She grinned, back to her usual good humor for a moment.
“Besides, I don’t think any of us could live with Miranda if we tried to change her wedding plans.”
In Savannah, Ben Barstow opened a second beer and sat for a while staring at the blank wall of his new apartment. He knew that he would cry for his mother in due time, but at the moment all he could feel was a cold fury.
It wouldn’t help to vent those feelings on the sheriff, he thought, any more than it had been fair to vent them for that one moment on Mallory. It wasn’t Jack’s fault, either. Ben knew deep down that Jack would never even raise a hand to his mother. He reminded himself what a relief it had been to see his mother married again, safe, with a nice home, and no more money worries. And he knew that in some ways, his mother hadn’t been as up front with Jack as she should have been.
He was halfway through the beer when he put it down and reached for his phone.
Sam was just wrapping things up in his office when his phone rang, and he saw the Savannah area code. He braced himself to tell a young man that his mother had been shot.
It didn’t go that way.
“This is Ben Barstow, Noreen Bremmer’s son. Mallory has told me about my mother’s murder.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam said.
“Thank you,” Ben Barstow said, taking a professional tone. “What can you tell me about the crime and the investigation?”
Sam explained that the rest of the family had been away and that Jack Bremmer had found Noreen’s body on the kitchen floor. He told Ben where the wounds were and that the killer had used a handgun.
“If it helps,” he said, “I don’t think she knew what was coming. She may not have even known anybody was in the house. There was no sign of a struggle. Our thinking at this point is that maybe she walked in on a burglary. Her wallet is gone. It looked like somebody had emptied her purse out on the table, looking for valuables. Her diamond engagement ring is gone, too. I understood from Jack that it had some substantial value.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “That’s a big diamond. So what have you got? Any suspects?”
“We’ve been interviewing neighbors, trying to see if anybody saw somebody hitchhiking or on foot, or an unfamiliar vehicle in the driveway, but you probably know how the house is located. Nobody living out there has a clear view of it. The woman living in the house nearest the Bremmers said she heard a dog barking off and on through the night. We’ve got a pretty good idea of the time. It was Saturday afternoon while it was still light. Probably early. The girls’ aunt, Clarissa Scarbrough, dropped by briefly around 1:30, and there are a couple of messages on her cell phone between 3 and 5 that weren’t answered.”
Ben was silent as if he expected to hear more.
“To be honest, we could use a break in this case,” Sam said.
“Well, I can help you with that,” Ben said. “I just wanted to know what you already had. You need to check on a man named Roger Barstow, calls himself Rocker. Last I heard, he was running a little country store down south of Americus.”
“Barstow,” Sam repeated. “What’s his relationship to you?”
“He’s my father,” Ben said, “But there’s no real relationship. I haven’t seen or talked to him since I was in my early teens. He put my mother in the hospital twice. I was the one who called 911 both times, so that’s on record in Bibb County. Both times she decided not to press charges, but the second time she did decide to divorce him. Of course, that’s not counting all other times that he just slapped her around or took whatever money she had saved up. Most of the time she was working and he wasn’t.”
“That must have been rough on you,” Sam said.
“Rougher on her,” Ben said, brushing off the sympathy. “There are a couple of restraining orders from after the divorce because he came around to her workplace asking for money. Then he moved to Jacksonville, and we were rid of him. I haven’t seen him since I was 14.”
“Do you think he knew where your mother was living?” Sam asked.
“I know he did,” Barstow said. “I was at Mom’s and Jack’s house for Christmas and she told me that she had heard from him. He called her at work, said he was all straightened out, and he wanted her forgiveness. He also asked about me and wanted to get in touch with me to make things right between us. She told him she had forgiven him already, but she wouldn’t give him my address or phone number. She just told him she’d let me know and give me his phone number, and that she’d leave it up to me.”
“Did you get in touch with him?” Sam wanted to know.
“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t even take the address and phone number from her. I was upset with her for even talking to him. I told her that she should tell Jack about my father calling her. Then it turned out that she had never told Jack about my father beating her up or any of that.”
“You mean Jack didn’t know she had been a battered wife?” Sam asked.
“No,” Ben Barstow said, “She never got any counseling and wouldn’t talk about it. I think she was embarrassed about it. She just told Jack that they didn’t get along. I wish I had told Jack about the whole thing right then and there, but she didn’t want me to.”
“Do you think your father would know where the house was?”
“He found out where she was working,” Ben said. “He could sure find out where she lived. He called her once and conned her. He could have done it again.”
“What do you mean, ‘conned her’?” Sam asked.
“I mean I’m pretty sure she sent him some money after that call,” Ben said. “She told me she didn’t, but my mother is… was… the worst liar in the world.”
“And you think he’d be capable of killing her?”
For the first time, Ben Barstow’s voice betrayed some emotion. It was a deep sorrow.
“He’s my father,” he said. “I wish I could say no, but, yes, I think he’d be capable of anything that served his purposes. He’s a sociopath. If I know Mom, there wasn’t much money in that wallet, and he’d be smart enough not to try to use one of her checks. He’d find a way to sell that diamond, though. And my mom probably would have let him into the house. Maybe he tried to talk her into giving him some money and then got mad when she wouldn’t. He always had a gun or two.”
“We’ll find him and question him,” Sam said. “Thanks for being so straightforward with me. Will you be coming up here?
“Yes. Mallory said she’d let me know about the funeral plans,” Ben said. “Is there a decent motel up there? I’m not going to stay in that house where she was killed.”
“We’ve got a bed and breakfast,” Sam said. “It’s called Hilliard House. Nice place. You want the number? I can find it for you.”
After Sam finished that call, he called T.J. Jackson at home with the information about Roger “Rocker” Barstow. T.J., who was an investigator in the District Attorney’s office, took notes and said he’d get on it first thing in the morning.
In Savannah, Ben Barstow could feel nothing but anger. He reminded himself of how hard he had worked to get through school, and what a good future he could have, and decided that he would not go looking for his father, himself – that he would trust the law and the courts.
He opened his laptop and looked up Hilliard House.
At Hilliard House, Robin Hilliard and Colin Fletcher had all their upstairs rooms filled with paying guests and they were setting things up in advance for breakfast. As they worked, they talked about the shooting at the Bremmer home.
They had heard about that from Miss Rose Tyndale, who had taught Robin English at Merchantsville High School, and had taught Colin how to make biscuits. Miss Rose, who was connected with every gossip network in town, had heard about it three times, was already working on a caramel cake for the Bremmers.
“I wonder if they’ll postpone the wedding,” Colin said.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Robin said. “Not with all those invitations already sent. It might be differ
ent if Noreen were planning the wedding, but it seemed to me that Clarissa was running the whole show. One thing’s for sure, though. We won’t be getting that deposit for the bridesmaid’s brunch tomorrow.”
“I’d be happy if they had that brunch somewhere else,” Colin said. “It’s going to be more trouble than it’s worth, with that “Gone With the Wind” theme, and all the food in baskets and that Sebastian character bringing in potted plants.”
“Well, at least she didn’t want a real old south menu,” Robin said with a grin. “Can’t you see all those bridesmaids in sunbonnets having hominy and streak-o-lean? I hope Clarissa doesn’t figure out that Scarlett never ate quiche.”
“I just hope they don’t wear hoop skirts,” Colin said. “They’d knock the tables over when they sat down.”
“Think of the money, though,” Robin said. “I couldn’t believe that estimate you worked up and the deposit you asked for.”
“I know,” Colin said. “I just saw the whole thing as a big nuisance and I was hoping that Jack Bremmer might just say no. It’s more than enough just to keep the paying guests looked after and fed.”
Robin Hilliard had inherited the grand old mansion and a substantial amount of money from his Aunt, Mae-Lula Hilliard. He had taken a big risk when he sank most of the money into restoration and furnishings to turn it into an inn. After two years and five magazine reviews, he was finally beginning to reap the rewards, and his partner Colin was hoping to cut down on special events and concentrate on innkeeping.
The front desk phone rang, and Robin went to answer it.
“Got a guest for tomorrow night through the rest of the week,” he said when he came back. “Guy from Savannah named Barstow.”
CHAPTER 7
MONDAY WAS HOTTER THAN SUNDAY.
Hunter had settled for a peasant blouse with a three tiered skirt, which she hoped the sun wouldn’t shine through. She was trying to get her hair tied back when Mallory came to her open door.
“I wrote that story about the City Council’s road paving list and another about the new firetruck and e-mailed them to you,” she said. “Sam’s already gone. Bethie’s up and getting dressed, and I braided her hair. I hope that’s okay. She wanted me to do it like hers.”
“Thanks!” Hunter said. “That’s great. I thought you were still asleep!”
“I’m going to go by the hospital and then over to Aunt Clarissa’s and see how Miranda is. Chad is flying in this morning.”
“I hope it’s not too rough a day for you,” Hunter said, finally getting her hair off her neck and secured with a rubber band.
“It will be a big help to have Chad here,” Mallory said. “He’s a take-charge guy. My stepbrother called and said that he’s driving up from Savannah this afternoon. He’s staying at Hilliard House.”
“How is he taking it?” Hunter asked, wondering if Mallory knew what Sam knew—that her stepbrother suspected his own father.
“It’s hard to tell,” Mallory said, looking worried. “Mainly, he sounds cold and angry.”
When Mallory was gone, Hunter picked up a hand mirror to see how her hair looked in the back. She dug in her top dresser drawer for a narrow silk scarf to hide the rubber band and wondered if she should get a short haircut.
Jack Bremmer was awake and clear-headed. The sedative had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he had slept soundly. Now he was sitting up in his hospital bed, staring at the hospital’s idea of breakfast, and wishing he could turn back time. If only he could be eating at home, with Noreen, who had unfailingly cooked a good breakfast for him even as she urged him to take off a little weight.
He kept pushing the picture of her lying on the floor out of his mind. I made his heart race and he needed his mind on what he needed to do. He had been so sleepy when Mallory came by.
He thought, as he often had, how different his daughters were. Miranda, he knew, would soon be Chad’s to look after. He was thankful for that, and, as he sorted things out, really thankful for Clarissa, who was managing all the wedding details.
Yes, she was going overboard with the expenses, he thought. He wished she hadn’t gone out of town for so many things, but at least she would make sure Miranda’s wedding went on as planned. And as guilty as he felt even thinking of Noreen’s life insurance policy, it had already struck him that he didn’t have to worry about money for the wedding, or for bills either.
Jack felt a wave of guilt again. If he had been there, he thought, if he had only stayed home. He flinched remembering the time he had spent with Amber Winslow while Noreen’s body was lying on the floor and poor old Merlin was running in and out.
He pushed the dark thoughts out of his mind and focused his other problems. Without Noreen, he thought, he’d need Mallory’s help. In fact, he’d need for her to start taking over the job Noreen had done. He could pay her more than the newspaper did, and there was no point in paying somebody outside of the family to be the office manager, he decided, not when Mallory would wind up inheriting the family business anyway.
Hunter dropped Bethie off at the Methodist Church for Vacation Bible School, and found Novena waiting for her when she got to work – eager to hear how Mallory was and even more eager to hear whatever details Hunter knew about Noreen’s death.
Hunter told her the facts that had been given out in the press briefing, but nothing about Noreen’s first husband. Then she listened. She knew that Novena would know most of the rumors and that some of the rumors might even be helpful to pass on to Sam.
“There was all kinds of talk at our church cookout yesterday,” Novena said. “Of course, the first thing we heard was all wrong—that Jack was in jail. Then it turned out he was in the hospital. Then I heard Noreen killed herself, which I knew wasn’t so. She wouldn’t kill herself over something like that.”
“Like what?” Hunter asked.
“Well, you know…” Novena said, giving her a significant look.
“No, I don’t,” Hunter said. “Really.”
Novena, who was wearing her Monday pantsuit, lavender with a matching floral shell, took out her compact to check on her makeup.
“Well, she wouldn’t have killed herself anyway, because she was too good a Christian, but there’s other stuff.”
“Like what? What other stuff?”
“You didn’t hear this from me,” Novena said, lowering her voice although nobody was there to hear her, “but I’m surprised you didn’t know it anyway. I’m sure Sam does. Jack’s always had a reputation for fooling around. That’s why everybody was talking about it when the Bremmer Agency let Amber Winslow go a while back. People were saying that Noreen found out something was going on with Amber and Jack. Anyway, I knew from Noreen that she had to let Janelle Harrell go at the same time, and it was about downsizing. Then Amber got a job in Atlanta, and the talk died down. Of course Amber wasn’t much of a loss, since all she did was flirt with all the men who came in and play games on the computer, but losing Janelle meant that Noreen had to pick up all the bookkeeping.”
Novena pondered further as she dabbed at her eyelashes with a mascara wand.
“Of course, all of that could be just talk because of the way Amber was dressing for work, and Jack just naturally gets himself talked about. Always has.”
Hunter was fascinated and it must have showed because Novena went on.
“Now my sister-in-law, you know Cheryl, she was saying maybe Jack killed Noreen so he could marry Amber, but Bobby and I both just laughed at that idea. Jack fools around, but I can’t imagine him killing anybody and there’s no way he would show up at Merchantsville Baptist Church or at the Country Club with the likes of Amber Winslow. Bobby said it was more likely that Amber would kill Noreen, thinking she was going to get Jack to marry her. I don’t even see that, though, because she’s got a job in Atlanta now, and Jack is old enough to be her father.”
She snapped her compact shut and said, “But whatever happened, Noreen didn’t deserve to die like that. She was a good woman. And
I’ll tell you something else. People may talk trash about Jack and Amber, but they’re way more scared that it was some home invasion kind of thing. I sure hope Sam and his folks are going to catch whoever it was real fast.”
“He hopes so, too,” Hunter said.
At 10 a.m., while Jack Bremmer was still waiting to see the doctor and be released, Sheriff Sam Bailey had his speaker phone on, with his staff gathered around. They were learning about a man known as Rocker Barstow, who was much closer than Sam had expected.
“He works at a little country convenience store south of Americus,” T.J. Jackson said over the phone. “Lives in an old mobile home back behind the store. An older couple owns the whole setup, and the beer and wine license is in their name. The gas pumps won’t take credit cards, so they lose a lot of business, but they say he’s got a lot more traffic than makes sense. The Sheriff’s Office down here has had an eye on the store and so has the GBI. They thought he might have some gaming for money in the back or be selling drugs, but so far they’ve got nothing.”
“Does he have a wife?” Sam asked.
“Got a woman living with him,” T.J. said. “We don’t know if she’s his wife or not. Apparently, she’s behind the cash register a lot and doesn’t say much.”
Sam contrasted this in his mind with Noreen Bremmer’s home and workplace, thinking Rocker Barstow might consider his ex-wife rich.
“Any criminal record?”
“No jail time,” T.J. said. “He’s got an old aggravated assault in Jacksonville, on a man, not a woman. Charges were dropped, but we do have fingerprints from that one. I verified the restraining orders you mentioned in Bibb County, keeping him away from one Noreen Benton Barstow, who was working at the Apex Insurance Agency then. He had a DUI in Florida, a couple of speeding tickets and driving without insurance here in Georgia.”
Missed You In Church: A Hunter Jones Mystery Page 4