A Tiny Collierville Murder

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Just tell me what did happen.”

  “Your father called him a trespasser. He called your father a coon, or wait, maybe your father called him a coon.” I looked at Liam. “I don’t remember.”

  “Well that’s how they always acted.”

  “Yeah, I caught on to that after a while because then they started laughing. But whatever they had to talk about was private.”

  “What did they talk about?”

  “I don’t know,” I stretched my eyes. “I just told you it was private.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Geesh!”

  “What?” he let out in a chuckle.

  “Everything I tell you, you ask me how I know like I would just make up stuff to tell you.”

  Then he threw back his head and did a Big Willie laugh. “No I don’t.”

  “Yes you do,” I said.

  “Okay. Sorry. Okay?” He reached his hands across the table and grabbed one of mine. “I won’t do it again. Just go on.”

  “After they had their little coon and goon jabs at each other, your father told me to go look at some tiny houses while they talked. He said he’d come find me and show me the house he wanted me to have.”

  “The orange one.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But he never came back?”

  “No,” I said. “He didn’t.”

  “Then you heard the gunshot?”

  I nodded. “Gunshots. Plural.”

  “Yeah right,” he said. “I only heard the one. I was on my way back down to meet you and Big Willie.”

  “Where was Agnes going?” I asked.

  “Agnes?”

  “Yeah, she came down almost at the same time you did.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s backtrack for a minute. So you said you knew Courtney was at Grant’s because of a lipstick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you saw her lipstick on a glass at Grant’s?”

  “Yep, and on a cigarette butt.”

  “And it was her lipstick?”

  “Yep,” I said then held up a hand. “How do I know, right?”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Sorry. So what were you going to say?”

  “Uhm . . .” He shook his head and snorted to keep from laughing. “I was just going to say . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You know what I was going to say, so just go ahead and tell me how you know.”

  “That day when I saw Courtney Lynne down by the barn, I noticed her lipstick because it wasn’t a good color for her. She has dark hair and a medium complexion so she should wear a red or red toned lipstick.”

  “Don’t digress.”

  “I’m not. That’s important.” I flagged down the waiter and asked for a drink of water. “Anyway,” I continued. “Later, I noticed she didn’t have any on.”

  “When? When she was late coming back?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And I noticed her lips were kind of, uh, deflated.”

  “Deflated? Is that like a mean thing to say about her?”

  “No,” I said and chuckled. “Some expensive brands have things – chemicals in them to make the lips appear fuller.”

  “Oh,” he said and nodded knowingly. “Fat lips.”

  “Okay, we can go with that,” I said. “Most women would say full lips.”

  “So what kind of lipstick was it?”

  “I thought LaPrairie. But then I found out you guys don’t have a Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus, or Saks here or anywhere in Tennessee, so I changed my mind.”

  “And that matters why?”

  “Because that brand is only sold in upscale stores. It is very expensive. Here let me show you.” This time I pulled my phone out and pulled up a link for LaPrairie lipstick. I handed it to him and he read the description out loud.

  “A unique plumping complex fills in lines and restores lip plumpness while caviar extracts helps firm the lips. Specially treated pigments enhance color intensity as well as providing extended wear to the formula.”

  “So this means what to you?”

  “For some reason Courtney washed that lipstick off before she came down to talk to the police. ‘Why’ is the question. Did she have gunshot residue on her?”

  “I guess we’ll find that out soon enough.”

  “But that’s my point. If she washed up afterwards she wouldn’t have any.”

  “But she didn’t know they were going to do that. What do they call it? A GSR test?” Liam asked. “At least I don’t think she’d know.” He looked at me. “But you said that at first you thought it was that lipstick which means you don’t think it anymore.”

  “I’m back to thinking that it is LaPrairie because you told me that your stepmother, Cynthia, goes out of town to shop.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “She’s fair skinned. Blonde. She would wear the shade that Courtney Lynne had on. I’m thinking Mrs. Carter may have given that to her.”

  “And why would you think that?”

  “For one thing if you’re going to wear lipstick that expensive, you’re not going to buy the wrong shade. The sales clerk wouldn’t let you.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “And two?”

  “Like I said, it’s a pretty exclusive lipstick and expensive. Courtney Lynne isn’t quite there – style-wise. I don’t think she’d buy it. Plus, didn’t you say her and Dale don’t have the money?”

  “Yeah. No. They don’t. He doesn’t. Okay, so you think Cynthia gave it to her?”

  “Your stepmother wears nothing but designer wear – even for garden parties. I must admit, a woman after my own heart.”

  “So getting back to that day at Grant’s,” Liam said. “You noticed this LaPrairie lipstick on a glass? That’s how you knew it was her?”

  “A wine glass. Next to another wine glass.” I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s how I knew it was her. They were having wine together. But I already told you that, we won’t get far going over the same clues again and again.”

  “It could mean nothing,” Liam said. “Not even be a clue.”

  “It could also be a reason for murder. Grant is your father’s rival. He’s having an affair with his rival’s daughter-in-law.”

  “Seems more like they’d kill Dale,” Liam reasoned. “Get rid of him so they could be free to be together.”

  “And what would they get out of that?” I asked. “There is no gain for either one of them seeing that Dale had no money. He hadn’t even given her the car yet. With your dad dead,” I said, “Dale gets part of the tiny house business, or Grant gets the business when your company folds due to your dad’s death. And if either one of them did it with Courtney Lynne she would get rich and wouldn’t have to wear hand-me-down lipsticks from your stepmother.”

  “Dale doesn’t own any part of the company.”

  “He evidently thinks he is going to get a big piece of it if he’s off buying brand new expensive cars. Two of them.”

  Liam started his quiet contemplation again, drumming his fingers on the table. I could almost see the wheels of his brain churning.

  “So we need to follow this angle.”

  “What angle?”

  “Killing Big Willie to take over the tiny house business angle.” He signaled the waiter to come over. “We see if we can find evidence that Grant, Dale and/or Courtney Lynne killed Big Willie for his business.” He looked up at the waiter when he came over. “Can we get the check, please?”

  “Okaaay,” I said. “What a waste if they did. You told me he was the whole business.”

  “Oh it gets worse.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and grabbed a credit card to give to the waiter.

  “How?” I asked.

  “That may be the reason that Jacob had for killing him, too.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I had to trot behind Liam to keep up. He was taking long strides as we left t
he restaurant and headed for his truck.

  He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for me, then went to his side and climbed in, started the car and took off without saying a word.

  “So, are you going to tell me why you think Jacob might have killed your father for the business?”

  ““Jimmy told me that Big Willie was looking for Jacob. That he told him that he really needed to speak with him.”

  “And when did that happen?”

  “Right before he was shot.”

  “What else did Jimmy say? Because that doesn’t sound like he killed him to get the business.”

  “He told me that he’d overheard Big Willie talking on the phone.”

  “About Jacob?”

  “Yeah. Jimmy told me that Big Willie said Jacob had called HGTV and lied to them saying Big Willie was considering going to Bravo.”

  “Does Bravo even have a tiny house show?”

  “No,” Liam said and slapped on the blinkers. “But that’s what he told him.” He shook his head and made a face like he wanted to punch something.”

  “Why are you so mad?” I asked. The sweet guy I had started lunch with had all but disappeared.

  He glanced over at me and bit down on his lip.

  “What?” I asked. He just shook his head. “Are we in this together or what?”

  He shook his head again, disbelief etched in his forehead. “It’s kind of personal. Family, you know.” He looked at me. “Not so sure I should share what I found out at the lawyer’s.”

  “What do you mean not share? I’m helping you to solve your father’s murder, and you are helping me prove that I wasn’t the one who killed him. We have to share.”

  “I know, but this is getting so weird.”

  “What’s getting weird?”

  He looked at me, I could tell he was thinking about whether he should spill the beans and let me in on whatever that lawyer had told him.

  That boy just did too much thinking.

  “Tell me,” I said trying to sound like it would really hurt me if I didn’t know.

  “When I talked to my dad’s lawyer the other day, he told me that my father had no money.”

  “Wait,” I said and shook my head to process. “Your father was broke?”

  “Seems like it. He said that there’s really nothing left to pass out to any of us, let alone Dale.”

  “But before I told you about Grant and Courtney Lynne you thought he was after the money.”

  “He could have still been after the money,” Liam said.

  “How?”

  “He didn’t know there wasn’t any money. No one knew,” Liam said. “Heck, I didn’t know.”

  “So, he figured he would get money because he thought, like everyone else, that Big Willie was loaded,” I said.

  “Right.” Liam scratched his head. “Dale probably figured he was in the will. Thinking he’d get money, part of the business or both.”

  “So that’s his reason for killing Big Willie?”

  Liam stared into my eyes. “It sounds bad when you say it out loud.”

  “You’ve been saying it,” I said.

  “Yeah, I did. But I don’t want to believe it. That’s why I called the lawyer in the first place.”

  “But wait. You just told me that you didn’t know if there was a will.” I swiped my hand over my mouth. “Wouldn’t Dale think the same thing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he did, and maybe there is one. A will and he knew about it. The lawyer told me he didn’t have one. Cynthia is looking to see if Big Willie had scrawled anything on a piece of paper somewhere.

  I nodded. “Would he have done that?”

  “Oh yeah. He’d always kept notes about stuff and then call himself putting the papers up to keep them safe and forget where he put it.” Liam smiled at the memory. “After he married Cynthia, he pretty much would just tell her whatever was on his mind and she’d help his keep stuff straight. But you know, now that I’m thinking about it, he did have one place that she didn’t know about.”

  “Someplace he may have kept a will?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “He kept all the ‘certificates’ there, as he called them. You know like me and Jacob’s birth certificate. My grandparents’ death certificates. Both of his marriage certificates.”

  “So you’re going to tell Cynthia to look there?” I asked.

  “No,” he shook his head. “He liked to keep that place private, said he’d only told me about it because I knew about business. Although I don’t know why he thought his certificates were business related.” He looked at me. “I’ll look at them myself.”

  “He didn’t seem like he needed much help,” I said. “He seemed to have everything together.”

  Liam laughed. “That man’s mind worked a mile a minute. No way could he keep all the stuff in his brain sorted out.” The smile faded from his face. “But if there is a will,” he continued, “it was made either before Big Willie was broke or before he knew he was broke. And whatever he left us, we wouldn’t be able to get. The only thing he still had was the house and the land.”

  “That’s it?”

  He hunched one shoulder. “The inventory, but we may have creditors we have to pay.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked. “Your father told me that if it weren’t for you he would be broke, like he wasn’t broke. Like he had money. Who did your books?”

  “Cynthia,” he said.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I knew that.”

  “How did you know that?” he asked.

  “Your father told me.”

  ‘When did he tell you that?”

  “That day in the warehouse.”

  “You mean the barn?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. That’s the only time he could have told me,” I said. “It’s the only time I ever talked to him. It’s the same time he told me that you guys were going to be the next Duck Dynasty.”

  Liam chuckled. “Yeah he used to say that. Said we were going to be just like them. His clean shaven face excluded.”

  “Did Cynthia know you guys were broke?” I asked.

  “Didn’t we just talk about her doing the books?” Liam said and shrugged. “She had to know.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “He told me he had stopped her keeping the books and was going to let you do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really,” I said. “Maybe he needed you to straighten things out. Get back on track. Back in the black, as they say.”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t started working on them.” He shook his head. “Maybe Big Willie knew and just wasn’t telling because the lawyer told me that he said he was going to take care of it.”

  “Who?”

  “Big Willie. The lawyer said that Big Willie said he was going to take care of it.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “No, ‘cause we ain’t got nothing.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t fix it,” I suggested.

  “Or maybe, he didn’t have time.”

  That was scary. Someone had stopped him before he could take care of it and maybe they killed him so he wouldn’t have time.

  “So all these people have the same motive,” I said, thinking about what my grandfather said to look for – means, motive and opportunity. “How are we going to know which one of them did it?”

  “We’ll have to investigate them one at a time.”

  “Where do we start?” I asked.

  Liam took in a breath. “I think we start with the cars.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know where else to start.”

  I chuckled. I didn’t know how we were going to figure out anything either, so I guessed the cars was just a good of a place as any to start.

  “Okay,” I said. “And how do we do that?”

  “We go to the Nissan dealership over in Memphis.”

  “Which dealership?” I held up my hands, and my voice squeaked. I was sure
there had to be more than one Nissan dealer in Memphis. “And what are we going to do once we get there?”

  “We ask questions.”

  “Now there’s a plan,” I said. Wasn’t sure he caught the sarcasm in my voice, because he gave me a resolute nod, put on his blinker and made a left turn like he was on a mission.

  “Exactly.” He nodded again. “There’s a Nissan dealership on Hacks Cross Road. AutoNation.”

  So he didn’t know I was kidding.

  “Is that where Dale bought the cars?” I asked, may as well go along, he seemed pretty determined.

  “I don’t know,” he said and glanced at me. “How am I supposed to know that?”

  I laughed. “So why did you decide to go to that one?”

  “It’s the closest one to us.”

  “Smh,” I said.

  “Did you just speak text language?”

  I gave him a confused look. “What?”

  “You said ‘smh.’ That’s what people text for ‘shaking my head.’” He looked at me. “They don’t say it.”

  “OMG,” was all I could think of to say in my defense.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The dealership was a brown brick square building with glass doors. A grassy front, it was set back from the road and it was easy to see that it was filled with shiny new cars inside and out by the big lights positioned everywhere. There was no missing what they were selling.

  We parked Liam’s truck right out in front, and walked in the door. Nothing covert about our mission, anyone would have been able to identify us, we probably had been caught on every surveillance camera they had up. Somehow, though, we seemed to be staying under the radar, even with us standing in the middle of the sales floor for nearly two minutes as no sales person had appeared to lasso us into buying a car.

  “Okay. So now what?” I decided to finally ask.

  “Well . . .” Liam said and looked around. “We uh . . .” He brought his eyes around to meet mine. “We see if we can find any info on the sale of the cars.”

  I turned my head and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “And how are we going to do that?”

  “We can look on the computer,” he said and pointed. There was a wall of rooms that had glass fronts with a computer in each. I wasn’t sure what those rooms were used for because the round tables out front scattered about seemed to be where the deals were made. There was no way to know what was on those computers, what purpose they were used for or who used them.