A Time To Kiln

by Gilian Baker

  Ugh. This was like pulling teeth. And this didn’t sound like Dillon. He seemed much more confident than I’d ever seen him. With the stakes so high, he shouldn’t have been so self-assured. Was someone coaching him? Was he protecting someone?

  “Dillon, why did you hate Jack Bristol so much? You have to know your violent outburst at the funeral home isn’t helping your case. It happened right before his murder, just as your public fight with Paula occurred immediately before she was killed. Telling us what you had against Jack might help Gabby and I defend you.”

  “That’s my family’s business, not yours, not Gabby’s and not Ross’s.” After that, he clinched his lips firmly together. His face was red, but this time from anger, not embarrassment.

  This had gone on long enough. By now, Ross would have asked him about the rumor. It was time for me to stop worrying about his feelings. “Was Paula having an affair with Jack?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Assume the rumor is true. I thought you’d be better than that, Mrs. Blackwell.” He forced hamburger into oddly-shaped patties and angrily tossed them on the sizzling grill. The strong smell of cooking meat rose into the air, making my stomach growl.

  “Surely you know by now that I have to ask, Dillon. I’m trying to help you, but you won’t let me. The only sensible motive for their murders, that came only days apart, is an affair that you discovered.”

  He pointed the dangerously-sharp metal spatula at me. “I did not! I would never do that, even if she had been messing around with him.” Waving the spatula around, malice seeped from each word, “Paula wasn’t having an affair with anyone, least of all that scumbag, Jack Bristol. She knew how I felt about him. She wouldn’t have done that to me.”

  As he pushed the burgers around on the grill, he said, “I think you’d better leave now, Mrs. Blackwell. I need to feed Harper and give her a bath. She’s had a long day.” Almost as an afterthought he mumbled, “Thanks again for watching her.” With that, he walked into his shabby apartment, allowing the screen door to slam behind him.

  With apprehension at Dillon’s rage reverberating through my mind, I walked back to the car with my head downcast.

  ***

  Later that night, once we were alone, I confessed to Christian that I’d lost my resolve and was now investigating the murders. While he wasn’t thrilled about it, he agreed that now Dillon was a suspect, the situation warranted more involvement to keep Ellie protected.

  After going round and round on the topic, Christian finally said, “Okay. But if I hear around town that you’re taking chances with your safety, I’ll go straight to Gabby and take you off the case. I want to keep our daughter out of harm’s way, but I want you around to grow old with.”

  After some smooching, I convinced him I’d be both vigilant and prudent.

  Tuesday morning, I completed necessary business tasks before setting out to interview Dillon’s neighbors, in the hopes someone could vouch for him the night of Jack’s murder.

  I’d never visited Dillon’s neighborhood much before, but was now becoming a regular. I knocked on a couple of doors without any response. After jotting a note on the back of my business cards, I wedged them in between the screen doors and frames.

  I got lucky with the third door I knocked on. A large-boned woman with a baby in her arms answered the door while two other young children hung off her.

  “Sorry, I don’t buy at the door.” She started to close it.

  “No, wait. I’m not selling anything. I’m here to ask about one of your neighbors. I’m helping his lawyer.”

  Even though she had a skeptical look on her face, she opened the door wider, and I handed her one of the business cards. As she looked at it, I went on to explain why I was here, and that I was an investigator helping Dillon’s lawyer.

  “I’m just trying to verify Dillon Hexby’s whereabouts on a couple of evenings.” I smiled in what I hoped was a disarming way.

  Thinking the woman wasn’t paying attention, one of the youngsters tried to make a break for it through the open door. Without missing a beat, and without even looking down, she grabbed ahold of the back of his striped t-shirt and pulled him back into the house before his foot had a chance to hit the tiny cement porch.

  “You might as well come on in. Otherwise we’ll never have a moment’s peace with these scoundrels trying to escape.” She looked down and smiled at the one who’d attempted the jailbreak. She stepped back, forcing all the kids back too, and opened the door wide so I could enter.

  The house was full of toys for a variety of ages. I wondered if one of these little darlings was responsible for my twisted ankle. The woman shooed them all away, telling them to go play and laid the sleeping baby in a bouncy seat and strapped it in. Then she sat back on the couch with a loud sigh.

  She hastily sat up again, apparently remembering she had company.

  “Sorry. I’m not used to having adults to talk to. I’m Sheila Blakney, by the way. Would you like a cup of coffee? I was about to pour myself some more.” She grabbed her cup up off the scarred coffee table and stood up.

  “That’s very nice of you. Yes, thanks.”

  I stood up and followed her into the kitchen. I could hear little voices discussing something in the other room and was happy they seemed to be playing nicely…for now.

  While she poured two cups of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table. I’d expected it to be sticky, but the surface was sparkling clean. Not an easy feat with a bunch of little kids in the house.

  She brought over the coffee and pushed powdered creamer and sugar over toward me.

  “Your children seem well-behaved.” I spooned some sugar in my mug, avoiding the powdered chemicals some call cream.

  She laughed. “They aren’t my kids. I’m a child care provider. But thanks for saying that. It must mean I look young enough to have small children and a baby.”

  “You do.” Well, what was I supposed to say? I rushed on so I wasn’t forced to fib further. “So, do you know Dillon?”

  “Oh, sure. He’s a nice kid. Great with his little girl. I’ve been over to let him know I have room to take on little Harper if he needs childcare. She seems like a sweet little thing.”

  “She’s no trouble, that’s for sure.” I smiled. “What can you tell me about the night Paula was killed. Did you see Dillon and Paula around? It was two weeks ago today.”

  “Hm. Let me think back. Yes. I saw them grill chicken outside.” She looked over at me. “It gets so hot in these little kitchens that we all barbeque a lot in the summer.” She squinted her eyes and looked into the air, coming up with the recollection.

  “About 8:00 p.m. I saw Paula carry a sleepy Harper to her car and leave. Then she came back without her and picked up Dillon. She told me once that she liked to work late at the studio, and since they only had the one car, she’d drop Dillon off at his buddy’s house.”

  Blast it. No one around here was going to be able to confirm Dillon’s alibi. Why hadn’t he told us he’d been at his friend’s house? And if he was, why had he been late to work?

  “Oh, that’s great. That helps us a lot.” And it did in a way. It kept me from wasting time talking to neighbors to verify Dillon’s alibi when he wasn’t even here.

  I took a sip of coffee and was pleasantly surprised at the rich flavor. “Hm. Good brew. Okay so what about the night of Jack Bristol’s murder? That would have been a week ago yesterday.”

  “I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m one of those nosy neighbors who keeps tabs on everyone, but I remember that night because I had insomnia. When that happens, I take long walks. That’s usually enough to do the trick so I can fall asleep. Later I thought how I’d been out walking late at night, in the dark by myself while a murderer was running around our little town. It gave me shivers.” To prove her point, she gave a little shudder.

  “Anyway, I was glancing at the cars in the parking lot as I walked home. This musta been around midnight or so, and I noticed Dillon’s car was gone. I thought
it was odd because I know he’s taken a leave of absence from work since Paula’s death.”

  I truly appreciated her observational skills and willingness to talk, but this was all adding up to proof against Dillon.

  A mild disagreement had broken out in the other room.

  I stood up and took a last sip of coffee. “Sounds like you’re going to be needed soon. I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for the coffee and for being willing to help out.”

  She walked me to the front door as the voices got a little louder. On the threshold, I asked, “Would you be willing to call me if you think of anything else that might be helpful to Dillon’s defense? Or just anything that you may remember about one of those nights?”

  She assured me she would, as the first cries could be heard in the house behind us.

  ***

  There was no need to bang on any of the other neighbors’ doors. We may very well need to move onto Plan B—throwing possible suspicion onto someone else. I switched on the car and looked at the dashboard clock. Dillon’s friend would still be asleep in preparation for his night shift. I didn’t want to wake him—I needed him to be in a positive frame of mind so he’d open up.

  Before leaving the parking lot, I texted Crystal and asked if she was due a lunch break, offering to pick up deli sandwiches for us. As I headed towards the other side of town, my phone chirped. Crystal had typed in her order as a response to my question.

  When I got to the station loaded down with goodies for our impromptu picnic, I texted Crystal to let her know lunch was served. I could have gone inside, but I didn’t feel like dealing with Sheryl or Doug today. Texting is the bomb. Do people still say that? Probably not.

  A few minutes later, I was putting the final touches on our feast, spread out on the little picnic table out back, when Crystal came out the back door and walked over.

  “Wow. This looks great. Thanks. I’m starved.” Sitting down at the table, she dug in like she hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Are you attempting to bribe an officer of the law with food, Mrs. Blackwell?”

  “No, I like to think of it as a reward for your outstanding services to the community.” I smiled.

  “Fine by me.” She took a big bite of her sandwich and spoke around it, “This is delicious.”

  “That’s probably because I didn’t make it.”

  As she munched loudly on chips, I asked, “What does the pathologist give as time of death for Jack? And yes, before you say anything, I know I need to keep quiet about you giving me this information. Ross will disclose this to Gabby anyway, so there’s no damage done.”

  She finished chewing before answering me. “Between eleven and midnight on Tuesday evening, plus or minus thirty minutes. But they still have a bunch of tests to run, so that first estimation could be tweaked later.”

  “Oh.” I put my sandwich down on its wrapper. That wasn’t good for Dillon, since I’d just learned his car hadn’t been in the parking lot of his apartment complex at around midnight.

  “Something wrong?”

  I picked my sandwich back up and took a bite, adding a chip into the mix too. I crunched for a couple of beats and then told a little white lie. “No. Just thinking. What motive are you looking at besides the possible affair between Jack and Paula?”

  “We’ve talked to Charley Hesston, but he makes a pretty compelling argument.”

  Shoot. Of course he had. “What did he have to say for himself?”

  “He’d been at a big pottery show in Salt Lake City, and was on his way back home to Cheyenne.”

  “I assume you guys checked this all out. What evidence did you find to back up his story?”

  “He has sales receipts from the show. Who knew potters brought in so much dough? And we spoke to the buddies he’d had supper with before leaving the area. They all confirm he was there. Oh, and he has the restaurant receipt for his meal, so everything backs it up.”

  “Have you found anything that would suggest he’d been in contact with Paula? Was he pursuing the alleged theft?”

  “He was, but wasn’t having much success. His lawyer had been in contact with her, but not him, at least that we could find. His lawyer told him to keep out of it, and let him handle it through legal channels. But they’re having a heck of a time proving that it was his glaze recipe. You know, it’s one of those deals where you try a little of this and a little of that until you come up with the effect you are looking for, just like in the kitchen.”

  “No, I wouldn’t know about that. I always follow the recipe to the letter…when I make anything that requires a recipe, that is. So you guys aren’t looking at him any further then? He has a great motive for killing Paula—now he doesn’t need to worry about her flooding the market with his glaze, and he doesn’t have to prove she stole it.”

  “We know that. And it looks like he had opportunity since he was in the area that night. But none of it fits together, and where’s his motive for killing Jack? Unfortunately, Dillon Hexby is our strongest suspect. Sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

  “No, that’s fine. I expected as much, since Ross told him he should get a lawyer.” I thought about it while Crystal finished her food. She sure could put it away.

  “Thanks for lunch, Jade. That was great of you.” She snagged up two chocolate chip cookies and an apple, but had the decency to throw me a coy look. “For later.” She swung her other leg over the picnic bench and shook the crumbs off her uniform.

  “You’re welcome. And thanks for the info, Crystal.”

  I still had time to kill before I went to talk to Dillon’s friend, Tyler, so I headed to Tea & Sympathy to do some ruminating.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was cool and quiet in the tea shop at this time of day, which was just what I needed. I ordered iced tea with lemon when Shelly came over to get my order. She lacked her usual cheery spirit. In fact, she looked downright miserable.

  As she set my tea down on the table, her hands trembled. She clinched her upper lip with her teeth for a moment and then spoke in a small, scared voice, “Is it true you’re investigating again to help Dillon?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Well, if I can be of any help, I’d be happy to. Dillon is such a sweetie.” Her tone changed as she spat out the next sentence. “He didn’t deserve to have such a harpy for a wife. I can’t say I miss her, and I’m sure he doesn’t either.”

  “I’m not sure that statement helps his cause, Shelly, but thanks for offering to help. Let me organize my thoughts and notes, and before I leave, if there’s anything I could use your help with, we can talk.”

  She dropped her shoulders as if sloughing off a heavy load. “Sure. I’d do absolutely anything for Dillon.”

  “Great. Well, thanks…I’ll let you know.”

  She plodded back to the kitchen as if she were walking with cement blocks on her feet. She’d be a good person to talk to, since she knew Dillon well, but I’d need to take what she said with a grain of salt considering her bias.

  Gabby wanted to focus on clearing Dillon from suspicion rather than look for other suspects, but darn it, Dillon looked guilty as sin. How were we supposed to help him if he wouldn’t cooperate?

  The murders looked premeditated. Was he crafty enough to plan them? Based on my conversation with him, I felt sure someone was coaching him. Maybe they’d talked him into killing. Who could it be? His parents would have told him to come clean with his alibi, no matter what it was, to save him from jail. Ellie would have told him the same. The only other person I knew he was in contact with for sure was Shelly, and I doubted he’d listen to anything she had to say.

  He’d blushed and unskillfully tried to avoid topics he didn’t want to discuss the day we’d witnessed his feud with Paula. Maybe he’d had one too many humiliations in public and decided to get rid of the problem. But then, why not just divorce her?

  He had said the creditors were on his back. Was it possible he killed her to stop her digging them in
to a deeper financial hole? But again, why not just divorce her? According to rumor, they had been no great romance to begin with, so why not just cut the ties legally?

  The only reason I could think of was Harper. He’d have to share her with Paula. Even in this day and age, mothers usually got custody unless they were unfit. It seemed shared custody was becoming the norm. Maybe he didn’t want the hassle. Maybe he didn’t want to be without Harper half the time. They were obviously crazy about each other.

  Or could it be something more menacing? Did he believe Paula to be an unfit mother? He might not have wanted to go through a divorce only to find he was unable to prove her inability to mother. If he thought Harper at risk, he would absolutely be capable of murder.

  But that didn’t explain Jack’s murder. They had to be related. Maybe he’d decided to settle an old score with Jack once he saw how easy it was the first time. I shuddered. And here was my daughter spending all her free time alone with him. Maybe he’d figured out the affair was more than a rumor and decided it was a calculated risk he was willing to take. I took a sip of tea and made some notes on my otherwise-empty notepad.

  I stopped short. Would he risk going to prison and missing out on his daughter’s growing up? At least if he’d divorced Paula, he’d still have the opportunity to be in Harper’s life. Did he believe he was wily enough to get away with a double homicide? He seemed to be today. In fact, he seemed downright full of himself. My deliberation had come full circle—who could be whispering prompts in his ear.

  I started a list of people I needed to talk to, even if our focus was on getting at his alibi. Otherwise, I might just keep going round and round. He had possible motives galore. He had means since he had access to the tool, and he had opportunity since he’d been absent from work and had the studio keys at his disposal. And it didn’t help that people had witnessed his public arguments with Paula and Jack right before their murders. Jeez. If he wasn’t the killer, he’d made it easy to pin the murders on him.