by Emma Ames
Fighting the urge to comfort her, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and offered it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She accepted it and wiped her face. “I’m not usually this weepy. I just haven’t thought about that in a while. Anyway, that’s how the conversations work.”
“I understand.” With her emotions high, this was a good time to ease into his interview. “I don’t imagine you find a dead body every day. You’re calm for someone who has. I suppose that’s a result of your gift. Is the cemetery on your usual jogging route?” He already knew the answer to the question, but casual conversation helped put suspects at ease.
“Yes.”
“Do you stop to visit every time?”
“No. Most days, I just run. But I always look toward Boone’s grave. Habit, I guess.”
The sound of a car engine caught Ridge’s attention. He recognized Dan McAlister’s cruiser. The lawman unfolded his giant body from the Chevy and approached them.
“You didn’t start without me, did you?”
Ridge shook his head. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
“Something you should understand about me, Cooper. I watch out for my little sister, and as sheriff, I have the right to be present during interviews. You got a problem with that?”
Ridge fought to keep his temper from rising. No need to stir up trouble. If push came to shove, he’d inform the sheriff who was in charge of the investigation.
“No, no problem. Miss Donovan and I were discussing her gift.”
“Please Trooper Cooper, call me Tizzy.”
He didn’t correct her about his rank. The sassy Tizzy was back. “If you’ll walk me through what you did this morning.”
She related the story the same as in her statement, emphasizing she hadn’t gone near the body.
“I also wanted to follow up on what you said earlier. Why would Marlene Weston avoid this cemetery?”
Tizzy and Dan exchanged glances. then she turned back to Ridge. “Marlene got upset when I had Boone buried here. She vowed the day of the funeral to never set foot in this cemetery again if I did.”
“I’m confused. Why did it matter to her where you buried your husband?”
“Marlene is Boone’s sister.”
The hairs on the back of Ridge’s neck prickled, the way they always did when he was onto something. Tizzy Donovan moved up a notch on the suspect list. “Anything else you need to tell me?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“So why did your sister-in-law object to this location?”
“She wanted him laid to rest in their family plot. She argued I was young and would more than likely marry again. I think her exact words were, ‘you’ll have another husband, but I’ll never have another brother.’”
“That makes sense. Did you consider her request?”
“Yes, but before he left for basic training, he demanded we get married, make a will, and discuss what he wanted, in case something happened. I was carrying out his wishes, not mine. But Marlene didn’t believe me.” Tizzy wiped tears again.
“Bubba said your husband had been in Iraq less than a month when he got killed. How long were you married?” Ridge told himself it was a logical investigative question, but he knew better.
She returned to the bench and sat. Ridge and Dan trailed after her. “Before Boone and I graduated from college, he told me he wanted to join the Marines. I begged him not to, but he’d made up his mind. With his leave before and after basic training and the few weeks in Iraq, we were married a little more than three months. But Boone and I had gone together since junior high. I didn’t rush him into marriage.”
The light in her eyes dimmed, and her lips trembled. The memories were painful, but Ridge couldn’t let that keep him from doing his job.
Dan sat and folded her in his arms. “That’s enough for today.”
Ridge moved closer, keeping in mind this was the sheriff’s sister. A man he would be working with, and it wouldn’t be smart to alienate him.
“I’m sorry, Miss Don—I mean Tizzy. It’s not my intention to upset you. I do have a few more questions, but I’ll save them for another time.”
She returned his handkerchief. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Ridge stepped away, then stopped. “Oh, one more thing. Where were you last night between nine p.m. and two this morning?”
Tizzy swallowed hard. “At home.”
“Anybody with you?”
“Nobody who can furnish me an alibi, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Dan cleared his throat and darted his eyes. “Oh, Cooper, I have the names you wanted at the station, the church committee members Marlene met with. You can pick them up anytime. If you need me for anything, I’ll be sticking pretty close for the next few weeks. My wife is about to deliver any day. I’ll be happy to go with you to do interviews and take statements if you want.”
Ridge bet he did. He could tell the sheriff didn’t like him and might be a problem. But he’d handled worse. It didn’t get past him how quickly Dan changed the subject. He’d let it slide for now, but he wasn’t finished with Tizzy Donovan.
As the sun dipped below the treetops, Ridge picked up the weekly newspaper from the drive and gazed at Tizzy’s house. He thought back to their earlier meeting. Twice in less than an hour, he’d caused a woman to cry. He hadn’t done that since his divorce.
A failed marriage didn’t compare with the death of a spouse, but it still hurt. While he’d worked to make detective, build his career and establish a reputation, his personal life shattered around him. Too many last-minute phone calls. Late-night hours. Broken promises. She’d deserved better. He accepted the blame for the break-up. He’d learned to live with it. But when something or someone reminded him, regret knotted his gut. Last he’d heard, Jenny still lived in Philadelphia, had remarried, and had a baby. He was happy for her.
Tizzy’s tears were genuine. Some women cried to win his sympathy. That never worked. But hers affected him. He understood loneliness. Her sassy attitude usually hid it, but this afternoon he’d seen it. He’d be careful the next time he questioned her. Choose a place devoid of painful memories. But then again, in a town this small, he imagined every turn held them.
He walked into the house and straight to the fridge. Grabbing a beer, he rolled the can across his forehead. It had been a long day. A helluva day. He strolled into the bedroom, started the AC, and stripped to his boxers.
Falling into the overstuffed chair, he rested his feet on the ottoman and switched on the lamp. He popped the top on the Miller Lite and unfolded the paper. Eight pages. All local news. Church. School. Cook of the week. He read the headings. Second Annual Chili Cook-off Winners. Area Elections Candidates Debate. Bears Getting Closer to Playoffs.
On page six, the headline read: Town Talk, written by Stella Easton. Lonnie Bardwell had relatives and out-of-town guests at his home for the first time since his wife, Mary Nell, died six months ago. It was hard for him to have a party, but everyone enjoyed the day.
He moved on to the next paragraph. Jessie Portman died last Friday. You can remove him from the prayer list. Ridge laughed. They must be desperate for news.
Next week’s paper would probably be filled with articles about Marlene Weston’s murder and memorial service. Given her community standing, she’d probably get a full page of coverage. Because of her, the paper might have ten pages.
Chapter Five
None of the local churches were large enough to accommodate the expected crowd at Marlene’s service, so the high school auditorium hosted the memorial. It was reasonable to think Marlene’s killer might be a member of the community, so Ridge arranged for the ceremony to be filmed.
For someone so disliked, he marveled at how many attended. He only had Tizzy’s word on that. As the investigation moved forward, he might discover her bias influenced her opinion. If the flowers lining the perimeter of the room were any indication of the dead wom
an’s popularity, then his next-door neighbor didn’t know what she was talking about.
In the foyer, over-sized gold frames rested on easels and displayed pictures of Marlene from infancy until days before she died. For the reception, rumor had it Mr. Weston hired an event planner to transform the student cafeteria from concrete walls and tile floors to a virtual Garden of Eden.
Ridge also learned her husband didn’t plan on returning to work until Tuesday. Out of respect, he’d give the man a few days to grieve. Wasn’t like the guy was going anywhere. After Carl, he’d interview bank employees and any domestic help Marlene had. From experience, Ridge found women confided in their hairstylist, masseuse, and manicurists, so they’d follow. That one-on-one attention gave them loose lips.
He’d already received statement copies for the last six months on Marlene’s cell, residence phones, and credit cards. Also, her Lexus had been impounded, and her home and office computers confiscated.
The spouse always topped the list. Despite any evidence to go on, Carl Weston became his prime suspect. However, because of Tizzy’s relationship with her former sister-in-law, the local beauty came in at number two.
She didn’t fit the profile of a killer, but under the right circumstances, anybody was capable of murder. The problem was his attraction to her. Regardless, he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment. At the cemetery, his gut told him she was holding something back. Sheriff McAlister’s presence also sent up a warning. He was protective of his sister, and rightly so, but Ridge thought he’d coached her about what to say.
Since Marlene’s watch, wallet and rings were missing, robbery might have been the motive, but the placement of the body indicated the murderer knew her. Ridge was sure of it. This wasn’t random, it was personal, and if Tizzy was right about the number of people who disliked the woman, he’d have a long list to choose from.
It was late afternoon when Ridge parked at the police station. He rushed indoors to escape the heat, one of the things he hated about Texas—and tornados—and the humidity.
Inside, Bubba leaned against the counter, and Chief Ramsey manned the front desk.
“Hey, Cooper, you want to ride with me tonight? I promise you won’t be bored.”
“That’s for sure,” Chief Ramsey guffawed. “Bubba’s a real voyeur on Monday nights.”
Bubba puffed out his chest. “I know what that word means, and I am not a Peeping Tom.”
Ramsey crossed his arms. “Couldn’t prove it by me.”
The deputy stuck to high ground. “I’m protecting citizens working late, that’s all. And I park where there’s a good view of Main Street so I can catch speeders.”
Ridge dropped into a chair. “I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re talking about.”
“You see, Cooper, sometimes, down at Sweet Thangs, the sweet thangs stay late baking sweet thangs, and Bubba here likes to park in the shadows and watch ’em. Especially one of ’em.”
Bubba straightened his shoulders. “Wait a minute. You make me sound like a pervert, and I’m not. I’m protecting those ladies. They’re usually alone, and if anything ever happened, you would be glad I was there.” He faced Ridge. “Anyway, you want to go? When I finish my shift, we can grab a beer.”
“Why not? I have nothing else to do. What time?”
“About eight.” Bubba smiled. “Say, do you have binoculars and a camera?”
Ridge snapped his head around. “You’re kidding, right?”
Bubba shook with laughter as he crossed the room and opened the door. “Yeah. I’m kidding. See you then.”
For the rest of the day, Ridge sifted through all the case paperwork. The more he went over the facts, the easier it was to remember all the players. So far, his list was short, but in most investigations, names got added. He hoped that happened this time because he hated Tizzy was number two.
He gathered as much information as he could on the victim’s husband—and Tizzy. Other than a couple of speeding tickets, Carl came up clean. Tizzy was spotless.
~~*~~
At half-past eight, Bubba and Ridge came down the alley facing Sweet Thangs and parked in the shadows. Bubba rolled down all the windows, and a slight breeze stirred the air. Ridge unbuckled his seat belt and sat in silence for a minute, listening to the sounds of the night. Cicadas sang in the trees, and a neighboring owl joined in, then the faint whistle of a freight train. A gibbous moon hung in the sky, and the aroma of fresh-baked cookies floated to them.
He leaned his head back and thought how peaceful it was compared to city noise. He had an unobstructed view of the place. Inside, Pattiecake, Sugarpie, Tizzy, and Rayann moved about. A young child sat at a small table. Ridge felt as if he were on a stakeout, waiting for the bad guy to show up and be taken into custody.
A folded newspaper lay on the seat next to him. He picked it up, squinted at the title, then shot Bubba a look. “You read The Wall Street Journal?”
“You think I’m a redneck who reads nothing but the Farmer’s Almanac?”
“No. That isn’t what I meant. I didn’t expect you to be interested in stocks. That’s all.”
“FYI. I have a pretty impressive portfolio for someone my age. I may come across as a hick, but I’m not stupid.”
Ridge’s first friend in town and he’d already gotten off on the wrong foot. He needed to fix it and fast. “You’re reading too much into a simple observation. I don’t think you’re a hick or stupid. I didn’t mean to offend you. Not many people in my life play the stock market.”
Bubba raised his hand. “It’s okay, man. I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m not insulted. You don’t invest?”
Ridge relaxed. “No. Wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”
“I can advise you if you want. I have long-term investments, and I day trade.”
That statement told Ridge a lot. A person had to have a sizeable account to do that. “I doubt I have that kind of money.”
“No pressure. Just something to think about. You can’t expect to get rich quick in stocks. You have to commit to the long haul.”
“I admit you’ve piqued my interest.” Ridge decided he’d made enough small talk, so he eased into his questions. “I guess the McAlister Family has lived here all their lives?”
“Yep. A McAlister man has been the sheriff of the county for the last fifty years. Tizzy’s grandpa— then her daddy, and now Dan.”
Ridge rested his arm on the open window. “Is that her real name, or is it a Texas thing?”
“Well, I have to swear you to secrecy, but her real name is Marjorie Louise.” He chuckled. “She’s the only granddaughter on both sides of the family and named after each of her grandmothers. Naturally, each grandma wanted her called by their name. Big problem.
“The story goes, even as a baby, she threw ‘tizzies’ when she got mad. So her dad christened her with the nickname, and it stuck. She loved it until we got to junior high—and the boys called her “titty” instead.” He laughed. “Dan had to whup a couple of asses. He was a senior when we were in seventh grade, and you didn’t mess with his little sister and get away with it. Still don’t. I swear, if you tell her I told you, I’ll get Dan to whup up on you, too.”
Considering Dan’s size, Ridge wouldn’t stand a chance. “He’d enjoy that because I don’t think he likes me much.”
“You’re right.”
Curiosity gnawed at him, but Ridge dropped the subject and moved on. “What about her husband?”
“Knew him all my life. Boone was one of my best friends, and his family is one of the richest in the county.” Bubba shifted in his seat. “Marlene wouldn’t pass up a chance to throw their wealth in your face, but money didn’t mean much to Boone.”
Bubba swatted at a mosquito. One more thing Ridge didn’t like about Texas.
“Anyway, he and Tizzy became boyfriend and girlfriend in the eighth grade. Neither of them ever dated anybody else. When they went off to college, they lived together. Marlene didn’t approve, but B
oone didn’t care. Don’t get me wrong. He loved his sister. God only knows why, but he did.”
The comment gave Ridge pause. Tizzy wasn’t the only one who didn’t like Marlene. Sounded like his neighbor might be right.
Bubba went on with the story. “They got married and didn’t tell anybody. Boone went off to war, and she moved back with her parents. Long story short, he got killed, and shit hit the fan. The Marines notified Tizzy because she was his wife. Marlene got furious. I admit it was a hell of a way for her to find out she had a sister-in-law. At the funeral, Tizzy got the special treatment, not Marlene. She called Tizzy every name in the book. Accused her of all sorts of things.”
“What did Tizzy do?”
“Nothing. Boone’s death put her in shock. Dan pulled Carl to the side, and he got Marlene under control, but not until she’d made a spectacle of herself. When she found out about the baby, she wanted Tizzy to take a paternity test, which she refused. Marlene wanted to make Tizzy’s life miserable.
“After Boone’s died, she was in bad shape. Took to her bed. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t talk to anybody. Throwing up all the time. We thought she was about to die. Then the doctor told her she was pregnant, and she snapped out of it. Bought Browning House with part of the insurance money and restored the place. Built the cottage next door, and after Gracie’s birth, they moved in. By then, Marlene knew Boone had a will and left everything to Tizzy. Including his part of the bank.”
Blood rushed to Ridge’s face. “Marlene Weston wasn’t the sole owner?”
“Nope, only half of it.”
“Tizzy owns the other half?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re saying the two of them hated each other?”