A Tiny Collierville Murder

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “I don’t know,” Liam said. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Look,” Liam poked me and nodded his head outside the kitchen window that was behind me. We had gone back to our seats at the nook once the prosecutor left. I guess Liam was still needing some quiet time, but something had caught his eye.

  “What?” I asked and turned around.

  “Courtney Lynne sneaking off somewhere.”

  “Well, she’s not sneaking,” I said. “I mean we can see her. Anyone can see her.”

  “Let’s go and talk to her,” he said. He popped up out of his seat.

  “Talk to her about what?” I slid off of the bench and followed him.

  “About all of her cheating.” He held open the back screen door. I looked down hoping that the ground wasn’t too wet, making my heels sink into the dirt and gravel.

  “Are we just going to confront her about it?” I asked as we walked over to her. “Like you did Dale? Because I don’t think that works.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” I said.

  “Hold on,” he told me. “Hey, Courtney Lynne,” he called over to her. “Where you going?”

  “We learned nothing about Dale by getting angry,” I tried to say.

  He looked over at me. “Which reminds me,” he said. “Whose name was on the car registration?”

  “Cindy Lou Flannigan.”

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  “I hunched my shoulders. “I don’t know. Evidently someone that can afford to pay one hundred thousand dollars for a couple of cars.”

  “We need to find that out, maybe Courtney Lynne isn’t the only one sneaking around.”

  “You think Dale might have a mistress?”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “A mistress that would buy his wife a car?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said and chuckled. “That wouldn’t make much sense.”

  “What business is it of yours where I’m going,” Courtney Lynne said.

  “Lots, if you’re headed somewhere to cheat on my brother.”

  Well, I guess he just doesn’t know what tact is . . .

  And why now was Dale suddenly his brother? He’d just told him earlier he wasn’t.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Liam,” she said and narrowed her eyes. “But you ain’t got no business in my business. Especially when you’re bringing strangers into it.”

  “She ain’t a stranger. Not to me. I trust her. And I believe her. Like when she told me you were at Grant’s house drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. When did you start smoking, Courtney Lynne?”

  Oh no he didn’t just out me!

  “I always smoked,” she said in a huff. “Not that it’s any business of yours.” Then she turned her head toward me and pointed her finger. “Don’t get in my business. Girl, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

  “I don’t think she’s worried about you,” Liam said.

  “Well she should. I will knock her six ways from Sunday. Look at her, always coming around here trying to look like she somebody. She don’t know who she’s messing with.”

  “Well before you get to knocking somebody out, let me tell you what else she saw.”

  Omg! Was he trying to get me killed?

  “She saw you going into the Roadway Inn over on Sycamore View Road.”

  “You little,” she said as she lunged toward me. I stepped behind Liam, she had terror in her eyes.

  Liam stepped forward and put up his arm to block her. “I don’t think you want to do that,” he said.

  “I will kill her,” Courtney Lynne said.

  “Like you killed my daddy?”

  “What?” Courtney Lynne said and stopped dead in her tracks. “Me kill Big Willie? What has gotten into you, Liam? Are you crazy?”

  “Nothing’s gotten into me yet, Courtney Lynne,” Liam said. “But if I find out you killed Big Willie to cover up your cheating, I’ll be coming after you six ways from Sunday.”

  “You are crazy?” Courtney Lynne said. “Why would I do that when everybody already knows?”

  “Dale knows?” I asked, my voice squeaky.

  “Don’t you talk to me you little heathen wannabe.”

  “Who knows, Courtney Lynne?” Liam asked.

  “Big Willie. Jacob. His momma.”

  “Cynthia?” I squeaked out another question.

  “Yes Cynthia, you nut head.” She scrunched up her nose at me “Who else could I be talking about?”

  “No name calling,” Liam said.

  She looked at Liam. “That’s why I’d been at Grant’s, Liam,” she emphasized his name to let me know I shouldn’t have been in her “business” as she kept calling it.

  “He and Big Willie,” she continued, “had discussed me, I guess.” She shook her head. “Trying to decide what to do about me, right before he died. Big Willie had decided to talk to me, but he didn’t get the chance. Grant said he called me over so he could give me the talk. Said he owed it to his friend, because now it was up to him to look after the family. Try to make me act right.”

  “But that didn’t work, huh?” Liam said. “Because wasn’t long after you were at the Roadway Inn with somebody.”

  She closed her eyes and took in a breath. “It wasn’t what you think. I was breaking it off with him. Telling him I couldn’t see him anymore.”

  “What does Dale say about all of this, Courtney Lynne?” Liam asked.

  “He doesn’t know. I don’t know how he didn’t know, or else he just didn’t let on. Anyway, seems like you and him were the only ones that didn’t know.”

  “So you didn’t kill Big Willie to keep him quiet?”

  “If I’d done that, I’d have to kill Cynthia, Jacob, Grant.” She swung her eyes my way and pointed. “And her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Why are you here?” Cynthia said and made her way through the room, where people who had been standing around holding plates in their hands and talking had all pretty much left.

  Liam and I had just come back in from talking to Courtney Lynne and he’d seen Agnes straightening up and he had jumped in to lend a hand. I was following him around.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.” Instead of looking at her, his eyes scanned the room.

  It was Detective McEnroe.

  I hadn’t seen him since the funeral, and wasn’t too happy to see him now. He always made me second guess my own innocence.

  “We’re just cleaning up,” Cynthia said. “Everyone’s gone, or leaving.” She swept her hand around the room. “I saw you at the funeral, Detective so I know you are not here to pay your respects. You’ve already done that.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re right. Not paying my respects. I’m here to follow up.”

  Liam and I looked at each other.

  “Who do you want to ask a question to now?” Cynthia asked. “Which one of Big Willie’s beloved family member do you want to accuse now? Because everyone here is in mourning and really not in the mood.”

  “Not in the mood to solve the murder?” The detective asked he raised his eyes, his crackly voice went up an octave.

  “Of course we want to solve the murder.” Cynthia sucked her tongue. “But does it have to be today? Look around at us,” Cynthia said. “All dressed in black, sullen looks and moods, I don’t know how much help we’ll be.”

  Dale stepped up next to his mother. He looked at her and smiled. “We’ll be happy to help anyway we can,” he said. “As you can see, it’s just a sad day for my mother.”

  “That is perfectly understandable,” the detective said. “And I won’t be long. I promise.”

  “What is it?” Cynthia asked again.

  “We’ve made a positive ID on the gun.”

  “What gun?”

  “Big Willie’s .38.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s the murder weapon,” the detective said with a smug look on his face.

 
; “Are you sure?” Liam asked. “Big Willie didn’t even use that gun. It stayed in its case all the time.”

  “It was in the case when you gave it to him, wasn’t it?” Cynthia asked.

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “Just like it has always been.”

  “So whose fingerprints are on it?” Liam asked. “Because that’s who killed Big Willie.”

  “The gun had been wiped clean. And the only fingerprints on the bullets were Big Willie’s.”

  “So, you can’t tell who used it, because it’s only Big Willie’s prints. How can you be sure that it was the murder weapon?” Dale asked.

  “Ballistics test,” Detective McEnroe said. “Markings on the casings matched. And we found a sliver of wood in the barrel. Matched the wood that was on Big Willie, and in the barn.”

  “Big Willie was killed by his own gun?” Dale asked.

  “Looks that way,” Detective McEnroe said. “It looks that way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Agnes came down the hallway into the kitchen where we sat carrying an armload of stuff. I watched her as she set the things down and walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a glass. She fished a pill out of her purse that she kept in one of the lower cabinets then filled up the glass with water from the sink. While drinking the water to down the pills, she looked over the rim of the glass at me.

  She drank slowly, her eyes on me the entire time.

  I wonder what she was thinking.

  I was thinking she might be the murderer.

  Jacob and Dale has joined Liam and I as we went back to the kitchen. Liam didn’t want me to go, although he needed hide out from anyone, everyone had already left. But I stayed. I just didn’t feel right leaving when he said he needed me.

  Agnes took her eyes from mine and cast them over to Liam and said, “Voy a llevar estas cosas a la tienda de segunda mano.”

  I about fell out of my seat.

  I looked around. Omg! Did anyone else realize what this woman had just said?

  Agnes, who still didn’t know that I could speak Spanish, had just announced that she was taking “these things” down to the thrift store. There, included in “these things,” was a brown, paper-bag-colored shoebox. I couldn’t see the top or sides of that box, but I knew what was scrawled across it – Louboutin – I’d know that shoebox anywhere.

  I tried to stay calm, but I felt perspiration seeping out of my every pore. My heart started racing, my leg started shaking, and I couldn’t swallow because of the lump in my throat.

  Was she really giving a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes to a second hand store?

  I popped up out of my seat and started to step off. Liam looked at me questioningly. I smiled and sat back down.

  But I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sit still much longer. I also knew I couldn’t let anyone know that I knew what that bilingual buster was talking about, either.

  Heck she might just be the killer and suddenly want to confess in Spanish. I needed her to feel comfortable doing that, have the utmost confidence that I wouldn’t know what she was talking about. So, I crossed my legs and held on to my knee to try to keep it still.

  But I kept alert. I was thinking that at any minute, someone was going to yell, “Wait! Not that box!” and go over and snatch the shoebox from her grubby little hands.

  But no. “Okay,” was what Liam said and then smiled at her.

  And then, he didn’t say anything else.

  I held my breath as she rinsed out her glass, put her purse over her shoulder, then picked up the two shopping bags and the shoebox and headed out of the door. I pursed my lips, holding them together tightly and tried to swallow all the saliva that was collecting inside my mouth. I didn’t want it rolling down my chin.

  My eyes, however, was on the move. I followed Agnes’ every move. She pushed that screen door open and held it with her hip as she moved her bags around. When she disappeared from view, I put my ears on high alert. I heard the car door open. I listened, not saying a word or moving a muscle until I heard her start her car.

  Ooo! I wiggled in my seat, they probably thought I had to pee. Was this really happening? Designer shoes at dollar store prices? OMG! God was definitely smiling down on me.

  As soon as the purr of that engine reached my ears, I popped up out of my seat, swooped my purse up off of the kitchen table, yanked my heels off, and darted through the kitchen toward the front door. I had to make it to my car before she got around the house.

  “Hey!” Liam called behind me. “Where are you going?”

  “Uhm . . . I have to go,” I called over my shoulder. “I forgot to leave food out for Alfie.” I heard him come after me, but I wasn’t stopping. I reached the door and had to fumble with the lock. “Just . . . Just have to get back . . .” I jerked the handle and kicked the door. “And feed the little bugger,” I said pushing out each word with another jab at that stubborn door.

  What happened to them not locking doors?

  Then through the screen, I saw Agnes’ little Toyota Corolla ambling down that gravel road from around back of the house, her head peering over the steering wheel, her hands ten and two concentrating on getting to that thrift store. And if I didn’t follow her, I wouldn’t know what poor unsuspecting back door she dropped them off.

  Omgee!

  I used all my little might and gave the handle another wrench. It swung open, and I fell out. I stumbled over my bare feet, and dropped a shoe. Reaching down to pick it up, I called back to Liam, who by that time was standing in the front entryway watching me with a silly grin on his face. “Okay, gotta go,” I said. “I’ll call you later!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I bounced all the way back to the hotel with happiness.

  I got a pair of Louboutin Espacdi for ten bucks!

  Well, really twenty because I paid the worker to get those shoes processed for me as quickly as possible.

  How wonderful was life.

  Of course I had to wait out by the receptacle in back of the Blues City Thrift store where she’d taken them until they were collected, marked and place out on the floor.

  I would have slept in that back parking lot if I had to. And as soon as I got them in my grubby little hands, I ran to my car, started it and jerked it in gear. I wanted to get away before anyone realized what they had done.

  After I was several miles from that thrift store, and lost somewhere in Memphis because I had paid no attention to anything but the tail end of Agnes’ car, I pulled over and lifted the lid of the shoebox just enough to peek inside. That’s when I discovered that it was the pair of Espacdi’s that Cynthia was wearing when I first arrived.

  How could I be so lucky?

  I reached in to touch them but pulled my hand back. No! I wanted to get the full experience. To smell them. To touch them. To feel them. To wear them. All at once.

  Sigh . . .

  I wiped the drool from the side of my mouth and fished out my iPhone.

  “Suri,” I spoke into it. “How do I get back to the hotel from here?”

  I clicked on fastest route, and pressed down on the gas. I couldn’t wait for those Espacdis and me to become one.

  ◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊

  “I’ve got a joke for you,” my grandfather announced as soon I answered his FaceTime request.

  He was taking up my time I had planned for my new pair of shoes. I had just walked into my hotel room, and given Alfie a little love. I had sat on the side of the bed and kicked off my shoes when he rang.

  “Okaay,” I said caught off guard. I thought he’d call because he wanted to know what happened at the funeral. “Let’s hear your joke.”

  “Why don’t they play poker in the jungle?” Dedek asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, Dedek. Why don’t they play poker in the jungle?”

  “Because there are too many cheetahs!”

  I giggled. “That’s a good one, Dedek.”

  “Just thought I’d cheer you up
a bit,” Dedek said. “I know a murder investigation can stress a person out.”

  “Don’t I know it, Dedek.” I sucked in a breath. “I didn’t learn one thing today. If the killer was at the funeral he didn’t make himself known.”

  “What?” he asked. “You thought the killer might have stood up and announced himself?”

  “No, Dedek,” I said. “I didn’t think that.”

  “You have to put all the clues together. Everything you’ve learned.”

  “How do people put clues together, Dedek? It looks so much easier on TV.”

  “Don’t worry, they will all fall into place, something will just make it click,” he said.

  “Well, Dedek, I have to go.” I bounced on the bed. “I just bought a new pair of shoes.”

  “Oh, no. What is that I hear?” he said.

  “About my shoes?” I asked.

  “No. I think it is the air coming from your wallet. It is so deflated.”

  “Ha, ha, Dedek,” I said. “I bought them from a thrift-store for ten dollars.”

  Dedek leaned in close to the screen, then swiped his finger across it as if he were removing a smudge. “Who are you?” he said. “And where is my granddaughter?”

  I took Alfie for a walk after I hung up from my Dedek, he was itching to go and I didn’t want any distractions when I put on the shoes – I couldn’t decide if I was going to sleep with them on my feet, or just curl up with the shoebox next to me.

  Alfie pulled me along, my mind adrift. I thought about all the things I had found out. But there was nothing I’d learned that led me, at least in my mind, to a murderer.

  Missing money. Cheating spouses. Tiny house building competition feuds. Sneaky Spanish speaking maids and gossiping ranch hands. It was what motives were made of, but none of it ran deep enough, that I’d seen, to make someone pull the trigger.

  Nothing added up.

  Maybe my Dedek hadn’t been the right person to share with about this. He had put ideas into my head, having me believe I could solve the murder myself.

  “I’d better be more careful, and keep my guard up with Dedek,” I said to Alfie as he took care of his business. “Next he’ll have talked me into going to the cemetery in Illinois.”