by Emma Ames
“Okay, I’ll play this ridiculous game.” Her voice rose as she went on defense. “If I committed the crime, how did I get her from there to the cemetery? Do you think I could carry dead weight out of the building, put her into a car, unload her and place her at Boone’s grave? All that without help? She weighed at least a hundred and thirty pounds. No way I could lift that, much less carry her any distance.”
“I don’t think she was killed at the bank. I think the murder happened in the cemetery.”
“Of course. I lured her to the graveyard and killed her. That way, I didn’t have to do a bunch of heavy lifting. Oh, and what about Gracie? I had her with me, so what did I do with her? Did I let her watch me commit murder?”
Tizzy swatted the air. “How silly of me. Being a horrible mother goes hand in hand with murderer!”
Ridge softened his tone. “I’m saying it doesn’t look good you chose not to tell me.”
“I can’t believe you. I thought we were past this, but you think I did it. This conversation is over. Anything you want to discuss with me concerning Marlene from now on will need to go through my attorney.”
“So now you need a lawyer?”
“I think I do. I didn’t kill her, and you won’t find any evidence to the contrary.” Her voice came out shrill and amplified. “You won’t find one fiber—one hair—one fingerprint from me on anything! Not on her—not in her car—not at the lake house. Not anywhere!”
He’d never seen her this angry. It took a second for him to follow her rant. He clasped her arm. “What did you say?”
She jerked free. “I said you wouldn’t find any—”
He stopped her. “About a lake house?”
She slapped her palms over her ears and plopped back down on the porch.
“Tizzy, are you all right?”
“My head, it’s roaring. Oh, my God! That’s one of the things they were trying to tell me at the cemetery. They wanted me to tell you about the lake house.”
He took her hands from her head and held them. “What else did they say?”
She pulled free. “Get your hands off me, and I would like for you to leave now.”
“Please, Tizzy.”
She jumped to her feet and went to the front door with Ridge following. She spun around and faced him. “I am such an idiot. That’s what all the fake concern has been about. That’s why you’ve been so nice to me—and Gracie.”
“No, that’s not why.”
She stomped her foot. “Did you think the poor lonely widow would be so taken with your charm, she’d get lost in the heat of the moment and confess? Oh, yes, I did it. Lock me up and throw away the key. You are really something. It’s one thing to play me for a fool, but to bring Gracie into it is unforgivable. You should be ashamed of yourself. Get out of my house. Out of my life. Mine and Gracie’s.”
He reached out for her. “Tizzy, that’s not how it is. Give me a chance to explain.”
She stepped back. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m telling the truth.”
“That’s funny. I’ve been telling you the truth from the beginning, and you don’t believe me.” She flung the door wide. “I would like for you to leave and don’t come back. Gracie! In the house. Now!”
~~*~~
Ridge sat in the overstuffed chair reading over the reports he’d picked up at the police station. Tizzy’s reaction to his questions had been unexpected. But then again, he’d handled the meeting poorly. With her, his ‘A’ game was always off. Regardless of her anger, he was not at fault. This fell on her. She had lied to him—by omission—more than once. What did she expect? He had a job to do.
She had enough experience with family lawmen she should know even the smallest detail made a difference. That’s what bothered him the most. It looked as if she was trying to hide something. He should have told her he believed her if he did or not. The truth was—he did. He had too.
He crossed the hall to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and popped the top. Strolling out to the front porch, he heard Tizzy and Gracie in their back yard. The squeak of the swing, and the sweet voice of Gracie singing, if you’re happy in your nose, clap your hands, if you’re happy in your nose, clap your hands. Ridge couldn’t help but chuckle. She was such a sweet child. And Tizzy was a good mother. He hated she’d think he doubted her in that department.
Bubba’s patrol car pulled into the drive. He got out and ambled up to the porch. “You won’t believe this, but the perp from the bar died.”
Ridge rose to his feet. “Not possible. The wound wasn’t life-threatening. He was supposed to be transported to jail tomorrow.”
“He didn’t die from the gunshot. Apparently, he died from a heart attack. I guess twenty-plus years of drug use will put you in an early grave. I’m going to the hospital to take care of the paperwork. Thought you might like to come.”
“Give me a minute to get my badge and gun.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, by early afternoon, Ridge gathered the forensic team and Bubba to accompany him to Weston’s lake house. Secluded by towering oak and pine trees, the long narrow road provided the only access.
A covered porch spanned the length of the log cabin. Ridge, along with his crew, pulled on rubber gloves and with a search warrant in hand, he tried the door and discovered it unlocked. When he stepped inside, the strong stench of bleach caused his breath to catch and his eyes to burn.
The front door opened into a large room with a kitchen-dining combo on one end, and a bathroom on the other. In the middle of the space, sectioned off by flowing white drapes hung from a ceiling track, sat a king-sized bed and a small sofa. He grabbed the curtains and slid them aside. The bed was stripped to the mattress, and there were no pillows.
He shook his head and glanced back at CSI Ted Mitchell. He’d requested Ted because Ridge thought he was the best in the department. “Go over everything with a fine-tooth comb. Work your magic and find me something, a hair, fiber, residue, anything.”
Bubba cleared his throat and wiped his nose. “Somebody did some serious cleaning.”
Ridge chuckled. “Lucky for us bleach won’t destroy DNA.”
The forensic team started at the entry, dusting for prints, while Ridge checked out the small refrigerator and found it empty. He moved to the sink and removed the trash receptacle from underneath. Also, empty. Lowering his head into the can, he sniffed. “I can smell a hint of marijuana.”
Bubba squinted. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my brain around the forensic report. Alcohol and weed in her system. Man, Miss Nose-in-the-air-I’m-better-than-you Marlene Weston using drugs. This just keeps gettin’ better and better.” He cocked his head. “Did you ever do ’em when you were young?”
“Nope. You?”
“No way, man. My biological mom was an addict. Gave me away because of her habit. The Tatum’s were too old to adopt, but they pulled strings. I was always afraid they might change their minds and not want me anymore, so that kept me on the straight and narrow. I didn’t even drink until a few years ago. How about you?”
“Never was my scene. My dad was a cop, and from an early age, I wanted to be like him, so I was a good kid.”
Ridge continued to move through the room, opening drawers and cabinets as they talked. “I wasn’t as pure as you. I did my share of drinking.”
“You think Marlene and Carl came out here to smoke a little dope and spice up their love life?”
“Are you kidding? According to their housekeeper, they hadn’t slept together in years. I’ll bet if she was using this place to flavor things up, it wasn’t with her husband.”
“If she was having an affair, and Carl found out, that would be motive.”
Ridge shrugged. “Hard to say. Maybe he knew and didn’t care.”
“A few years back, rumors circulated Carl was carrying on with his secretary. If that was true, Marlene might have been doing payback.”
Ridge d
id a head jerk. “Leah Trammell? Isn’t she older than Carl?”
“By about ten years, but she’s not a bad looking woman. If I had a choice between Marlene and Leah, who do you think I’d choose?”
“Good point.”
Ridge followed Bubba into the bathroom, where he opened the medicine cabinet. “Nothing in here. She could have used this place for a hookup. Not a bad arrangement, I guess.”
“But not the way you like it, right?”
“Nope. I’m in love with Rayann, and I want her beside me all night, every night. After she leaves in the morning, I can’t sleep. I’m already used to sharing my bed.”
“Speaking of Rayann, has she told you anything Tizzy said about me? Yesterday, we had a misunderstanding.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, a little too much.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
Hours later, Ridge and Bubba stood on the porch and stared across the lake. The smell of honeysuckle and wild privet caused his nose to twitch.
CSI Mitchell joined them. “We didn’t get much, but maybe it’ll be enough.”
“I knew if anybody could find something, you could. Whatcha got?”
“We found several hairs. One in a spider web, two on the air filter and one stuck in a cracked tile in the bathroom. We also retrieved a few strands from both drains. Hopefully, the random hairs will be helpful. We also got a couple of partial prints and a good one under the lip of the kitchen counter. I’ll put a rush on the tests and try to have the results in a few days. If we’re lucky, something will match one of your suspects.”
Ridge’s heart pumped double time. “You’re the man, Ted.”
Just after six o’clock, Ridge changed into a pair of running shorts and tee-shirt, then propped a dry erase board up on an easel, drew columns, and headed each with a name. Electronic devices were convenient, but he still liked to work cases old school. Writing the information down helped him think. He started with Tizzy. Long history with Marlene — Part owner of First United — Gained controlling interest — Argued with Marlene day of the murder — Inside bank night of murder/same time as Marlene — Found body — No alibi.
He frowned. That was a lot.
Carl Weston — Husband of victim — Unhappy marriage — Beneficiary of substantial life insurance — No alibi — affair?
That was loads of motive. Just as much as Tizzy.
Then there was Carl’s secretary. The woman was a trip. Leah Trammell — Bank secretary — Disliked Marlene — Affair with Carl? — No alibi.
Norma Harkey — Marlene’s only friend — Telephone call night of murder.
Finally, Kyle Richmond — Old boyfriend — Attended funeral.
He plopped onto a dining chair, leaned back, and studied the board. Plenty of suspects, but no one he could connect to the crime. So far, not much physical evidence. No hair. Fibers. Skin. Fingerprints.
He flipped through his notes concerning what had been found in Marlene’s Lexus. The single denim fiber matching her jeans was no help. However, dirt on the floor in the front matched samples from the bank parking area and the cemetery. Behind the driver’s seat, soil matched only the sample taken from First United Bank. Because of that, his theory made sense. The abductor waited at the bank in the backseat, forced her to drive to the cemetery, killed her, and drove her vehicle back downtown. With so little physical evidence, it had to be premeditated. More than ever, he was certain this was not a spur of the moment robbery. Not only did the perp know Marlene, he knew her well enough to know she was Boone’s sister. Placement of the body could be a symbol. Since she’d practically raised her brother, by putting her at his grave, perhaps the killer was reuniting them in some way.
Ridge opened the fridge and removed a beer. He could be over-thinking the whole thing. But why not leave her in her car? By taking her to another location, the murderer risked being seen. He took a pull from the longneck. That made no sense. As for Tizzy, it wasn’t logical to take her ex-sister-in-law to a place that would cast suspicion on Tizzy. And, because of their relationship, and Marlene’s vow to not set foot in that graveyard, he doubted Tizzy could convince Marlene to meet her there.
He set the beer aside, laced fingers together behind his head, leaned back, and stretched out his legs. He stared at the board and read over each item again. Unless he caught a break from the cabin search, he had nothing but speculation.
He already had DNA samples from Carl Weston, Leah Trammell, Marlene’s two children, every man and woman at the bank, Norma Harkey and Tizzy. CSI Mitchell had taken care of that. If he could find a match, he’d have his suspect.
Tomorrow, he’d return to Dallas to question employees of the hotel where Marlene stayed during her monthly visits with her children. Could be she was doing more than sleeping there. She’d have the perfect excuse to leave town. Because of that, he’d also interview her old high school boyfriend, Kyle Richmond. He lived in the area.
Since arguing with Tizzy, Ridge hadn’t slept well. He’d tossed and turned thinking about how he could make amends. He needed a plan.
The next morning, groggy again, he was up early. He gathered the papers concerning the murder and stuffed them into his briefcase. An overnight bag was all he packed. Funny, the old house felt more like home than his place in Dallas. What was it with this house—this town—this woman?
He stared across the lawn at her cottage. A light was on in the kitchen, and her shadow moved at the sink. The light went off, and the one in the living room came on. Suddenly, she appeared at the window. When she saw him, she stepped away. He chuckled. You may not be ready to talk, but you’re thinking about me. However, her thoughts might not be good. She could be planning to ask him to move out of Browning House. If that happened, what then? No need to borrow trouble. He’d deal with that if and when it happened.
Before he headed out, he grabbed the last blueberry muffin, spread on butter, and nuked it for a few seconds. It came out hot and oozing. His daily ration of sweets was becoming a serious addiction. He’d already gained a few pounds. He sunk his teeth into the cake, leaned against the dining room wall, and stared at the crime board one more time. Something didn’t feel right. Marlene’s drug use was a surprise. She had to buy the drug somewhere. Maybe she’d gotten crossways with her dealer.
Or, could be she’d met someone in Dallas who had a score to settle. Given her bitchy reputation, she could have easily pissed someone off. Maybe a business associate. Or one of her kid’s school friends.
His head hurt from the speculation. Perhaps a connection might come to light once he interviewed the hotel employees. Or, Kyle Richmond. He attended the funeral as what? An old friend and former classmate, or lover?
Finishing the pastry, Ridge decided to swing by Sweet Thangs on his way out of town and pick up baked items to take with him. And it would give him an excuse to see Tizzy and find out if she was still angry.
After checking in at the police station to remind Rita of his plans, he drove to Sweet Thangs. He hated leaving town with Tizzy mad, but at least it would give her time to cool off. After parking, he sat for a minute to pull himself together. His nerves jittered. He’d not been this way over a woman since—high school.
Sweet Thangs had a quaint storefront with two big glass windows framed with lace curtains. Delicious aromas floated to him as he crossed the street.
Once inside, he sat as close to the kitchen as possible. That way, as Tizzy came in and out from behind the counter, she’d have to walk right past him.
An elderly woman sat nearby holding a miniature Poodle dressed like Raggedy Ann. Three old men were across from her, and Oleta Harmon and Fannie Solomon, two ladies he’d questioned at the church, occupied a table in the middle of the room.
Tizzy glanced at Ridge and whispered to Rayann. She grinned as she approached. “What can I get for you, Cooper?”
He peered past her. “She’s not coming over here, is she?”
“Nope. Still ma
d, and if looks could kill, you’d be laid out and candlelit.”
“No lie.”
Rayann leaned in close. “On Saturday, we have an engagement party at the McAlister’s house. Since she’s not speaking to you, I doubt you get an invitation from her, so I’m inviting you.”
“Bubba told me. I’ll be there.”
Pattiecake and Sugarpie were restocking cupcakes when Sugarpie gazed out the front and gasped. “Lor-dee, here comes Inez Kindred. Whatever you do, don’t ask her how she’s doing.”
“Why not?” Ridge focused on the old woman.
“Bless her heart, she’s always got something wrong with her, and it’s the worst that’s ever been. Nobody’s been sicker or worse off. I swear, when that woman dies, she’ll be deader than everybody else!”
He broke into laughter as Tizzy sashayed past and spoke to the woman with the dog. “Here you go, Nana, a doggy treat for Alexandra, and have you decided what you want?”
Nana ran a hand over her forehead. “Lord, Tizzy. I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been ironing all day in high heels and no brassiere, so maybe chocolate will perk me up. I want a piece of that new pie y’all put on the menu. That Chocolate Coconut Pecan sure sounds interesting. I’ll have it.”
Tizzy giggled. “All righty then. What are you doing today?”
“Doggie spa. She’s getting the full works. Bathed, groomed, pedicure. I hate having to drive all the way to Tyler to get her groomed. I wish we had someone local.” She lifted the pooch like a baby. “Isn’t she cute in her Raggedy Ann costume?”
Ridge’s ears perked up. He walked to the table and spoke to Tizzy. “Is this your grandmother? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Nana was a small woman about five-feet tall and possibly weighed a hundred pounds. From the conversation he’d overheard, he knew where Tizzy got her sass.
Tizzy drew her face into a scowl. “Nana, this is Texas Ranger Ridge Cooper—the man trying to send me to prison.” She glared at him. “There. Are you happy?” She spun around and pranced away.