah to keep her silent had then silenced Violet because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’d seen the killer. Whether she knew it or not didn’t matter. She was a threat in an ol’ brown sweater.
Hmm. Well, Charles Ames was one possibility. No way of telling—innocent-looking wire-rimmed glasses and all—if he’d gotten to the Hermann farm before me, did the dirty, and then returned. But why? Even after sitting in silence for a while, I couldn’t come up with a motive. Besides, the police had found nothing linking him to the crime. Or crimes. He was a long shot at best. A long shot? Oh God.
Murder on Pea Pike Page 19