As Devin rounded the next curve, the town limit sign for Fenton came into view.
Henry had finished mowing the grass this morning before the heat of the day set in. Now that he was freshly showered, he was going to enjoy the Saturday paper in the shade of his porch, with a frosty glass of iced tea. In his years of bachelorhood, he had learned to fend for himself in the kitchen and made a darn fine glass of sweet tea, if he did say so himself. He was still quite a handsome man of sixty-three. His blond hair had turned silver, but his blue eyes were still electric, and he still had the chiseled jaw and broad shoulders of his youth. Many women over the years had considered him quite the catch, but his heart could never settle down. It wasn’t his to give away.
Just as Henry got to the sports section, a car started down the street. He actually heard it long before it turned the corner. The engine had the sweet rumble of a car built by actual human beings, back in the day when cars were made of steel and sweat and rolled off the line in Detroit, not Japan. Sure enough, when the car made the turn he could see it was Mustang Mach 1. If he had to guess, he’d say a ’69. It was a beast of a machine done in the original maroon and black paint scheme with a vented hood and tail fin, a true car guy’s car.
Henry watched as the Mustang pulled into the driveway directly across from his house. A long-legged young woman stepped out, pulling the clip from her hair and tossing it back into the car. So much for it being a car guy’s car, Henry chuckled to himself. Once her hair was loose, the dark mass tumbled around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Henry couldn’t help but think of another young brunette that had lived in that house. For a moment he was transported back to watching Laney bouncing across the street to tell him the latest gossip while she watched him work on his car. Henry swallowed hard and shook off the memory. Thirty-five years had passed, and he still mourned her every day.
He set his newspaper aside and started across the street. Might as well introduce himself to Bobby’s new renter. With the shape the house was in, this girl would need all the help she could get. As he reached the opposite sidewalk, he noticed her standing at the front of her car studying some paperwork, probably making sure she had the right house. By the looks of the weedy yard and dirty windows, she probably hoped she had the wrong address. She wore jean shorts with a purple tank top and flip flops. Henry couldn’t help but wonder at how women’s fashions had deteriorated since the sixties. Where was the class and style?
As he stepped up on the curb he called out to her. “Afternoon. Are you the new tenant?”
She turned as he approached and slid off her sunglasses. She smiled as she looked up at him, and he thought she called out some greeting, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even breathe. It was as if Laney Bennett were standing in front of him, alive once again. After a moment, Henry could, of course, see the differences—she was older than Laney had been when she died, which made her features more angular, and her hair had a hint of red to it that made it more mahogany then Laney’s black. The biggest difference was that Laney had been full of light—she seemed to glow with her happiness and enthusiasm—but this young woman had a hardness about her, an edge that whispered she’d seen too much. But those warm chocolate brown eyes were exactly the same and that’s what held him speechless.
Devin stood in front of her family’s aged home and waited benignly for the elderly gentlemen to compose himself. She wasn’t completely surprised by his reaction. She’d expected something similar while she was here, just not the moment she stepped out of the car. Devin had seen that same expression on her father’s face many times, and it usually preceded one of his long alcohol-induced absences. She’d overheard her father once sobbing to her mother that he just couldn’t stand to look at Devin day in and day out and be reminded of his dead sister. Knowing it had been the alcohol talking didn’t remove the sting.
After a moment Henry seamed to regain himself. “I am so sorry, it’s just that you look so...I was just…you look like someone I used to know,” he finished quietly. “Are you the new tenant?” He repeated his earlier question looking hopeful of moving the conversation along.
Devin tended to alienate people because she was distant and gruff, but she didn’t want to start that just ten minutes after arriving in Fenton, so she smiled again, trying to act as if nothing was amiss with his behavior. “Sort of. My Father actually owns the house, and I’m going to be staying here for a few months.”
“You’re Bobby’s daughter.”
It was a statement not a question, but Devin answered it anyway. “Yes, I’m Devin Dushane.” She put out her hand for him to shake. “And you are?”
“Henry Maddox.” He gave a crooked grin that she imagined had made many ladies swoon over the years as he took her hand. “I was your Dad’s neighbor when we were kids, and I guess I’ll be your neighbor now.” He inclined his head towards the house he had just come from.
Devin saw him glance at her left hand. “Dushane?” he asked, “Is that your mother’s name?”
She grinned as she settled her sunglasses on top of her head. “It was my husband’s name. We’re divorced, but I thought it had a nice ring to it.”
“Oh.” Henry looked on the brink of mortification at committing yet another social faux pas as he quickly changed the subject. “Well, being Bobby’s girl definitely explains the car. It looks like one of his. She’s a real beauty.” Henry ran his hand tenderly down the fender of the Mustang.
“Talking about cars was pretty much the only language he was comfortable communicating in when I was a kid. So I would hang out in his garage after school, and we rebuilt this Mustang together. He gave it to me when I graduated high school.” Devin’s tone had become wishful as she reminisced. Even though their time together had been sporadic while building the car, there were times she had seen him every day for a week. She hadn’t seen her father for more than a few minutes at a time since those lessons in the garage years ago.
She fished a set of keys out of the pocket of her shorts. “I was hoping to run into you, Henry. Dad said you might be able to help me out.” Devin saw him glance around the yard and knew she was going to catch him off guard again, but she plunged ahead anyway. “I’m a detective with the Richmond PD, and I’m using my time here to investigate the murder of Laney Bennett.”
She had definitely caught him off guard. All of the color drained out of his face, and his easy smile faded. “They’ve tried to pin Laney’s murder on me for more than thirty years.” His voice was as rough as crushed gravel as it ground out of his clenched jaw. “I loved her and could never have hurt her. I would’ve thought your father, of all people, knew that.” Henry spun around and started back towards his house, seething with anger, but he froze at Devin’s next words.
“He does know that.” Her voice was soft and warm, “I’m here to find out who actually killed her, not to speculate.” Devin studied the ring of keys, trying to pick out the correct one for the front door. She was as nonchalant as if they were discussing the weather.
Henry studied her for a moment before he spoke, as if trying to decide if she was a figment of his imagination. He spoke ever so softly. “Who do you think killed her?”
“That I don’t know. Yet. Dad always said they never investigated the right people, and from my research so far, it looks like they finally just made up an excuse for her death and tucked it away in a cold-case file. I believe there has to be a trail somewhere.”
From the very beginning the detectives from the sheriff’s department and state police had focused on Henry as their prime suspect. Although he had never been able to provide an alibi, there had been no other evidence to suggest he was guilty, so they had been forced to release Henry, and by that time all other leads had grown cold. With no new evidence they had proclaimed that the murder had been committed by an outsider passing through. A random act of violence.
“You think you can solve this on your summer vacation? Hundreds of man hours have gone into
this investigation over the years.” Henry tried to sound casual, but there was an undercurrent of hopeful longing in his voice.
Devin smirked at him, “Maybe that’s the problem—too many man hours have gone into this. I think it’s time this murder was looked at from a fresh perspective, and I have a unique set of skills that could get me a little further than your average detective.”
Henry cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her until she elaborated. “I work for the major crimes unit, my partner and I solve the unsolvable, it’s our…was our specialty.” She ignored the pang at the mention of Greg.
“It’s been thirty-five years. Where do you even start looking? Who’s going to remember anything?”
“Well,” Devin sighed as she looked over the worn house and overgrown yard. “First I have to get settled in here, and then I’m meeting with the sheriff on Monday morning to take a look at the case files. I’ll need your help identifying who I should talk to and help with introductions. People will be more likely to talk to me if I’m not an outsider. They’ll remember more than you think, and besides—the evidence never forgets.”
“I think you’re going to need my help with the yard, too.” Henry smiled ruefully as they both turned to face the house.
Devin spent the rest of Saturday scrubbing, bleaching and making trips to the grocery and hardware stores. Everything in the house was covered with a layer of dust and grime, and there were endless repairs and replacements that needed to be made. Obviously her father had only provided basic maintenance over the years leaving the bulk of the responsibility to his renters. It was not a decision that had paid off. For today, she was just concentrating on getting the house livable; she’d have to check with her father about doing any painting or renovations. If he would let her that would be a great project for her alimony money. She was sitting on quite a nice nest egg that Carter had provided for her. The house had been built in the 1940s, and nothing had really been changed since 1960. In fact her father had locked up Laney’s room, and when he committed his mother to the mental hospital, it remained a shrine to Aunt Laney’s wasted youth since the night she died.
As twilight settled in, Devin collapsed into a chair on the front porch with a diet soda, almost wishing it were something stronger. She was now filthy, but the house had been improved 110%. The hundreds of tiny white tiles that covered the bathroom floor and half the wall sparkled after she had scrubbed each and every one, and she looked forward to sinking into a hot bath in that heavy porcelain tub.
The retro appliances in the kitchen still worked, and once she scrubbed the Formica counters down and discovered the pale green boomerang pattern, the room had a hip vibe that she thought would be complemented nicely with some fresh apple green paint. Most importantly right then, her grandmother’s roomy bedroom that looked down into the front yard and the street had been scrubbed, aired out and outfitted with fresh linens. The aged green and gold wallpaper had darkened over time and made the room feel like a cave. She was itching to tear it down and paint the room an airy ocean blue and replace the heavy golden drapes with long gauzy white curtains. She wanted to sleep in a room she could breathe in, might as well soak in the country air while she was here. Tonight though she was so exhausted it wouldn’t matter if she slept in a cave, on the beach or up in a tree, as long as she had a place to lay her head.
As she sipped her soda, Devin admired the freshly mowed grass. Henry had insisted on mowing the grass for her and trimming the hedges. Looking around she was glad she hadn’t protested too hard. Cleaning up the yard had made a huge difference in the appearance of the house. Once she got the flower boxes planted and the shutters painted, it would look downright pleasant. Housework and home décor was not usually Devin’s cup of tea; she was better with handguns not hand scrubbing. She had accompanied Marcy on a few of her weekend Pottery Barn runs, but she preferred to spend her Saturday mornings shooting hoops at the local Boys and Girls Club. But there was something very satisfying in bringing this ghost of a home back to life, maybe because it housed the roots of her family.
Devin thought ahead to Monday morning. What would Sheriff Bittner be able to tell her? Would he be willing to tell her anything? Small communities like this could be very tight-lipped. She would have to be very careful in how she handled the sheriff. If he thought she was there out of curiosity, and not criticism, he would be much more likely to open up his resources to her. Charming and charismatic were not always adjectives that could be used to describe Devin, but when she wanted something badly enough and turned those things on, she could be hypnotically persuasive. That would be the approach she would take on Monday. What was the saying, you can catch more bees with honey? Devin smiled to herself. I wonder what the queen bee uses to attract worker bees?
Chapter 6
Devin parked her car along Main Street. As she fed the meter she could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on her. In a town this small, it was major news when a stranger showed up headed for the sheriff’s department, and this sultry summer morning was no different.
She had opted for her normal work attire—dark blue jeans with a maroon t-shirt topped off with her favorite chocolate-brown blazer. Devin thought it was best not to carry her service weapon, since she was on a mandatory leave but she had clipped her badge to her belt.
Leave or not, I’m still a cop; they owe me that much, she thought grimly.
Remembering her strategy, Devin softened her expression and tried to leave the massive chip from her shoulder in the car as she swung through the double doors. The secretary at the desk looked up at her in surprise and placed a bookmark in the romance novel she was reading. Devin wondered if the surprise stemmed from having a visitor or the appearance of the visitor. Devin smiled warmly as she slid her sunglasses off, hooked them on her shirt and fanned herself with her hand.
“Whew! Already a scorcher out there!” Devin knew from experience that connecting personally, even over something as simple as the weather, created familiarity. She glanced at the name plate on the desk. “Marlene Dellinger? I believe we spoke on the phone. I’m Detective Dushane from Richmond and I’ve got an appointment with Sheriff Bittner this morning.”
Marlene obviously enjoyed being remembered and was all smiles for her new guest. “Of course, Detective. We’ve been expecting you this morning. I hope you didn’t melt this morning on your drive over from Richmond. That must have been quite an early morning for you.”
Devin recognized a dig for information when she heard one, and she didn’t mind giving Marlene a little inside information if it gave her an ally within the sheriff’s office. “Actually, I’m staying here in Fenton, so I just had to come across town this morning.” She leaned in as if she were passing on top-secret information and lowered her voice conspiringly. I’m going to be here for a month or two working on a cold case, the Bennett murder…there’s a family connection, you know.” Devin worked to keep a straight face as Marlene nodded sagely, her eyes wide with new juicy gossip. By lunch everyone in Fenton would know she was there and why; it would save her a lot of introductions.
“Of course, dear.” Marlene was still nodding as the phone rang. “You go on back. His office is on the far end just past the detectives. I’d take you myself, but duty calls.” She waved her hand at the phone and rolled her eyes. “But you be sure to stop and see me on your way out, y’here?”
Devin gave her a wide smile and a wink and headed through the doorway, tucking her folders and notepad under her arm as she went. Even in Richmond female detectives were uncommon, so it came as no surprise to Devin that she was creating a stir as she wound through the desks. A dark-haired young detective actually leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head to watch her approach.
When she reached his desk, he gave her a broad smile. “Please tell me there’s something I can help you with,” he drawled out.
His accent was heavy even for Virginia, and she could tell his ego was even heavier. She shot back her dry reply without even thinking. “L
ord, I dearly hope not.” Well, she thought belatedly, maybe there’s such a thing as too many friends. The blond detective across from him roared with laughter, and Mr. Smooth’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he regained himself quickly. Before he could try out his next line, she cut in. “I have an appointment with Sheriff Bittner. I’m looking for his office.”
“And you’ve found it!” a voice boomed from the office doorway ten feet behind Mr. Smooth. “Come on in, Detective, and make yourself at home.” Sheriff Grahm Bittner could not have looked more the part of a small-town sheriff if he’d been cast from Hollywood. He had a large frame, probably no more than five feet ten inches tall, but his belly entered the room first, followed by his bushy silver mustache. He motioned Devin to the chairs in front of his desk and pulled the door shut behind her. “You’ll have to excuse my detectives, ma’am. We don’t get a lot of pretty ladies wandering around our offices. Now, that being said, to what do I owe this pleasure? ”
Devin laughed out loud. In Richmond his statement would be so “un-PC”, but coming from someone who looked like a cross between a benevolent grandfather and a Santa who had lost his beard, Devin had a hard time taking offense. Still smiling she started in gently, knowing her request was a big one.
“Sheriff, my family hails from Fenton. My maiden name was Bennett… I’m Bobby Bennett’s daughter.” She paused and let that information roll over him. He leaned back in his chair as if her words had physically pushed him backwards.
Devils Among Us (Devin Dushane Series Book 1) Page 4
