But Caprico had let another interesting detail slip without realizing it.
“Fine. I won’t lie about the discussion—not argument—involving who was seeing whom, but you should probably come clean with the fact that you know the DJ was killed after last call because you evidently have witnesses—probably a whole boatload of them—that saw Aston Ryan finish out the set for the night and then what? Start packing up his stuff? Did the management notice that when they were ready to lock up, Aston Ryan still hadn’t finished packing up? Is that when they realized he’d been knifed in the parking lot?”
There was a lot of awkward silence in the room. Ellie let it set for a moment. She was trying to process what she’d just learned. It was kind of unfortunate, because it was giving a whole lot of credence to their idea that the individual who had drugged Kari Jo had likely gotten angry at Aston Ryan for creating the diversion that let her escape and then refused to say where she had gone. That was an altercation that would have taken place in the parking lot away from prying eyes.
Caroline raised her hand. “The parking lot at the Pioneer has cameras. Why don’t you just pull the footage and then use that to get your guy?”
Once again, Caroline had totally blown Ellie away. Considering the way Younger and Duke were grinning from ear to ear, she’d blown them away too. Only Titus looked composed. Titus actually gave a few slow, thoughtful nods as he scratched his chin.
“Caroline is right,” Titus told Detective Sellers. “You have all the information you need from us. Now, why don’t you go find the guy on the camera feed and finish your investigation that way?”
Sellers huffed out a huge breath of obvious frustration. “Because whoever this killer was he knew exactly where to stand in the parking lot to make sure we never got a clear view of him. He either kept his back to the camera or half his face was hidden. With the shadows and the mugginess of the air, it’s impossible to make an identification.”
“Surely you know something,” Titus pressed.
Ellie’s mind was spinning. Of course the person that had tried to drug Kari Jo was a club regular; that much had to be obvious. They had been at the club either flirting with Kari Jo, or something else. There was a reason this individual thought they had a relationship with Kari Jo. A relationship that would cause them to repeatedly get tickets to and attend her show, to hang out with her after hours, and then finally to try to go home with her. Of course, that was when Kari Jo’s standard rejection and subsequent games had caused this individual to go over the edge.
Ellie carefully looked at her phone once again. She began jotting down names from the list that Adam had sent her the previous evening. She needed to run some background checks on those people and see if any one of them might be capable of murder if their romantic attempts were thwarted. It was frightening to think that someone could go from drugging a potential date just because she played hard to get to murdering a potential rival. And yet that sort of thing happened far more often than people realized.
“What are you doing?” Caprico suddenly glared at Ellie as though she had just threatened to pull a weapon on him. “We’re not done talking.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you are. We’re just going in circles here. You have the information we gave you and now it’s time for you to go and do your job. End of story. As for me? I have work to do. You should try it. Shockingly enough, it does tend to get results.”
Caprico started to say something else, but Sellers grabbed him. “She’s right. We’re done here. Just chill out and let’s move along.”
Yeah. Move along. And hopefully stay well out of Ellie’s way in the process. At least until she accidentally solved their murder case for them just by doing her job.
Chapter Sixteen
Lunch date. Well, it wasn’t a lunch date. Not really. Yet Adam could not stop himself from wishing it was. What would it be like to have a normal life like that? A life where you met friends for drinks after work or you met a special someone for a dinner out or a quick lunch date at a cute deli somewhere just because you enjoyed seeing that one person during your day? Yes. Normal life. The sort of life that everyone else took for granted.
“Oh, hello again, Mr. Cathcart,” Ruby, the waitress, beamed at him. “Can I put you at that same booth again today, sir? We’ve got an incredible fried chicken plate on special for lunch today.”
“The booth is fine,” Adam said quickly. “But I’m meeting someone for lunch, so I think I’ll wait to order until she arrives.”
“Sounds good! Can I get you a glass of iced tea?” Ruby was still beaming when Adam took his seat and she put two menus on the table.
Adam wondered if her face ever got tired from the endless smiling. Maybe waitresses were sullen in their regular lives. Their smile muscles totally worn out after spending all day long with their lips stretched ear to ear.
“Tea would be great, Ruby. The unsweetened kind, please.” Adam nodded and tried to give her a smile in return. He always felt like he had to smile back, as if he needed to at least pretend to be welcomed by their attempts to make him feel welcome when in fact it was just a business transaction.
Adam was getting bitter. He stared out the window at the parking lot of the Ozark Star and at the line of stop and go traffic heading down the strip. He was starting to feel his age. Maybe that was just what happened when you crossed over from your thirties to your forties. In your thirties you felt hopeful. You were in your prime. The world was your oyster—insert stupid euphemism for life hopefulness here—and then forty hit and you started to feel a little tarnished.
A noise near the hostess stand drew Adam’s attention away from the window. He didn’t realize what was happening at first. Then when he did, he wished he wasn’t so tall so he could slide down in the booth to hide under the table.
“Don’t you tell me what to do!” A woman’s shrill voice alerted the entire restaurant to the presence of an unhappy customer. “He’s right there. If I want to talk to him, I will!”
Adam grimaced as he watched Rhiannon Mounds stomp her way towards him. She looked a little worse for wear. Her enormous tent of a sundress was covered in lurid tropical flowers and her flip flops were making a horrendous smacking noise with each enthusiastic step she took in his direction. Her hair was frizzed out in the humid air and seemed to be sticking out at all angles. Her makeup had probably been pristine when she’d left the house that morning but had melted a little bit since then. No. More than a little bit. Her foundation was caking and flaking off into a glittery trail.
He started to stand when Rhiannon approached, but that made no difference to Mama Bear. She plopped down in the booth and shoved her body into the narrow opening with enough force to shove the table violently in Adam’s direction.
Not only was the table smashed against Adam’s gut, but the salt and pepper shakers, bottles of ketchup and mustard, and the little ceramic container of prepackaged jams and jellies flopped over and began to roll around too. Some of them escaped and hit the booth before falling onto the floor.
“Good morning, Rhiannon,” Adam said, trying to remain calm.
Then Ruby appeared from thin air. “Well now, what can I get you to drink ma’am?”
“Give me a sweet tea and make it snappy!” Rhiannon barked.
Ruby raised her penciled-on eyebrows. “All righty then. Mr. Cathcart, did you want to order?”
“What? No!” Adam gave Ruby what was very likely a panicked look. “This is not the person I was waiting for.”
“Oh. Right.” Ruby chewed her full upper lip for a brief moment before disappearing and reappearing seconds later with a sweet tea that she deposited in front of Rhiannon.
Adam wanted to groan out loud. This was not cool. Not at all. Rhiannon was sucking down sweet tea like she needed an IV of the stuff dripping directly into her veins. “Rhiannon, I’m here for a meeting. Can you please excuse yourself or do I have to call someone and have it done? I believe you’ve been told multiple times by M
r. Lightman not to make a scene in his restaurants. He’s no longer giving you carte blanche to order what you want. That was a contractual bit of nonsense that got left out of this last draft.”
“Because you ain’t doing your job!” Rhiannon fired back at Adam. “That’s why I lost my meal ticket! I should eat free when my daughter is the one bringing in all the business!”
Adam sighed. They had been over this many, many times. “Your daughter is a grown woman, Rhiannon. She’s not a child anymore. Her career is her own. It doesn’t belong to you. And I’m terribly sorry to have to keep telling you this, but you’re only hurting your daughter with your demands.”
“So, you say,” Rhiannon snarled. Then she smacked the table so hard with the palm of her hand that the rest of what was left of the condiment collection went flying. “Truth is that you’re trying to kill my child!”
“Ma’am, that is a preposterous lie.” Adam wasn’t even going to entertain this nonsense. “You need to leave, Rhiannon. I refuse to sit here and listen to this ridiculousness any longer. You know good and well that it isn’t true. Kari Jo is just fine. She was brought home last night by the security crew that I hired to look after her interests. They are taking a careful look at suspects in this stalker case and if you don’t watch yourself, you’re going to wind up as the number one suspect.”
Adam watched that suggestion sink into Rhiannon’s thick brain. She wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but she certainly understood when she was threatened. She sputtered for a moment, and looked confused. Then she opened her mouth and managed to make it all worse.
“Why would I hurt my baby? She’s got a brand new contract about to be signed. You’re the one with the motive!” Rhiannon insisted. “She’s going to cut you out completely. You won’t get one penny from that new manager!”
Adam pursed his lips. There was absolutely no point in reminding Rhiannon Mounds that Adam had never meant to be the manager to take Kari Jo to the heights of Nashville’s country stardom heights. Even though Adam had discussed this at length with the woman when he had first signed her seventeen-year-old daughter with the bad attitude and zero business sense to a representation contract. The problem was she could never see anything from a point of view that wasn’t hers. She would never give up Kari Jo’s millions. Or the millions she thought Kari Jo would make. So, how could Adam be willing to do something like that? It just didn’t compute.
“Tell me, Rhiannon,” Adam said in a very calm and focused voice. He swirled his unsweetened tea around in his glass and took a sip. “Who is this amazing manager that your daughter is about to sign with? And you do realize there is a huge financial penalty that will have to be paid to Harvey Lightman if she goes forward with that.”
“By you maybe,” Rhiannon said flippantly. “That DJ kid said we don’t got to pay shit for stuff you promised.”
Adam covered his hands with his face. “Things that I promised? Really? Rhiannon, are you honestly that silly that you think I signed some contract with Harvey Lightman for Kari Jo? Why would Lightman want to sign me? I’m just the middle man. I’m the one negotiating. I get a percentage, sure, but I’m not the one who is held to the penalties if Kari Jo doesn’t perform for the next four months at the Ozark Star! That’s Kari Jo. And believe me, Lightman will sue those colored locks right out of her hair.”
Rhiannon looked confused. “Then why did the DJ boy say that?”
“Because he thinks you don’t know any better?” Adam knew as soon as the words were out that he shouldn’t have said them.
Rhiannon bolted to her feet. “You’re a liar, Mr. Cathcart! Nothing but a no good, dirty damned liar! We’re going to sign with that DJ boy and he’s going to make you pay!”
Interesting. Adam pursed his lips. Did that mean they had to cross Rhiannon off the list of potential suspects for who had sent Kari Jo the threatening letters? Except, that was only a workable theory if you assumed the letter creator and the murderer were the same person. What if they were actually looking for two sickos?
Adam pressed his lips into a line. “Why did you send your daughter those letters?”
“What?” Rhiannon’s eyebrows jiggled and she looked as though she wanted to get up and leave. No. Strike that. She was trying to get up and leave but she was stuck beneath the table. “I don’t know what you’re blustering about, mister! I’m going to call that DJ boy back and he’ll tell you we don’t know nothing about no stalker letters.”
“You do too know,” Adam snapped. He grabbed the table and pulled it closer to his abdomen to let her out of the booth. “You’re the one who made those letters. Didn’t you? Admit it!”
“I didn’t!” Rhiannon shrieked. “I didn’t do nothing and you can’t prove that I did!”
“The DJ boy is dead, by the way.” Adam watched her face carefully. There was absolutely no chance she had known that prior. Rhiannon’s shock and dismay were as real as the crocodile tears that streamed down her cheeks the next moment.
“What?” she blubbered. “That’s not possible! He can’t be dead!”
Rhiannon’s face scrunched up and she looked as though she was heartbroken. She began to cry in earnest, big fat tears making tracks in her already patchy makeup. Adam sighed. Sometimes he wished it was possible to just forget this part of his life. At least he could be reasonably certain that Rhiannon wasn’t the murderer. Although, she still topped his list as the sender of those notes.
“The police want to know who sent Kari Jo those notes,” Adam continued, wondering how far he was willing to push this. “They want to know so they can find the murderer. They think you did both things, Rhiannon. If you sent those notes, you had better come clean about it so the cops don’t start chasing you down as a murderer.”
Adam knew his line of reasoning didn’t even work. Not really. But for someone like Rhiannon, who wasn’t exactly savvy about such things and mistrustful of police and the law in general, it might make a dent.
“I didn’t do it!” Rhiannon wailed. Her cries were so loud that the other diners in the restaurant were turning to stare. “I didn’t send them letters! I wouldn’t know how to do that kind of thing!”
Odd, but she actually had a point. Rhiannon probably wouldn’t have been bright enough to cut pieces out of a magazine to make the letters. She would have just written out a note in block print and stuffed it into an envelope. And she would have sent it because Rhiannon had been selling the free tickets she got to her daughter’s show for years now. Adam could not recall the last time Rhiannon had actually seen a Kari Jo Mounds show.
“You need to get up and leave the restaurant, Rhiannon,” Adam told her quietly. “Do it now. Please? I think you should go home and you should call your daughter and the two of you should reread that contract that Kari Jo signed with Harvey Lightman to finish the last six months of work at the Star. Because when you break that contract with Harvey Lightman, I’m not going to be the one to pay the price.”
Rhiannon was already stumbling toward the restaurant’s entrance. She seemed to have forgotten pretty much everything but the necessity of saving her own rather large ass. As she stumbled out the front doors, she nearly plowed over Ellie on her way through. Not that Rhiannon noticed. Thankfully, Ellie managed to step out of the way. Then she walked in with a quizzical expression on her face and immediately spotted Adam.
He wasn’t sure what to feel right then. Relief maybe? He waved to Ellie and Ruby once again appeared from nowhere. The waitress’s smile looked a little brittle this time.
“Hello, Ruby,” Ellie said as she took a seat on the bench that Rhiannon Mounds had so recently vacated. “Can I get an unsweetened tea please?” Ellie picked up Rhiannon’s empty glass. “And here you go. We won’t be needing this. We’re going to have a nice, quiet, enjoyable lunch.”
“Well that’s a relief!” Ruby gushed. “Did you see our special on your way in?”
“Yes!” Ellie said with no false amount of excitement. “And I would love to try the fr
ied chicken plate. It sounds yummy!”
“Bring me the same,” Adam said quickly. “And thank you, Ruby.”
Ruby bounced off with a rather relieved expression on her face. That left Adam to smile at Ellie. They both sat there for a moment or two. Adam had a case beside him on the seat with a folder and some information in it. He saw that Ellie had a file folder with her as well. They obviously had a lot to do during this working lunch. But for now, Adam was really just happy to sit and stare at her as he basked in the peace and quiet.
Chapter Seventeen
Ellie almost hated to broach the topic of Rhiannon Mounds’ crazy outburst, but then that was supposed to be the real reason Ellie was there at the Ozark Star to have lunch with Adam Cathcart—to talk about the Kari Jo Mounds case. And it seemed rather significant that Kari Jo’s mother had just bolted from the restaurant crying like a baby.
Yet Ellie loathed to disturb the soft and rather relaxed atmosphere that she and Adam were both enjoying as they used bits of fresh buttered rolls to mop up the thick white gravy on their plates.
“I’m going to have to do at least a million crunches in order to work off this fried chicken,” Ellie moaned as she licked her fork clean. “The mashed potatoes are to die for.”
Adam nodded. “That’s for sure. I’ll have to tell Ruby to send my compliments to the cook. No doubt it’s a southern guy or gal. I think they have more than one master chef back there.”
“In a place that’s practically open seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, I imagine you would need plenty of head chefs.” Ellie looked around at the cozy interior of the Star. “I bet they do a bang up Thanksgiving buffet. I’ll have to put this on my list for the fall. Sometimes this town gets so crazy crowded at Thanksgiving and Christmas it makes me want to hide out until after New Year’s.”
Adam laughed. “Yes. I think that was a bit of a surprise to me when I moved here. I’d come to visit my grandparents during the holidays, of course, but I had never actually been in Branson during a holiday and as an adult you start to realize there are a lot of these people who are seeing holiday shows and booking buffet dinners for their holiday meals instead of going to their own family dinners.”
Rock Wolf Investigations: Boxset Page 36
