Open House Heist

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  The entries weren’t daily, and sometimes Jenny went weeks without writing, but as we flipped through the pages, we noticed a distinct decline in Jenny’s happiness.

  “Yikes, this girl was fit to be tied, wasn’t she?” Belle asked.

  “I feel sorry for her. Eric really did a number on her, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know about you, but that Amy’s looking pretty darn guilty to me. We knew girls like that, you know?”

  I nodded, and we discussed my conversation with Amy in detail.

  “Why would that deputy take her off the list? Sounds like she’s the best suspect.”

  “He didn’t have the diary. He went off what he was told.”

  “And he was told conflicting stories, right?”

  “Yes.” I pondered on that for a moment. “Amy had to have lied. She had a reputation, so maybe she wanted to save face?”

  “Honey, just because someone has a reputation doesn’t mean it’s justified. You’re a perfect example.”

  I blinked. “I did not have a reputation in high school.”

  She laughed. “Oh, bless your heart. Of course you didn’t. I sure would have dropped you like a dead dog if you did. I’m talking about recently. You’ve been accused of a lot of things lately that haven’t been true.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. You know what though? There’s no mention of Amy talking to Jenny in the file. If she was innocent, why wouldn’t she tell him? That’s the one thing that’s been bugging me this whole time.”

  “I’d question that, too.”

  “And Eric’s alibi is pretty solid, at least based on what the report says, though I’m not sure he’s completely innocent. And I still have to talk to Buford, but I really don’t think he could have pulled it off.”:

  “And Old Man Goodson?”

  I sighed. “I know in my heart of hearts he’s innocent, but he doesn’t have a strong alibi for that night. He swears he was home sleeping, but the motive just doesn’t fit the crime. There’s no logical or really, illogical reason a man would kill the niece of the man his wife was sleeping with. I can’t wrap my head around that at all.”

  “Have you talked to Ermajean?”

  “No, but she told Deputy Pittman she couldn’t verify his whereabouts that night. I don’t know, maybe she wasn’t being honest then, and maybe since Clyde’s long gone, she would be now.”

  “After he officially divorced her and moved out? I don’t really know the woman, but I bet she wouldn’t be on his side now for sure. Can’t say I blame her either.”

  “Belle Pyott, Larry Goodson is our friend.”

  “I know, but think about her situation. She’s probably bitter and angry. I know me, and I wouldn’t exactly jump to defend a guy that left me.”

  “But you would because it’s the right thing to do. I’m just not sure Mrs. Goodson will.”

  “So, do you plan to talk to her, because if so, I want to be there for that. If for nothing more than protection and a witness.”

  “Well, thank you, I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about that. I have no intention of talking to her right now. If I have to, I will. I just feel like Jennifer’s murder is tied up with Eric and Amy. They’re the key. I know it.”

  “Speaking of, having gone to Clara’s with you, I decided to try and open that trunk I got from her. I’ve gone online and searched, but I can’t get the darn thing to budge.” She pointed to the diary. “Maybe you can come by and use some of those fancy lock-picking skills you got?”

  I laughed. “They’re far from fancy, but sure. Tomorrow night okay?”

  She nodded.

  The clock was ticking, and I knew it was time to go in and talk with Buford. I hated to ruin the old love birds’ moment, which by their posture, really appeared to be a moment, but what had to be, had to be.

  Bonnie and Henrietta were on the back deck of the facility playing shuffle board with five men. Belle nudged me and pointed them out as she laughed. “Old women goals right there.”

  I laughed, too. “One hundred percent goals, for sure.”

  We sat across from Millie and Buford, and after a bit of small talk, I decided to just go for it.

  “Mr. Jennings, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me?”

  He smiled, but kept his eyes focused on Millie. It was quite adorable, really. “Sure, sweetie. What you want to know?”

  I glanced at Belle. “Just ask,” she whispered.

  “I’ve been looking into Jennifer Rawlings’ murder, and I’m wondering—”

  He angled his head toward me. “You was wondering if I killed the girl like the Covingtons said?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. I mean, I was hoping you could tell me about your relationship with them.”

  “If you’re asking, then you already know, don’t you?”

  “I know that Clara Covington no longer thinks you killed her niece.”

  His eyes widened. “Well, that’s something. After all these years she finally knows what I’ve known all along.”

  “I’m looking into the murder for a…a friend. I don’t believe you did it. Millie didn’t have to say much for me to believe you’re innocent, but there are other people involved too, people that are important to me like you are to Millie. I would like to help them if I can. Would you mind helping me understand what happened?” I watched Millie take his hand into hers.

  “It’s okay, Buford. Lilybit here wants to help.”

  “I do want to help. I just want to get to the truth. Maybe it will give everyone involved peace of mind.”

  Buford Jennings spent another hour talking about his relationship with the Covingtons, what he believed was happening with their chicken farm, and his involvement. “I didn’t mess with their fans, but I had me some yelling with that Clyde. Didn’t much like how he treated his chicks, let alone his family. He had that poor girl out cleaning the barn almost daily. You got to keep it clean, but that’s a lot of work. Breathing in that vinegar and bleach like that ain’t good for the lungs, let alone the ammonia from the chickens, that’ll do your lungs some bad damage.”

  “Did you ever have any interactions with Jennifer?”

  He nodded. “Wasn’t nothing bad though. The morning of the day she was killed I was there talking to her and her friend.”

  “Allison?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know that I ever knew her name. I’d gone by to try and talk to Clyde one more time, but came upon the two of them in the barn instead.”

  “What happened? Do you remember?”

  “Nothing. Asked if her uncle was there, and she said no, so I left the barn.”

  “Did you talk to Clara that morning?”

  “Yup. She pulled a shotgun on me, threatened to shoot my head off or something like that if I didn’t get off her property.”

  “And that was after you saw Jennifer?”

  “Yup. Sure was.”

  “Did you talk to the girls again on your way back home?”

  “No, ma’am. I was worried I’d get my head blown off. Seemed best to just get gone.”

  “Did you see them when you left though?”

  “Can’t say that I recall neither way.”

  I nodded. “What about later that day? Did you notice anything going on at the house or the barn? Unusual behavior or anything?”

  He dropped his head, and I wondered if he’d remembered something. “No, ma’am, can’t say that I did. Saw the dead girl’s friend pull her truck into the barn as I was heading out a few hours later, but that’s it.”

  “Do you know what time you went to the house?”

  “Sure do. It was right after I had me my morning coffee. I woke up every morning at seven o’clock, got dressed, and had me a cup of coffee. So, probably about half past seven. Thought I could head over there early and catch Clyde unaware.”

  “And what time do you think Jennifer’s friend left?”

  He thought about that for a moment. “Had to be near noon. I
had me some things to do in town, and I liked to do them around lunch time.” He smiled at Millie. “Still don’t like to miss a good sandwich, but they ain’t as good here as the ones you make back home, Millie.”

  “You’re so sweet, Buford,” Millie smiled at him. “And he’s right, Lily. He didn’t ever miss a lunch at the café, and I always had him a sandwich and fruit salad ready to go right at noon.”

  We finished our conversation with some small talk, and after Belle dragged Bonnie and Henrietta from the shuffle board game literally kicking and screaming, we headed home. The three older women slept like babies on the drive, which gave Belle and I a chance to talk.

  “Allison said she left in time to get the movie back to the video store for when it opened, but that doesn’t fit with Buford’s timeline.”

  “Well, then one of them is either off on their time or lying.

  “It’s been years. He’s an old man. He may not remember it well.”

  Millie coughed. “That man had lunch in my café every day at noon like I said. His memory is good as gold.”

  Belle shifted her eyes my direction. “They looked like they were sleeping.”

  “I ain’t sleepin’ either,” Bonnie said.

  Henrietta was, and we knew that for sure by her snoring.

  “Millie, do you know what a chicken farmer does with the straw they clean out of the coops?”

  “Depends, but most dispose of it either by dumping it in their field, or burning it. It smells like the devil, that ammonia.”

  Belle blanched. “Ew, that sounds gross.”

  “You ever seen chicken poop?” Bonnie asked.

  “A time or two. I remember smelling a coop next to the old Redbecker property. It’s pretty nasty.”

  “Well, trust me, you want to burn it quick as you can. If you don’t, that smell will rot your guts.”

  Chapter 8

  I texted Dylan later that night and let him know I’d read the diary. He called and I filled him in on the details, and he asked if I could snap some photos and send them to him. I’d already taken pictures of them, so I forwarded them on, but only with the promise that he’d let me continue down my path for at least another day. After much negotiation, he agreed.

  I barely slept at all Monday night. Something about my conversations with Eric Rooting and Buford Jennings didn’t sit right, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but I knew it was something.

  It was the timing, that had to be it. The call between Jenny and Amy, the time Buford said he saw the girls and Allison said she’d already left. None of that fit anything in the case file, but I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant in the big picture.

  When I did sleep, my dreams were confusing and bordered on violent. That always happened when something weighed heavily on my mind. I ended up calling Dylan long before either of us should have been awake, and he came over to keep me company.

  We walked Bo around town bright and early, at least an hour before the sun came up. We stopped at the dog park and let him roam free as I filled Dylan in on my thoughts.

  “Sounds to me like you need to have another conversation with the wife, and the girl he cheated on the vic with.”

  “You think his wife is lying?”

  He leaned against the fence to the dog park. “The guy married his dead girlfriend’s best friend. If he was going to lie to anyone about cheating on his girlfriend, wouldn’t it be her?”

  “But the girl he cheated with was part of his alibi, so he needed to say that to cover his time, right?”

  “Back then, yes, but what’s it matter now? They’re married. If he’s innocent, what would telling the truth matter at this point?”

  “Maybe his ego won’t let him tell her Amy shot him down twice.”

  “Could be, but I’d try and talk to her again. Work her, she may give you something if you put the pressure on her. And you still don’t have a solid reason for why Pittman didn’t interview Amy again. Her momma telling him to leave her alone is weak. No law enforcement official would agree to that. There’s a reason she wasn’t questioned again, and that could be the key to all of this.”

  “But if you look at the timeline of his case file, and his notes, he had reason to believe it was either Buford Jennings or Old Man Goodson, so he probably just covered his bases with Eric just to be sure.”

  “Dig deeper. You’re right. You’re missing something.” He yawned.

  “Oh sweetie, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you up so early. At least one of us deserves a decent night’s sleep.”

  He wrapped his arm over my shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your plate at the moment. Speaking of plates, shouldn’t we be talking about what we plan to feed a mess of people for the wedding?”

  Dylan was more into the planning part of our wedding than I was. I sighed. “The entire town wants to come to this shindig. Do we really have to feed them, too?”

  “It’s usually how these things are done, Lilybean.”

  “Ugh. So much pressure.”

  “Like I told you before, I just want you to be my wife. You want to elope? I’m good with that.”

  “You would hate that, and my momma would feed us to the dogs.”

  “She probably would, but we’d survive, and so would she.”

  I knew my parents would be devastated, and I just wasn’t sure I could do that to them. “I just don’t know.”

  “We’ll figure it out honey. I promise.”

  And that was why I loved him, or one of the reasons anyway.

  * * *

  I got to the office and pulled the diary out of my bag again. I placed it on my desk with the intention of reading through it one more time, but I was distracted by my thoughts.

  Jenny made it fairly clear that she knew Eric was cheating on her with Amy, and she’d planned to confront them.

  Everything led to Amy being dishonest. I didn’t want to believe it. If I had to choose the killer, I’d choose Eric, but the facts didn’t lead to him, they led to Amy. Except the facts didn’t give me a solid motive, and that continued to stump me.

  I needed to push the case aside and tend to my career, the thing that paid my bills and I loved so much. I had to drop off a comp listing to a potential client, and after I finished preparing it, I stuffed my things in my bag and headed out.

  Belle had been walking up the sidewalk toward the office and hollered to me as I got in my car. “Off to drop off the comps listing?”

  I opened my car door. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know you can email that.”

  “I like the personal touch of dropping it off.”

  She tapped her iWatch. “Time management, partner.” She unlocked the door to the office and then flipped around. “I need a coffee. Got a few minutes?”

  I nodded then stepped back out of my car, shut the door and headed to Millie’s with her.

  Belle added cream to her large cup. “Did you see that Hummer that drove by? I bet that’s a potential client looking to buy land.”

  “One can hope.”

  “Well, I’ll be at the office for a while. Hopefully they’ll come by.”

  We sat and talked for thirty minutes before I checked my watch and said I really had to go. She walked back to the office while I headed to my client’s house.

  The client was in Bramblett County, but after dropping off the comps—and since no one was home, leaving them in the mailbox—I headed back to Amy’s.

  She answered the door. “Back again?”

  I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I have a few more questions if you’ve got a moment?”

  She moved to the side and pushed open the screened door. “Suit yourself.”

  She didn’t offer me anything to drink, just sat next to me on the couch.

  I chose not to make small talk and just got to the point instead. “I spoke with Eric Rooting. He stands firm on his claim that the two of you were together the night Jennifer Rawlings died.�
��

  She shook her head. “That ain’t a question, that’s an accusation.”

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m simply trying to get to the truth.”

  She leaned toward me and steadied her eyes directly on mine. “You want the truth?”

  I bit my lip and fidgeted on the worn couch. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I told you I didn’t do nothing with that boy neither of those nights. Was with him, yeah, I was, but not in the way he’s saying.” Her body language didn’t match her words. Instead of steady and stiff, her shoulders sulked after she spoke, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. I didn’t know a lot about body language, but I knew enough to know she didn‘t believe what she said, so I knew I shouldn’t, either.

  “Did anything happen between you two that he might have misunderstood?”

  She turned away and shifted slightly, putting her hands underneath her legs. With her head bowed, she mumbled, “I can’t do this no more. Momma’s gone. I can tell the truth.” She let out a long, breathy sigh. “It wasn’t like what people thought. I thought we had something, but he was just using me.”

  Oh gosh, Eric Rooting was telling the truth, and Amy did lie. I placed my hand on her knee. “It’s okay, Amy. I’m trying to help you.”

  She faced me again, and the fear she felt showed through her pale cheeks. “I didn’t kill her, I promise.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She sighed. “The first night that boy followed me around like a lost puppy. I felt good, you know? A popular boy showing interest in me like that. He told me he was gonna break up with Jenny. Had been sayin’ that for over a month. Said she wasn’t his type. She didn’t understand him, but a girl like me, I would understand him, and I fell for it. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t know he was playing me.”

  “It’s okay. You’re not the only teenage girl that’s happened to.”

  “It wasn’t the first time he did it. He’d been going after me for months, and I just kept shutting him down, but he was wearing on me, making it harder and harder to say no. A few weeks before that, we was at the drive in, the one that used to be off Highway 9? You know the one?”

  “Yes, I remember there was a drive in there.”