“He didn’t have any proof because there wasn’t any,” Rachel said, turning to Boone. “Foxx was trying to blackmail him, though. But my dad wasn’t having any of it.”
“Maybe so,” Monica said, “but he threatened to kill him. I heard him.”
“No, he didn’t. He just said he should have gotten rid of him years ago, meaning he should have gotten him out of my mother’s life.”
“Is that what he told you?”
Why was Monica pressing this issue? “Maybe you made the whole thing up. Where were you the night Foxx was killed?” Rachel stepped into Monica’s space.
“What?” She took a step back.
“Maybe you killed my mother, and now you’re trying to pin the murders on my dad.”
“That’s enough, Rachel,” Boone said, stepping between the two.
“But—”
His look silenced her, and then he turned to Monica. “You better go for now, but I’d like to discuss this with you further. Can I reach you tomorrow?”
“Sure, I’ll be at my condo until five. Then I’m going to the candlelight vigil at Graceland.”
Silence filled the room once Monica left. Boone was furious. She could tell by the way his jaw muscle twitched and the icy glare he gave her.
He planted his feet on the slate floor and crossed his arms. “You want to tell me why I had to learn your father had motive to kill Foxx from Monica Carpenter instead of you?”
“Not really. I’m still investigating what she told me.”
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?”
“I wasn’t aware I had to run every little thing by you.”
Boone tapped his fingers on his arm, apparently waiting for a better explanation.
“Look, I was going to tell you once I knew more,” she said, desperate to make him understand. “But if reporters got ahold of it, even if he was cleared, the hint of a scandal would ruin Dad. I thought if I could disprove it, no one would ever have to know.”
“You didn’t trust me?” Hurt sounded in his voice. “You thought I’d give that information to reporters?”
Miserable, she stared at the floor. “It wasn’t that I thought you’d purposefully tell anyone, but information like that gets out. If it does, you know what will happen.”
“It never occurred to you that Monica might go to the reporters?”
“She said she wouldn’t, not until the Supreme Elvis contest was over.”
“I see.”
There was such finality in those two words. Rachel risked a look at him. He’d walked to the window and stood with his back to her, staring out. If only she could go back to earlier in the day. But if she had it to do over again, would she tell him? She dug deep, looking for the answer, and didn’t like what she found.
No. Because if she did, she’d lose control of the case.
He turned. Resignation was written all over his face.
“This is why officers don’t work on cases involving their family.” Boone paused and took a breath. “I think you need to take a couple of days off. And when you come back, I’ll assign you to another case.”
He couldn’t take her off the case. “No! I—”
“You’re too close to the people involved. You know it, I know it. Just like with your friend Terri. You would not have waited for a dinner chat to question any other person of interest about their husband. And if it’d been anyone other than your father, you would have told me about the threat to Foxx the night he died.”
“I . . . I just wanted to check it out first.”
“No. You didn’t trust me,” he said. “And I can’t work with someone who doesn’t trust me.”
Her heart plummeted. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
Rachel ducked her head, not able to stand the pain smoldering in his eyes. Perhaps if he understood why. She felt his presence as he walked to where she stood, and she raised her gaze, his image blurred by the tears that never got past her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like. I lost my mother and Corey . . . because I let them down. If I’d been with them, they would still be alive. I couldn’t lose my dad too.”
His eyes softened. “You’re right. I haven’t been where you have.” He lifted his hands as though to take her in his arms, then dropped them to his side. “But I can’t compromise the case.”
Why couldn’t things be different? “Do you want me to resign?”
He shook his head. “I’ll assign you to another case, and I won’t put anything in the report about your dad just yet.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Go home and get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Rachel took a shaky breath. She had to try one last time. “Let me stay on the case. I won’t hold anything else back.”
“Oh, Rachel.” He groaned. “I can’t. If it’d been anyone but you, I would have already taken them off the case. Leave it to me. I promise, I’ll get whoever is responsible.”
Rachel shivered even though heat wrapped around her as she exited the CJC and walked across Washington Street to the parking garage. She’d failed her mother once again. Her jaw ached from clenching it so hard. She was so close. Her phone chirped and she started to ignore it. But it could be Boone, changing his mind. A quick look at her phone told her otherwise. Terri.
Call me.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone. But her conscience would not let her ignore her friend. She stopped outside the garage and dialed Terri. “What’s up?” she asked when Terri answered. “How’s your headache?”
“Killing me, but what’s wrong? You sound like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“Boone took me off the case.”
“He found out about your dad and Harrison, and you hadn’t told him.”
“Yeah. Monica Carpenter was all too happy to tell him. He doesn’t trust me now.”
“I’m sorry. But you should have—”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“You’re right. But I remembered a couple of things from just before your mom died.”
“Really? What?”
She hesitated. “I don’t like gossip, but . . . well, when I choreographed the St. Jude event, I kind of blended into the background. I wasn’t important like your mom, so people didn’t really see me. But I saw them. Foxx was juggling three women around the time he died. Lucinda Vetch, Monica Carpenter, and Donna Dumont. I think he was getting money from all three.”
“Donna loaned him money?” She’d mentioned dating Foxx, but not loaning him money.
“Yes. Donna was obsessed with him, hanging around backstage, slipping into his dressing room. She can be very conniving.” Bitterness rang in Terri’s tone.
“How do you know her so well?”
“I’ll tell you someday, but I’m not up to it tonight. I know she’s your friend, but watch yourself around her.”
“Thanks. I’ll pass this on to Boone.” Once she hung up, Rachel dialed Boone. “I talked to Terri and you might want to take a closer look at the three women Foxx was dating when he died.”
Rachel conveyed Terri’s information, hoping he would change his mind about her staying on the case. Instead he thanked her and told her to pass along anything else she learned.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and entered the garage just as a car drove onto the exit. Monica. Let her just drive on.
Instead Monica lowered her window. “Didn’t mean to cause you any trouble tonight.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. If you have any more information, just take it straight to Boone.”
“Why?”
“I’m not working the case anymore.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yeah, you did. And if you’re involved in Vic’s murder, Boone will find out.” She left Monica sitting in her car with her mouth gaped.
44
TUESDAY MORNING Boone tried to reach Terri Morrow, but again the call went straight to voicemail. He wrote her name at
the top of his list of people to interview, and then he scanned the reports from the uniformed officers. They had stopped at every storage facility in the city looking for a rental in Vic Vegas’s name and had come up empty. Where else could Vic have hidden his files?
He missed having Rachel to bounce ideas off of. He should still be angry with her, and on one level he was. Deeply disappointed too, even if he understood why she hadn’t told him about her father and Foxx. He hadn’t ruled out Carpenter as a suspect, either.
He turned as Donna came into the conference room. “A fax came for you from Crockett Cancer Institute.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking the papers from her. “When you were dating Foxx, did you ever loan him money?”
She took a step back. “Loan him money?” She shook her head. “When I knew him, I didn’t have any money to loan. Why did you ask that?”
“Several of the women he dated did, and I wondered if you might have.”
“Well, I didn’t.” She glanced past him. “Where’s Rachel?”
“Taking a couple of days off,” he said.
“Oh. For her birthday?”
He’d completely forgotten today was Rachel’s birthday. “No.”
When he didn’t comment further, she nodded. “Let me know if I can help you in any way.”
“I will.” He scanned the report and quickly dialed Ms. Patterson from the Cancer Institute.
“I was expecting you to call,” she said.
“How did a vial of ricin go missing?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t discovered until after Bobby Morrow’s death, and there was no one to ask. At that time, he was the only one who used ricin in the labs.”
“Was it reported to the police?”
She paused a long moment. “I’m afraid not. It was an oversight on the part of the administrator. Unfortunately, he is no longer with us.”
“Was there even an investigation?”
“Yes, but about that time, we lost a rather large grant and several people were let go. I don’t believe any of the released employees were questioned.”
“I see. How about the woman Morrow had an affair with? Do you remember her name?”
“I’m pretty sure it was Irene Baker, but I scanned the employee records and the only Baker I found was a Shirley, and that name doesn’t ring a bell. I’m still looking.”
“If you think of anything else that might help with this investigation, please give me a call,” he said. After he hung up, he dialed Steve Lock and filled him in on the missing ricin. “I’ll fax you what the cancer center sent me this morning.”
“Thanks,” Steve said. “I received the toxicity report on the ricin sent to Judge Winslow last night. Like the note indicated, it’s inactive.”
“So it could very well be the ricin in question.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Why would someone send an inactive poison to him? If the sender didn’t know in the beginning, he or she had to know after the news reports.”
“I’ve been looking at the case he’s presiding over. A witness was supposed to give incriminating evidence against the defendant today, but after the delay, he’s suddenly changed his mind and refuses to testify. I think someone used the poison threat to delay the trial and get to the witness.”
That was better than thinking it was personal against the Judge or Rachel.
“How’s your case with the Elvis impersonators coming?”
“Dead ends everywhere we look.”
“I wish you luck on it.”
As soon as he ended the call, Boone dialed Rachel’s number. He wanted to touch base with her and wish her a happy birthday. “Come on, Rachel, answer.”
When it went to voicemail, he clicked off his phone. She wasn’t going to answer his calls. He’d let her stew a while. He picked up her original report on Vic Vegas’s request that she investigate Harrison Foxx’s murder and skimmed it. At the bottom of the page was a note. Original name—Phillip Grant. Legally changed to Vic Vegas in 1995.
Boone dialed the head of the uniform division and asked if his people could check the storage rentals again, this time under the name of Phillip Grant. When he agreed, Boone thanked him and hung up. Then he glanced at the computer with the surveillance videos on it, wishing Rachel were here to look at them. Maybe he’d been too hasty in taking her off the case.
It’s against the rules. But the department was shorthanded. He could bend the rules slightly—give her a desk job—but he’d have to keep her out of the field. Boone stared at the computer. Why not test the waters, see if she’d be willing to come back under those circumstances. It would give him the opportunity to at least check and see how she was doing.
Before he could change his mind, he dialed her number. When she still didn’t answer, he sent her a text, requesting she call him. Five minutes later, she hadn’t answered. Where could she be? It wasn’t like her not to answer. Maybe her father might know. The Judge picked up on the first ring.
“Boone, I was just about to call you. Is something wrong?”
“I’m trying to reach Rachel. Is she with you?”
“No. Why isn’t she with you?”
“I gave her a few days off.”
“What’s going on, Boone?”
“It’s not anything I want to discuss over the phone.”
“I’m coming downtown later this afternoon and planned to stop in—that’s why I was about to call you. Will you be there around four?”
“Yes, sir. And could you check with Rachel’s grandmothers and see if she’s with one of them? If you find her, ask her to call me.”
The Judge assured him he would. Boone tapped the phone in his hand. He didn’t know anyone else to try except Terri Morrow, and she hadn’t answered any of his calls. He’d barely punched in two numbers when a text from Rachel dinged on his phone. His taut muscles turned to Jell-O, surprising him.
What do you want?
Would you answer your phone, please?
He dialed again.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“My phone was in the other room, and I didn’t hear it ring.”
“Well, you scared me to death. I thought . . . never mind what I thought. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“You went to all that trouble just to wish me a happy birthday?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well?”
“I thought you might like to come in and view the surveillance videos.”
“What made you change your mind?” Her voice was guarded.
“Maybe I missed you.” With a jolt he realized he did miss her. “And it’s only a desk job—you can’t go out into the field.”
“I see.”
When she didn’t say anything else, he said, “Look, I’m bending the rules. Do you want it or not?”
“Yes. I’m just trying to understand why you’re doing this.”
“Consider it a birthday present.”
“You’ve never given me one before.”
“I didn’t know you last year.” When she appeared to be waiting for him to continue, he said, “Okay, because I need your help. Satisfied?”
“Yeah.” The grin in her voice came through the phone clearly. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Good. Oh, and call and let your father know you’re okay.”
“You called him?”
“When I couldn’t find you.” When she groaned, he added, “You should have answered your phone.”
Humming, he hung up. The day just got a lot brighter.
45
RACHEL WAS OFF THE CASE, and now Shirley wouldn’t be forced to kill her. And Randy hadn’t remembered a thing about the necklace. He’d soon be home, where she could keep tabs on him. But if he hadn’t remembered by now, he wasn’t likely to.
Relief spread through her body. Maybe no more deaths. She didn’t like killing. After all, she wasn’t a monster. Not killing Rachel and Randy proved that. She never would have ki
lled anyone if they hadn’t pushed her to it.
Rachel wouldn’t have been an issue if you hadn’t stolen the necklace that night. You’re not good for anything.
“Shut up.” There had to be a way to silence her father’s voice. She pressed her thumbs against her ears.
The necklace is still out there. His voice taunted her. Vic hid it somewhere.
“It doesn’t matter!” The words tore from her lips. “Do you hear me? As long as Rachel doesn’t see it, no one will ever know I took it from Gabby that night.”
Of course he couldn’t hear her. He was dead. She’d cut his throat with a razor . . . Shirley closed her eyes, reliving that night so long ago.
The fireball had lit up the night sky, but darkness had hidden her as she crouched behind a huge oak. Her legs would not move as she stared, mesmerized by the flames. Men poured out the tavern door, shouting for someone to call the fire department.
Home. She had to be there when the law came.
Forcing her legs to carry her, she slipped away from the scene, arriving at the back door of the small bungalow half an hour later. Drops of blood were splattered on the kitchen floor. She had to clean it up before anyone arrived. Shirley grabbed a bottle of Clorox and twisted the top off. No. The smell was too strong—the law would wonder why she’d used bleach on the floor. There’d be time for that later. She would mop the floor with water now.
Her gaze fell on the razor. She grabbed it and hurried to the bathroom with it and sprinkled Old Dutch Cleanser on it, scrubbing it with a brush.
Where was the strap? She found it on the kitchen floor where her father had dropped it
“They’re going to catch you, girlie.”
No! How could she hear his voice? He was dead. She’d seen him take his last breath.
“I’ll come back to haunt you. You’ll never get away from me.”
She sank to the floor. No . . .
Thinking back now, the memories made Shirley’s skin crawl. She didn’t know how her father did it, but his voice had haunted her all her life. Still, she’d gotten away with his murder.
What she hated most was burying him beside her mother in Elmwood Cemetery in Memphis. Being next to her was too good for him.
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