by Leigh Hearon
Annie squawked. “Sue me? Is she out of her mind?”
“Pretty much, most of the time, it seems. She lives in that trailer park just outside of Greenburg proper. You know, by the Arco gas station.”
Annie knew the place. It was a dump. She’d never known a single person who lived there, and now she decided she didn’t want to.
“Does Ashley have any siblings? Maybe they’d care about their sister’s death. By the way, what did you tell Ashley’s mother? Suicide or homicide?”
“Suicide. That’s the official version for now, which we’re not trying to publicize, either. Makes it easier to catch someone in a lie if they think they’re off the hook for murder.”
That made sense.
“Any other kids?”
“Older brother, in the navy. Mom said she’d let him know. I’ll be calling his commanding officer this afternoon, just to make sure the message gets through.”
“So was Ashley’s mom high on meth?”
“No, I think her substance of choice is the more mellow kind.”
“Well, it is legal now, you know.”
“And you don’t know what a headache that’s turning out to be.”
“Oh, bite me. People can’t smoke and drive any more than they can drink and drive. They can’t even have more than a joint in the glove box, as I recall.”
“Doesn’t stop people from ruining their brains by keeping it in a constant haze, so much that they don’t even remember their daughter’s address.”
Annie fell silent. Dan’s zero tolerance for any kind of drug use was well known to her. Annie wasn’t a recreational drug user—not when she was custodian and provider for more than a hundred sheep, seven horses, one donkey, two dogs, and a cat. But the truth was, even if she’d lived in an apartment and had only potted plants to tend to, she wouldn’t have imbibed. It simply wasn’t part of her nature. Still, she was a bit more open-minded about other people’s usage. Annie was rather partial to Glenlivet, herself. Then again, she didn’t have to enforce the law.
“So where did you get the meth connection?”
“My next stop—Ashley’s home on the Squill River, the address on file with the nursing service. Kim went with me.”
Good plan, Annie thought. Kim would make excellent backup. She was suddenly curious about Ashley’s private life. She’d glimpsed so little the day she’d met her, but what she’d seen reflected a perfectly nice young woman who loved horses. Annie still couldn’t believe that she’d been brutally murdered. Every time she thought about Ashley’s death, guilt flooded her body and she felt incredible sadness seep through her. If it had happened anywhere other than on her property, perhaps her feelings might not have been so intense. But it had.
“So tell all.”
“Got lucky. We found Ashley’s boyfriend at home. Name’s Pete Corbett. He’s Eddie Trueblood all over again.”
Annie knew he was referring to the son of one of Suwana County’s first and finest families, who’d squandered his life away. She sighed. What was it with children who had everything from birth? It was as if they’d been born with a gene that guaranteed they’d make a mess out of their lives.
“What’s Pete’s background?”
“Oh, a half-dozen juvie cases, mostly alcohol- and drug-related. One theft of a car, but it was his father’s, who refused to press charges. He’s never spent more than a day in jail, but judging by his tats, you’d think he’d spent ten years in prison. Very impressive. He was higher than a kite when I came to the door, and practically bouncing off the walls the entire time we talked. Broke down when I told him about Ashley, but that doesn’t mean much—could just be killer’s remorse. Claims he’s never been near your place. Said he was having dinner with Mom and Dad the night before you found Ashley. Can’t think of a reason why Ashley would want to kill herself. In fact, he kept referring to her as his ‘fiancée,’ even though Ashley filed a restraining order against his ass six months ago.”
“Really? What’d she say?”
“The usual. She came home, he was high, she tried to leave, and he wouldn’t let her. Photos a friend took on her phone showed a lot of ugly bruises on Ashley’s arms and legs, as well as a black eye. Only problem was that no one called us, and Ashley was a no-show at the hearing ten days later. So Pete was never formally charged with domestic assault.”
“I thought the state didn’t let that happen anymore.”
Annie was referring to the prosecutor’s office policy of going forward with domestic violence cases even if the victim didn’t want to, changed their mind, or allegedly recanted.
“We do our best to nail the miscreants, but unless law enforcement is called in close to when the incident occurs, there’s not much we can do.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Pete’s agreed to come in for a formal taped interview this afternoon. Unless he agrees to being put on the box and passes, we’ll put surveillance on him 24/7.”
“The box,” Annie knew, referred to a polygraph test, which Kim was trained to give. She just hoped that Pete’s parents wouldn’t have him “lawyered up,” as Dan irreverently described it, before the time the interview was to take place.
* * *
Annie always felt a bit of trepidation when she visited Martha Sanderson’s tiny home, just a few miles away from her own. Martha was so . . . well . . . proper, in an old-fashioned way, and Annie was never sure her own manners measured up. Then there was her houseguest, Lavender Carson. While infinitely grateful that Lavender bunked with Martha instead of her, she knew that her half sister had an unerring ability to say or do things that threw Annie into an instant fury. The last thing Annie wanted to do tonight was cause any contretemps between them. It would be so upsetting to the lady whom both of them loved. Their fondness for Martha was one of the few things the sisters had in common.
At least Lavender’s pink hair was gone, if not her hippy-dippy clothes, Annie thought, as her half sister opened the door, beaming a beatific smile that even her lambs couldn’t match.
“Sister! We’re so happy you could come tonight.”
Annie managed a grimace that she hoped looked friendly. She held out a bottle of wine. It was white Zinfandel, the best the gas station down the road had to offer. Marcus’s gift of Saint-Émilion Grand Cru was long gone.
“How have you been, Lavender?” As if I don’t already know.
“So many things to tell you, sister! Please, come in.”
Lavender extended her arm as if she were ushering in the Queen of England. Annie sighed and stepped inside Martha’s parlor. Fresh flowers adorned every spare space, which was rare—every table displayed a tableau of tiny Dresden china dolls and other precious items. Lacy coverlets draped over a russet-colored love seat and two wingback chairs. In the corner stood an antique pedal organ, with sheet music for an old hymn on the music rack. Annie felt as if she had entered a petite fairy kingdom whenever she was in this room.
Martha appeared around the corner, wearing an apron dusted with flour. Wolf and Sasha, who’d been standing politely at Annie’s side, now rushed to her, showing their obvious preference in humans. Martha was the source of never-ending treats. Annie was far more parsimonious.
“Perfect timing, Annie. We’re just about to sit down. And what a nice wine you’ve brought us. Why don’t you open it, Lavender, and then we’ll sit down at the table.”
The evening went better than the dinner guest expected. Lavender fully disclosed her small part in discovering Eloise Carr’s body, but aside from her far too dramatic description of her subsequent faint, she had little to say on the subject.
“I mean, it’s not as if I knew Mrs. Carr,” she said carelessly. “Ashley said she was really nice, and I’m sure she was. But I never met her. Ashley was the one who was upset. After all, she’d helped take care of her for two years.”
It was obvious Lavender did not read the local newspaper and so did not yet know about Ashley’s demise. Annie’s Bad Angel e
ncouraged her to delve further.
“So, how’s Ashley doing now?” Annie tried to sound indifferent.
“All right, I guess,” was Lavender’s doubtful reply. “I haven’t seen her since that morning. And we’d only met that day. I got assigned to another caregiver for training after that. I imagine Ashley wanted to take some time off.”
Taking time off from work was one of Lavender’s specialties. Annie wasn’t surprised that she assumed everyone would want to melt into a fainting couch for weeks afterward.
“We talked about it, but decided that it would be best for Lavender to continue her training,” Martha explained. “I told her that if you’d been bucked off a horse, you’d get right back in the saddle, and she should do the same. Was I right, Annie?”
“Absolutely.” Annie immediately put another piece of pork roast in her mouth to avoid elucidating further.
The phone rang, and Martha excused herself to answer it. When she came back, she looked a bit quizzically at Lavender.
“It’s for you, dear. It’s Sheriff Dan Stetson. He says he wants to talk to you about Ashley.”
Lavender burst into tears and fled from the table. Her outburst baffled the dogs, who’d been contently chewing bones in the corner. They watched Lavender run out of the room and then placidly resumed their pastime. Annie and Martha looked at each other.
“She’ll be fine, dear. Remember, her first conversation with Sheriff Dan was a bit hard on her.”
Right. Annie had forgotten that Dan had pulled over Lavender for speeding in a school zone a few months before, which, in turn, had exposed her half sister’s hornet’s nest of legal problems back in Florida. Still. Why should Lavender be so upset to talk about a woman whom she barely knew?
CHAPTER 10
SUNDAY, MAY 8
Annie looked at the ground, three feet below. A graceful exit was just not in the cards.
Glancing back at Wolf in the cab’s passenger seat, she scooted her body to the edge of her own, grabbed the open door handle, and leapt. She’d forgotten about her high heels. Although they were not much taller than those on her most stylish Western boots, the incline of the sole was much steeper. She made a jarring landing on the asphalt, pitched straight forward, and felt hard gravel grating into her knees and palms.
A string of curses came out of Annie’s mouth as she hastily got up and assessed the damage. Miraculously, her nylons were still intact. They must make them out of titanium nowadays, Annie thought. If this had happened when she was in high school—and that was where she now happened to be—her nylons would have been in tatters. Her one black dress was covered in dust, but perhaps a wet towel in the ladies’ room would remedy that. It was her pride that had suffered the most. She just wasn’t used to wearing apparel that limited her stride to eight inches and severely hindered her mobility. And it infuriated her that her first return visit to Port Chester High in twenty-five years had been made in such a spectacularly humiliating way.
“Are you all right? Can I help you?” A male voice came from behind her, and she wheeled around, mortified that anyone else had seen her go splat on the pavement. The man was older than she by a generation, she guessed, and his gut and receding hairline made him appear exceptionally ordinary. He wore tan Dockers and a navy blue jacket, sans tie. His perfectly polished loafers had those silly leather tassels that men must think make a desirable fashion statement.
“Thanks, I’m fine,” Annie called back. “I guess I’m just not used to getting down from my truck in a dress.”
“Nice-looking rig,” the man said admiringly. “I’d love to have your truck. But my wife insists that it’s totally unnecessary, the way we live.”
Annie laughed. “I couldn’t get along without mine on my ranch. What kind of vehicle do you drive?”
“I’ve got that Prius”—he pointed to the gray car beside hers—“and my wife drives a Subaru. Great for everything except hauling lumber and horses. Which we don’t need or have, but it’s the only argument I’ve thought of so far in trying to change my wife’s mind.”
He was more entertaining than he looked, Annie concluded, and so she stuck out her hand. “Annie Carson. Nice to meet you.”
“Ron Carr Junior. Likewise.” They shook hands, and then Ron’s eyes widened. “Hey, I know you—Sheriff Dan mentioned your name when he called to tell me about Ashley’s memorial service here today. Aren’t you the lady who found her body?”
Annie’s heart skipped a beat. As Ron spoke, she’d simultaneously realized who he was—Eloise Carr’s son. The one who thought Ashley was so nice, just as she had.
“Unfortunately, yes. And I recognize your name, as well. The sheriff told me that Ashley had been caring for your mother. I’m so sorry for your loss.” This was the absolute truth. Annie had lost her mother twenty years earlier to breast cancer, and she missed her every day.
Ron shook his head back and forth as if he were trying to clear cobwebs from his brain.
“I still can’t believe Ashley poisoned my mother. I met her several times, you know, when I stopped by to deliver Mother’s groceries or her medications. They always were laughing and having such a good time. Mother told me she adored having her around. Why would Ashley do something like this? I mean, my mother wasn’t in the best of health, but it’s not as if she was unduly suffering or had some terminal disease, except for old age.”
He looked completely baffled, and Annie felt a sympathetic pang for the man. She was not surprised that Ron had skipped entirely over the possibility that his mother had been responsible for her own death; no one likes to think of one’s parents as preferring the easy way out, and she knew of nothing that suggested suicide. But the guy obviously knew Ashley a lot better than she ever would, and she wondered how she could possibly get him to tell her more about the young waif who had flitted into her own life and then left it in such a gruesome way.
“I understand that Ashley had a rotten boyfriend,” she ventured. “Maybe he was involved. Or, at the very least, was a bad influence.”
“Never met him, although now, after the fact, I remember Ashley coming to work a few times with unexplained bruises. I never asked about them, and she never told me. Now I wished I had. You’re right—from what Sheriff Dan told me, it seems a lot more likely that Ashley’s boyfriend was somehow involved in Mother’s overdose than she was.”
The conversation was now on her side of the court, but suddenly Annie didn’t know what to say. Talking to a total stranger about the deaths of people you didn’t know had that effect on her. She shifted her gaze from Ron to the school buildings in back of them.
“Did you graduate from here?” Ron asked.
“Class of ’90,” Annie confessed. “I still keep in touch with a few old friends. But I’ve never quite worked up the courage to attend a class reunion. How about yourself?”
“I’m going to date myself with the answer,” he replied with a chuckle. “Class of ’68. Half of us went into the army the day after graduation. I got lucky. Had a high lottery number.”
“I’ll say.” Annie had barely known about the Vietnam War when she was growing up. She’d been so young. “I guess the science building was still new when you went here.”
“That’s right. Although the lab equipment’s been replaced since then, I’m sure. We were so excited about looking at stuff under shiny new microscopes. My kids were doing that at eight years old.”
They smiled at each other, and then Ron glanced at his watch. “Whoa, ten-thirty already. Maybe we should go inside. The principal said the auditorium probably will be packed. My wife’s supposed to save me a seat, but who knows if she’s even here yet. The woman takes her own sweet time just getting dressed to get the mail.” He said it in a half-grumbling tone that still conveyed deep affection.
As Annie struggled to keep up with her mandated eight-inch stride, she vowed never again to wear a formfitting dress as long as she lived.
* * *
She felt an eerie sense of d
éjà vu as soon as she walked inside the school doors. The same photographs of past homecoming queens and kings filled the walls; the same smell of sweat, overcooked vegetables, and raging hormones infused the air; and the noise level was as high as Annie remembered. A small crowd of people roamed the halls—some adults, some students, none of whom Annie recognized. Who would have thought Ashley had so many friends, Annie mused, although Dan had told her that the memorial service, or technically, “celebration of life,” had been publicized in the local newspaper as open to the public. Perhaps this was an outpouring of people who’d known Ashley and genuinely cared. Or perhaps it was simply an alternative way to spend an otherwise boring Sunday afternoon. After all, the sun had gone behind the clouds today.
She looked vainly for someone she knew, but aside from a few teachers, whom she had no desire to encounter again, she saw no one. Ron had disappeared from her sight almost as soon as they entered the auditorium, no doubt in search of his wife. Finally, with more relief than she wanted to admit, she saw the head of Dan Stetson towering over the rest of the crowd. He was talking to a woman whom Annie assumed was the principal. She threaded her way over to where he stood and waited expectantly for his hello. He ignored her.
After two minutes, Annie couldn’t take it anymore.
“Dan!” Her tone reflected her high degree of irritation.
The sheriff peered at her, and then stepped back. “Annie? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on. I mean, with those clothes on.” His face suffused with red, he turned toward the principal, whose cheeks also had turned bright pink.
“For the record, Dan always sees me fully clothed.” Annie felt she had to clarify his blunder. After all, she was talking to the principal, who looked as if she was perfectly comfortable wearing constricting dresses and four-inch high heels every day. “It’s just that normally I’m wearing jeans and cowboy boots, not a dress.”