by Joni Folger
Adding to her anxiety was the lengthy conversation she’d had with her brother after dinner about her morning visit with Toby Raymond.
Ross was of the mind that Toby wasn’t being completely honest, though he’d been vague on what he thought the man was withholding. He also felt that Toby couldn’t be trusted, though again, had no concrete reasoning why, other than he’d embezzled a goodly amount from Third Coast’s coffers. With Ross, that alone was a sin worthy of punishment with extreme prejudice.
Hence, the fodder for the nightmares that had kept her tossing and turning all night long. By the time her alarm blared at seven forty-five, she was exhausted and more than ready to get out of the torture chamber she called a bed.
Chunk, however, was not as willing to rise. Sprawled across the middle section of the bed like a big, furry lump, he was perfectly content to stay right where he was. Somehow he’d managed to relegate her to the very edge of the mattress even with her restless night of bad dreams. With a fatigued sigh, she rolled out of bed, leaving him to enjoy as much space as he desired.
The first order of business was to get some much needed caffeine into her system, so she stumbled into the kitchen on that particular quest. Grabbing a diet soda out of the fridge, she took it with her to the shower in hopes that the caffeine would fire up her brain and the hot water would energize her body. She also prayed it would ease the tenuous pounding behind her eyes before it blossomed into something ugly.
The combination of the two seemed to beat back the worst of the headache, and soon her mind was racing with plans for the day. She still had some tasks to accomplish in the greenhouse—some starts and young vines that needed a bit of attention—but she zeroed in on making the most productive use of her lunch hour.
Jackson had finally surfaced late the previous evening and returned her call. It seemed that he and Jim Stockton had had their hands full with the Toussaints from mid-morning until well into the afternoon. Once he’d finished the paperwork, returned emails, and made some calls, there hadn’t been much time left for anything else.
She knew she should tell him about the threatening note but she didn’t want to add to his stress. At least that’s what she told herself. She’d tell him when he wasn’t so buried in suspects and paperwork.
Jackson had yet to requestion Garrett Larson or Toby Raymond. He did mention that those interviews were on the agenda for later today after he finished confirming the new alibis the toxic Toussaint trio had given him. If so, maybe she could catch Garrett on her lunch hour and see what she could get out of him before he headed into the station.
Of course, if not, there was something out at the motel that had been nagging at her, and if Garrett wasn’t around, she could check that out instead. She had a mind to get into the room where Divia Larson had died. That is, if she could wrangle the key out of Harriet Wilson.
Officially, the room was still a crime scene, but the CSIs had already scoured the place, so she didn’t see it as a big deal. They’d be releasing it any day now, anyway. There probably wasn’t anything left to find, but she’d worry about that and how she was going to finagle her way inside once she got there.
However, with the threatening note she’d received still fresh and looming in the back of her mind, she thought it might be prudent to take someone along with her on the trip out to the motel. Keeping the whole thing on the down-low was another priority, because she didn’t want yet another lecture on snooping from either her mother or grandmother.
And it wasn’t like she was worried or anything. She’d be going out in broad daylight, so what could happen? But it usually paid to think these things through, especially after her ordeal over the summer. She’d gotten herself into a bad spot with no backup. That was something she wasn’t about to do again.
An hour and a half later, she was bidding adieu to the fat cat and heading out the door. She went straight to River Bend with the intention of getting as much done as she could before her lunch-hour trip to the motel. She also wanted to talk to both Madison and C.C. to see if either of them could spare the time to accompany her. Having another set of eyes and ears would be helpful.
Hitting the main residence just shy of ten o’clock, she was surprised to see an SUV tagged with Third Coast’s logo parked outside. When she entered the dining room, she was even more surprised to find Garrett Larson seated at the table, sipping coffee with her grandmother.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in,” she said when they both looked up. Though the couple hadn’t chosen a secluded spot to talk, Elise felt the scene seemed somehow private.
Abigail smiled and greeted her. “Mornin’, baby girl. No worries. Come on in and get some coffee.” She gestured to the sideboard where a pot sat on a warmer. “You feelin’ okay? That frown you’re sportin’ tells me something’s up.”
Elise deposited her purse in a chair and went over to grab a scone and possibly a cup to go. “I’m fine, Gram, other than a slight tension headache. But I had a couple of things I didn’t get to yesterday, and I wanted to take care of them this morning.” Sitting down opposite Garrett, she gave him a wan smile. “Good morning, Mr. Larson. Looks like you’re up and about early this morning.”
He took another sip of his coffee and nodded. “I’m due at the sheriff’s office in a little over an hour, but I wanted to come by and clear the air here first.”
“Clear the air?” Elise frowned. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and glanced briefly at Abigail before giving her a tired look. Elise thought in that moment he looked every bit of his seventy years, which was unusual for him. The man was normally so full of vitality.
“You’ll probably find out in due course, so it really doesn’t matter,” he replied, but still hesitated a moment as if embarrassed. “I lied to the deputy on Friday night when I got to the motel and found y’all there. Your grandmother already knew that, though.” He trained a gentle, affectionate gaze on Abigail and continued with humor. “She always could tell when I was being less than truthful.”
Abigail laughed softly. “You never could fib worth a damn.”
He turned back to Elise. “Anyway, I wanted to explain myself to her before I go in and tell the police that what I told them about my whereabouts on Friday—while not completely false—wasn’t entirely true, either. That’s what we were just discussing.”
“He didn’t kill Divia, Elise,” her grandmother clarified. “He couldn’t have. But what he told Jackson was more of a smoke screen to protect others.”
“I’m not sure I understand. Protect others? What others?” Elise got up to retrieve the coffee pot from the warmer and freshened Garrett’s cup. “You told Jax you were in Austin at a conference until late. If you weren’t attending the conference, then where were you, if you don’t mind me asking, that is?”
“I don’t mind. I aim to tell your Deputy Landry everything shortly, anyway.” Garrett rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before answering her questions. “The truth is, I did register for that conference, but never intended to go. You see, I have a daughter in Austin that Divia didn’t know about. I’d always meant to tell her but kept putting it off. I didn’t think she’d handle it well.”
“Why wouldn’t she handle it well? She knew you’d been married before for all those years. Why would the fact that you had a daughter make any difference?”
“Carrie-Ann isn’t from Garrett’s marriage, sweetie.” Abigail gave her a meaningful look, and Elise began to get the idea.
“I’m not proud of my actions, Elise, but I cheated on my first wife very early on in our marriage. It was just the one time and a guilty secret that I kept to myself our entire life together.” He gave her a sorrowful look. “You see, my Doris couldn’t have children, and I was fine with that. Kathryn, Carrie-Ann’s mother, was a good friend to us both in those days, and our slip was a thoughtless indiscretion that put a strain on our relationship
all the way around from there on out.”
Abigail patted his arm. “Water under the bridge.”
“Of course, you’re right, Abby. It makes no difference now,” he said with a nod. “Anyway, Kathryn didn’t tell me about Carrie-Ann until several years ago, after Doris had passed. And I didn’t tell Divia because I knew she probably wouldn’t accept Carrie-Ann, at least not right away. Frankly, I just wasn’t prepared for more drama.”
“And you figured she wouldn’t accept your daughter because of Toby?” Elise asked before she could help herself.
Garrett nodded again. “Divia was always very focused on Toby, on being certain he toed the line and made something of himself. Evidently, his biological father was something of a wastrel and quite violent to boot, or so she said. In any case, she was adamant that the boy avoid the same fate.”
Though uncomfortable listening to the man’s personal history, Elise couldn’t help feeling badly for him. To lose a much-loved wife and then find out about a daughter he didn’t even know he had, only to be unable to share that joy with his new partner? It was unfortunate.
Some of her discomfort must have shown on her face, as a pained look crossed his features, and his voice held a note of embarrassment when he spoke. “You must think I’m addled or worse, blurting out all this personal information. You don’t even know me that well.”
When she started to contradict him, he held up a hand. “It’s okay. Maybe I am.”
“Oh, what a load of hooey.” Abigail made a face. “We have a long-standing history, Garrett Larson, in case you’ve forgotten. You’re no more addled than any of the rest of us. You’ve just suffered a terrible loss is all.” She waved a hand in the air. “I imagine just talking about it with folks who will listen without judgment is a blessing.”
He chuckled and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “You always did have a way with words, Abby. And truth be told, it is sort of freeing.”
Turning to Elise, he went on with his story. “Anyway, all of that information was to explain about my real alibi. I was visiting my daughter and her lovely family all day Friday and on into the evening. I knew Divia wouldn’t expect me back until late, so I lingered. As you would guess, I haven’t gotten to spend much time with my grandchildren.”
He ran a hand over his face and the sadness in his eyes was terrible to witness. “I stayed in town and enjoyed myself with a family my wife knew nothing about while she was being murdered in our motel room. No matter what Divia had done or what my relationship with her had become, that’s something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.”
“You couldn’t have known, Garrett,” Abigail murmured. “There’s no use in torturing yourself over it.”
While Elise had listened to his story, several scenarios began to pop up in her mind. If what Garrett said was true, then he had an air-tight alibi for the time of his wife’s murder. In which case, even if he knew about Divia’s affair and was angered by it, he couldn’t have killed her.
And as far as she knew, he didn’t even know Grace Vanderhouse, so he had no motive in her homicide, either. Thinking that he may have fresh insight into who might’ve wanted to harm his wife, Elise debated with herself about asking him the questions that were burning in her brain. With her grandmother sitting right there next to him, she was sure to get the stink-eye.
In the end, Elise decided to go ahead and ask … as prudently as possible. “Mr. Larson, was Divia having trouble with anyone that you knew of?” Seeing the almost imperceptible narrowing of her grandmother’s eyes, she hurried on. “I mean, I know that she and Monique Toussaint were at odds. Gram and the rest of us witnessed a bit of a row between the two this last Thursday. But can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to harm your wife?”
“Elise Brianna, what did we just talk about last night?” Abigail asked with a frown.
“It’s okay, Abby,” Garrett replied. “I’m sure I’m going to have to answer that very question when I speak to Deputy Landry, and I’ve turned it over in my mind quite a lot over these last few days. Unfortunately, I don’t have a satisfactory answer.” Turning to Elise, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elise, but Divia rubbed a number of people the wrong way—and that includes those closest to her. Even so, up until Friday, I wouldn’t have thought anything she did could inspire someone to take her life. Obviously, I was wrong.”
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Elise decided to get while the getting was good—and before her grandmother could give her a chewing. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work. I have quite a few things to do before lunch,” she said, finishing the last of her coffee before rising. Taking her purse and her cup, she quickly headed toward the kitchen before she got waylaid.
“I should get going as well. Don’t want to be late for my interrogation with the sheriff,” she heard Garrett say as she let the connecting door swish shut behind her.
Hurrying to rinse her cup, Elise slipped out the back door in hopes of getting out to the greenhouse before Garrett left and Abigail could turn her focus on her. Plus, she wanted to put in calls to C.C. and Madison. If Garrett was at the sheriff’s office during the noon hour, it meant there would be one less person at the motel to question her request to get into the crime scene.
Once in the safety of her work area, Elise set about planning her afternoon. She tagged C.C., and then called down to the Wine Barrel where Madison had the morning shift.
“El, I thought Mom told you to stay out of Jackson’s investigation,” Madison whined when she got her on the phone. “What am I going to tell Gram when she comes down here to relieve me? You know she’ll ask where I’m going.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Maddy. Don’t be such a baby.” Elise paced back and forth in agitation. “Tell her we’re going to lunch in town. That will satisfy her.”
“I just don’t see why you want to get into that room in the first place. I mean, keeping our eyes and ears open for clues was one thing—we were trying to keep Gram off the suspect list, but asking questions, poking around at the crime scene, that’s another story. I don’t understand why you would even want to go out there. I don’t like it, and I know Jackson wouldn’t like it.”
“Maddy, come on,” Elise begged. “C.C.’s going to meet me there, but she’s buried in work right now after taking so much time off to help us with the festival, and she said she might be late. I promise we won’t stay long. I just want someone else with me. Please.”
After a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, Madison finally gave in. “All right, fine! But just so you know, if we get into trouble for this, I will have no qualms about tossing you right under the bus. And I’m driving, too. I refuse to be held hostage when you find something else you want to stick your nose into.”
Elise laughed out loud. “Thanks, sis. See you after awhile.”
Hanging up the phone, she thought about what Madison had said. She didn’t really know why she wanted to go out to the murder scene. It certainly wasn’t something she was looking forward to, and she didn’t expect to find anything new. It was just an intangible feeling she’d had since visiting with Toby yesterday morning. There was something nagging at her, something she had seen or heard that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but felt might be important.
Hopefully, their trip out to Lost Pines would satisfy her curiosity and put these vague feelings to rest.
twenty-one
By mid-morning, Jackson was certain he’d already guzzled enough coffee to power a small city and decided it was time to switch to bottled water. He’d asked both Garrett Larson and Toby Raymond to come into the station to have another chat, and being hopped up on caffeine wasn’t going to do anyone any good.
He and Jim had blown the lion’s share of their Monday on the Toussaint family circus, only to find out that, crazy as they may be, they each had a solid alibi for the time of both mu
rders.
Why the hell hadn’t they just said so in the first place?
It was a complete mystery to him. Telling him the truth up front would have been so much easier than dragging them down to the station and having to pry it out of them one by one. The whole thing had been exasperating and a major waste of time.
And Jim was still holding a mean grudge, wanting to charge the three of them with obstruction or something. But in the end, as much as it pained them both, Jackson had cut them loose. The sooner they left his county and headed back to their own version of crazy town, the better.
But this was a brand-new day, Jackson reminded himself. With new challenges and new hurdles. To prepare for the next round of interviews, he’d gone over both Larson’s and Raymond’s previous statements with a fine-toothed comb.
Garrett Larson was first up at eleven. Jackson knew now that what the older man had told him the night of his wife’s death was bogus. He’d signed up for a conference in Austin that he hadn’t attended, but where the man had actually gone and what he’d done were questions Jackson wanted answered.
Toby Raymond’s interview was scheduled for twelve-thirty. The man had met Jackson’s group for dinner that night but had arrived late, just moments before Miss Abby’s call about his mother’s death. He’d never really been able to come up with a satisfactory answer for Jackson about where he’d been before arriving at the restaurant. It was conceivable that he could’ve gone to his mother’s room, killed her, and then met up with the rest of them at Toucan’s On Main in an effort to garner an alibi for himself.
And he didn’t even want to think about Miss Abby’s alibi, or lack thereof. He knew in his heart she had nothing to do with Divia Larson’s murder, but she had to stay on the list until he could figure out just what had happened in that motel room the night of the woman’s murder.
The pisser was that he was rapidly running out of suspects. If he didn’t get a break in either case soon, he’d have to go back to square one on both. And he was well aware that the more time that passed, the less likely it was that he’d find the killer … or killers.