Flash Memory: A Lost Hat, Texas, Mystery (The Lost Hat, Texas, Mystery Series Book 2)

by Anna Castle

  “You’ve heard already.”

  “My secretary’s sister works in central booking at the county jail. And of course we heard the commotion when all the county cars went screaming out of the lot across the street from my bank.” Carson shook his head. “It’s a bad business. Ty’s arrest has shocked everyone.”

  Tillie nodded, her dark eyes still liquid with sympathy. “No one knows what to think.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, waving the subject off with a flap of my hand. “We thought it might be Diana at first and Ty got a little crazed. Then Dare came up, a little crazed himself, and they got into it. When the other guys got there and started breaking them up, Ty accidentally gave the sheriff a little shove. The big man got a little dirt on his backside, that’s all.”

  “It’s quite enough,” Carson said. “The sheriff can’t allow such affronts to his dignity.”

  “Oh, please! Is he that touchy?”

  “It isn’t a matter of his personal pride,” Carson said. “Hap Hopper’s an easy-going guy, off duty. But the sheriff relies on the authority of his office to keep the peace, especially in a rural county. He doesn’t have an army behind him, only a handful of deputies, who might well be twenty miles away when trouble arises. He might have to walk into a situation full of drunken, angry men and settle everybody down by the sheer force of his presence. If he’s an ordinary man who can be pushed into the dirt, his ability to do his job is seriously impaired.”

  “Huh.” I chewed on that for a minute. “Okay, I get it. But Dare was just as much to blame. He started in with the attitude the minute he got out of his car.”

  “Deputy Thompson threw the first punch?” Carson asked.

  “Now that you ask, I’m not sure who started it.” But I did know: Ty.

  “Then Ty assaulted two officers this morning.”

  “Okay, probably. I guess a night in jail won’t hurt him.”

  Tillie caught her bottom lip with her teeth, an expression that meant she had more bad news. She shot a glance at Carson, who frowned and nodded.

  “Y’all obviously know something else,” I said. “Tell me.”

  Tillie said, “Aunt Dolly called to say Uncle Flip said they had a second charge against Ty before they even got through booking him on the first one.”

  Her uncle, Felipe “Flip” Garza, was the desk sergeant at the sheriff’s department. His wife, Dolorcitas Espinoza Garza, owned Dolly’s Doll House of Beauty. Between the two of them, they knew everything that happened in Lost Hat almost before the people it was happening to.

  I thought about Diana’s bracelet strung around Roger’s wrist and a cold dread clenched my heart. “What charge?”

  “Uncle Flip said it was manslaughter?” Tillie’s round face crumpled with distress.

  “What!” I glared at Carson, the closest thing to a public official that I had. “That’s outrageous!”

  He shrugged. “They seem to have some pretty good evidence.”

  “What evidence?”

  Tillie answered. “First, they found traces of blood in Ty’s Gator. Human blood, they said. They have these little tester thingies. And one of the deputies heard that Ty and Mr. Bainbridge had a big fight at the barbecue place on 331 last week, loud enough for everyone to hear. Someone said they were fighting about Diana.”

  “Someone named Dare Thompson?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tillie said. “Also, they found a legal pad in Ty’s house where he wrote something like, ‘If Roger tries to get at me through my sister again, I’ll kill the son of a—.’” She had been too properly brought up to finish that sentence.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said, a righteous wrath raising my tone. “People say stuff like that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Carson shrugged one slim shoulder. “Until the person in question turns up dead.”

  “I’ll tell you what I think.” I tapped a finger on the counter, hard. “I think they arrested Ty because he’s handy. They already have him for assaulting the sheriff’s almighty dignity. Why bother to look any further?”

  “Now, Penny,” Carson said. “I’m sure they’ll get it all sorted out in short order.”

  “Not short enough. It’s an election year, must I remind you? The sheriff can’t leave a crime this big unsolved, not even for a minute. So they charge the first guy they get their hands on.”

  “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to worry about. I’m sure Ty will obtain the very best legal counsel,” Carson said. “He’s probably got a top-notch defender on the way here already.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “That’s very true.” I drummed my fingers on the counter, cooling down. Ty could afford the best lawyer in Texas. Some hot-shot from Austin or Houston, high powered, sophisticated, big city. He wouldn’t know diddly about Long County. Some uptown guy in a designer suit that nobody local would talk to…

  I thought about Diana’s bracelet again. I wanted to bring it up, but it didn’t seem to be part of Uncle Flip’s news flash, so maybe the sheriff was keeping it under his hat. I couldn’t imagine why, but it was a distinctive detail. It must be important. Somehow, it dragged Diana into the center of the situation.

  “Has anyone heard from Diana?” Carson asked.

  I blinked at him for a minute. Had he read my mind? “Ty’s gotten some emails from her in the past couple of days, I think.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. My secretary said she’d gone missing. Some people were worried about her too.” Carson smiled. “I’m sure she’ll come straight home, as soon as she hears that her brother’s in trouble.”

  Who would deliver that news to her? Deputy Dare? Had he heard from her recently? He had more motive to hate Roger Bainbridge than Ty. I glanced at Tillie’s furrowed brow and pink-streaked hair. What lay behind her simmering jealousy?

  My Spidey sense told me Diana was at the heart of this crime. I wished I knew more about her past—her old boyfriends, her rivals, if she ever had any. I’d had dinner with Ty at the Hawkins house most weekends over the past six months. Diana and Dare had been there as often as not. But we talked about the future more than the past, full of plans and blue-sky ideas for the resort. I should talk to people who had known Ty and Diana for years.

  I turned a bright smile toward my client.

  Carson was about Ty’s age and had grown up on the ranch next door. He probably knew all sorts of things about the Hawkins family. And he was evidently plugged into the main line of county gossip. You’re supposed to ask people questions while you do their portraits, get them talking about themselves, to keep them from thinking about the camera. This was a prime opportunity to do a little investigating of my own.

  “Shall we get started?” I ushered him around the screen and got him seated in the chair. I smiled my bland professional smile as I shifted the tripod into position. “Did you grow up in Long County?”

  Carson chuckled. “From about sixth grade on. My parents believed the country lifestyle was better for children than the city with all the crime and pollution, and now that I have kids of my own, I have to agree.”

  A well-crafted answer that he probably handed it out at every fund-raiser. “Were you friends with Ty?” I shifted left to get his profile.

  “Oh, sure. We’re almost exactly the same age. We were best friends until we went to college. We lost touch then, even though we both went to UT.”

  “It’s a big school.”

  “Didn’t somebody mention you went there too?”

  “I did.” I motioned for him to turn his head back and level his chin. “Were you part of Ty’s old—”

  “Did you major in art?”

  “Yes. Well, photography.”

  “When did you graduate?”

  “In 2007. Did Diana hang out—”

  “That would make you, let’s see, about thirty?”

  “Birthday next week.”

  “Congratulations!” He flashed a smile of genuine pleasure. I took three shots in quick successi
on. They were great. We’d use one of them for sure.

  Carson was a cooperative subject and happy to chat, but I wasn’t getting any answers. It would help if I had the slightest clue what to ask. “Do you remember anything about Diana’s—”

  “How did you and Ty meet, anyway? That must be a good story.”

  “Diana introduced us at the courthouse Christmas party, a couple of weeks after I moved out here. Ty had heard about me from a mutual acquaintance at the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center. I’ve done some work for them, photographing some of their restoration projects. We had that in common right off the bat.”

  “What good luck for Ty, finding you in the old home town when he finally decided to come back.”

  “Lucky for me too. Did you know the Hawkins kids when—”

  “Shall we try a few standing up?” Carson hopped to his feet. He composed himself while I raised the tripod and adjusted the reflectors. “You’re not from Texas originally, are you, Penny? Your accent isn’t quite native.”

  “We moved around a lot. My dad’s a doctor in the Army. I finished high school in Killeen, though, and my mother’s family is from the Hill Country.”

  “Aunt Sophia and Cousin Marion, that’s right. So it’s something of homecoming for you too, isn’t it? Discovering your roots and all that?”

  “That’s part of it.” I’d completely lost track of what I wanted to ask him.

  “Well, we’re glad to have you.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh, my goodness, look at the time. We’d better wrap this up.”

  As portrait sessions go, it had been a success. Carson was one of the most photogenic clients I’d ever had. As interrogation sessions go, it was a total bust. Like a blind date with a lawyer, he’d asked all the questions. He got my life history and I got zip.

  We made an appointment to review the proofs in a few days. He also ordered a print of that Lost Maples photo. Tillie took his credit card and sat at the desk to do the receipt.

  While we were waiting, he said, “Penny, I know it’s not my place, but I heard about your, ah, adventures last January. I get the impression that you’re the proactive type. Which is great, don’t get me wrong. But if you’ll allow me, I might suggest that you be careful about getting too involved in this business with Ty. I’d hate to see you to get hurt.”

  “I appreciate the advice, Carson, but I can look out for myself.”

  Carson glanced at Tillie, trading pressed lips for her doubtful frown. “I don’t mean physical danger; I’m sure you’ll be sensible in that regard. But you’ve only known Ty a few months. There are some dark pages in the Hawkins’ family history. I’m as sure as you are that he’s innocent, but stories might get stirred up, not all of them pleasant ones. Just try to keep an open mind.”

  Chapter 5

  Tillie left on Carson’s heels. She did the books at her aunt’s beauty salon Friday afternoons. She promised to find out everything she could while proclaiming Ty’s perfect innocence to one and all, but I wasn’t optimistic about either part. I kept thinking about those dark pages in the Hawkins’ family history, a book everyone in town but me had probably read. Had Carson been hinting at something specific?

  I let Jake out of the kitchen and he set off on a sniffing tour of the studio. It occurred to me that some Nosey Nellie might pop in looking for a first-hand report, so I turned the sign on the front door to Closed and shut the blinds on the front windows.

  Time to take a look at the crime scene photos. I powered up my Mac and connected the camera, then remembered neither Jake nor I had eaten anything but a Clif Bar all day. I also realized that if I wanted to eat, I’d better do it before reviewing those photographs.

  I saved the new files to one folder, turned off the camera, and headed back to the kitchen with Jake at my heels. Tillie and I keep an assortment of lunch items on hand, as well as late-night snack food for me when I’m on a darkroom binge. I made canned soup for both of us, adding frozen vegetables to mine and Lazy Woman Croutons—broken pretzel pieces—to both.

  We took a short stroll up and down the alley and then Jake was ready to do what Labradors do best. He curled up in a corner and soon began to snore.

  Thus refreshed, I was finally ready to face those pictures. First, I sorted my sunrise shots from the ones for the sheriff’s department, putting them under the folder for Ty’s project and updating the notes in the project log. Some of the sunrise pictures were pretty good, if I said so myself. I also liked the one of the beautiful spiral-horned animal posing in front of the tumbled boulders. Ty would enjoy looking at these when he got out of jail.

  Which would be soon. I believed it right down to my Birkenstocks. I had to believe it. It would be unbearable to find out that the man I’d been sleeping with for the past six months—a man I might be seriously in love with—had committed murder.

  True, Ty had that competitive streak. He’d made a fortune in the high tech industry, after all, and he was not a man who liked to sit around and let nature take her course. He made plans and took steps and expected others to fall in line.

  He hadn’t mentioned the argument he’d allegedly had at the barbecue place with Roger Bainbridge, but we hadn’t had time to talk before the trouble started. It didn’t have to be much to get people gossiping about it. A few loud words, a fist on the table, and it would have made the evening news, if we had a local TV station.

  But say the fight was huge. Say they nearly came to blows. I could easily guess the central conflict: Diana, and Roger’s pursuit of same. Ty had a paternal attitude toward his kid sister—overly protective, in my opinion—but even so, he wouldn’t murder a man to keep him away from her.

  I moved the sheriff’s photos into a separate folder and started browsing through the thumbnails. Looking at photos of that isolated hilltop, it occurred to me that Ty was also an intelligent man and a long-term strategizer. I’d spent hours talking with him about how to mesh the rangeland restoration project with the resort development process. He planned years into the future, visualizing how some cedar-infested acreage would look as a meadow with knee-high grass ruffling in the breeze or how run-off from improved roads could be captured in rain gardens within sight of the cabins.

  If he had buried a body on Mt. Keno, would he have let me and the dog roam around up there? Of course not. Furthermore, he was planning to build a yoga pavilion on that hill. There would be backhoes chugging away, digging everything up. Ty knew the whole plan; in fact, he was the only person who knew the whole plan. He could have chosen some remote spot where nothing would ever get built.

  I sorted the thumbnails into batches for the proof sheets, careful to maintain the sequence. I’ve gotten to where I can sort photographs with only minimal attention to their contents, so I got past the gross ones easily enough. I did slow down a little, wondering about how Roger had been killed. His shirt front seemed intact—no bright red bullet hole over the heart, anyway. The head was a mess, but I didn’t know if that was from injury or natural processes. The medical examiner would figure out the cause of death soon, one hoped.

  I lingered on the pictures that showed Diana’s bracelet most clearly. That and the missing footwear were the only clues that I could see. Okay, they’d found blood in the Gator, which must mean that Roger had been killed somewhere else and transported up to Mt. Keno. I guessed that also made the location itself a clue.

  I studied the silver charms again: a heart, a capital D, a horse, and an outline of the state of Texas. We do love the shape of our state. The horse was no mystery; Diana loved horses. She wanted a big stable for the resort, with trail rides as a major feature. Ty thought mountain bikes would be more practical, since they didn’t have to be fed. They also weren’t beautiful when galloping across a meadow in the morning light, I might have pointed out, if I was dumb enough to stick my nose into that debate.

  The D was for Diana, of course. Or perhaps for Dare? The heart was interesting. It looked handmade and a bit tarnished. The others were as shiny as polished
steel. I’d bet the heart was real silver and I’d further bet it had been bought in Mexico. It looked like one of the milagros people pin to altar cloths to pray for something desirable, like corn or a car. Ty and I had seen them in the market in Cancun last February.

  Had Diana and Dare ever been to Mexico? I could find that out easily enough. If not, who gave it to her? Good old Roger Dodger, perhaps.

  I wasn’t a jewelry-oriented woman, but surely wearing a man’s charm indicated something serious going on. If I were the official boyfriend and saw another guy’s heart on my girlfriend’s wrist, I might be inclined to lose my temper next time I caught up with that other guy.

  Not only that, I might then be pissed off enough to snick the offending bracelet around the dead guy’s wrist so he could take it to hell with him. Serve him right!

  Yes. Yes, indeedy. I twisted my computer chair from side to side, fired by the energy of that idea. My brilliant theory explained the most puzzling elements in this situation. It didn’t necessarily point straight at Deputy Dare Thompson, though.

  Men were drawn to Diana’s Hollywood looks and megawatt charm and she drew energy from their attention. She tossed a dash of flirtation into most interactions. It didn’t mean anything; it was just her style. Most people enjoyed the little boost to the ego, but maybe someone had taken it personally. Maybe whoever she’d been seeing before she hooked up with Dare hadn’t accepted the old, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Maybe Roger had been one beau too many and someone decided to shorten the queue.

  Would the sheriff bother to seek out Diana’s old flames? Or would he be content with the suspect he already had in custody? Why squander department funds on a theory?

  I didn’t think Sheriff Hopper was lazy, but he might consider money a more important motive than love. Many people did. He would undoubtedly find out everything he could about Roger Bainbridge’s business dealings. Good. I couldn’t do anything about any of that. He could get people looking for Roger’s car too, which must be around somewhere. I couldn’t do that either.