“Let’s see, it was the day they all got fired. Friday—I quit on Monday. Some people thought I got fired, but I didn’t. I...decided to move back home with my folks. Never saw him after that. Is he in trouble for that robbery business? Is that what this is all about?”
“No,” Deena assured her. “It’s about Matthew. Do you remember a man named Glenn?”
“Glenn!” She looked like she’d just seen Elvis. “What do you know about him?”
“Just that you were seeing him at that time...and that he was married. Did he know Matthew?”
Donna looked back over her shoulder toward the bar just as the waiter brought the beers. “No. R.G.—that’s what everyone called him—lived south of Bingham.”
“Is that who picked you up from the café?”
“No, my brother picked me up. R.G. and I had gotten into a big fight. It was actually his fault that I was even at the café that night.”
“What do you mean?” Deena took a sip of the beer Russell had given her. She would have preferred iced tea, but the humidity was dreadful and the drink was cold.
“You see, he came over on Monday night to see me. He had been drinking and wasn’t treating me very proper, if you know what I mean. I told him he had better start being nice to me or I’d leave him for my other boyfriend. That’s when he started laughing, saying I couldn’t get another boyfriend if I tried.”
The thunder crackled, but the sky held its water.
Donna continued. “Then I said, ‘Not only do I have another boyfriend, but he knows all about you and me.’ Well, that’s when he lost his ever-lovin’ mind. He started cussin’ and fussin’. I should have known that would set him off since he had these big political plans, and our...um, relationship had to be kept a secret until he left his wife. I know now he was probably never going to do that. He wasn’t jealous—he was worried about his reputation if word got out that he was cheating on his wife.” She took a chug of beer.
Donna was getting worked up. Her ruddy skin reddened as she talked. “When he left, he went outside to the parking lot behind my apartment, pulled a tire iron out of his pickup, and went to pounding on my front fender. Luckily, a neighbor came out and scared him off. I had to get my car towed to the shop.”
“Man, what a creep,” Russell said.
“It gets worse than that,” Donna continued, empowered by the booze and the nicotine and a sympathetic audience. “The next couple of days go by and he doesn’t call me. Then late on Wednesday night after my brother dropped me off, he comes over after I was already in bed, smelling like a barrel of Jack Daniels, tracking mud all over my apartment. But this time he is being sweet and saying he’s sorry.” She took several more drags off her cigarette, and then dropped it on the ground, crushing it with her red stiletto.
“What did you do?” Russell loved a good melodrama. The humidity had turned to a mist, and he wanted to hear the rest of the story before the rain came.
“Dumb me, I decide to forgive him. That’s when I tell him that I had lied to him before. I told him I didn’t really have another boyfriend. I just wanted to make him jealous, so I had made it up. I thought he’d be jumping for joy. But you know what he did? He threw up all over my living room floor. I couldn’t believe it! He starts yelling, ‘What have I done? What have I done?’ over and over, stomping back and forth across the floor.”
“What do you think he meant by that?” Deena asked, her stomach turning queasy.
“I don’t know. All I know is that it went downhill from there. Of course, we were all worried about Matthew, but the following Saturday I came out of my apartment, and there was my car all fixed up. Inside was an envelope with four hundred dollars in it and a letter from R.G. saying that I was too good for him and that I should move back home. After seeing him act like a crazy man, that’s exactly what I did. Good-bye, R. G.”
Deena’s brain crunched this new information. “So, on Wednesday night after you had dinner with Matthew, R.G. came to your apartment with muddy boots and smelling of alcohol?” She looked at Russell, wondering if he was on the same wave length.
“What were these ‘big plans’ he had?” Russell asked.
“I s’pose it doesn’t matter all these years later. You see, he worked for the sheriff’s department as a deputy. Hoped to be sheriff himself one day. Then governor. Only problem was that in small towns, they don’t vote for men who cheat on their wives, at least not back then. That’s why our affair had to be kept hush-hush.”
A clap of thunder unleashed the rain that started pouring down in sheets. Everyone sitting outside jumped up and began running wildly, grabbing umbrellas, jackets, tablecloths—anything they could put over their heads as they ran for cover. Deena and Donna ran through the muddy slop and ducked under the patio awning. “My shoe!” Donna yelled.
Deena looked over and saw a red shoe stuck in the mud by their table. They watched people trying to pay their tabs, running to their cars, slushing in the mud. “I hope I answered all your questions because I’m getting out of here,” Donna said as lightning and thunder cracked open the night sky.
The flash lit up a picture in Deena’s head. It was Matthew. He was running through the rain with a coat over his head. “Donna, wait!” she yelled, trying to be heard over the racket. “The raincoat you left that night at the café—what color was it?”
“Green,” she yelled back and then disappeared inside the crowded bar.
“Deena, this way.” Russell was standing in the parking lot holding the red and white umbrella, motioning for Deena to run to the car. She slushed her way over to the table and pulled out the muddy shoe. She wanted to take it back in to Donna. A loud boom of thunder changed her mind, and she ran to the car. She was soaking wet and out of breath. She threw the shoe on the floorboard by Russell’s feet.
“The raincoat,” Deena said, gasping for air. “Matthew wasn’t wearing it when he was shot. He was holding it over his head to keep the rain off! R.G. probably threw it on the ground to cover Matthew’s body.”
Russell shivered. “Do you think R.G. shot Matthew?” He stared at his sister.
Deena turned on the car heater, not sure if the chill she felt came from the rain or the realization that the mystery was finally solved.
“Definitely, don’t you? Why else would he have felt sick after hearing Donna didn’t really have a boyfriend. He must have seen Donna through the window at the café and assumed Matthew was the man she was seeing. He worried Matthew might expose their affair and spoil all his political plans.” Deena shivered. “I wonder if Carolyn Fitzhugh knew the whole story.”
Russell shrugged. “It seems so obvious—except to Donna, that is. Why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you tell her she got an innocent man killed?”
“I couldn’t, not after all these years. She didn’t know that coward Glenn would assume Matthew was her boyfriend and kill him. It wasn’t her fault. Like you said, sometimes the truth hurts more than it helps.”
“I suppose you’re right. After all, R.G. cared more about his career than he did her. Why make her suffer.” He looked down at the muddy red shoe on the floorboard. “What are you going to do with Cinderella’s slipper?”
“I don’t know.” She looked out the window. Cars were backed up, all trying to pull out of the parking lot at once.
“So, do you know R.G.’s full name?” Russell asked.
“No, but he’s Carolyn Fitzhugh’s brother. She called him Glenn.” She looked in the mirror to see if the cars behind her were moving.
“R.G. Fitzhugh.” Russell turned the name over in his head. “No, that’s wrong. Fitzhugh is Carolyn’s married name. Her brother’s last name would be different, right?”
“Right.” Deena repeated the name several times in her head. Without warning, she gasped and flung open the car door. She jumped out and ran to the back hatch to get something out of her satchel.
“What the heck?” Russell called out.
“R.G.,” she said, getting back
in the car. “The deputy who worked the Jane Doe case was named R.G.” She looked through her notes and found where she had written it down during her meeting with Trey Simms. “Here it is. R.G. Brice. It all adds up now. Donna said he lived near Bingham and was a county deputy. When the remains were found five months later, R.G.—Glenn— worked the case and made sure Matthew’s body was tagged as a female to keep it from being identified. And, it would have stayed that way if Trey Simms hadn’t found his skeleton fifty years later.”
“R.G. must have followed Matthew from the diner and gotten him to pull over somehow,” Russell said.
“And since it was raining, Matthew probably grabbed Donna’s coat and held it over his head. Obviously, that’s how R.G. got muddy feet that night. He shot Matthew and dumped his body in that farmer’s field.” She put the notepad back in her satchel and set it on the back seat. “Carolyn said her brother started drinking heavily after he broke up with Donna and got fired. Sometime after that, he died in a car wreck.”
“Because of guilt, would be my guess,” Russell said. Thunder crackled again. “Let’s get out of here before we wash away. I’ll give you directions to the place I picked out.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a motel in Arlington. “Why this place?” Deena asked, not recognizing it.
“This used to be the Inn at Six Flags. It’s where Marina Oswald was kept while the FBI questioned her after the assassination of Kennedy.” He grinned sheepishly. “It seemed like a good idea yesterday when I made the reservation.”
Deena couldn’t help but giggle. “At least now we have a way to stop Leon Galt from publishing his lies about Matthew.”
There were several cars ahead of them under the striped awning at the front entrance. They decided to wait in line instead of dodging the rain to check in.
“What a night,” Russell said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest.
Thump, thump, thump. They both jumped at the noise against Deena’s window. They looked out the foggy, wet glass to see Leon Galt standing in the pouring rain under a black umbrella.
“Geez, not him again,” Russell moaned. “This guy’s like Santa Claus. He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. Deena, what are you doing?”
“We can’t just leave him standing out there,” she said, rolling down her window. She motioned to Galt. “Get in.”
Galt closed his umbrella and ducked into the back seat behind Deena. After a long pause, he said, “You found something, didn’t you?”
His breath reeked of alcohol.
“How did you know we were here?” Russell asked, turning around in his seat.
“I called your house,” he said and laid his wet umbrella across his lap. “Your friend Cliff told me where you were. It wasn’t hard to convince him to give me the location once I told him who I was.” Russell rolled his eyes. “Remind me to have a talk with Cliff.”
“As a matter of fact, we did find something,” Deena said. “We found out the real story about who killed Matthew. There was no conspiracy. No intrigue. Just plain old murder.”
Galt waited for more information. “Is that it? Aren’t you going to tell me the details?”
“Shoe’s on the other foot now.” Deena looked in the rear-view mirror at his reaction. He was shaking his head in disbelief.
“I guess I can talk to Donna Morrison myself.”
“She won’t talk to you. I know you charmed Cliff, but she’s pretty tough. Especially after I call her and tell her—”
“But can you prove it?” His tone had gone from curious to desperate.
Turning around in her seat, Deena began to feel sorry for him. After all, he had spent a long time on his research and was seeing it fall apart.
“Leon, this is a circumstantial case. Just as you said, we weren’t there. But, when you put all the facts together, it is crystal clear what happened that night. I’m going to the sheriff’s office tomorrow to give a statement, and then it will all be on the record.” She was tempted to add, You can be one of the first to read it.
Galt lowered his head. “I had a hunch this would happen. Just too many cracks in the tent poles. I know you won’t tell me much right now, but are you sure he was killed that same night he disappeared?”
“Yes, because of the raincoat.”
“The raincoat?”
“Yes. Donna left her raincoat in the diner and it was found with Matthew’s body. It wouldn’t have been there if he had been killed a month later.”
“No. You’re right.” He stared down at his hands, gripping his soggy umbrella.
Russell motioned for Deena to move the car forward as one of the other cars in front of them pulled away. “I’m going to check us in.” He looked back at Galt and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.” He got out of the car and sprinted to the door.
“It wasn’t just a book deal,” Galt said softly. “They were talking feature film. A documentary. The whole nine yards. This could have been the big payday I have been working for all these years.”
Deena thought he might be about to cry and turned back to face the front of the car. “The thing is, Leon, your story isn’t true—not this part anyway. Doesn’t the truth mean anything to you?”
Deena waited for him to speak. The awkward silence was deafening. But then she felt something press against the back of her neck. It was cold metal. She froze.
Galt spoke slowly, taunting Deena. “Have you ever thought about that night? How must it feel to have a gun pointed at the back of your head, knowing—not wondering—but knowing it is about to go off? Do you think he was pleading for his life or praying for his afterlife?”
Sitting perfectly still, Deena held her breath. Shifting her eyes to the mirror, she saw the neon light from the motel sign flicker off the steel barrel. Now she wished Russell had left the gun in her glove compartment. He’s not going to shoot me, she thought. Surely, he’s not that drunk.
“Leon,” she said.
“Shut up, I’m thinking.” In the mirror, she watched him reach up and touch the bandage that covered the stitches on his forehead.
Deena knew he only had one good hand. She felt him push a little harder against her neck. Where was Russell? What would Lara Croft do?
“Let’s go,” he said. “Drive.”
That was the last thing she wanted, so she started to move toward the car door.
“Drive!” He pushed the metal shaft into her neck and then up on her head.
She put the car in gear and maneuvered around the sedan that was stopped in front of her. She glanced to the right. No sign of Russell.
The motel was on the highway and there was only one road to take out of the parking lot. She pulled out onto the access road.
“Get on the highway,” he ordered, his voice more sinister than before.
Deena did as instructed. Her cell phone rang. Probably Russell. He would call the cops and tell them the description of her car. However, she knew this stretch of road was a notorious speed trap. If only she could find a cop and get his attention. She started to weave a little onto the shoulder. Come on, Mr. Policeman. Reckless driver here.
“Stop that!” The shout from the back seat startled her, and she jerked the wheel to the right toward the shoulder. When she did, Galt fell to the side, catching himself with his right arm. That’s when she saw it. In his hand was not a gun or pistol or revolver—whatever they call it—it was his umbrella. She had just been carjacked by a sleazy, greedy, umbrella-wielding hack from New York City! She pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
Knowing he’d been found out, Galt opened the door, got out, and started walking back from the way they came. He struggled to open his umbrella that had smashed against the car seat.
“Just wait!” Deena shouted, getting out of the car. “I’ll have you arrested! You’ll be in jail! Can’t wait to read about it in your next book!” She blinked her eyes to see through the rain soaking her face. She reached into the
car and pulled out the muddy stiletto. Rearing back, she threw it as hard as she could, nailing her target in the back of the head. He fell to his knees, wobbled, and then just fell back on the ground defeated.
She sat in the car with the door open, one leg hanging outside, ready to pounce on her prey at a moment’s notice. She dialed 9-1-1 and then called Russell. Barely a minute later, she heard a siren. The highway patrol car pulled in front of her and two officers jumped out. They walked toward Galt—guns pointed—who was holding the back of his head with his one good hand.
“Nice shot,” he said as they approached.
“Stay right there!” one officer ordered.
“Don’t ever underestimate a country girl!” Deena shouted.
The other officer put his hand out to keep her back. “I need you to come to the station to make a statement, ma’am.”
She watched as they handcuffed Galt and put him in the squad car. Another police car pulled up. Russell jumped out of the back seat and ran to his sister.
“What did that guy do to you?” he asked, looking her over for signs of trauma.
“I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it at the station.” Tears started running down her face, mixing with the rain, as she thought about how lucky she was to have Russell in her life. They trotted back to her car.
One of the officers came up and gave her directions. She waited as both cars pulled away.
She turned to look at her brother. “I can’t believe you got that psycho man’s autograph.”
Russell grimaced. “At least I didn’t bring him cookies.”
Chapter 32
It was late by the time Deena and Russell got back to the hotel. She spent another hour explaining to Gary over the phone everything that had happened. With her head aching and her nose running, she plopped down on the bed and fell fast asleep. Her cell phone rang at seven-thirty the next morning. It was Aunt Lucy.
“I’m sorry to call so early, but Mama had another terrible fright last night. She says she had another visit from Matthew’s spirit. Is there any chance you could come here and give her reassurance? She seemed much better last time after your visit.”
Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set Page 15