by Dixie Cash
“True enough.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“There’s no telling. That’s sad isn’t it? What kind of person gets murdered and there’s a list as long as my arm of possible suspects?”
“A person who’s burned too many bridges. Someone who’s too young to think she’s ever going to die,” Darla said softly. She paused, her throat feeling as though it might close and cut off her breathing. “Where is everyone?”
“They left last night. Mike and Eddie and Valetta Rose gave statements to the police and hitched a ride back to Nashville with a trucker.”
“You’re kidding. Where’d they run into a trucker?”
Bob gave her a weak smile and shrugged his shoulders. “They went to Hogg’s late last night and struck up a conversation with him. He was on a long haul form the West Coast and he offered to give them a lift.”
Tears threatened her again. “Without even telling me good-bye. How can they just up and leave?”
“Mike said the police gave them permission, although Debbie Sue and Edwina said that couldn’t be correct. Debbie Sue said Detective Finley told them not to leave town.”
“And they left anyway?” Darla’s heart began to race. “Then they must be guilty of something. My God, maybe all three of them are guilty.”
“Don’t worry, Darla. The authorities will find out who did this. Meanwhile, we can’t leave an innocent person in jail. We need to get you out of here and clear your name.”
“My name,” Darla said bitterly. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me trying to bring my precious name back into the public eye. I’ve always been a fool. And now I’m an old fool.” She sobbed into her hands.
“This is not your fault, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Please don’t cry. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Oh, Bob, tell me something I can believe,” Darla wailed, “something that will make all of this go away.”
Bob patted her forearm and leaned closer to her. “The Domestic Equalizers are on the case. Debbie Sue is calling me this evening for the addresses and contact numbers for Mike, Eddie and Valetta Rose in Nashville.”
Darla looked up, blinked once and broke into waves of loud sobs.
Darla had had an exhaustive day. And following a night of no sleep, too. She lay on her cell cot, her eyes closed, the day’s events playing back in her mind.
Within minutes of Bob’s departure she had been escorted to the visitors’ room again. This time, she had found her county-appointed attorney waiting for her. He was chewing his nails when she entered the room and he looked to be no older than thirty. After a brief handshake he said, “Mrs. Denman, have a seat, please. My name is Rooster Perdue. I’ve been—”
“Excuse me,” Darla said. “Did you say Rooster?”
“Yes ma’am. It’s what they called my grandfather.”
“Oh, it’s a nickname then?”
“No, ma’am. It’s my legal, birth-given name. May I continue?”
“Just a minute, Mr. . . . er, Rooster. I’m sorry, but this could be the most important day of my life and I want to be sure I understand everything. How old are you?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I’m perfectly—”
“Just humor me, okay? You’re going to know an awful lot about me before this visit is over. I think it only fair I know more about you than just your name.”
“I’m twenty-six,” he answered, looking at her through the thick lenses of black-framed glasses.
“You must be right out of school. Please tell me I’m not your first case.”
“I finished in the top twenty percentile of my class.”
“Good grief. I’m right.” Darla dropped her forehead onto her palm and shook her head. She looked up then. “Oh, well, I don’t guess it matters. Since I’m innocent, you don’t need to be Perry Mason.”
“Hm. He’s unfamiliar to me. Where does he practice?”
“Sweet Jesus,” Darla mumbled.
She and Rooster spent the better part of an hour together and when the interview was complete, she had even more mixed feelings about him. He had taken pages of notes, but she didn’t know if that was to keep the session fresh in his mind or if he wanted to look up specific legal questions in his textbooks.
Now, Darla rolled to her side into a fetal position and moaned as she recalled asking her attorney if the cause of death had been determined. He had answered, “Homicide.”
Maybe this was her punishment for years of traveling life’s highway driving too fast and often times in the wrong lane. The gravity of her situation was settling in all around her and suffocating her. She had never been one to pray much, but if ever there was a time to start, she suspected now was the time.
Debbie Sue continued to strategize with Edwina until they reached Salt Lick. At her double-wide, Edwina invited Debbie Sue to come in, but she declined. She suspected Buddy was at home by now. But if he wasn’t, there were dogs and a horse to feed.
When she reached home, to both her delight and dismay, Buddy’s state rig was parked in its usual spot under the carport. She was happy to see he had come home, but dread cloaked her. In her evening phone conversations, she had hedged and simply neglected to tell him how close she and Edwina were to the situation in Midland. When the media reported that she had been on the scene soon after Roxie’s death, she had downplayed that to Buddy as a mistake the press had made. After all, Tatts by Matt was really first on the scene.
In plain words, she had lied to her sweet Buddy. Consequently, he still believed that all she and Edwina had been doing was lip-syncing behind Darla.
Now she was caught like a rat in a trap. She would have to make a confession of her own. Not only would she have to tell her husband the whole damn story, she would have to add that she and Edwina had committed to Darla and Bob that they would find Roxie Denman’s murderer. She would have to come clean on the reason for their desire to travel to Nashville. She would have to admit that it involved more than paying their respects to Roxie.
As soon as she entered the house, before he even said hello, he started asking questions. Cop genes, she grumbled mentally.
They took seats at the kitchen table and he sat stone-faced as she told him part of the truth. “I know Darla didn’t do it,” she said in conclusion. “And I know Bob didn’t do it, but there’s several who could have. I told you on the phone what kind of person Roxie was.”
“You just met this Darla and Bob. You don’t know them that well. What makes you think they’re innocent?”
“I just feel it.”
“They’re the logical suspects, Flash. And if they don’t have enough sense to not confess to a crime they didn’t do, they must be guilty of something.”
Frowning, Debbie Sue put her flattened palms together and shoved them between her knees. “Nooo, Buddy. They feel guilty because they’re in love with each other and Bob is, or was, a married guy. They both say they committed murder to cover up for each other, when, in fact, neither one of them did it.”
Buddy shook his head. Debbie Sue could see his mind was closed.
“Well it doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “I’m sure the Midland homicide department’s got everything under control. I’ve known Tom Finley for years and he’ll get to the bottom of it. You’re not getting involved, right?”
“Buddy, I can’t abandon Darla, if that’s what you mean,”
“Now, Flash,” Buddy said gently, and Debbie Sue cringed. When he used that pet name in that tone of voice, her side of the battle was in trouble. He leaned forward, picked up her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “You know exactly what I mean. Let the Midland PD take care of it. You have no business even going near it.”
“Dammit, Buddy, I visited her in jail and she looked so pitiful in that ugly orange suit and those tacky shoes with no laces.” Tears stung behind Debbie Sue’s eyes and she pulled her hand away from Buddy’s. “All I could think was the day she sat
in the Styling Station all glitz and glamour and sexy shoes and her beautiful glittery white jacket stained with blood and her shining coppery hair. Ed and I both told her we’d be there for her.”
Buddy’s tone softened more, as it always did when he feared she might cry. “I’m not saying you can’t be there for her. All I’m saying is I don’t want you to interfere with the Midland police.”
“Oh, no. Of course not. . . . If I hear anything I’ll report it to the police immediately. Any responsible citizen would do that.”
Buddy straightened in his chair. His narrow-eyed look came at her like a hurled spear. “And how do you intend to go about hearing something?”
“Oh, you know. Just listening.”
“Not asking questions, just listening? And where do you intend to do this listening?”
“In the shop. Around town. You know. People know me and Ed, Buddy. They know Ed and I were there when it happened. They’ll be talking and we’ll be listening.”
“And I know you, wife of mine. If only that’s all it would amount to, talking to people around town.”
“Yeah, around town.” Debbie Sue saw the opening and took a deep breath and leaned closer. “And at Roxie’s funeral.”
Buddy tucked back his chin, obviously surprised. “They’re burying her around here somewhere?”
“Well . . . no, uh . . . it’s in . . . that is, Ed and I thought we’d go to her service just to pay our respects.” Debbie Sue winced inside at telling him the lie, but she plowed on. “Even Darla said everyone hated Roxie so much she doubted anyone would be there. Don’t you think it’s sad to have a funeral no one comes to? And it’s kind of sad to be that young and no one—”
“Stop right there. Where is the funeral, Flash?”
“Wednesday,” Debbie Sue said perkily, though she resented his using his cop tone in a conversation with her.
“I didn’t ask when. I asked where.”
“Nashville.”
“Nashville! Is that in Texas? Has a new town sprung up that I don’t know about?”
Debbie Sue almost bounced on her chair seat. “Dammit, Buddy, you know there’s no Nashville, Texas. Listen, there’s one Southwest non-stop flight to Nashville every day that leaves out of Midland.”
“You’ve already looked up the flight schedules?”
“Well, I had some free time on my hands.”
“Debbie Sue—”
“Buddy, please don’t say you don’t want me to go. Ed and I could go and come back the same day. We’d prefer staying a couple of days, of course. What I mean is we already made a list of places we’d like to see. And if you’re going to be in Tennessee anyway, you might as well go see them, right?”
“Oh, well, as long as you’ve gone to the trouble of making a list.”
“Sarcasm. All you can say is something sarcastic?” Debbie Sue tented her brow. “Just stop and think, Buddy. A poor young penniless girl with no one to mourn her is being laid to rest in a cold, dark grave—”
“Okay, okay,” Buddy said and sighed. “I give up. I’ve seen enough victims laid to rest with no one present but the grave digger. You’re right. It’s sad. I don’t know what you think you owe these people or what you’ve committed to, but I can see you’re hell-bent on going. I’m not going to stop you.”
“You mean that?”
“I mean it. I’m not going to stop you.”
Debbie Sue couldn’t keep from breaking into a wide grin.
Buddy’s chocolate brown eyes drilled her. “But I am going with you.”
“What?” Debbie Sue sat straighter.
Buddy slashed the air with a flattened hand. “After what happened in New York City, no way am I letting you and Edwina take off on an out-of-town caper again. I’m sure Vic will feel the same way. Besides, I’ve never been to Tennessee. I’d like to tour the state capital and check out the Titans stadium. And I’m due some time off.”
Debbie Sue watched in stunned silence as Buddy rose, strode to the fridge on the far end of the kitchen, pulled out two bottles of cold beer and opened them. He returned to the table and handed her a beer. Looming over her, he touched his bottle to hers. “Here’s to our trip to Nashville.”
Shit!
“To Nashville,” Debbie Sue mumbled.
Buddy’s wary gaze came down at her. “You don’t sound very excited. You don’t want me along?”
“Oh, of course I do, Wyatt. We haven’t had any time away in a long time and God knows you need a break from work. I just don’t want you to go because you think I need a babysitter.”
“It’s your safety I worry about, not the amount of freedom you have.” He bent forward, bracing his hand on the table, and gave her a fierce smack on the lips. “You can use that beautiful head for calculating and your perfect little nose for snooping all you want. I just want to know you’re safe.”
“I love you so much, Buddy,” Debbie Sue said, getting to her feet and wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.
“Prove it,” he replied mischievously.
She angled a look up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I can prove it. I could go run us a bath with lots of bubbles, light some candles and—”
“What are you waiting for?”
Buddy waited until he heard the bathwater running before he stepped outside the kitchen door to the deck he had built with his own two hands. He unclipped his phone from his belt, keyed in a stored number and waited impatiently as three rings passed. He was about to hang up when a voice on the other end picked up. “Detective Finley.”
“Tom, Buddy Overstreet here. It’s all set. I’m going to Nashville with them. Thanks for the tip. I’ll report back later on.”
“Right. Thanks for your help, Ranger.”
“No problem. Glad to do it.”
Closing his phone he stepped back inside, grabbed a couple more bottles of beer from the fridge and made his way to the sound of running water and his wife’s voice singing a Darla Denman tune.
Chapter Twenty-three
Following a long, luxurious bubble bath that required adding water twice for warmth, Debbie Sue and Buddy dried each other with oversized bath towels and crawled into bed. She dozed in his arms, enjoying the heat of his body, the coolness of the air conditioner and the peace that surrounded her. She lay in a twilight state, the silence punctuated only by the mournful lowing of a distant cow. A question about why that cow sounded so lost and lonely was traipsing through her head when the jangle of the phone intruded.
Silently cussing a blue streak, she carefully reached across Buddy for the phone. “Hello,” she whispered.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Edwina said cheerily. “What’s up?”
Getting to her feet, she tiptoed to the rocking chair and grabbed the afghan that hung across the back. “Just a minute,” she whispered into the phone. She wrapped herself in the afghan and carried the phone into the kitchen. “Ed, I was in bed—”
“Still? It’s been hours since you got home. Buddy was only gone three days. What do you two do when he’s away for a whole week?”
“Never mind,” Debbie Sue huffed. “What do you want?”
“I’m dying to know how Buddy took the news of the trip to Nashville. Are we going or not? I only have tomorrow to get packed. I can’t wait ’til the last minute, you know.”
“This is only Monday. Even you should be able to get packed by Wednesday.”
Edwina squealed so loudly Debbie Sue had to hold the receiver away from her ear. She stepped back and looked down the hallway to their bedroom halfway expecting to see or hear Buddy. When he didn’t emerge from the bedroom, she returned the phone to her ear. “Just settle down, Ed. There’s more I haven’t told you yet.”
“I’m listening.”
“Buddy’s going, too.”
“Uh-oh. How?”
“He’s treating this like a getaway. He wants Vic to go too, but I’m sure Vic wouldn’t be—”
“Why, Vic would love it. Second to me
, the company he prefers most is you and Buddy. But what would we do with them while you and I try to unravel this Roxie mess? You know Buddy is gonna want to get right in the middle of it. I mean, he’s a cop.”
“I don’t know yet. He said something about going to the Tennessee Titans stadium for a tour. I’m been thinking maybe you and I could beg off of that and make use of the time.”
“The Tennessee Titans are in Nashville?” Edwina asked.
“Well, yes, Ed. I thought you followed football.”
“I do, but only the Dallas Cowboys. I don’t know anything about the other teams.”
“Spoken like a real fan.”
“This could be fun,” Edwina babbled on. “We’ll have to take one of your vehicles. Bob still has Vic’s pickup and my old Mustang might never make it on a trip like that.”
“Uh, Ed—”
“No. No ‘uh, Ed.’ We’re driving, right? Please tell me we’re not flying. You know how I am about flying.”
Debbie Sue did know indeed. Edwina suffered severe air sickness for which she took copious amounts of Dramamine. The last time Debbie Sue had flown with her, Edwina had overmedicated herself and had to be brought on the plane semiconscious in a wheelchair.
“Ed, it’s over a thousand miles. I did a MapQuest on it. It would take twenty hours to drive. We can fly in two hours.”
“So?”
“So, we are not driving. If you’ll take those air-sickness pills as directed you’ll be fine. Thousands of people take them and I’ll bet most of them don’t have to be tied to an industrial dolly.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay here,” Edwina snapped.
Debbie Sue huffed, but she knew how to handle her friend of so many years. “Well, if you want to do that, Ed, that’s okay. I can’t imagine going to the Grand Ole Opry without you, but that’s okay. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures and bring you a souvenir from everywhere we go. What do you want from Tootsie’s, a glass jigger with a picture of Johnny Cash or a Patsy Cline keychain? I’ve heard they have one that’s a replica of her holding a microphone and it plays ‘Crazy’ when you squeeze her hand.”