Murder Deja Vu

by Polly Iyer

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll call you back when I know our arrival time.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dana disconnected and called Harris, hoping she’d find him sober. “You heard?”

  “I heard. Trouble follows that man, doesn’t it?” His voice sounded steady.

  “He didn’t do it, Harris.”

  “You sure? It’s the same M.O. Woman’s head half off, just like the case in Boston.”

  Dana’s stomach took an ugly turn. How could this be happening? “I know it looks bad, but he couldn’t kill anyone. I know him.”

  “Awfully fast, isn’t it, Dana? How well can you know a man in a few weeks?”

  “Well enough to know he couldn’t have done this.”

  “What do you want me to do? I’m a newspaperman. This is a big story. I have to cover it the way I see fit.”

  “Don’t try him in the paper. Find out what they have against him before you write anything. I’ve never asked you for anything in all the years we’ve known each other. I’m asking you now.”

  “How can you say that? You blackmailed me into giving you Daughtry’s address. Seems like I should have stuck to my guns and said no.”

  “That was different. Will they let me see him?”

  “He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone until his lawyer arrived. Those were his words, not the sheriff’s.” Harris hesitated. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for this guy. There are too many unanswered questions. He could be a murderer.”

  “Harris, please.”

  A longer hesitation. “Okay, but it seems like you’re jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Minette to Daughtry, and I’m not sure which one is worse. But I’ll see what they have. I was going to anyway. That’s what good reporters do. I just wanted to hear you beg.”

  “Bastard.”

  * * * * *

  Dana had heard people claim they hadn’t slept a wink, but supposedly that wasn’t true. It was for her. She watched the clock tick away, hour after hour, minute after minute. She pictured Reece slumped in the county jail cell, and anger built inside like steam in a pressure cooker until she couldn’t breathe. At five, she abandoned any idea of sleep, showered, dressed, and waited for the time to leave to meet Jeraldine De Bolt at nine in Asheville.

  She drank her coffee in her great room, studying the unfinished fireplace wall. Reece had bordered the opening with flat rectangular stones and built around them, fitting the rocks into one another seamlessly. It reminded her of the different puzzle-like shapes she drew as a child. For her, the doodles had been mindless. Reece’s composition was art.

  When she felt smothered in her own house, she went outside. The sun had already made its appearance over the mountain, bathing the valley in golden light. Birds sang their morning music, a warm breeze rustled the trees. How could life go on the same, look exactly like it did the day before, when her whole world was coming apart?

  Chapter Eight

  Locked Up

  Reece lay on the hard slab that passed for a bed in the Regal Falls jail. If he had closed his eyes at all, it was because they burned from keeping them open, not because he succumbed to sleep. This couldn’t be happening again. He swallowed his rage because letting it out would only hurt his case.

  What case, and what witness? This time he wasn’t unconscious. He’d gone straight home from Dana’s and never left.

  There were things he hadn’t gotten around to telling her. One of them was his paralyzing fear of being locked up, confined in a small space. He’d endured fifteen years in a pen, and the day he walked out of prison, he promised himself he’d never again be enclosed by four walls and bars and a locked door.

  He’d constructed skylights in every room of his house so he could see the clouds and stars to know the universe existed, and all he had to do to free himself was open a door and walk through. He’d wake soaked in sweat from those nightmares where he was trapped in a dungeon for eternity like Edmond Dantès. Only, unlike the story in his dream, Reece found no escape, and each day intensified the madness until he was quite insane. Yet, here he was in real life, locked in a cell once more, terrified he’d never get out.

  He thought of Dana and what she must have felt when they hauled him out of her house, half naked. She couldn’t see him this way, because then she’d see the tightrope he walked between sanity and madness. Jeraldine knew. If it weren’t for her, he’d still be inside, rotting away. Maybe he’d have been paroled when he was old and gray—he forced a smile, he was half gray now—or maybe not. He wouldn’t have given himself much of a chance. Heinous crime, that was what they said. Yes, it was. No one knew better than he did.

  Chapter Nine

  Jeraldine

  Dana would have known Jeraldine De Bolt from Reece’s description if the woman had appeared amid the throng at La Guardia. It was a no-brainer in Asheville. Apparently, Dana must have stood out to her too.

  “Hi ya, honey,” Jeraldine said, walking directly to her. “I’d know you anywhere.” She flung her big arms around Dana and pulled her to her very substantial bosom.

  Flustered, Dana asked, “How?”

  Jeraldine looked around. “You see the women here? If my boy Reece hadn’t picked you out of this crowd of earth mothers, then he’s in more trouble than I thought.”

  Jeraldine was a big woman. Not fat, just a large-sized woman who used her stature to command the space. Her face was flat-out beautiful. Huge, brown, liquid eyes and full, brightly-glossed lips in skin the color of milk chocolate. She wore a deep purple pantsuit with a cherry-colored silk blouse that matched her lipstick. Dana felt small and plain next to her.

  “This is Clarence Wright,” Jeraldine said, introducing the unassuming man next to her, “which he is, almost one hundred percent of the time. And he’s the best goddamn investigator in the Northern Hemisphere. So, now that we’re all friends, let’s get down to business.”

  Clarence had a shit-eating grin on his face, along with an expression of adoration. No doubt he had the same reverence toward Jeraldine that Reece had. He offered his hand, and said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Pleased to meet you, Dana.”

  By the time Dana turned around, Jeraldine was rattling off questions into the phone clamped to her ear. “Fuck what?…Who’s that?…I’m coming.”

  She turned to Dana. “It’s Sunday, and Reece is stuck until tomorrow, at least. The judge won’t set bail until after he looks over the facts. If he sets bail.”

  “What―what do you mean, if? You mean Reece could stay in jail?”

  “I’ll find out, honey. Don’t get upset until we know. Believe me, I don’t want Reece in jail a second longer than right this minute, but some things take time.”

  Jeraldine wasn’t telling her everything. The lawyer wrapped her arm around Dana’s shoulder, but that didn’t alleviate the sinking feeling in her stomach.

  “We have a car with GPS reserved, but we’ll follow you into town, and I’ll see what’s going on. Booked a couple of rooms at a B&B in downtown Regal Falls, which I’m guessing is near the station.”

  “Pine House,” Dana said. “It’s the only one, and you’re right. It’s within walking distance of the police station. So is everything else. Regal Falls isn’t very big.”

  “That was what the Internet said. Lovely walking town.”

  “I thought you’d stay with me,” Dana said. “I have space, a little messy at the moment, but you’re welcome.”

  “I don’t want to tie you down, and we’ll be free to see what the fuck is going on here.”

  “Can’t I go with you? To see Reece, I mean.”

  Jeraldine flicked a glance at Clarence. “I doubt they’ll let anyone see him but his attorney. He won’t be in any mood for company even if they did.” She looked at Dana a long time. “Trust me on this, okay?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Trust me.”

  The way Jeraldine said those two words didn’t invite further comment.

  “I
need to talk to the police chief or the sheriff or anyone who can fill us in. Maybe I can talk to the DA. Clarence will find out about the crime Reece is accused of. My guess is they have shit connecting him to this murder. I’ll call you when I know something.” She waved a small notebook. “Wrote your number right here.”

  Dana’s stomach felt like a vise had grabbed hold and tightened. The prosecuting attorney for the district, including Harold County, was none other than Robert Minette.

  * * * * *

  Dana sat in her great room waiting. Two hours. Three. When she thought she couldn’t stand it another minute, the phone rang.

  “Can’t get him out today,” Jeraldine said. “The judge wants to study the case. There’s another problem. Clarence is going to—where is it, Clarence? Right, Corley. That’s where the girl lived and where the murder took place. I’ll call you later. Let’s have dinner. The Pine House dining room looks good.”

  “It is. What’s the problem?”

  “I’ll tell you at dinner.”

  “How is he? Can I see him?”

  The silence on the line lasted uncomfortably long. “He’s…he’s not ready for company. Not while he’s inside.”

  “Why? Why won’t he see me?”

  “We’ll talk tonight, okay? Honey?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know you want to go to him, but don’t. He won’t see you. Trust me on that, okay? Promise me?”

  Dana didn’t want to promise, but she did.

  “I’ll tell you why tonight. Clarence won’t be there, and you and I can have a long talk. He loves you, you know.”

  Dana’s breath caught in her throat. Did Reece tell her that? Did he actually say it?

  “Oh, by the way, I met your ex-husband. He’s an asshole.” Then Jeraldine hung up.

  Chapter Ten

  The Sleuth Sleuths

  Clarence drove into Corley. He located the police station, a small brick building on the main street. One uniformed officer glanced in his direction, then shifted his focus to an older woman with a halo of tight curls framing a face creased by a suspicious frown.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked Clarence.

  “Like to talk to someone about the murder of Rayanne Johnson.”

  “That’d be Micah. He’s the chief of police.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, Clarence asked, “Where might I find Micah?”

  The man in the uniform walked toward him. “That’d be me.”

  Micah didn’t look like Barney Fife, but he didn’t look like Wyatt Earp either. Clarence took out a card and handed it to him.

  Micah looked at it. “Boston, Massachusetts, huh? Don’t tell me you came all the way down here to investigate a murder in Booniesville.”

  Micah mispronounced the name of the state like a lot of people did. Massatooshitts. Clarence pinched his chin. “Booniesville?”

  “Sure. Isn’t that what you big city guys think of us down here? Don’t deny it.”

  “Hadn’t given it much thought, Micah. This is just another job. Doesn’t matter where it is. Fact is, I come from a town in Missouri that’d make Corley look like a metropolis.”

  “Don’t say.”

  “Yup. Right in the middle of nowhere.” Corley’s chief of police probably thought he was bullshitting him, but he wasn’t. “Now what can you tell me about the murder?”

  “You working for the guy who done it?”

  “No, I’m working for the lawyer of the man wrongly accused.”

  “Don’t seem wrongly accused to me. We don’t get too many beheadings ’round here, and there he is, not thirty miles away, done it before.”

  “He was exonerated.”

  “Hmm, so I heard. But it sure is a coincidence, ain’t it? How many beheadings you ever heard about?”

  “I peg it for a copycat.”

  “Hmm, maybe. Have to be someone who knew about him, though, wouldn’tcha think? I remember the to-do about his buying property in Harold County, but I didn’t much remember the particulars. Doubt others did around here either. Looks like someone did, though.”

  “Yes, if it’s a copycat, then I suspect it would have to be someone who knew about him. Does narrow the field. Will you help me?”

  Micah hesitated. “What’d you want to know?”

  Clarence pulled out Reece’s picture. “Ever see this man around here before?”

  Micah took the photo and studied it. “No, can’t say I have, but I know this is the guy. Picture’s been in the paper. Besides, if he planned to do what he did, I doubt he’d come in here and get acquainted.”

  “Good point. Would you show me the police report? I know you’re not obligated to, but I’d appreciate it.”

  Keep it simple, Clarence. He didn’t want to seem like some city slicker showing off, trying to make locals look like yokels. That had never been his style. Get on their wavelength, be one of them. Hell, he was one of them.

  The sheriff eyed him.

  “A man’s life might depend on it, Micah. All I want to do is give him his best shot, and you’re the man who can help.”

  “The sheriff’s boys went over her apartment with a magnifying glass. There was a lot of blood, but not much else in the way of clues. Whoever killed her didn’t leave anything to go on. Can’t imagine how he left the crime scene without being noticed, though. Must’ve been covered in blood. You don’t do a murder like that and not get it all over you.”

  “True. I’d say he came prepared, wouldn’t you?”

  “I seen a movie once where the killer put on one of them cheap plastic raincoats you buy for almost nothing. Disposable. I’d guess that’s what whoever done this wore. Ya think?”

  “If he was smart. Guess he was since no one saw him. I’d sure like to look at the photos of the crime scene. You must have copies. After all, you were in charge.”

  “Thought so.”

  Clarence knew what Micah meant. “I know how it is when someone else comes in and takes over. I used to be a cop, and it happened all the time. The feds’d come in to work with us on a case, and before long they were in charge.” He shook his head. “Man, I hated that.”

  “Then you know. Wait a minute. I’ll get the report, see if we made copies.” He walked into an office with an eye on the woman at the desk. Clarence decided if there were no copies, she’d be to blame. She sniffed a challenge in Micah’s direction. She’d done her job.

  Ah, small town departments. They probably never had more than a few drunk calls on Saturday night. A murder…now that was big time.

  “Here you go,” Micah said. “If your guy didn’t do it, I sure hope you clear him. But if he did, he needs to get what’s coming to him.”

  “I agree. I’m looking for the truth, that’s all. You have any idea where Ms. Johnson could’ve met whoever she took back to her apartment?” Clarence figured the answer was the bar’s name on the matchbook cover Jeri learned they found in Reece’s house, but he never blew an opportunity to hear a different answer.

  “Only thing goes on around these parts, without going over to Asheville or Hendersonville, is blue grass music at Rudy’s Bar on Friday nights. She was a nice gal. No trouble. Worked at Dollar General. Could’ve been a customer she met.”

  Clarence looked at the report. He saw nothing about testing for drugs other than alcohol, and unless they had a specific reason to suspect drugs, they wouldn’t run a tox screen. A slice across the carotid artery proved a powerful cause of death. “Lot of blood.”

  “Place was a real mess.”

  “You don’t have the autopsy report, do you?”

  “Nope. Sheriff Payton took over the case. He hasn’t sent it over. S’ppose he will when he has a mind to.”

  “Where’d you say Rudy’s Bar is?” Clarence knew that too, but Micah seemed brimming with importance now.

  “I didn’t, but it’s down the road apiece, ’bout ten miles. Town called Emory. Ain’t open on Sundays, though. Watch close or you might miss it. Only thing there
worth noting is Rudy’s. People and bands come from all ’round. You think Rayanne might’ve met someone there?”

  “What do you think? Possible?”

  “We questioned everyone local, but I gotta tell ya, some of them don’t like cops. They could’ve held back. Maybe not. If she met up with a stranger, Rudy’s’d be the place. Rayanne’s been known to—how can I say it and not say something bad ’bout the dead?”

  “You don’t have to, Micah, and thanks. You’ve been a great help. It’s law enforcement like you that keep things straight.”

  Micah beamed his appreciation at the compliment as Clarence tipped an imaginary hat and said “Ma’am” to the still-frowning woman behind the desk.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

  The sound startled Dana. She couldn’t figure out where it came from. The doorbell. She’d never heard it rung before. She peeked out the front door’s glass sidelight. Robert stared back at her.

  What in hell was he doing here? She promised herself she’d be civil for the sake of her sons, even if civil behavior was anathema to her ex-husband. She took a deep breath and, against her better judgment, opened the door.

  “May I come in?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, Robert. We have nothing more to discuss.”

  “This is about Reece Daughtry.”

  Knowing Robert, anything he had to say wouldn’t be good. He’d probably heard all about her and Reece, not that they flaunted their relationship in public. Regal Falls was a small town, and gossip, good or bad, spread like a contagious disease.

  “You’ve met his attorney, I hear. Speak to her.”

  “This has to do with you too. Please, Dana.”

  Was this a new Robert? Contrite, yes, even civil? She wanted to tell him to leave, but if anyone knew anything about Reece’s case, it was Robert. “Okay. Come in. But I haven’t a lot of time.” She moved aside, and he walked past her into the house.