Devil Sent the Rain

by Lisa Turner

  He didn’t want to admit that doubt had crept up on him while interrogating Zelda. He had no basis for it, only a feeling. “I want to search Zelda’s trunk for the derringer and talk to Mrs. Adams one more time. Just to cover all the bases.”

  “Talking to Mrs. Adams will be a problem,” Frankie said. “While you were with Zelda, I called Airlee. I spoke with the nurse. Mrs. Adams stormed out of the house this morning after breakfast. She was so upset she backed her car into the porch. Did a lot of damage to the house, but she drove off anyway. They alerted the highway patrol to watch for her.”

  “What triggered that?”

  “The nurse didn’t know. Apparently she was fine until she picked up the local paper. Then she started ranting.”

  “What was on the front page?”

  “Agricultural reports and a story about a chicken farmer. The nurse said Judd called after Mrs. Adams left. He’s going to try and find her.”

  Chapter 43

  Rosalyn searched her desk drawer for a bottle of aspirin. Her head was pounding. Too little sleep last night and too much worry. At least the office was quiet. She’d given the staff season tickets to the Memphis Tigers basketball games. There was a big Saturday game today, which meant she had the place to herself.

  She found the bottle, took two aspirin, and breathed in deep. Bands of warm sunlight lay across her desk. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. The private phone line buzzed, startling her. She opened her eyes almost afraid to check the caller ID. She’d spoken to Robert Highsmith thirty minutes earlier and urged him to come to the office for an important talk. She hadn’t given him specifics. If he was calling now to cancel, they were in trouble.

  The ID read Phillips J. She picked it up.

  “Aunt Rosalyn, it’s Judd. Your housekeeper gave me this number.”

  “Yes, Judd.” She ground her teeth in irritation. Two days ago he’d wasted an hour of her time by dropping in to offer his condolences. What could he want now?

  “Aunt Gracie Ella left Airlee this morning very worked-up,” he said. “Have you seen or heard from her?”

  “Why, no. I’m sorry to hear that. If she calls, I’ll get in touch immediately.” She hung up and pressed her fingers to her temples. Why couldn’t anyone in this family be normal? Judd drank. Martin was greedy and narcissistic. Gracie Ella was crazy. Even Caroline was … whatever it was that got her killed.

  Martin had called last night yelling that Robert Highsmith had broken into the firm’s offices and possibly downloaded sequestered files in the backup database. The security firm that worked for Martin caught him. In the midst of the confrontation, Billy Able arrived and arrested Highsmith. Martin had been so angry he wanted to press charges. She’d said no, the last thing they wanted was Robert Highsmith standing before a judge explaining what he’d been after. She was also worried about the reason Able had showed up. Hardly a coincidence. She’d spent the rest of the night deciding what to do.

  This morning she was relieved to learn that Able had not booked Robert after all. But that might not be the end of it. Martin hadn’t been able to tell if Highsmith completed the download, but if he had, he could be preparing to go to the DA to take down the Lee Law Firm. The only way to find out where things stood had been to call him.

  She left her desk for a chair in front of the fireplace. Flames leapt around the gas logs. She had to prepare for the meeting, get in the mood. She’d worn red, the color of strength.

  She intended to remind Robert that she could be an adversary or an ally, depending on whether they reached an agreement. She’d tell him she made an emotional decision to close the litigation department too quickly. It was a mistake. She wanted him to rejoin the firm as a full partner and receive Caroline’s percentage of the profits, worth at least a million dollars a year. If he took the bait, she would control him until she could dispose of him.

  She had another advantage because he was living in a strange city, had a pricey mortgage, no job, and no friends. If he decided to stay in Memphis without her help, she could put a black spot on him. He wouldn’t find work with any other firm in town.

  Still, his agreement to meet with her today could be a trap. If he started asking questions that might incriminate her, she would toss him out with a show of indignation in the event he was recording the conversation.

  If that happened, what would she do? Shift the blame was her usual tactic. It would be Robert’s word against Martin’s that over a million dollars had bounced out of the Merkle Trust Fund and back. But if the DA decided to pursue it, an audit would provide proof. She wasn’t involved in the bank’s business, so she could pretend ignorance and point at Martin. However, if she did that he’d go berserk and reveal everything about her, Saunders, Caroline—everybody. No, the best strategy with Martin was to do nothing. The DA wouldn’t be able to tie her to that specific embezzlement. If Martin was arrested, he would need her money and influence so badly he’d be crazy to try and take her down.

  If an investigation of the firm moved forward, Caroline and Gracie Ella were easy targets. Neither could defend herself. She could tell the DA that Gracie Ella had played a major role at the bank supervising those trust accounts before she went around the bend. She’d explain that her sister-in-law had never been right in the head.

  If she had to, she could imply that Caroline had joined Gracie Ella and Martin in the embezzlement scheme. She and Saunders had trusted their family so completely they’d never considered checking up on them. They were shocked and saddened.

  As a last resort, she could point out that her husband had run the firm for many years with an iron hand. If the DA went after Saunders, she would defend him by throwing up dilatory roadblocks until the inevitable happened. The Parkinson’s was advancing rapidly. Her husband wasn’t going to live forever.

  The room grew warm. She clicked off the gas logs and went back to her desk. After this meeting she would drive to Airlee and spend the rest of the weekend with Saunders. Blue’s father was in the hospital, so they were shorthanded. Times like this she missed her daughter. Caroline had taken care of the boring parts of the business and looked after her father. She would’ve fielded condolence calls and handled the drop-in visits from these people they barely knew.

  Rosalyn sighed. Her headache was back. Two more aspirin and some fresh lipstick would put her right. As she stood she heard Robert’s knock at the door. She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes early. Better early than to not show up at all.

  Chapter 44

  Frankie crossed the narrow street to the public lot behind the CJC. Judd waved from his BMW and pushed open the passenger door for her to get in.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said.

  “What couldn’t you say over the phone?”

  “I have a problem that I can’t handle. Aunt Gracie Ella left Airlee a couple of hours ago. I’m told she crashed her car into the porch and drove off.”

  “I know. Mr. Lee’s nurse told me you’ve been trying to find her.”

  He put a hand on the steering wheel. “I’ve driven by her house a couple of times. Aunt Rosalyn hasn’t heard from her. Martin won’t respond to my texts, the bastard. I’m sorry to bother you, but I realized it’s November 17th. Finn went missing five years ago today. The nurse told me Aunt Gracie Ella took one look at the front page of the newspaper and stormed out. She must’ve seen the date. She’s lost Finn and Caroline, the two people she loved the most. I’m worried she might commit suicide at the rice field. I started to drive over then realized I’m not equipped to handle the situation.”

  “You were right to call,” Frankie said. He didn’t know she and Billy had their own reasons to find his aunt. “Have you talked to the Crittenden County Sherriff’s Office?”

  “First thing. The duty officer said an oil tanker truck flipped on I-40 just west of the new bridge. Cars are on fire. No one’s available to chase down an old lady in a rice field.”

  “Excuse me. I have to make a call.” Frankie slipped out and
walked two cars away before dialing Billy.

  “Where did you go?” he asked.

  “I’m in public parking with Judd Phillips. It’s the anniversary of Finn’s disappearance. He thinks Mrs. Adams has gone to the rice fields, possibly to commit suicide.”

  Billy whistled.

  She told him about the tanker spill and that no deputies were available. “I’m going to drive Judd over there. I think you should follow in your car in case we need to do a search.”

  “I’ll meet you in the side parking lot,” he said.

  Billy checked his weapon and pulled on his black leather jacket as he walked to the elevators. He and Frankie were about to cross the state line to intervene in a possible suicide attempt. If things went south, it would be a hell of a bureaucratic mess. But if Gracie Ella was okay, he intended to bring her back to the CJC. That third sweater was weighing on his mind.

  He was exiting the elevator when his mobile rang. It was Highsmith. “Sorry,” Billy said. “Can’t talk. We’ve got a situation.”

  “You need to hear this now.”

  Highsmith’s tone brought him up short. He stepped into an alcove. “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve been through the files I downloaded—”

  “Jesus, Highsmith.”

  “Listen to me. I was right. Saunders started embezzling years ago. Mrs. Adams was the bank’s senior trust officer at the time. Every illegal transfer I’ve seen has her signature on it.”

  Billy slumped against the wall. He’d suspected this but still. It felt like he’d stepped in a sinkhole. For him, Saunders had been the soul of Southern honor and gentility. Gracie Ella, a capable and nurturing human being. He’d thought of the Lees as people of principle. Turned out they were common thieves.

  “The amounts Saunders embezzled were comparatively small,” Highsmith said. “Rosalyn and Martin have been stripping whole accounts.”

  “What about Caroline?” he asked, but knew the answer.

  “She was in on it.” Highsmith cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, the day we went for the marriage license she talked about starting a small firm in Holly Springs. I have to believe she wanted out.”

  “If this has been going on for years, why did no one at the bank catch on?”

  “The Lees ran a slick operation dependent on the senior trust officer being a family member. First Gracie Ella Adams and now Martin. If I hadn’t caught him looting the Merkle Trust, I doubt they would’ve ever been exposed.”

  Billy started for the exit, his attitude toward Gracie Ella having done a one-eighty. Were they going after a suicidal woman or a criminal making one last stop before fleeing?

  “Thanks,” he said. “Gotta go.”

  “No, wait. This is important. Rosalyn called and asked me to come to her office for a talk. I assume she knows I have the files and wants to negotiate her way out.”

  Billy stopped at the door. “Are you going?”

  “I’m in the parking lot now. Her car is here. I’ve knocked, practically beaten down the door. She hasn’t answered her phone. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Billy followed Frankie into West Memphis by way of the old bridge. He could see the drivers on the new bridge standing outside their cars to watch the black smoke from the tanker fire drift over the soybean fields on the Arkansas side.

  On Broadway Avenue in West Memphis, they hit stop-and-go traffic. Once that let up, he called Frankie’s mobile and gave her the rundown of his conversation with Highsmith including last night’s break in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this morning?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know if Rosalyn would press charges against Highsmith. If she had, the director was going to come after me for not arresting him. You had no knowledge of the break in, so you were in the clear. None of that matters now. We have to take care of what’s in front of us. What’s your experience with suicide calls?”

  “I handled my share in Key West, but you’re the one to talk this woman down. Hold on.”

  He heard Judd speaking in the background.

  She came back. “Judd wants to know the plan.”

  “He stays out of the way. I’ll approach Mrs. Adams. She may be armed, so you’ll cover me. If we can’t shut this down quickly, Judd is to call the Sherriff’s Office and tell them what we’re into.”

  They drove Highway 147 past vinyl-sided houses perched at the edge of the worn-out asphalt road. Four-wheelers and pickups crowded the driveways, clothes on the line, kids and spotted tick hounds on the porches. After thirty minutes, she turned onto a gravel strip running across the top of a man-made levee built to service the rice fields. The day was bright and cold. Sunlight bounced off water that stretched over hundreds of acres on either side.

  She slowed as they came to the terminus. His mobile rang. “Judd sees her station wagon parked in front of that row of storage sheds to your left. The memorial marker for Finn is through the undergrowth on your right.”

  They pulled up on either side of the station wagon. The right taillight was busted and the rear bumper had detached after Gracie Ella’s collision with the porch. Judd got out and inspected the damage while they reviewed their plan.

  “The marker is twenty feet beyond those scrub trees,” Frankie said. “Past that, the land slopes to a drop-off into the rice field.” She stepped in and lowered her voice. “I’m counting on you to not play the damned hero.”

  He nodded, feeling the weight of his weapon on his hip. After hearing from Highsmith about Gracie Ella’s past, the confrontation about to take place was far more complex.

  Judd led them through the patch of scrub trees. Ahead, clumps of dense undergrowth obscured the view of the rice fields. They stopped at the perimeter of the trees, all of them relieved to see Gracie Ella pacing the edge of the slope. Her left hand hung at her side, clutching the end of a blue sweater that trailed behind her on the ground.

  Judd shook their hands. “Thanks for this,” he whispered. “Good luck.”

  He and Frankie moved toward the two-foot-tall marker. Gracie Ella ignored their presence. She had on the same clothes as in the guesthouse—a field coat, a long print dress, and short leather boots.

  “What’s that pile of red beside the marker?” he whispered to Frankie.

  “I don’t know. It’s the spot where they found Finn’s clothes.”

  He listened. “She’s talking to herself.”

  “No, to Finn.” Frankie squinted. “I don’t see a gun, do you?”

  “Hard to tell.”

  Gracie Ella stopped, her gaze locked on the rice field, transfixed by something in the water. Bushes blocked their view, so he couldn’t tell what she was staring at. They had to move closer.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Frankie nodded.

  He approached from the right, moving across the stretch of damp packed earth. Frankie slipped in behind to his left. He scanned Gracie Ella again for a weapon. Some suicides don’t want to die; they want to be talked out of killing themselves. Some want to take other people with them.

  “Mrs. Adams,” he called. “It’s Billy Able, Memphis Police Department. We spoke at Airlee. I’m that kid from the diner.”

  Her gaze went to him then back to the water. She cocked her head as if listening to something. He edged toward the water, seeing first the tops of brown grass then … holy shit. Rosalyn Lee was standing thirty feet out in water up to the tops of her thighs, stark naked, hunched over with her arms crossed to cover her breasts. Her wet hair was plastered to the side of her face.

  Shivering, she saw him and called out. “Help me.”

  She sounded weak. How long had she been in the water?

  Gracie Ella inclined her head toward him, eyes glittering. “Finn was cold. Now Rosalyn knows how he felt.”

  He moved closer. Fifteen feet from Gracie Ella, he was able to see the dull gleam of a derringer tucked in her palm. He got it. Rosalyn was a standin for Finn. This was a reenactment. This was about revenge.

>   “Mrs. Adams, we can’t help you as long as you’re armed,” he said. “Drop the gun.”

  “I don’t think I will,” she said through parched lips.

  Frankie heard the word “gun” and pulled her SIG. She moved into her shooting stance, elbows bent to allow the recoil to ride back. A derringer is deadly across a poker table, but the range is limited to around thirty feet. Hitting Rosalyn at that distance would be a miracle. If she did, a baseball bat would do more damage. He was closer and in a lot more danger of being shot than Rosalyn.

  But Gracie Ella was talking, not shooting. He caught Frankie’s eye. Wait, he mouthed. She nodded.

  “Can you tell me what this is about, Mrs. Adams?”

  “You know. Everyone knows because I’ve told them. She had my son killed so he wouldn’t find out she was stealing.”

  “You self-righteous bitch,” Rosalyn yelled. “You stole money for years, you and your brother. Did Finn know that?” She looked imploringly at Billy. “Get me out of here. I’m freezing.”

  “You don’t understand, dear.” Gracie Ella smiled. “You’re no longer in charge.”

  He glanced at Frankie. They both knew the situation was going sour.

  “You wanted Rosalyn to suffer. You’ve accomplished that,” he said. “Now put the gun on the ground.”

  Gracie Ella’s eyes stayed on Rosalyn. “She has to confess.”

  “Confess!” Rosalyn screamed. “I did not harm your son. He was my family.” She began to sob.

  Gracie Ella shook her head. “You don’t care about family. Your own daughter was pregnant and you didn’t know it. You weren’t invited to her wedding. She wanted me there. Me.”

  Rosalyn’s mouth fell open. Her eyes cut to Billy.

  It fit. Gracie Ella had given him clues in the guesthouse. She said Caroline was cold. She knew about the baby, and she had that pile of blue wool in her lap, the sweater.

  Some things you don’t want to see. Some answers you don’t want to know.