“Yes, we should have,” I agreed. “So let’s do that.”
18
We called another Uber and headed back to the heavy equipment business. Sure enough, there were cameras focused on the front door, the supply shed, and the mechanic shop. It crossed my mind that Colton had deliberately not mentioned the security footage, but I reminded myself that neither Tinkie nor I had thought to ask. It could be innocent.
Colton was out on a job, but the office manager showed us where the camera feed was stored—after I convinced her we were working on Colton’s behalf.
“Colton is supposed to review the footage and delete it every day, but he doesn’t,” she said. “He forgets it until I think of it and remind him. How far back do you need to go?”
I didn’t recall a specific date that Colton said he was hired, but it could have been only a day or so before it happened. Otherwise he would surely have come to his senses and thought to check with “Bricey” again to be sure she still wanted to destroy her car. Then the fake phone number—and ultimately the fake ID—would have come into play. “Let’s go back a week.”
“Colton is a good man, a truly decent guy. He doesn’t deserve what’s happening.” The receptionist sat us down at a computer in a small room. “Knock yourself out. I hope you can prove who hired him. Otherwise we all know he’s in a pickle.” She was at the door before she turned around. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Best offer we’ve had this morning,” I said. Watching grainy, boring videotape was going to require some caffeine if I wanted to stay awake. “I take mine black and so does Tinkie.”
We were already going through the footage when she returned with two steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee. She was about to leave when I stopped her. “Do you remember the woman who hired Colton to fill up the car with cement?”
She shook her head. “She must have come at lunchtime when I wasn’t here. I never saw her, and I haven’t missed a day of work.”
Interesting. “Do you go to lunch at the same time?”
She nodded. “Twelve-fifteen to one-fifteen. I meet my sister.”
“Thanks so much.” She’d just helped us more than she knew. We could skip a lot of footage and just explore the times she was away from the office at lunch. That would cut our search time by hours, and lucky for us the security footage was time stamped.
“This woman who hired Colton had to know he was here alone at lunchtime,” Tinkie said.
“You’re right. This was a setup from the get-go.”
“It has to be someone who either knows his schedule or was told.” Tinkie was biting her lower lip, which was a sign of either concentration or male manipulation. In this instance, the former.
“A friend? You think a friend would set him up like this?”
She tilted her head. “Someone in his circle of business acquaintances or friends.”
We kept going through the video, slowing considerably as we reached the hours between eleven and two. We both pointed to the screen at the same time. “There she is.”
It was a woman with sunglasses in what looked like an expensive wool coat and muffler. She wore fashion boots. Very little of her face could be seen between the sunglasses, the coat collar, and the longish dark hair that framed her face.
“Who is that?” Tinkie asked as she froze the images so we could study a still. “She looks familiar.”
“Let her walk.” I wanted to see if I could place her gait. There was something very familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Tinkie turned the video back and the figure walked up to the door and reached to grab the knob.
“Stop!” I didn’t want to believe what I saw.
“Do you know who it is?” Tinkie asked. She was staring at the grainy figure as if she could squint and see more clearly.
I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. “I think it’s Kathleen Beesley.”
“What?” Tinkie leaned closer to the screen. “Are you sure?”
“Look at the curve of her jaw, the way she reaches for the door, the tilt of her chin.” The more I talked, the more certain I became. “It’s Kathleen. Her red hair is covered by a wig, just as Colton thought.”
“I see it now. That’s her. Petite, a little slump to her shoulders,” Tinkie said. She rewound the tape and played it all the way through, then rewound and played it again. “It’s her. I see it.” She leaned back and sighed. “Why? Why would Kathleen do something like this?”
“Those women were bullies to her. Even Jerry Goode knew they were awful to her. And you saw how Clarissa treated her on the boat, like she was a servant or paid help instead of a guest. They even threatened each other. Maybe she got fed up and decided to make them pay.”
“But she trapped Colton Horn and he may lose his business if Bricey really sues him.”
I didn’t have any answers. Kathleen was literally the last person I would have suspected. “We’ll have to talk to Darla about this.” I didn’t relish that thought. Darla was very protective of Kathleen. “The good news is that if Kathleen is dead, she won’t suffer any punishment for this.” It was kind of a bleak way to find a silver lining, but nonetheless I tried.
“Well, aren’t you a bundle of joy,” Tinkie said. “Sheesh, Sarah Booth. Are you going to call the law?”
I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Kathleen wasn’t there to defend herself. What if we were wrong? I mean really, I was basing my identification on a minuscule amount of flesh. Most of her was totally covered up. And the wig—if it was a wig—hid her real hair. Could I be certain enough to ruin a reputation? A reputation of a woman who was likely dead and couldn’t fight back?
“Let’s search her place. If we can find the wig, we’ll have to tell the police.”
“Good idea.” Tinkie was ready to move along. “Let’s get out of here before Colton comes back and asks questions.”
We replaced the video and cleaned up the room, taking our coffee cups back to the receptionist.
“Did you find something to help Colton?” she asked.
“Maybe. We need to do more checking, and please don’t mention this. I don’t want to get his hopes up if we fall flat.”
“Colton’s a good man. If you can help him, please do. I don’t know why someone would use him that way—for pure devilment and to destroy property.” She looked down at her computer keyboard. “He never thinks that people can be cruel.”
“We’ll do what we can,” I promised.
“We’ll be in touch,” Tinkie said as she led the way to the door.
* * *
Kathleen lived in an older home with a wraparound front porch and heritage camellias and azaleas that covered the foundation of the house. It wasn’t a fancy house, but it was solid and gracious and lovely. The kind of home I’d have if I lived in town. The front door was locked, but it wasn’t much of a challenge for Tinkie and me. My partner, among her many talents, was actually a very good picklock, and I was a good lookout.
The street was quiet as Tinkie worked her magic while I kept an eye out for passing motorists or kids on bicycles. It was that kind of neighborhood—where someone would be looking out for Kathleen’s house if they noticed any strange activity.
When we were safely inside with the door closed again, I stopped at the sound of a kitty crying. “She has a pet,” I said. “Damn. We have to do something.”
“Maybe we can take it to Darla’s. Maybe she’ll keep the cat until Kathleen is found.”
“And after that?” I wasn’t going to leave town until I was certain the cat had a home. Darla was the best shot at a permanent residence, but if that didn’t pan out, Pluto would have a sibling.
“Kitty, kitty, kitty,” I called to the cat, who turned out to be a friendly little calico. She came up and purred as I petted her. I knew she was missing her mom. When I went in the kitchen, I found water and food on the floor. Kathleen must have prepared to be gone for the evening. “At least she isn’t hungry.” I found th
e litter box and gave it a cleaning. I’d have to ask Darla before I brought the cat to her. And I didn’t want to move the baby until I knew she had a permanent place. Cats were very territorial. She would be happier in her home alone than being carted all over the place.
“Let’s look for a wig,” I said to Tinkie.
The logical place was Kathleen’s bedroom, so we headed that way. The cat followed, rubbing against my legs whenever I stopped walking.
In contrast to the neatness of the front rooms of the house, the bedroom looked like a tornado had struck.
“Someone went through here like a crazy person.” Tinkie picked up sweaters that were thrown onto the floor. She folded them and put them on the bed.
I picked up a jewelry box that had been overturned and the contents scattered around the carpet. “Do you think she was robbed?”
Tinkie stopped. “Maybe we should call Jerry Goode.”
“We’re trespassing. Remember that. Let’s just look around and get out. We can call anonymously when we’re safely down the road.”
Tinkie stuck her hands in her pockets. “Then we need to leave everything alone just where it is. And wipe your fingerprints off that jewelry box.”
I followed her direction and we used the edge of our sleeves to open drawers and look for the wig.
“Got it!” Tinkie said from inside the closet. “This is it.” She came out with a blob of dark hair hanging off a pencil she’d found on the floor.
We both stared at each other. There was no doubt Kathleen was the one who ordered the destruction of Bricey’s convertible. But what to do with the information? If we called the police, I wasn’t certain that Kathleen would get a fair shake in absentia.
“Throw it back in the closet,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Tinkie held it up like it was a dead animal.
I nodded. “Look, if the police do the same legwork we did, they can come to this conclusion. But right now we need to give Kathleen a chance. If, that is, she’s guilty of destroying Bricey’s car—and just remember we have nothing more than Colton’s word for that, since there is no contract—then maybe she did try to take Clarissa out by knocking her off the boat.”
Tinkie looked glum. “If that’s the truth about Kathleen, then I totally misread her.”
“Me, too. I thought she was just kind of lonely, you know. She seemed so devoted to Darla and the B and B. But she did seem to have a crush on Bart Crenshaw. And both Bricey and Clarissa were allegedly former lovers of his.”
“That’s a point.” Tinkie tossed the wig back onto the floor of the closet. “We should leave. What about the cat?”
I bent down to pet the friendly little calico. “I’ll ask Darla if Kathleen had a pet. That way maybe she’ll bring it up and we can come back to get the cat. If Kathleen doesn’t show up soon.”
“You think there’s still a chance?”
“No.” I didn’t want to mislead Tinkie. “I’m afraid she drowned, Tink.”
“Yeah, me too. Even if she did play Colton Horn for a fool, I still kind of liked her.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get out of here. This case has put a real shroud over my holiday fun.”
“Hey, we have our friends and loved ones. We’re lucky, and this evening, we need to celebrate that. We don’t have much longer in Columbus before it’s time to go home. We can’t let this mess up our vacation.” I was talking a good game, even though Kathleen’s apparent drowning had also depressed me.
I changed the kitty’s water, found the dry cat food, and filled the bowl to the brim. We started to leave through the front door, as we’d come, but just as I was about to turn the knob, a car pulled into the driveway.
“Oh, crap. We can’t go out this way.”
19
“The back door!” Tinkie grabbed my arm.
I was looking through a lace curtain on the side of the door when I recognized the woman heading toward the front door. She was stalking across the yard and had almost reached the front steps.
“It’s Tulla Tarbutton!”
“Get away from that door!” Tinkie dragged me into a den and we ducked behind a sofa. The little kitty came to join us, purring and making biscuits on my thighs as we hid.
“What’s Tulla doing here?” I asked. “She’s no friend of Kathleen’s.”
“She doesn’t have a key,” Tinkie said. “She’s breaking in, too.”
And indeed she was. In a moment the door swung open and Tulla hurried through the house and went directly to Kathleen’s bedroom. She was gone less than two minutes, and when she came out, she was carrying the wig. Kitty darted out from behind the sofa and ran up to her. When the cat tried to greet her, she stomped her foot and scared it away. “Stupid cat.” She dashed out the front door, slammed it hard, and left.
“She stole the wig.” I felt as if I should have stopped her, but since I was trespassing …
“Tulla is the same size as Kathleen,” Tinkie said. “Could it have been Tulla in the video? Could she have planted that wig to frame Kathleen? I’d never considered how much they look alike in size because their personalities are so different. And Tulla is always frowning.”
“It could have been Tulla.” The truth was, I couldn’t say for certain. I’d never given it a thought, but both women had similar bone structure. Between the wig, the sunglasses, and the high collar of the coat, I honestly couldn’t say it was one or the other. My first assumption had gone to Kathleen because I knew there were hard feelings between Bricey and Kathleen. “But why would Tulla want to destroy her friend’s car?”
“These women are like a pit of vipers,” Tinkie said. “They’d bite their own tail just because they’re mean. Maybe they were working together to set Kathleen up. Maybe Tulla hired Colton and then decided she couldn’t take the blame.”
“Then wouldn’t she leave the wig to implicate Kathleen?”
“Not if the purchase of the wig can be traced back to Bricey.” Tinkie shuddered. “It’s impossible to think like that kind of deviant.”
“And yet men find them attractive.” That reality bemused me.
“Some men. And keep in mind that crazy in the brain often translates to crazy in bed. Some guys don’t look any deeper than that.”
“And those are the ones who end up with an ice pick in their spines while having sex.” We both laughed at the reference to the Michael Douglas / Sharon Stone classic, Basic Instinct.
“Yea, Nick wasn’t the brightest lamp on the street. It seems like under certain circumstances, men lose the ability to use common sense and self-preservation.”
“Same is true for women.” I had to be fair.
“You’re right about that. So what are we going to do about Tulla taking that wig? Should we call the police?”
“I don’t think so.” We weren’t in a great position to rat her out. “We know she has it. If we need it, we can let the authorities pick it up.”
“Unless she decides to get rid of it. If it were me, I’d destroy the evidence.”
Tinkie had a point, but I wanted to work through the implications of what we’d witnessed before I called the law. “Okay, so the assumption is that Tulla wore the wig and then planted it here on Kathleen?”
“But then Kathleen ended up … drowned.” Tinkie’s blue eyes lit up. “Maybe she’s going to frame someone else. Someone alive!”
In a cockeyed kind of way, that made sense. If Tulla had set Kathleen up to frame her, and then Kathleen was suddenly out of the picture, perhaps she’d decided to use the frame to her utmost advantage and take out another rival. If Kathleen was even a rival. “We need to see if we can find a notebook or anything where Kathleen might have written things down.”
“Like a journal.” Tinkie stood up. There was no need to hide behind the sofa any longer. Tulla was long gone and we had work to do. “Maybe a computer. If we could check her emails or text messages, we could learn a lot.”
But we couldn’t. We didn’t have any equipme
nt or authority and Coleman had no jurisdiction to ask for them—if he would even consider doing that. So far Jerry Goode had been helpful, but this would be a bridge too far for him. Even if Kathleen was dead, going into her devices would be akin to an invasion of privacy, and I didn’t believe Jerry would go that far for two PIs from Zinnia. But he would if she was a suspect in some crime—hence we found ourselves on the horns of a dilemma.
While I cogitated on possibilities, Tinkie searched through all the drawers in the den furniture and the dining room. I headed to the bedroom. We’d looked there for the wig, but I hadn’t been thinking about a thumb drive, disk, or journal. It was a whole new ball game.
It was awkward as hell, searching through things with our hands in the long sleeves of our shirts so we didn’t leave fingerprints. Tinkie and I weren’t in the habit of carrying evidence gloves or bags with us on vacation. Next time we would. Don’t leave home without them.
“Nothing in the den or living room. The dining room is clean, too.” Tinkie was exasperated.
“No luck in the bedroom.”
“She doesn’t even have a desk,” Tinkie complained. “No computer. How does anyone live without a computer?”
“With a lot more sanity?” I responded.
“Maybe, but we need to find something and get out of here.”
She was right. “Take the bathroom. I’ll search the kitchen.” Those were the last two places left.
“I can tell from standing outside the bathroom door she has an affinity for coconut shampoo.”
Tinkie was really into the girly-girly accoutrements. She could recognize a scent from a hundred paces, especially one she liked. “Just search.” I opened the silverware drawer and noted the organization. Again I was struck by the disorder in Kathleen’s bedroom when even her silverware drawer was clean with every piece of cutlery in the proper place.
I moved through the cabinets, checking in the cups and bowls to be sure a thumb drive hadn’t been stashed there. Then I moved on to the pantry. A terrible image from some horror movie came back to me—a pickled head in the pantry. I was almost afraid to look, but I did, moving things around just enough to make sure there wasn’t a little hidey-hole for a book or computer gadget.
A Garland of Bones Page 14
