I was happy to see the only person on the other end of the door was Junior. Marian was trailing behind him, I realized after a second. I had no idea what they could want, but they were a thousand times more welcome than Connie or any of the Vile Crowes.
Junior doffed his cowboy hat at me. "Morning, Helen."
I nodded and stood aside to let them in.
Aodhagan bounded down the stairs. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"
"Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm fixing to meet with Vi Crowe. She's putting an offer in on the old McCrary Field this morning. I thought you might like to know."
I was surprised by that knowledge. Not that she was meeting with Junior. That made sense, as he was the only real estate agent for miles around. It surprised me that they hadn't changed their mind about the factory in Birdwell or simply decided to head home and grieve, taking care of the business side later. It just drove home how little this group ostensibly cared for the small appliance king of Texas. That was some cold behavior.
Aodhagan's eyebrows drew together. "They're conducting business? Today?"
Junior shrugged. "I guess they aren't real broke up."
"She said it's what he would have wanted," Marian added.
I played the pronoun game for a few seconds, guessing that she was Vi and he was Carl. For all I knew, Vi was right, since from Carl's own mouth, the only beautiful thing in the world was small appliances. But it really did seem like it wasn't the time.
Aodhagan and Junior discussed the specifics of the topography of that location, and I took a moment to be glad that they were building the factory anyway. There were a lot of out-of-work Birdwellians who could use those jobs. Then I took another moment to wonder what sort of bizarre creature I was becoming. I couldn't picture anyone from my exclusive boarding school worrying about a bunch of down on their luck ranchers. I couldn't picture myself doing the same even last year. Penny would likely have been pleased to know the kind of influence she was having on me, even from the grave.
The doorbell rang again. So it was going to be that kind of day. This was why I didn't like staying at Aodhagan's house. People came to my house less, though they still showed up at odd times and for odd reasons. I answered again, and it was Dwight Dooley, actually wearing his uniform, which suggested he was likely here for an official reason.
I didn't ask for it. I just stood aside and waved him in. Aodhagan finished up with Junior, and he and Marian left, leaving space for Aodhagan and me to see what horrible thing Dwight wanted. At least he didn't have his deputies with him, or I would have been worried.
Dwight took off his hat, which also didn't make me feel good. That suggested a certain seriousness. "The staties want to come and talk with you, Aodhagan."
Aodhagan nodded. "I assumed it was coming. No worries, Dwight. Thanks for giving me the heads-up."
Dwight nodded. "I'm staying, too."
I stared at him. "You can't actually think Aodhagan did this."
Dwight's pinched face set me straight immediately. "Hell, no. But Aodhagan deserves to have someone who cares here anyhow."
I nodded. Rare affection for him welling inside me. "Good for you, Dwight."
He seemed as confused as I was by the moment of bonding we were ostensibly experiencing. We made slight gestures at one another and then moved away, lest we be forced to somehow interact on a deeper level. He shook his head and reached into his pocket, fishing out something silver and handing it to Aodhagan. In Aodhagan's palm, I could see what it was. A badge.
Aodhagan looked at Dwight curiously, and I felt pretty much the same. We all knew that Aodhagan wasn't a cop in any actual sense of the word. He was a volunteer that the others in Birdwell viewed as having some level of authority, but he didn't actually have any. We all knew it, I realized, but they didn't. The Crowe crew didn't know Aodhagan wasn't actually a cop and that Dwight had just handed Aodhagan a Tallatahola County badge. I nodded at Dwight, approving again of him for the second time in just a couple of minutes. It was uncomfortable.
I was still trying to shake the feeling when the doorbell rang again. It was, not surprising, Connie and her goons. This time Connie was dressed in a brown tweed suit, and I still couldn't figure out why she was doing the questioning and not an actual detective. Were this case ever taken to trial, it seemed like something the defense could really grab on to.
"Well, hello there," she chirped, setting my teeth on edge immediately. "We'd just like to ask you a few questions." She glanced at me. "Oh, look. And it's you too. No wonder you weren't at your house when I went there this morning to question that lot."
I had gotten better at controlling my mouth in the last many months in Birdwell, but I still couldn't control my face. I had no doubt that my expression didn't leave a lot to the imagination about what I thought of her and questioning, whether I was there or not. But she was the person the state police had sent, so we had to work with her, given the circumstances.
"We thought it was safer for her to be here," Aodhagan explained tolerantly. I wasn't so patiently disposed.
"Did you, now?" Connie made the question sound like we were making the whole thing up.
Aodhagan nodded, and I just stared at her because I couldn't think of a single appropriate and not rude answer. While I might have been willing to make sarcastic comments and be aggressive when I was the murder suspect, I wasn't willing to do the same when the lash back would come at Aodhagan instead.
"Can we be interviewed together?" Aodhagan requested, surprising me and ostensibly Connie too, judging from her face. I wasn't sure exactly what was unusual about Aodhagan's request, but I wasn't against it. Especially if I could get a feel for what the state police felt they had against Aodhagan here.
Connie shrugged delicately. "I suppose I don't see why not. You aren't each other's alibi. You've flat out said you don't know where the other was. Come on, then, where's a nice cozy place for us to sit?"
Aodhagan ran a hand through his hair, which was getting stupid curly in the high humidity of the heavy spring rains. "I have a living room through here."
Connie followed primly, with Thing One and Two close behind.
I grabbed Dwight's arm. "Listen, what's the deal with Connie B.? Why is she doing the interviewing? I mean, she's not even a detective. What on earth is going on here? What if this case ever goes to trial? I mean, it's not particularly legit."
Dwight shrugged. "Lewis and Hindon are detectives."
It took me forever to figure out what he was talking about until I finally realized that Lewis and Hindon were likely Thing One and Thing Two. Of course, I still didn't know which was which, so it didn't help me too terribly much. "But still," I whispered.
"Yeah, I guess she's got a reputation for getting people to talk," Dwight said with another shrug. "They usually only send her in for the big cases. I guess the staties are worried about figuring out who killed Carl. He probably gives lots of money to someone who cares. Like a mayor of Dallas or something."
I wasn't comforted by that, or sure how Connie got people to admit their guilt, or even how much she actually cared about their legitimate responsibility for the crime in question. I had met cops in my career as a true crime writer who were more concerned about their status and reputation as a lawmen than they ever were about valid culpability. I could only hope that Connie wasn't one of those cops and she wanted to find out the truth and not just use Aodhagan to pad her reputation for solving hard cases.
CHAPTER SIX
Dwight and I followed the cops into the living room, taking the two free wing chairs around the fireplace. Connie was sitting in the middle of the couch with her lackeys on either side. Aodhagan was sitting on a padded ottoman in front of the fireplace that still smelled pleasantly like burned wood from the night before. Connie and crew were stuck staring at the three paintings of ducks that Aodhagan kept on his mantle. We were stuck staring at Connie and crew.
Connie sat like a lady, with her hands in her lap and her legs crossed
at the ankle. My mother would have loved her. Which seemed fitting since my mother didn't like me and I didn't like Connie. It seemed like some kind of weirdly appropriate circle of hatred.
"Now then." Connie smiled. "Let's talk about yesterday. Can you tell me everything you were doing during the day yesterday, Mr. MacFarley?" She cocked her head. "Can I call you Aodhagan?"
Aodhagan's eyebrows pulled slightly together, but he didn't deny her, only nodding slightly. "I don't remember everything I did, to be honest. The day was utter chaos, and I wasn't keeping a running list of all my tasks. I mean, I'm the mayor. I had to give a speech and judge some goats, help out in the first aid tent, and pitch in with a thousand little things. I honestly don't even remember the order most of that happened in."
"What time was the speech?" she asked.
Aodhagan shook his head. "I have no idea. Noon? Eleven? One? I couldn't even begin to guess. There has to have been someone at the fest who took video. Or enough people that we can piece together some approximation of when all the big events happened at least. That's the best solution I can think of at the moment."
Connie turned her eyes to me and then to Dooley. "Can either of you remember what time that this speech occurred?"
I shrugged. I couldn't even figure out why she was fixated on that single event, let alone the answer to her question. "Exactly what time does your autopsy suggest Carl died?" I requested, wondering if she was trying to alibi Aodhagan through his speech.
"Probably shortly before he was found."
I cocked my head. "How shortly?"
She met my gaze directly, and I liked her a little bit more. "Very shortly."
Aodhagan and I met gazes. Actually, it was possible that I was his alibi after all. "Less than fifteen minutes before?"
She shook her head. "Maybe thirty minutes. Where were you thirty minutes before the body was found, Helen?"
Her saying my name gave me an unpleasant jolt. "I was talking to Cindy Lou. She's the waitress at the Home Cooking Café. She was running the kissing booth. She wanted me to step in for her so she could judge some geriatric pageant."
One of the Things snorted. I realized he thought I was making some sort of bizarre joke. Boy, he really didn't know Birdwell, did he?
"I'm being literal. It was, like, the Miss Octogenarian Pageant or something."
The other one restrained a laugh now.
"Did you step in for her?" Connie requested, pinning me with her laser sharp gaze. Why did she ask every question like it was the most important query ever made?
"Yeah." I shrugged. "It was just a charity thing."
"And people saw you there?"
I nodded. Unfortunately, people had definitely seen me there. Aodhagan and me sucking face had attracted a great deal of unwanted attention. But that was only about fifteen minutes before we found Carl's body, so it still wasn't an alibi. If only. Then that whole mess would have at least gotten Aodhagan off the hook.
She turned to Aodhagan as if she could read my mind. "And what about you? Where were you thirty minutes before you found the body?"
"I can tell you where I was fifteen minutes before, but I'm not sure before that. I think I was in the first aid tent, but I might not have been. I might have been talking to one of the Crowes. Not Carl, obviously. But maybe Vi or something."
Connie smiled slightly. "Would you say you and Vi are friends?"
"I would not. I already told you, I haven't seen her or spoken to her in twenty years before yesterday. I am, however, keenly interested in the possibility of their factory. I heard that there's some indication they plan to continue with the build. That's a real relief—I thought they wouldn't."
"Would you say you had a reason to want Carl Crowe dead?" she asked sweetly. I couldn't understand why she was so successful as an interviewer when she asked questions like that. Who would say yes?
"Actually, I'd say I had a reason not to want Carl Crowe dead. The news of the factory was the best this town has had in decades. I would never take a chance that they wouldn't continue building it. That's dozens upon dozens of jobs. Maybe hundreds if we get lucky. Another opportunity like this might not come along forever, and we need it desperately. I would have crowned Carl king of this place if he'd come through with the factory."
Connie must have been able to sense the sincerity in Aodhagan's statement. It wasn't hard. It was in every word, and it didn't take much to see the level of economic despair that Birdwell was in. A factory could change everything, which Connie must have known even without being a resident. It was obvious in every craggy face staring at the Crowes like they were divine. Even if I didn't know Aodhagan well, I would believe that he wouldn't kill a man who offered anything legitimate to Birdwell.
"And what about fifteen minutes before. You said you knew where you were then?"
Aodhagan glanced at me, licking his lips. I could tell he was evaluating what to say. Then again, there likely wasn't much of a reason to try to keep Connie from knowing what had happened. It was likely all over Birdwell by now, and it was entirely possible that it was bigger news than the murder.
"I was with Helen."
She turned her gaze to me, cocking her head. "Really? But I thought you were manning a, what was it? A kissing booth?"
I nodded. "Yeah. A kissing booth." I was getting a little warm just thinking about it.
She turned back to Aodhagan. "I see. You were working the kissing booth as well?"
He laughed, though I wasn't sure what was funny. Gauging off the way that man kissed, he easily could have charged. "No. I was a customer."
Connie's eyebrows rose. "Oh, yes, I see. So that's why you were both aware of where the other was for fifteen minutes before the body was found. That's a lot of kissing."
Aodhagan grinned, dimples flashing. "I made a big donation."
I was certain my face was red, and I legitimately couldn't remember the last time I'd blushed. "It was a little more…enthusiastic than the booth called for. There was…a large crowd. You can ask around."
She pinned me with an intense gaze. "Did he seem out of breath or uncomfortable when you were kissing?"
Aodhagan barked out a laugh that was wholly out of place, and I snorted too before slapping my hand over my mouth. "No more out of breath than one might expect given the events at hand," I murmured.
"I assure you I was very uncomfortable," Aodhagan said. "But it had nothing to do with Carl Crowe."
I could tell that she was mulling over the words. Maybe admitting one of the most awkward moments of my life made Aodhagan look less guilty, in which case, it was worth it. "He wasn't unduly uncomfortable in any way when he got to the booth," I told her. "He didn't appear upset or excited at all. He spoke to James Crowe, who was also in line at the kissing booth. He was just his normal self. There was nothing odd about his behavior or appearance."
Connie appeared to mull over the words, while Lewis and Hindon, whichever was which, sat in silence. My mind wandered, and I had to wonder how they felt about playing second fiddle to Connie, whose job was actually to look at dead bodies. Maybe they just didn't care. If it were me, though, I'd be continually annoyed. But neither seemed even remotely interested in what Connie was doing. Pretty much ever, but especially at the moment.
Abruptly, Connie stood. So did the rest of us, as if by reflex. Connie smiled widely. "Well, then. I sure thank you for talking to me." She headed for the door without any word on if she'd be back or anything else. She even left her huge bag, which Thing Two grabbed for her on the way out the door. Once they were gone, Dwight, Aodhagan, and I were left in silence.
I glanced out the window. "Hey, can you text Junior and see if the Crowes and their cohorts are all there with him? If they are, we can have him keep them away for a bit and go look around my house for anything that seems suspicious."
Dwight's lips pressed. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
Aodhagan pointed at him. "Good call."
Aodhagan busied himself with
texting Junior, and Dwight left, for the purposes, I assumed, of plausible deniability if the Crowes found us going through their crap and they complained. Once Aodhagan established that the whole crew was gone and Junior would keep them away until we gave him a signal, we headed out to his car—mine was still at my house—and sped the two minutes back to my place. Because, honestly, who was going to pull us over?
As anticipated, it was empty, but of course I had a key. Just inside the door, my shoulders slumped when I saw the mess the Crowe crew was making of my house. There was stuff everywhere, and apparently the Crowes didn't believe in doing the dishes. Maybe they didn't know how to work a dishwasher. Not that I had much room to talk. It took me years to figure out how to do laundry. I was going to have to hire someone after they were gone…or do it myself, but I didn't have that kind of time, even in Birdwell. Or maybe I just didn't have the concentration. Either way, I wasn't going to do it myself.
Aodhagan curled his lip, which didn't surprise me. His house always looked like no one lived there, no matter what was going on. It looked like a model home for some development that specialized in country living. A person could perform surgery on his kitchen floor. I was somewhere in between Aodhagan and the Crowes. But if I couldn't be bothered to clean up after myself, I would at least bother to hire someone who would. Which I suspected the Crowes did in their normal living situation. Of course, in their normal situation they hadn't just lost a father, boss, and husband, so maybe I needed to cut them a little slack and assume they were grieving, though there had been no indication of it except maybe in Daisy and Faith while they'd been at Aodhagan's place.
I wasn't sure if Aodhagan had been around when I'd received the benefits of Daisy's introductions, so I decided to fill him in. I pointed around as I spoke.
"Glen is in my office. He's the head of accounting. The two boys are in the loft. They belong to Vi and Carl. James and Jackson are there in the first spare room. James belongs to Carl and whoever he was married to before. Jackson is the head of advertising. Robert and Leslie are in the spare behind the kitchen. Robert is Carl's oldest son. Vi and Carl were right next to me, and Faith and Daisy are in the spare over there next to my bedroom. Faith is the youngest of Carl's older children. Daisy is the head of Public Relations."
All My Exes Live in Texas Page 8
