Deadly Secrets

by Jude Pittman

  Lynda would’ve loved it down here. She’d always wanted them to move into a little house in the country where they could have a fenced yard and a couple of kids running around. Kelly had called it her picket fence syndrome. If only he’d taken her seriously and moved her out of the city before that awful night when the bikers, armed with whiskey bottles rigged into Molotov cocktails, had started the fire that took her life.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Bubba’s voice broke through Kelly’s dark thoughts.

  “Hi, Bubba.” Kelly pulled himself back to the present. “I’m trying to work out a timetable of where everybody was Saturday night. You know, sort of figure out if anyone could’ve seen something that might give me a lead to Anna’s killer.”

  “Yeah, I see what you mean. Don’t know as I can help much though. Fact is, after Anna left, I kinda petered out myself. Leroy and I had another drink, then I told him to keep the bottle and I packed it in for the night.”

  “So you left about ten or fifteen minutes after Anna and Cam went out?”

  “Yep. It couldn’t have been more than that because they were still on the road arguing when I got outside. Fact is I avoided them because I didn’t want to get involved in their argument. I cut down the path and came out up by the bridge.”

  “So you actually crossed the bridge before Anna and Cam ever got there?”

  “Yep. Like I said, Anna was really riled about something. I figgered if she seen me, she’d give me another ration of shit.”

  “When you were going across the bridge did you see any sign of Frank Perkins?”

  “Nope. There wasn’t anybody around. Everything was shut down. It was dark and raining like hell.”

  “So you went directly to your cabin and didn’t see or hear anyone?”

  “Hey, I said I did, didn’t I? Isn’t my word good enough for you?”

  Kelly shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, Bubba. I was just making sure you didn’t accidentally leave anything out.”

  “I isn’t left nothin’ out.” Bubba’s voice was sulky and he seemed agitated.

  Kelly stared at the bait man, who kept fidgeting with his hat and avoiding eye contact. Finally, after several moments of avoiding Kelly’s scrutiny, Bubba darted a glance at his face.

  “You know how I felt about Anna,” he muttered. “I ain’t likely to forget something that would help find her killer.”

  “I know you’re not.” Kelly grinned to lighten the atmosphere. “I just wanted to get the times straight and I knew you’d help as much as you could.”

  Bubba scuffed the ground with his boot. “Well, I better get back to the shop then.” He kept his head down, still avoiding Kelly’s eyes. “This weather’s bringing them out in droves. I ain’t had ten minutes to myself.”

  Kelly frowned as he watched Bubba walking back to the bait house. Bubba is hiding something. It probably didn’t have anything to do with Anna’s death but that something was sure giving the bait man a case of the guilts. Bubba looked back, spotted Kelly watching him and quickly turned away. Kelly shook his head. Bubba sure was acting strange. Maybe Leroy knew what he’d gotten in his craw.

  Leroy wasn’t hard to track down. Kelly found him sitting in the Hideaway talking to Darlene, just like he did every other day of the week but questioning him turned out to be useless. Leroy hadn’t a clue what went on Saturday night.

  “Isn’t no use asking him.” Darlene leaned over the bar to join the conversation. “He was three sheets to the wind long before midnight.”

  Leroy grinned sheepishly and nodded his head.

  “Ask Cam,” Darlene continued. “He practically had to carry Leroy out to the storage shed.”

  Kelly smiled. Cam had a rule that if anybody got too drunk, they went to the cot out in the storage shed and slept if off. Leroy spent more time on the cot there than he did in his own bed.

  Darlene gave Kelly the names of a few stragglers who’d been in the bar at closing but there weren’t many. Most of the crowd had moved on or gone home long before two o’clock.

  Cam came in while they were talking.

  “How’s it going?” He nodded at Kelly.

  “Okay. I’m finding out a few things but it’s tough.”

  “God, what a mess,” Cam said as he filled a couple of mugs with coffee and handed one across the bar to Kelly.

  “Thanks.” Kelly took the mug.

  Cam came around the bar and straddled a stool. “I called Bill Shipton like you said and he set up a meeting with Detective Graham.” Cam took a swig of coffee and sighed clear down to his boots. “Bill agrees with you that it’ll be best if I tell them about last night before they dig it up. He figures they’ll hold me.”

  Kelly nodded. “He’s probably right. But hey, you expected that. I’m meeting Gus tonight and I’ll try to find out where he stands.”

  “Thanks, Kelly. At least knowing you’re digging into it gives me something to hope for.”

  Kelly finished his coffee, wished Cam luck with the cops and headed back to his cabin.

  Kelly stepped onto the porch where Jake was basking in the sun. “It looks like you’ve got more smarts than I have. For all I’ve found out today, I might as well have stuck with you and caught myself some rays.”

  For dinner, Kelly dug a sack of frozen tamales out of the freezer and sliced a couple of tomatoes. He perched the plate on his lap and ate while watching the evening news. There’d been a fire at the Stockyards Hotel and some idiot in Dallas was holding a couple of clerks hostage in a 7-Eleven. They’d been the main events and coverage of Anna’s murder had consisted of a wide-angle shot of the flea market accompanied by a brief interview with the sheriff. He’d summarized the facts, speculated that the motive might have been robbery and assured the public the police were questioning a number of suspects.

  Kelly sighed. They were questioning suspects all right and once Cam gave his statement, he’d be at the top of their list.

  The phone rang and Kelly reached for it. “Hello.”

  “Is this Kelly McWinter?”

  “Yes, it is. What can I do for you?”

  “I heard you was askin’ if anybody’d seen a stranger hangin’ around on Saturday night.”

  Kelly jerked forward in his chair. The man’s voice was muffled, as if the mouthpiece had been covered with a handkerchief. “I’m listening,” Kelly said, keeping his voice steady.

  “I saw some guy scopin’ out the flea market along about midnight. You interested?”

  “Damn straight I’m interested. Have you called the cops?”

  “Ain’t having nuthin’ to do with no cops. If that’s what you figger, I guess I’ll be gettin’ off the phone.” The voice was agitated.

  “Take it easy.” Kelly attempted to calm him down. “I was just asking the obvious question. What can you tell me about this guy? Did you recognize him?”

  “Nope. Can’t tell ya’ll nuthin’ about him. I got his license number though.” From the sound of the guy’s voice, he was getting a real kick out of his chance to play James Bond.

  “Good job.” Kelly pulled a pen out of his pocket and reached for the notebook he kept beside the telephone. “What’s the number?”

  “You gonna check it out yourself?”

  “Of course,” Kelly lied.

  “Okay. It’s LQY-464.”

  “Got it. How can I get hold of you?”

  “You can’t.” There was a click and the phone went dead.

  Kelly tapped the cradle, got a tone and dialed Gus’ home number. The caller might be a crank but if he was on the level, it could be a break for Cam.

  Chapter Seven

  On Tuesday morning, Kelly went back to work. The police had finished with the barn and all the chores he normally took care of on Sunday night after the market closed, were still waiting. Gus had promised to call if the license number turned up anything. At noon, Kelly broke for lunch and checked the answering machine but there’d been no calls. Either the lead had been a dud, or Gus was
waiting until they met for dinner to give him the news.

  It was quarter past five when Kelly quit for the day and since he was meeting Gus at six, there was no time to waste. In twenty minutes, he’d showered, changed, fed Jake and headed down the hill to the garage where he kept Old Blue—the Chevy pickup he and Lynda had bought new in 1976.

  Climbing into the truck, his thoughts on his date with Gus, an image of Lynda flashed into Kelly’s mind. It didn’t happen as often now, time had dulled his loss, but in those early months right after the fire, every time he’d climbed in the cab she’d been there. His darling—long and lean and smiling like an angel—with her thick blonde hair tied back in one of those gaudy scarves she loved to wear.

  Kelly backed out of the garage, swung around the cabin and pulled onto Boat Club Road. He was looking forward to dinner with Gus but the return to Angeles was stirring up powerful memories. Gus, Betty, Kelly and Lynda had gotten together there at least once a month for what Gus always referred to as their “pig outs”.

  Kelly supposed it was seeing Gus again that had brought back all these images of the past. That and his encounter with the mystery woman. She’d reminded him of Lynda, although her hair was lighter and she was a whole lot shorter. Lynda had been tall and definitely what they called leggy. Thinking of Lynda’s legs brought back another memory and he laughed softly to himself.

  They’d been on their way to spend a weekend in El Paso. It was mid-July and sweltering. In the middle of the afternoon, they’d stopped at a deserted rest area and taken turns splashing each other from the water fountain. After they’d cooled off, Lynda had climbed back into the truck while Kelly went to the porta-can. When he got back to the truck, he found her spread out on the seat, naked as the day she was born and it hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to figure out what she had in mind. The memory spread a bittersweet pain through Kelly’s body and he shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

  “Better get my mind off that,” he said, a rueful smile touching his lips.

  Angelo’s parking lot was crammed, just like it had always been. Kelly spotted an empty space in the second row but he continued around back and found a spot next to the dumpster. Old Blue had earned a set of collector’s plates this year and Kelly wasn’t taking any chances on getting one of his doors nicked.

  It was a couple of minutes past six when Kelly pushed open the door. The sweet, spicy tang of Angelo’s sauce wafted off the racks of ribs and set his mouth to watering. Picking his way carefully across the slippery sawdust, Kelly moved across the dark-paneled room toward a table tucked into a corner off the kitchen. Gus, a rib in one hand and a cold mug in the other, waved him over.

  “I waited for you like one hog waits for the other.”

  Kelly pulled out a chair. “Damn, those ribs smell good.” He raised his hand as a signal to their waitress. She approached the table and Kelly pointed to Gus’ plate. “I’ll have the same,” he said, “but throw in a couple of jalapenos.”

  “I see you still like that hot stuff.” Gus set the rib down on his plate. “The doc said I was working myself up to an ulcer, so I’ve had to cut out the gut-burners.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that goes along with that gray stuff you’ve got sprouting.” Kelly grinned and ran his hands through his own thick still-brown hair.

  “Your turn’ll come, boy! Just you wait.” Gus lifted a forkful of beans to his mouth.

  “This last week’s aged me at least twenty years.” Kelly groaned. “Thanks,” he said, accepting an iced mug from the waitress. He set the mug on the table and turned back to Gus. “Now give. What about that license number?”

  Gus shook his head. “Nothing much. The car’s registered to a guy named Donovan Nolan. Ever heard of him?”

  Kelly shook his head.

  “Nolan’s a sound technician and travels a lot doing the concert circuit. He’s been out of town for a month and his wife says the car’s been parked at the airport ever since he left. We checked. The car’s out there all right with its plates still on it and the attendant says it hasn’t been moved. I guess it’s possible somebody took it out and brought it back without him being the wiser but it don’t seem likely. We’re still looking into it but I’m inclined to write your caller off as a crank.”

  Kelly sighed. He’d been afraid of that. “What about that news you were being so secretive about on the telephone?”

  Gus grinned. “No secret. I just wanted to make sure you’d turn up. We did track down your mystery woman.”

  “That was quick. Who is she?”

  “Her name’s Krystal Davis and she’s the dead woman’s daughter.”

  “Her daughter?” Kelly frowned. “I never once heard Anna mention anything about having a kid. Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive. I received a call from one of them hotshot lawyers down in Houston. He represents Davis Oil and this Krystal Davis is one of them. He hemmed and hawed about keeping her name out of the papers and all that crap but he finally gave me her phone number.”

  “So…what did she say?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet. I called the number and got her roommate. She said Krystal would be home about eight. I figured we’d drop by after we finished up here.”

  “You mean you’re gonna let me come along?”

  “Well, since you got a good look at her, you might as well confirm it’s the same woman. You can identify her, can’t you?”

  “Oh sure, no problem there. I was just surprised, that’s all. I’ve been racking my brains for an excuse to talk with this gal after you’d tracked her down and here you offer it up on a platter.”

  “Well, if you’re disappointed, I can always retract.” Gus gave Kelly another broad grin.

  “Like hell. I accept.”

  The waitress leaned across the table with a steaming platter of ribs and Kelly’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. It felt so good sitting here eating ribs with Gus again. The atmosphere soaked into his bones and flooded him with memories.

  “We had some good times in here.” Gus read Kelly’s mood. “Betty sends you her love. She misses you, Kelly.”

  “I miss her too. I miss all you guys. I’m beginning to work my way back. It took me a long time, Gus but you know how it was with Lynda and me.”

  “Yeah, I know. It burned my ass good at the trial. If I’d been that judge, them sons a bitches would’ve fried. I guess the only consolation is, they’ll be so damn old when they get outta the joint, what life they have left won’t be worth living.”

  “You know, for a long time I considered doing them myself.” Kelly met Gus’ eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t. It sure wasn’t because I cared what would happen to me. I suppose it was just all the years of being a cop and knowing what you do and what you don’t do.

  “Anyway, I’m long past that now. Nothing that could be done to them would bring Lynda back, so I don’t think about them any more. I found out it was healthier that way.”

  Gus nodded.

  “So, what do you think about Anna’s daughter? Do you suppose she’s connected with the murder?”

  “I can’t say until I talk to her. I wouldn’t count on it, though. I’d say she’s probably got a pretty tight alibi, or there’s no way that lawyer would let us near her without him tagging along to hold her hand.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Kelly frowned.

  “You might as well go ahead and ask me what I think about that bartender friend of yours.” Gus jabbed his fork in the air. “He showed up at my office this afternoon with Bill Shipton in tow. Cam said it was you who told him to get his ass in and give me a statement. I’d thank you for that if I didn’t suspect you’d also had a hand in siccin’ old Bill on me.”

  Kelly kept a straight face. “What do you think of Cam’s statement?”

  “I think it stinks is what I think. I’d half a mind to book him right then but I decided to leave him loose until after I’d seen the woman. I know this guy’s a friend of yours but what do you expect?”
Gus thumped the table and glared at Kelly.

  Kelly grinned. “Hey, I was just asking. I admit his story’s a little loose but do you have anything specific, or is it all just speculation?”

  “I’ve got witnesses who heard him arguing with the deceased Saturday afternoon. Then, I’ve got his own admission he threw her out of the bar that same night, not to mention the fact he followed her outside not five minutes later.”

  “Sure but you’ve got all that from his own admission. Seems to me if Cam had anything to hide, he’d have cooked up some kind of a story about where he went after he left the bar.”

  Gus shook his head. “A guy named Perkins spotted Cam and Anna up on the bridge and he swears they were arguing. Your buddy probably figured he’d best come clean before this Perkins ratted on him.”

  “Yeah, I know all that but you still haven’t placed Cam at the flea market.” Kelly struggled to keep telltale signs of anger out of his voice. “I remember you always used to warn me about jumping to the obvious conclusion.”

  “And I’m not jumping now,” Gus snapped. “He’s still loose, isn’t he? But don’t hold your breath. This is an election year and I’m getting a lot of pressure. The public doesn’t like the idea of a woman getting knocked off out at a country flea market.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” Kelly brushed his hand through his hair and smiled to lighten the atmosphere. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an open mind, though. I know Cam and I don’t think he’s capable of murder. He can be a hot head at times but inside he’s a marshmallow.

  “Take his financial problems. He wouldn’t have any if he’d quit carrying all those old-timers on a tab. He’s a pushover for hard luck stories and whenever one of the Creek folks gets into a bind, Cam’s the first one to stick his hand in his pocket.”

  Gus started to speak and Kelly hurried on so he wouldn’t be interrupted. “Look, I’m not trying to bleed all over the table. Anna was a friend of mine. If Cam killed her, he deserves to get nailed. I just don’t want to see him railroaded by a lot of circumstantial evidence.”