A Salt and Battery

by Liliana Hart

  Hank smiled, and Martha shrunk back. And then he put his badge on the table so Martha could see.

  “We can try this again, since you might be hard of hearing,” Hank said. “Right now, you’re here as a courtesy and we need to take a statement. But if you want to bring attorneys into it maybe that means you have something to hide. Maybe you’re responsible for Rowdy’s death.” Hank’s smile was hard and unfriendly. “You know, an interesting fact that your attorneys can confirm is that if we suspect you had something to do with this crime, we can arrest you and hold you in jail for seventy-two hours. You ever been in jail, Martha?”

  Martha’s eyes narrowed at Hank, and Agatha got to see the real Martha for the first time. There was a tiger under that Southern lady exterior, and she didn’t like being crossed. And then almost as if a switch had been flipped her face cleared and the saccharine-sweet smile reappeared.

  “Now, honey,” Martha said. “Don’t get your tighty-whities in a wad. We’re all under a lot of pressure here. And to tell you the truth…” She pursed her lips and tears came to her eyes. “I’m more upset by this than I let on. I’m devastated by Rowdy’s murder, and I guess I was just trying to be strong for my audience. I got very close to Rowdy during last season, so the reality of him being gone is like a punch in the gut.”

  “Did you and Rowdy have a personal relationship?” Hank asked.

  Two spots of color came to Martha’s cheeks and she looked appalled. “Of course not. I’m a married woman. How dare you suggest such a thing.”

  “We have to ask,” Hank said, pushing the tissue box toward her. “Agatha and I are going to step out a moment. Take a minute or two to gather your composure.”

  Agatha watched Hank pocket Rowdy’s cell phone, and she saw Martha’s eyes were drawn to it. Maybe she did have something to hide.

  Once in the hallway Hank moved them down to the opposite end. “Wow,” he said.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Agatha said, frowning. “It’s like she was practicing emotions for a movie role. Do you think they were lovers?”

  “I don’t know,” Hank said. “When she passed out in the ballroom it seemed like it was more to do with the dead body in general than because of who it was. You’d think if they had an intimate connection she wouldn’t be so coldhearted as to immediately go onto social media.”

  “Who knows what she’s capable of anymore. It’s certainly opened my eyes,” Agatha said.

  “Hey,” Coil called out. “No hanky-panky in the hallway.”

  Agatha wrapped her arm around Hank’s waist and drew him closer, grinning at Coil. “Or what?”

  Coil was dressed like he usually was—in old Wranglers and a khaki button-down shirt with Bell County Sheriff’s Office embroidered over the pocket. His badge was pinned to his shirt, and his weapon was in full view. Coil was a good-looking guy, like a more rugged Brad Pitt, and he never had any trouble getting votes from women. He habitually wore a white Stetson hat, but he held it in his hand since he was indoors.

  Coil rolled his eyes at her taunt. “All right, all right. Save it for the honeymoon. What do you got for me?”

  “We just talked to Martha Magee,” Hank said. “She’s composing herself in the room. She and the victim got to know each other well last year on the show, but she denies a sexual relationship.”

  “You believe her?” Coil asked.

  “I never believe anyone all the way,” Hank said, shrugging. “People lie.”

  Coil grunted and Agatha knew both men were in complete agreement. She’d known enough cops in her career to understand the shared sentiment. They tended to assume the worst in people so they couldn’t be surprised by anything. It was a pretty cynical way to live in her opinion, but she could understand it once you started getting burned too often.

  “What about the cell phone?” Coil asked.

  Hank took it out of his pocket and passed the bag over to Coil. “Agatha found the good stuff.”

  Agatha reached over and brought the screen to life, bringing up the text messages. “We need to find out who this number belongs to. Whoever Rowdy was arguing with made some pretty explicit threats for stealing from him.”

  “What’d he steal?” Coil asked.

  “We don’t know. The messages never said. But there was money involved, and it doesn’t take many texts before things deteriorate.”

  “I’ll have Springer run a reverse trace on the number.”

  Coil adjusted his old Stetson and nodded to a group of golfers as they passed by. “Rodriguez is still with the medical examiner,” Coil said. “And James is back at the office processing the bat—”

  “Rolling pin,” Agatha interrupted.

  “Uh-huh,” Coil said. “Springer will be processing photos and I’ll pass the cell phone on to him so we can get an identification on the mystery texter.”

  “We’ve given her enough time to figure out what part she’s going to play next,” Hank said, nodding toward the room where Martha waited.

  “Good luck,” Coil said, waving as he made his way back down the hall toward the lobby and back to Martha. Agatha took a quick peek at Martha’s social media accounts and saw Martha had taken the time to update her followers that she was working with the police on the murder investigation and to stay tuned for updates.

  Martha stood to greet them as they entered. She looked much more at ease than she had before they’d excused themselves.

  “Was Rowdy at odds with anyone from last season?” Hank asked, cutting right to the chase. “Any enemies?”

  “Not that I know of,” Martha said. “At least not any serious ones. There was tension, of course. It is a competition. The contestants became family to me, especially the ones who made it to the later rounds. And I have a soft spot for people like Rowdy—those who came from nothing but have worked hard their whole lives. But sometimes broken people can’t be fixed.”

  “How was he broken?” Hank asked.

  “Oh, you know,” Martha said, waving her hand dismissively. “He’d had his issues with drugs and alcohol. In and out of rehab. Actually, he’d just left rehab before we started filming the first season. Unfortunately, the show didn’t help his problems any. All the contestants live in a house together, and off camera it can develop into a frat house environment if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure,” Agatha said, nodding sympathetically.

  “Rowdy wasn’t able to hold it together for long before he relapsed,” Martha continued. “I wanted him off the show and back into rehab but the producers overruled me and said his erratic behavior added spice to the competition. Money is always going to trump over the well-being of people to the backers of the show. We were number one in the ratings for our time slot, and they moved us to the most coveted spot in television for this season. They’re set to make a fortune.”

  “And Rowdy’s death?” Agatha asked.

  “Will be ratings gold,” Martha said.

  “Do you think someone could’ve killed him over drugs?” Hank asked.

  Martha twirled her hair around her index finger, and it was then Agatha realized Hank was right. Martha was way older than thirty. Botox and plastic surgery couldn’t hide everything. Eventually time stamped itself across your face, no matter how hard you tried to outrun it.

  “You know,” she said, the look in her eyes calculating. “I seem to recall Rowdy had a friend come around the set a couple of times, but he wasn’t allowed back. He looked like a shady character, like a drug dealer or something, but since he wasn’t allowed around the cast and crew Rowdy would go out of the studio to meet him. They even got into an argument one time. It was terrible.”

  “I thought he wasn’t allowed on set,” Hank said. “How did you see them argue?”

  “It was before he got kicked off set,” Martha said. “In fact, I think it was the reason he did get kicked off. They had an awful screaming match.”

  “Could you describe the man?” Hank asked.

  “White,” Martha sai
d. “Cheap clothes. Long hair. I didn’t get a close-up look. He wasn’t someone I’d associate with though.”

  “That’s okay,” Hank said. “It’s always best to steer clear of danger.”

  “That’s what my mama always used to say,” she agreed.

  “Have you seen Rowdy since you checked in at the hotel? Or anyone else on the show?”

  “I’ve been tied up since I arrived with book signings and public appearances,” she said. “Most of the cast isn’t even supposed to arrive until next week. They’re getting everything prepped right now and they were going to start shooting the scenes with Rowdy in his new kitchen.”

  Hank’s cell phone buzzed and he took a quick look at the screen and then showed Agatha, careful not to make it visible to Martha.

  The message was from Coil.

  We’ve got news. Get back to the office ASAP.

  Chapter Five

  Hank opened the door to the Bell County Sheriff’s Office, and waited until Agatha walked in first before following behind her. He grabbed two bottles of water from a cabinet and handed one to Agatha before they both settled into seats in the small lobby area to wait on Coil and Rodriguez to return from the coroner’s office.

  “It’s a good probability it’s a drug deal gone wrong,” Agatha said. “We need to get an identity on Rowdy’s friend.”

  “More likely we need to get a corroborating witness to verify what Martha said was true,” Hank said. “She’s liking the attention a little too much, and there was just something that seemed off about her story. I’m not sure I’m buying it.”

  “You think she’s lying?” Agatha asked, sitting up in the chair.

  Hank shrugged. “Too soon to tell. We’ve got a long way to go on this thing if Coil comes back and confirms homicide. But you saw what I did at that hotel today. It’s complete chaos. There are workers and crew all over the place. There’s also security. The guy standing in front of the ballroom door was obvious, but I saw several plainclothes security guys walking around the hotel. If that’s the norm do you really think they’d let a guy who looked like a troublemaker or a drug dealer get anywhere close to one of their contestants?”

  “Good point,” Agatha said.

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Hank said, winking.

  “Good grief, get a room,” Coil said, coming in from the back with Rodriguez. “Every time I see you two you’re making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

  Rodriguez snickered, and Hank felt the heat in his cheeks. He’d never been big on public displays of affection or showing much affection in general, but he knew Agatha was a touchy-feely person and he wanted to make the effort for her.

  “Don’t be jealous,” Agatha told Coil. “You need a hug? Hank, go give Coil a hug.”

  “Shut up,” Coil said, laughing. “Don’t you touch me.”

  Hank was grinning when he stood and helped Agatha to her feet.

  “Y’all come on back to the conference room,” Coil said.

  They followed Coil and Rodriguez into the small conference room and sat in the squeaky rolling chairs that had needed to be replaced a decade ago.

  “Show us what you got,” Hank said.

  “Medical examiner ruled it homicide,” Coil said. “Cause of death was blunt-force trauma, and the ME said the rolling pin could definitely be the murder weapon. We don’t have the results back yet to see if the blood on the rolling pin matches the victim’s, but it seems like a pretty big coincidence. James was able to lift several very identifiable latent fingerprints from the rolling pin, and when he entered them into the AFIS network we immediately got a hit.”

  “Drug dealer,” Agatha said, elbowing Hank.

  “Huh?” Coil asked.

  “Martha told us that Rowdy was an addict and had been in and out of rehab, and she said there was a guy that used to hang around last season and he was a shady character. And a drug dealer’s prints would be in the system, right?”

  “Not a bad assumption,” Coil said. “But AFIS doesn’t only have criminals in the database. It also has prints from the DMV or anyone who works for the government. You’re about to see why I wanted y’all back here ASAP.”

  Coil opened a manila envelope and upended a picture and the medical examiner’s report, and then he tossed the picture on the table so everyone could see who the prints belonged to.

  “No way,” Agatha said, coming to her feet. Her mouth hung open in surprise, and Hank couldn’t recall ever seeing her struck speechless.

  “Martha Magee,” Coil said.

  Hank sighed. “The media is going to be all over this. How do you want to play it?”

  “As low key as possible,” Coil said. “I’m still debating whether to make an arrest versus bringing her in for formal questioning.”

  “Why the dilemma?” Agatha asked.

  “The substance on the rolling pin is blood, but we won’t have the results back as quick as we did the fingerprints. We definitely have enough to arrest her, but with this being high profile, we need to cross every T and dot every I.”

  “What about motive?” Agatha pressed. “She has no reason to kill Rowdy. She’s a successful woman, wealthy, she has a family. She’d lose everything.”

  Coil shrugged and said, “Crime of passion. This screams of a woman’s touch. If she and Rowdy had something going, and he tossed her aside, maybe she just lost her cool. She left her prints all over the murder weapon. That doesn’t exactly say premediated to me.”

  “If you’re not going to arrest her,” Hank said. “I’m not sure she’s going to come with us voluntarily. She’s no dummy. She was quick enough to threaten us with her attorneys earlier today.”

  “If we have to arrest her we will,” Coil said. “But let’s give her the option of not being splashed across the tabloids. The less media we have here the better. I want you and Agatha to work on her. She’ll feel more comfortable since you’ve already got a rapport. We’ll go in unmarked cars so as to not draw attention.”

  Agatha pulled the scrap of paper with Martha’s cell number on it from her pocket and compared it to the cell number Rowdy had been texting.

  “The number on Rowdy’s phone doesn’t match Martha’s cell number,” she said. “There are still a lot of loose ends with this case.”

  “The truth has a way of coming out,” Coil said. “If Martha didn’t do it, we’ll get to the bottom of it. But right now she’s our best lead.”

  Agatha’s gut tightened as Rodriguez drove through the security access gate of the resort. It wasn’t the idea of confronting a television star that had her roiling. If Martha was guilty then she deserved to go to jail. But Agatha couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  “You ready?” Rodriguez asked.

  Coil had decided that she and Rodriguez would make Martha more comfortable, and that they would feel like less of a threat.

  Agatha blew out a breath. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  Rodriguez parked her cruiser at the side entrance where non-guests could come and eat at the restaurant, and they made their way inside to the cozy sitting area off the lobby.

  “Here goes nothing,” Agatha said and dialed Martha’s number.

  “Hello?” Martha answered.

  “Hi Martha. It’s Agatha Harley with the Bell County Sheriff’s Department. I’m sorry to ask, but we’re going to need your help again with the investigation. You seem to have really good insight and instincts when it comes to people.”

  Agatha crossed her eyes at Rodriguez and made her grin.

  “That’s true,” Martha said. “But I’m a busy woman, and I don’t have time for this right now. I’m with the entire production team and we’re all swamped. I’m afraid it’s time for law enforcement to stand on their own two feet. That’s what the taxpayers are paying your salary for.”

  Agatha felt her patience slipping away. “I really must insist that you come down and talk to us. This is now an active murder investigation.”

  “I don’t
like your tone,” Martha said. “I’ve already told you I don’t have time. But I’m sure my lawyers will have all the time in the world for you. Give them a call.” And then she hung up the phone.

  “So much for giving her the chance to do this the easy way,” Agatha told Rodriguez.

  “She’s not coming down?” Rodriguez asked.

  “She said to call her lawyer.”

  Rodriguez gripped her police radio microphone and contacted Coil. She heard Coil give the okay to move ahead.

  “Coil and Hank are in the parking lot, and they’re coming in with the arrest warrant. We’re ready to rock and roll.”

  “Stubborn witch,” Agatha said. “She’s nothing like who she pretends to be on television.”

  “They never are,” Rodriguez said. “That’s why they call them actors.”

  They met Hank and Coil in the lobby, and Coil asked the manager where the production team for the show was currently located. Then they all made their way to the Jim Bowie Room where Agatha and Hank had been just a few hours before, discussing their wedding with Tabitha.

  “It’s not your fault, Aggie,” Hank said, squeezing her shoulder. “Martha could have done this the easy way. We tried to save her the embarrassment of what’s to come.”

  A security guard stood in front of the main doors that led into the Jim Bowie ballroom, and Coil flashed his badge.

  “Sorry, sir,” the guard said. “I can’t let anyone in while production is going on. I have to get authorization from the producer.”

  “Is Martha Magee in that room?” Coil asked.

  “Yeah, she’s been in there about half an hour.”

  “Then this is all the authorization you need,” Coil said, showing him the arrest warrant. “You don’t want to interfere in a murder investigation. That’s not going to end well for you.”

  “I’ll probably lose my job, but they don’t pay me enough to deal with this stuff.”

  The guard stepped aside and then swiped the hard-plastic card that hung around his neck over the security access panel. A green light flash and the door lock snicked open.