“No.”
Ms. Patterson’s phone rang and Boone stood. “Thank you so much for seeing us,” he said. “We’ll find our way out.”
“That was very informative,” Rachel said as they walked to the car. “I wonder who Terri’s husband was having the affair with?”
“Good question. You can look over the list of employees as we drive back to the CJC. See if you recognize anyone.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, she scanned the employee records, pausing when she came to Robert’s name, then Terri’s, and then again at her mother’s. Those were the only three she knew. It was going to be a long night, checking out the people on the list. She’d better text Terri and cancel the workout and dinner.
“What’s the rest of your day looking like?” Boone asked as he pulled into the parking garage.
“Same as yours,” she said, holding up the papers. “I’d planned on meeting Terri at the gym at six and then going to dinner with her. And afterward stopping by to see my dad.”
“That’s actually a pretty good idea. I’d planned to question her, but you might learn more unofficially than I could officially.”
“But I don’t want to leave you with all this paperwork.”
He checked his watch. “You have an hour. We’ll divvy up the names and you can start on yours and finish up later or in the morning.”
She looked askance at him. “You sure?”
He grinned. “I’m sure. A couple of hours away from the case will do you good.”
40
TERRI WAS WAITING for Rachel when she arrived at the gym. Questions loomed in her mind. Questions about Robert and the woman he’d had an affair with, questions about what Monica had said, but she tamped down the impulse to jump in. That would only shut Terri down.
“Ready for some Pilates?” Terri asked as they walked into the private exercise room.
“Definitely. My core needs working.”
Halfway through the hour, Rachel wondered what she was doing here as she did yet another set of crunches. She was supposed to be concentrating on the exercises but the subject she wanted to discuss with her father kept chasing through her mind.
Her father had threatened Foxx the same day he was murdered. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned that? Maybe it wasn’t true. If those thoughts weren’t looping through her mind, questions for Terri about her husband were. She was beginning to dread dinner.
Finally the hour ended and she rolled up her mat.
“Where were you tonight?” Terri asked.
Rachel knew what she meant. “Have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s why I texted you—so you could forget this case for an hour.”
“Thanks, but it’s hard to do. Where would you like to eat?”
They decided on a small family-style restaurant around the corner from the gym. Terri ordered a salad, and after an argument with herself, Rachel ordered the same instead of the country fried steak. “Do you ever splurge on something with lots of calories?” she asked, handing the waitress the menu.
“Sometimes, but I didn’t see anything worth the calories.”
“Why do you count calories? You’ve never had a weight problem.”
“But I have. Years ago, and I don’t want it to happen again. I have to stay healthy for Erin. If anything happened to me . . .”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Rachel said. “You do all the right things.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes—I’m all she has.” Terri squeezed lemon into her water. “Do you have to go back to work?”
She nodded. “After I go see Dad. Have a couple of questions to ask him.”
“About the case?” she asked as her cell phone rang. “Hold on a sec. It’s Erin calling me on her new cell phone.”
“She has a cell phone?”
“Yes. She’s taking the bus to her workplace now, and I have an app that lets me keep up with her. Makes me feel better.” Terri slid the answer button. “Hey there.”
Rachel traced her finger through the condensation on her tea glass as Terri talked with her sister. “Tell her I said hi,” she mouthed.
“Rachel said hi.” After a pause, she said, “I don’t know, I’ll ask her.” She moved the phone away from her mouth. “Erin wants to know if you’re still going with us to the candlelight vigil tomorrow night.”
“I don’t know. Depends on the case, but I will if I can.”
Terri relayed the message, then she said, “Be sure and keep your phone charged and on,” she said, then disconnected. “She’s bad to leave her phone turned off. And I do hope you can go with us—she’s really excited that you might.”
“Remind her tomorrow I could have to work,” Rachel said. “I noticed on the security tapes that you spoke with Randy Culver Saturday afternoon when you delivered the baskets to Blues & Such.”
Terri nodded. “I complimented him on his singing, and we chatted a little, mostly on how hot it’s been.”
No surprise there. “How about Monica Carpenter? How well do you know her?”
“Monica?” Surprise lit her face. “Not well. The last few years she’s usually around during Elvis Week when I take Erin to the tribute artist thing at Blues & Such. I knew her better before your mom died. Why?”
She hesitated, wavering about whether to mention the subject of the threat. “Her name has come up in the investigation into Vic Vegas’s death. How about Vic and Harrison Foxx? How well did you know them?”
“So-so. I choreographed the St. Jude Elvis contest back then because your mom asked me to. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the social butterfly she was,” she said with a chuckle.
Terri was a classic introvert, preferring to sit back and observe people rather than join the crowd, and Rachel laughed along with her. “Did you ever date either of them?”
Her friend sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Am I a suspect in Vic’s death?”
“No! I’m just trying to get a feel for the two men because I believe their murders are connected.”
Terri’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Why? Is it because Vic kept sticking his nose into Harrison’s death?”
“So you know about that.”
“Yeah, he came to see me not long ago.” She sipped her tea. “And I told you already that I talked to him Friday night when he stopped by the table to speak to Erin. For some reason, he always remembered her from year to year and treated her like she was a princess. She called him Elvis.”
Terri devoted a lot of time and love toward Erin, always putting her sister’s needs above her own. “I admire how you’ve taken care of Erin.”
She shrugged. “Nothing to admire—it’s what you do.” A pensive look crossed her face. “I haven’t told her about Vic’s death yet. Friday night she asked to wear his shoestring cowboy tie because it had silver tips and a turquoise slide, and he actually gave it to her.”
“Vic seemed like a good guy. What did he want to know when he came to see you?”
“He asked about Harrison and your mom. I assured him there was absolutely nothing between them.”
“Did anyone else think something was going on with them . . . like Dad?” She’d committed now and couldn’t back up.
A frown tightened Terri’s lips. “Harrison is not why they separated. I don’t think your father liked him or understood their relationship, but he wasn’t jealous of him.”
“What was Mom’s relationship with him?”
Before she could answer, the waitress appeared with their salads, and they both fell silent until she left. Rachel poured raspberry vinaigrette over hers. When it was obvious Terri wasn’t going to pick up where they’d left off, Rachel said, “You didn’t say what their relationship was.”
“She thought of Harrison as a wayward brother. The two of them had bonded when we were at Humes High for different reasons. Your mom always took up for the underdog, and back then Harrison was definitely that.” She laid her fork on the table and lev
eled her gaze at Rachel. “I may not be the right person to talk about him—I was like your dad and didn’t care for him. I thought he used Gabby.”
That sounded like the consensus. “How about other women—I understand he had a lot of women fans.”
“There were a few who showed up regularly,” Terri said. “As well as the ones who worked backstage. Monica was one of those.” She tilted her head. “Why did you ask earlier if your dad was jealous of Harrison?”
Rachel picked at her salad. Now that she had the perfect opening, it was hard to get the words out. She laid her fork down and leaned forward. “Monica said Dad threatened Harrison a few hours before he was killed. That Harrison tried to blackmail him.”
“Over what?”
Monica’s words echoed in her head. “At the graveyard, she overheard Harrison claim he had proof that Dad killed Mom, and he wanted money to keep quiet.”
Terri gasped. “That’s not true, at least the part about your dad. He would never harm your mother.”
“I . . . don’t want to believe he did, either. But Monica sounded so sure Dad was capable of killing Harrison.”
“Are you still angry with your father because he wasn’t there when your mother died?”
“What? No. I got over that a long time ago.” Or so she’d thought. Lately Rachel wasn’t so sure. Her relationship with the Judge was complicated. For many years she had been angry that he hadn’t been there. It had driven them apart. And sometimes when he was distant and aloof, she feared it was because he blamed her for not going home with her mom that night.
Gran’s words when she’d voiced her fear once popped into her mind.
“He’s hurting too, Rachel. He not only lost Gabby that night, but he believes he lost you as well.”
It hadn’t been long afterwards that their pastor had preached on unforgiveness, and his words shot straight into her heart. While she couldn’t tell her father she’d forgiven him—he would never think he’d done anything that warranted forgiveness—she did soften her attitude toward him. Slowly they’d built a new relationship.
“Are you sure you’re not still angry? Lately you’ve seemed different. You haven’t been to church in a while, and if you’d truly forgiven him, I don’t believe you’d have any question about his innocence.”
Rachel stared at the table. “But what if he went home with her and they argued? It could’ve been an accident.”
“No, Rachel. Your father had an alibi. But you have to know he could never, ever harm Gabby. He loved her. Still does.”
Pain filled Terri’s voice and Rachel looked up. Tears rimmed the older woman’s eyes. Rachel knew in that moment that Terri was in love with the Judge. “What’s going on with you and Dad?”
“Nothing. Like I said, he’s still in love with your mom.” She took another sip of tea.
“You don’t think Donna will hook him?”
Terri almost choked on the tea. “If he lets Miss Priss turn his head, Lucien will deserve what he gets. But I figure it’ll play out like all the other women he’s been involved with. A couple of dates and he’ll get bored or they’ll mention the M-word.” She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t told anyone what Monica said, have you? If this gets out, it’ll ruin his nomination.”
“I know. That’s why I haven’t told Boone or anyone else yet. I want to talk to Dad first.”
“You better do it tonight. If Monica has bottled up this information all these years, now that she’s told you, she’ll tell others. And if she made it up, then she’s crazy, and you can’t predict what crazy people will do. You have to get it cleared up now.”
“I know.” Rachel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I have one more question.”
“Shoot.”
Terri might when Rachel voiced her question. “I understand your husband, Robert, worked at Crockett Cancer Institute in their research and development department. Did he ever mention any ricin being stolen or misplaced?”
“What?” Terri had grown pale at the mention of her husband’s name. “Ricin? Why do you . . . ?” She brought her hand to her mouth, and her eyes widened. “Do you think the ricin that you received came from Crockett? That was over thirty years ago. It would have lost its potency.”
“Didn’t you see the news report?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been so wrapped up in getting the recital ready, I didn’t watch TV all weekend. What news report?”
“The ricin tested inactive. And Dad received an envelope with white powder in it today, as well.”
“Lucien? He never told me.”
“You’ve seen him today?”
“No, just talked on the phone before court convened.” Terri pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I have to cut this short. I’m getting a migraine, and if I don’t take something it’ll put me in bed. And I don’t want to disappoint Erin tomorrow night.”
“We have to finish talking about this at some point.”
“I know, but not tonight.”
41
WHEN SHE LEFT THE RESTAURANT, Rachel called her dad to make sure he was home, then pointed her car in the direction of his house. Her phone rang as she turned off Poplar. Boone. She might have known he’d check up on her. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
“Evening, Detective. What did you learn from Terri?”
Her thoughts froze. What could she tell him? They’d gotten off on the subject of her father and she hadn’t asked all the questions she’d meant to. “She hardly knew Foxx, didn’t like him. She knew Vic a little better because he was nice to Erin.”
“What about her husband? What’d you learn there?”
Her heart sank. “I, ah, not much.” Silence stretched between them. “When I brought his name up, she got a migraine and had to go home . . . Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow? She’d probably be more open with you.”
He exhaled hard. “All right. Give me her number and I’ll see what time she can meet me.”
She rattled off Terri’s number from memory. “I’m going to stop by and see my dad. I’ll call you when I start back to the CJC.”
“Okay, but be careful, and make sure no one is following you.”
“Yes, sir.” She felt like saluting after she hung up and turned into her dad’s drive. The front of the house was dark, and Rachel pulled around to the back, where a strange car was parked. The light was on in the kitchen, and she knocked lightly.
“Door’s unlocked,” her dad called out.
When she entered, he was standing at the coffeemaker, pouring coffee into a carafe. “Whose car?” she asked.
“The US Marshal assigned to guard me.” He held up his cup. “Want some?”
“Sure.” Might help keep her alert later. And questions were always easier to ask over a cup of coffee. She looked around the kitchen. “Where is he?”
“In the living room setting up his equipment. I informed him you were coming.”
That explained why he hadn’t met her at the door.
“How’s the rest of your day been?” he asked.
“It’s been better.”
“The report said the ricin I received today wasn’t active. That should make you feel somewhat reassured.”
“So it was ricin and you’ve gotten the report back?” How did he . . . ? The US Marshal, of course. “Someone still sent it to you—twice now—and is threatening to send the real stuff.”
“Unless the package Saturday night was meant for you. Could be someone wants to get rid of us both.”
That was not a reassuring thought. She took the coffee he offered. “Has Boone seen the report?”
“It just came in and that’s probably first on the marshal’s to-do list. You want to go into the breakfast room?”
“Sure.” She sat in the same chair as yesterday morning, noting the tablecloth had been changed. Her father’s need for order was as strong as Rachel’s.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of two visits in two days?” he asked as he set the carafe on the c
ounter.
Was it still just Monday? It felt much later in the week. Rachel quickly sipped the hot coffee, wincing as it burned its way down her throat.
“That’s hot,” the Judge said.
“Yeah. Is there anywhere we can talk without being interrupted? Or overheard?”
“This is about as good a place as any, but let me advise the marshal not to interrupt us.”
He set his coffee on the table and walked to the living room. A minute later he was back. “We won’t be disturbed.”
She hoped his request didn’t pique the marshal’s curiosity. Rachel fortified herself with a deep breath. “I interviewed Monica Carpenter today, and she indicated that Harrison Foxx threatened you with blackmail the day he was murdered, and you told him you should have gotten rid of him a long time ago.”
There. It was out. Silence followed.
“I see.” He wrapped his hands around the cup.
Why wasn’t he denying it? “Is it true?”
“It’s true that he did try to blackmail me. And I may have said the other. I thought it often enough before your mother died.”
Her heart sank.
“But I didn’t mean murder.” His jaw slackened, and then he frowned. “You think I may have killed him?”
“No. But why haven’t you told me this before? That you argued with Foxx the day he died?”
“It wasn’t one of my finer moments. That man could exasperate me like no one else. We’d just buried your mother, and he accused me of murdering her, then he threatened to tell the police something he’d fabricated unless I gave him money.” His eyes hardened. “A loan, he called it, but we both knew better. Over the years, Gabby had loaned him in excess of ten thousand dollars, and with her death, Foxx’s source of easy cash was gone. He was desperate.”
A flash of memory. “You and Mom argued about Foxx that night at the convention center.”
“Yes. I hope I don’t have to tell you that I didn’t kill her.” Her father leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “And as for Foxx’s accusation, there wasn’t a word of truth in it, but if it had come out, people would have believed it. Just like now, even you have doubts. So no, I didn’t mention it to anyone. I’ve spent my life upholding the law. I didn’t kill the man, Rachel.”
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