“Yes, and you were three,” she said smiling at Jamie. “I just had brothers at home and they were so rowdy. You were so much more fun, and cuter too. In fact, I bought a camera with some of my money. I have a lot of pictures of you, you and your mom. Would you like to see them?”
“I would love to see them,” Jamie said. “I have no pictures at all of my mother and none of me while I lived with her.” Jamie looked at Virgil. “Do we have any more questions for Penny?”
“Just one,” Virgil said. “What can you tell us about the phone conversation Katherine had before she left the last time. You said she was angry.”
“Oh, she was mad all right. She was practically screaming into the phone. I felt sorry for whoever was at the other end.”
“Do you remember anything specific she said?” Quint asked.
Penny looked at Jamie and then back to Quint. “I remember distinctly. She was extremely rude.” A pink flush tinted her cheeks. “My parents never used that kind of language.”
“We’re all adults,” Quint said. “It may be important. Go ahead, tell it exactly like you remember it.”
“She said: You SOB! Go ahead, tell him. He’ll only kill me but he’ll string you up by the balls and hang you out to dry, so don’t even bother threatening me with that shit anymore. I’m through jumping every time you snap your fat fucking fingers. That’s when I took Jamie into her room to try to calm her down.”
Haunting memories shivered up and down Jamie’s spine. She wasn’t certain if she was actually remembering, or reacting to Penny’s words.
Chapter Nineteen
In the back seat of the SUV, Jamie’s hands shook as she went through more than a dozen pictures Penny had given her. Most were of Jamie between the ages of three and five, some of Jamie with a very young Penny, but the most precious was the single photo of Jamie on her mother’s lap. She had no other pictures of her mother. If there were any, they’d either been lost or Buster had destroyed them.
Her mother had honey blond hair and full lips brought to life by fire engine red lipstick. She wore a sundress as blue as a summer sky, and smiled into the camera with amber eyes much like Jamie’s. Jamie wished she could remember the photo being taken.
Sentimental emotion swelled in her throat, and she blinked rapidly at the tears welling in her eyes. “She was so beautiful.”
Quint reached across her shoulders and gave a light squeeze. “Very beautiful. I can’t believe how much you look like her.”
Jamie held up a photo of herself, sitting in a bed of yellow daisies. “I remember when this was taken,” she said softly. “I loved their flower garden.”
She glanced toward the front seat where Virgil had his head bent forward reading his notes. She knew he wanted to talk about Penny and what they had learned there, but Jamie wasn’t ready. Penny’s last statement still disturbed her. That and the memory of her father’s hands, his fingers too short and thick to work adeptly with wrenches. If her mother had been talking to Buster that night, there was a good chance he’d known about Jamie all along.
Stephen interrupted her thoughts.
“Am I the only one who’s noticed that it’s after two and we haven’t had lunch? We could stop, find a big table, and try to sort some of this stuff out. Any objections?”
“I’m game,” Quint said. “You all know what I get like when I don’t eat.”
Virgil laughed. “That comes from having older brothers.” He turned to look at Jamie. “He was always afraid he wouldn’t get his share.”
“I never did understand that,” Stephen said. “Take a look at his arms and shoulders. Quint could wrestle a grizzly for dinner and probably win. How come he got all the muscle genes in the Douglas family?”
Virgil snorted. “Speak for yourself, half-pint. You’re the only scrawny one.”
“Hell, I’m just lean,” Stephen said. “And women like my body.” He slowed down and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that looked large enough to have a private dining area.
“Weren’t you the one telling us about spending three months in Europe with a woman who wouldn’t…”
The three men continued to chide each other as they got out of the car and entered Richmond’s Best Eatery. Overtly demonstrating his masculinity, Stephen flirted with the young hostess, who showed them to a corner table in a private alcove. She responded to Stephen with a pretty smile and an eye on Virgil.
Their good-natured teasing relaxed Jamie, and by the time they were seated she was laughing with them.
Virgil waited until they had placed their orders before he laid his notes out on the table. “Do you recall any of this happening?” he asked Jamie.
Jamie shook her head. “At this point, I couldn’t be sure. It seems like I do, but I question anything I didn’t remember before Penny talked.”
Virgil paused while the waitress set water glasses around the table. When she left he went on. “Katherine talked to one man—I guess we can safely assume it was a man—about another man. The person she was talking to was holding something over her head.”
“She told him to quit threatening her, and she was through jumping every time he snapped his fingers. It didn’t sound like he was blackmailing her,” Quint said. “More like he was demanding something else from her.”
“Sexual favors?” Stephen supplied, with a question.
Quint gave Jamie a sympathetic look. “Possibly.”
“Another thing,” Virgil said, “I don’t believe whoever she was talking about actually killed her.”
Jamie’s head shot up. “Why?”
“Because,” Virgil explained, “I’ve tried enough crimes of passion to know that stringing someone up by the balls implies the action of a jealous husband or boyfriend. I also don’t think she believed that person would actually kill her. She said it too flippantly. Her main warning was to the man on the other end of the line. For a man, being strung up by the gonads and hung out to dry is a threat to be taken seriously.”
“Okay,” Quint said. “So the man on the phone, with the fat fingers, knew something that would really piss off the fellow they were talking about.”
“Fat-fingers had sex with Katherine while she was seeing this other guy,” Stephen suggested.
Jamie winced at the mention of fat fingers.
“Too simple,” Virgil said. “Katherine was known to be promiscuous.” He gave Jamie’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know any other way to say it.”
He wasn’t saying anything Jamie didn’t already know. She nodded and told him to go on.
“Anyway,” Virgil continued, “finding out she had sex with another man wouldn’t be an earth shattering revelation to anybody. It had to be something more.” He looked around the table. “We’re brain storming here, so feel free to jump in with any ideas.”
“It might be earth-shattering if it concerned a baby,” Stephen said.
Quint glanced at Jamie. “Buster had tests run on Jamie when she came to live with him.”
“What about T-Roy?” Virgil asked.
Jamie’s back straightened. “Mother was married to Buster when she had T-Roy. Besides, Buster was so irritated when I was dumped on him that he had test run on both of us.”
“Well, that shoots the hell out of that idea,” Stephen said.
“You think you could get a copy of those tests?” Virgil asked Quint.
“You don’t know my father!” Jamie interrupted adamantly. “He hated my mother. He would have gladly thrown either one of us to the wolves if we weren’t his.”
“Probably, “Quint said. “If he’s truly the man you think he is.”
Jamie shot Quint an incredulous glare. “Are you implying he’s not?”
Quint took a deep breath. “What I’m saying is, we should talk to him. Do you think we should share any of what we found with Sampson?” He asked Virgil.
Virgil slathered ketchup on his hamburger. “We promised Penny nothing would come of her talking to us. If we tell S
ampson, he’s going to want to question her. Then there’s that car running Jamie off the road. With the matching fingerprints the two are connected. For Penny’s sake, it’s better if nobody else knows about her for the time being.”
Jamie choked on the pickle she was chewing. “You think Penny could be in danger?”
Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know but something happened to bring your mother’s death to light after all these years.”
“The only thing I can come up with,” Quint said, “is Jimbo’s murder. I can’t even begin to imagine how that could be tied in.”
“Unfortunately,” Virgil said, “I have to be in court on Wednesday. I need tomorrow to finish preparing my case. Stephen has to fly us back to New York first thing in the morning. I’ll do what I can from there, but you two will be on your own down here. Just be sure you let me know before you try to do anything…illegal.”
Jamie didn’t like the idea of Virgil leaving, but then, with the exception of Quint being in her life, she didn’t like much of anything that had happened in the last couple of weeks.
“Everyone associated with NASCAR will be going home today, tomorrow at the latest,” she said.
Virgil poured ketchup over his french-fries. “Yeah, I know. I think we all agree NASCAR people are involved. One thing we haven’t covered. The police questioned Walter Price and we have a copy of his statement. What about this Dexter fellow? Did that name ring any bells for you Jamie?”
Jamie chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Finally she swallowed, shaking her head. “Something is familiar about the name, but I can’t pin it down. I’ve been trying ever since Penny mentioned it. Dexter is an odd name, but it’s seems like it isn’t exactly right. I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night remembering what it is.”
“If you do, write it down or tell Quint immediately.” Virgil grinned. “Wake him up if you have to, it could be important. Also, talk to Sampson. He won’t be going away so you won’t be able to avoid him. Don’t lie to him, but skirt around his questions if you can. Try responding with questions of your own. If he pressures you, you can always refuse to talk without a lawyer present. Let me know if he gives you any information we don’t already have.”
When the waitress brought their check, she hesitated, smiling at Jamie. “Ms. LeCorre, I wonder if I could have your autograph—for my son. Tyler’s only seven, but he and his father live and breathe NASCAR.”
“I’d be happy to,” Jamie said. “My fans are a big part of what keeps me driving. Do any of you have your ticket stub from yesterday?” she asked, looking at her tablemates.
“Sorry, I’m keeping mine,” Stephen said.
Shaking his head and laughing Virgil pulled his ticket out of his wallet and handed it to Jamie. “You can have mine,” he said. “My brother here will leave a generous tip to apologize for his selfishness.”
Suppressing a chuckle, Jamie signed the ticket stub, addressing it to Tyler, and handed it to the waitress. “Tell Tyler hello for me.”
“Thank you so much, I can promise you he’ll be a fan for life after this. Are you going to be on that show too?”
Jamie’s brow creased into a frown. She had an uneasy feeling in her gut. “What show?”
“That outrageous Harman show. My husband said Clay Riker was going to be on tonight. Harman moved her entire crew to Richmond so she could air from here just for one night.”
* * * *
When they got back to the hotel, Detective Ralph Sampson was waiting in the lobby. He got to his feet quickly, hurrying to intercept them at the elevator.
“Jamie,” he called. “I’d like a word with you. To compare notes if you have time.”
“Of course,” Jamie replied, keeping her tone light. “What did you find?”
Sampson eyed Stephen and Virgil warily. “I’d rather not have an audience when we talk,” he said.
“We’ll see you upstairs,” Quint said, to his cousins. No way was he going to leave Jamie alone with Sampson. He was determined to stay, even if Virgil was officially her lawyer. Sampson had spoken to Jamie in front of Quint twice before. He had no reason to believe he wouldn’t do so again. Besides, Sampson knew Jamie personally. He might be less likely to confide in her if he knew her attorney was present.
As soon as the elevator door closed behind Virgil and Stephen, Quint extended his hand to the detective. “Good to see you again,” he said.
Sampson shook his hand and acknowledged the greeting. “How about we step over there and sit a while.” He gestured to a private group of plush chairs surrounding a small glass-top coffee table.
Before he sat down, Sampson took a handful of hard candy from a cut glass bowl on the table. He put one in his mouth and stuck the rest in his coat pocket.
“Keeps me from trying to smoke,” he explained. “So, did you folks turn up anything interesting today?”
“Our day was probably mild compared to yours,” Jamie said. “I didn’t hear from you last night. How did it go at the track yesterday?”
Sampson bit down on his candy and grunted. “First of all, I was surprised to learn that almost a third of the men were at least forty years old. I had hoped to narrow the field by a lot more than that. I pretty much got the runaround from all of them, including those in your pit. The whole group is as tight as a nest of rattlesnakes. They feud like alley cats amongst themselves, but let an outsider in and they all suddenly become bosom buddies or developed a bad case of memory loss. It didn’t take me long to give up the idea of trying to lift fifty pairs of fingerprints. Especially without tipping my hand to the fact that I was investigating more than Bodean’s murder.”
“You didn’t come up with anything?” Quint asked.
Sampson scratched his beard-stubbled face. “Oh, sure I did. I know that the guy you called Wally was Walter Price. He died about five years ago, had a heart attack. That pretty much dead-ended the file on your mother, Jamie. Unless you’ve remembered something you haven’t told me.”
Jamie exchanged a look with Quint before answering. “I’m still working at remembering,” she said. “Quint and I will stay here through tomorrow and see if we can uncover anything.”
“Good enough. Call me if you do. I’ll be heading back to Chicago in the morning. Maybe if I catch some of those fellows away from the track they might be more willing to talk. One thing I did learn is that those crews change hands more often than I change underwear. Any chance you could get me a list of both Buster’s crew and Riker’s from twenty-three years ago?”
“I’m sure I can,” Jamie said. ”I guess I’d be interested in seeing those names myself. I don’t think they were crew chiefs back then, but I can get you the roster of whatever teams they were on.”
“Alrighty then,” Sampson said pushing to his feet. “I’ll mosey on back to my hotel. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful, but I’ll keep plugging away. Maybe forensics came up with something on Bodean.”
Jamie stood up too. “What did Buster have to say?” she asked.
A small corner on Sampson’s mouth lifted. “Now that’s the interesting part. He was almost too willing to talk. Seemed not only out of character, but not in keeping with the NASCAR protocol, if you get my drift.”
Jamie got his drift all too well. Sampson’s evasiveness made her think Buster might have unwittingly said something to implicate her. “What did he say?” she asked again.
“Well, among other things, he said he had Jimbo to thank for you not getting hitched to Riker.”
Jamie’s heart made a sudden leap, blood pounded crazily in her temples. Quint’s steady hand on her back reminded her that Sampson was still talking. She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying.
“And since you already told me how fond you were of Bodean, I assumed he helped talk you out of a bad marriage.”
Sampson was watching her closely, a curious frown creasing his brow. “Or maybe not,” he added slowly.
“No, no, your assumption is correct. Jimbo did conv
ince me not to marry Clay. You just surprised me because I didn’t know my father knew about Jimbo.”
Quint remained silent as they rode up the elevator to the third floor. Jamie didn’t have to make eye contact with him to know his perusal never left her face. She could feel it like tangible heat. She didn’t know if he was angry, but she sensed he was.
When they entered her room, he closed the door more than a little firmly behind him. The sound startled her into looking at him. He stood braced against the door, his arms folded over his chest. She got the impression he wasn’t moving from that position until she said something. She said the only thing she could say.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly?”
“For what I can’t tell you.”
“Christ!” Quint threw his hands up in the air, bringing them down with an exasperated sigh, and shoved them in the rear pockets of his jeans. He walked to a window and stared down at the courtyard with his back to her. “What is so damned secretive about Jimbo? He’s dead. I know you didn’t kill him. I was with you. If he was your lover, I don’t give a damn. It won’t make any difference in what you and I have.”
“What do you and I have?” she asked, softly.
Quint whirled to face her. “You’re changing the subject.”
“No, I’m not. You brought it up.”
“Was Jim Bodean your lover?”
“No.”
“Did he talk you out of marrying Riker?
Jamie wanted to walk away, but Quint’s piercing gaze held her. She found it impossible to lie to him. “Not exactly,” she whispered.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, not exactly.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
Jamie shook her head. “I can’t. I gave my word.”
“Jamie, the man is dead. He won’t care.”
“I didn’t give it to Jimbo.”
Quint stared at her. His breathing labored, but he felt his anger slowly slipping away. Still, he wasn’t ready to let it go. If he guessed what Jimbo’s secret was, she would either admit it or he would see it in her eyes.
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