“You’re not going to say you’re from the FBI again, are you?” Aggy asked. “I think that might make things worse.”
“No, I won’t.” But I was doubtful things could get much worse at this point.
15
I parked the Corvette next to Parker Dirke’s fabulous home, my nerves on edge, but my jaw set. Aggy unclipped her seatbelt, shooting a nervous glance my way, waiting for my permission to get out beside me.
This was it.
Parker Dirke had to be the answer. Or he’d have some type of answer that would lead us toward solving this case. And setting Mona free. Not that I was excited about that part of the outcome but still. It meant another murderer behind bars, safer streets for Sleepy Creek, and proving that I hadn’t taken money from a murderer.
Just from a pretty terrible person overall. There was a distinction there, however slight.
“Agatha,” I said, turning toward my cousin. “I wanted you to know that apart from sleeping on the job, the constant nagging about how hot it is, and your obsession with your stomach, you’d make a fine private investigator.”
Her jaw dropped. “Do you really think so?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” I replied. “Your people skills might not be great, but hey, clearly mine aren’t either, so that’s not a measure of success. Of course, money is a good measure of success and I don’t have much of that either, so maybe you should take my praise with a pinch of salt.”
“I think you’re successful.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s see how this goes before we make any final decisions.” I got out of the car, and Aggy came along with me.
Unlike the last time I’d been here, the sun was shining brightly, the birds chirping in the trees. The long lane that ran alongside the affluent homes was lined by rose bushes. It was decidedly not a place I belonged.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, walking up to the intercom. It had a little camera lens, which made this either a lot better or worse.
I pressed the buzzer, glancing through the rungs of the gates toward the house. Parker Dirke’s black Porsche was parked out front.
“Yeah?”
I looked squarely into the camera lens. “Mr. Dirke? My name is Christie Watson. I was hoping to talk to you today about Emma.”
A silence followed, and I waited for the hammer to fall. He could see my entire face. There wasn’t a chance he wouldn’t recognize me as the pushy FBI agent from the other day, was there?
“Why would I talk to you about Emma?” he snapped.
“I’m a private investigator,” I said, “and I’m trying to figure out what happened to her. Do you have a minute to talk?” He hadn’t recognized me. Had he? Was this my last miracle? Maybe Poirot had gifted me one of his nine lives.
“A private investigator?” Parker Dirke asked. “You look familiar.”
“Yeah, I’m a local. You’ve probably seen me around town.”
Another bout of quiet and then… “Fine.” The gates clicked and swung inward on their motors, and I half-expected an angelic sound clip to play.
“Thank you, Mr. Dirke.”
Aggy and I started up the long gravel pathway.
“I can’t believe it,” Aggy whispered. “He didn’t recognize you. Why didn’t he recognize you?”
“There are two possibilities. First, he did recognize me and he decided he wanted to let us in so he can murder us and prevent us from telling anyone the truth. That he really killed Emma.”
Aggy gulped. “What’s the second possibility?”
“He’s super self-involved and didn’t even make a note of my face.”
“I hope it’s the second one.”
Parker Dirke emerged from the house onto the grand stone front porch wearing his hair swept to one side and gelled. He had on a pair of tailored slacks and a blue Polo shirt.
“What do you want to ask me?” He tucked his hands into his pockets, not offering a proper greeting.
“We should probably discuss this inside,” I said.
“No. Out here is fine. I don’t like strangers in my home, least of all two… women.”
He’d definitely been about to say something else. Less savory. “All right, then I’ll ask my questions out here,” I said. “Mr. Dirke, why was your car sighted outside Emma’s place of work on the morning and afternoon of her murder?”
His eyes grew round. “What? That’s impossible. It wasn’t there.”
“It was,” I replied. “Surely, the police must’ve raised the question with you when they talked to you about Emma’s murder.”
“They didn’t need to raise any questions with me,” the ex-husband replied. “I wasn’t in town on the day of Emma’s murder. I have the receipts from my hotel to prove it, as well as several eyewitnesses who can corroborate my story.”
“Story,” I remarked.
“Alibi. Whatever.” His cheeks pinked. “I didn’t invite you in here to field accusations. I want to find out what happened to Emma as much as everyone else does. And, as far as I’ve heard, they’ve already done that. I thought you were coming to talk to me to gather more information to build a case against this Jonah woman who murdered her.”
“I’m tying up a few loose ends,” I said. “Checking a few boxes.”
“Wait.” He put up a hand. “Who are you working for? You’re not with the police department?” Why had he assumed that? Or rather, why was he asking now that he’d let us in?
Everything about Dirke was suspicious. Conflicting. Had he been in Sleepy Creek for a few weeks? Or for longer? Why had he lied about his less-than-amicable split from Emma?
“I’m working in a personal capacity,” I said. “You’re sure you weren’t here on the day of Emma’s murder?”
“Of course, I’m sure!” Parker arched an eyebrow so high, it nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Who do you think you are, asking me questions like that? If you’re not with the police then—”
“Mr. Dirke, where was your car parked during the time you were away?” I asked.
His alibi had to have checked out if the cops hadn’t arrested him for Emma’s murder. Meaning that someone had taken Mr. Dirke’s car on that day. But who? And how?
“My car? It was here. At the house. As per usual.”
“In the garage?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“And where do you keep the keys?”
“How is that relevant?”
I forced a smile. “Because, as I mentioned, your car was seen around the crime scene on the morning and afternoon of Emma’s death. Somebody must’ve taken your car, if you weren’t here to drive it yourself.”
Parker paled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I had my keys with me. But there’s a spare set in my study. Not that anybody would’ve been able to access them.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “There’s no one you can think of who might’ve been able to gain access to your home?”
He seemed to consider it for a second before shaking his head. “No. I have a maid, but she wasn’t here that day. And she can’t drive. She walks here.”
“She walks here?” I asked.
“You don’t give her a ride?” Aggy put in.
Parker glared at her. “Who are you?”
“She’s my assistant,” I said. “And do you ever give your maid a ride to work?”
“Of course not.”
“OK.” I cleared my throat. “And when did you first arrive in town? In Sleepy Creek?” I had asked him this when I’d posed as an FBI agent, but I wanted to check whether he gave me a different answer this time.
“I don’t know, a couple of weeks ago? I’ve always owned property here because this was Emma’s home town and she wanted a house here, but I haven’t been living…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second, you look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I used to work in the Burger Bar.” That was my excuse and I was sticking to it.
&n
bsp; His frown deepened, and I sensed my time running out, rapidly.
“Well, that’s all the questions I have for you for now, Mr. Dirke. Thank you.” I grabbed hold of my cousin and frogmarched her down the path.
“That guy is horrible,” she said. “He doesn’t give his maid a ride to work. And he’s rude.”
“Sure, he is. He’s also staring at our backs and might realize who I am in about five seconds,” I said. “So let’s not do anything to upset the rich guy and just get out of here, mkay?”
We hurried out of the opening gates and got into the Corvette. I started the engine, but of course, the old girl decided today was the day she’d refuse to cooperate.
“I bet he did it,” Aggy said.
“He lied about how long he’s been in Sleepy Creek, but if he has an alibi I’d have to assume that his alibi checked out because Liam doesn’t do sloppy police work.” I bit down on my bottom lip and turned the key in the ignition again. “But I think you might be right. He might not have killed Emma, but there’s something there. Some involvement. He grew pale when I mentioned someone else having access to his car while he was away.”
“Do you think he was maybe working with somebody?”
I nodded. “That seems the most plausible option,” I replied. “And we’re going to find out who it was.”
“How?”
16
I parked the Corvette down the street, under the shade of a tree, and waited, my fingers slick on the steering wheel. I shouldn’t have been this nervous, but how could I not be?
If I could prove, without a shadow of reasonable doubt, that the ex-husband had done this, it would be over. Mona would be out of prison, unleashed upon Sleepy Creek again, help us all, and my name would be cleared.
I would no longer be the woman who took money from a murderer.
Just the one who endangered her boyfriend’s job.
“Look!” Aggy hissed from the passenger seat. “He’s coming out. He’s coming out!”
“All right,” I said, briskly. “Don’t jostle around so much. He’ll see you wriggling like a worm on a hook.”
Aggy stilled.
The black Porsche exited the grand gates and started off down the road, driving at a leisurely pace. Mr. Dirke wasn’t concerned about being anywhere in a hurry, that was for sure. Strange, how the last time he’d pulled up to the front of his house in a hurry, even dismissed me out of hand, but this time…
“You don’t think he’ll notice the car, do you?” Aggy asked. “It’s red. And we were parked right there.” She pointed to the spot beside the stone column near his driveway.
The Corvette was already idling because I didn’t trust it would start up in the heat of a chase. I took off down the road after our suspect, focusing on his taillights. “The man didn’t recognize my face,” I said. “He’s so self-involved, he wouldn’t remember a clown car parking outside his house, let alone this one.”
Aggy clasped her seatbelt, glaring out of the front window, while I slowed a little, keeping two cars’ worth of distance from the Porsche. Unobservant or not, I didn’t want to push my luck.
The Porsche wound into town, arcing toward the middle-class suburbs, rather than the stores. This wasn’t a shopping trip. Parker was off to visit someone. But who? And why did it matter? For all I knew, Mr. Dirke might be going out for a late lunch or running a completely innocent errand.
But I was desperate and following him around felt like the only option I had left. Especially since he’d given us conflicting stories, and he’d agreed to talk to me twice—he seemed desperate to prove he had nothing to do with it. Why else would he invite a stranger up to his house? Or talk to a supposed FBI agent with little identification?
“Where’s he going?” Aggy asked. “Isn’t this close to where Grizzy lives?”
She was right. We were smack in the middle of the suburbs, quite far from my apartment, but close to where my friend and her detective husband lived.
The Porsche slowed, and so did we, hanging back behind another car.
“He’s parking. I think he’s parking!” Aggy cried.
“Cool it on the incessant narration, will you?”
Aggy quieted, but she leaned forward, pressing into her seat belt so it was taut against her chest. It was good that she was engaged with the case.
Parker pulled into the driveway of a two story home. I cruised by, keeping my gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Where are you going?” Aggy asked. “He parked right there! We have to see what he’s up to!”
“We will in a minute,” I replied, and pulled around a corner. I parked the car in the street then got out, gesturing for Aggy to do the same. “We’re less conspicuous when we’re on foot.”
Aggy nodded, keeping pace with me as we strode down the sidewalk and into the street where Parker had stopped. “Thanks for explaining.”
I didn’t say anything.
I’d spent a lot of my time annoyed at Aggy’s presence in Sleepy Creek, not only because I didn’t like dealing with emotions and family, but because I wasn’t in the habit of explaining my every move. But I owed it to her to give her a chance.
Aggy had me and nothing else. I couldn’t imagine how terrible that felt.
Actually, I can.
We approached the house where Parker had stopped, and slowed to a leisurely stroll. “Pretend to be talking to me,” I said. “Quietly. About something that’s not related to the case. Talk to me about cats or food or something.”
Aggy set off, spinning a tale about the last time she’d visited Missi and Vee, and how Curly Fries had been there because Grizzy had needed a sitter for the night. Curly was a glutton, and Grizzy and Arthur discovered she’d been breaking into their refrigerator and hiding morsels underneath her cat bed to snack on later. She could no longer be left unattended for fear that she’d eat herself into a coma.
The story was equal parts disturbing and entertaining. We passed by the house, and I nodded along to what Aggy was saying, my gaze darting up to the front porch.
Parker was up there, talking to a woman.
A woman I recognized.
We passed by.
“—so she leaped up on the kitchen table, and Missi got such a shock that she splattered macaroni and cheese everywhere. I couldn’t—”
“Stop,” I murmured, as we reached the second house down from where I’d spotted Parker and the woman. “Keep walking but listen.”
“I’m listening,” Aggy whispered.
“Did you see the woman at the house? On the porch? Talking to Parker?”
“No, I was busy telling you about Curly Fries and the—”
“Aggy, next time pay attention to your surroundings. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said, showing a willingness to learn that she hadn’t in the last year.
That was one good thing that’d come from our isolation—we’d grown closer together. “It was Nadine Whitmore.”
“Wait. Who’s that?”
“Gossip Circle member. Blonde woman with the bushy hair? We spoke to her and Shayna Quill at the Gossip Circle headquarters at the start of the week. She’s the one who was working at the newspaper and happened to be very good friends with Emma, our victim,” I said, and turned the corner. “Now, why do you think those two might be meeting so soon after Emma’s death?”
“How do they even know each other?” Aggy asked.
“Precisely. Parker made a big deal about how he was moving out of the town and how he always owned property here but they didn’t live here until recently. So why does he know Nadine?”
“I don’t know,” Aggy said. “Maybe… they’re having an affair?”
“That’s a good assumption.” I circled back and we started back down the road. “But we’ll need to prove it.”
“How?”
“Research. Talking to people about it. Spying on her,” I said. “Though, we don’t have much time left.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only that if Parker is at her house, he must be raising the alarm. An affair makes sense,” I continued, slapping the back of my hand into the palm of the other. “It would give a reason for Parker to want to get rid of Emma. And the fact that Nadine worked at the paper would’ve given her the chance to plant a note on Emma’s body that made it seem like Mona was the one who stabbed her.”
Aggy pulled a face. “She’s also in the Gossip Circle so she could spread rumors about Mona, right?”
“Right.” I clicked my fingers at Aggy. “We’re on to something here.”
We passed the house, but the front door was shut and Parker’s vehicle had left. Was Nadine in there? Or had the pair gone somewhere together? I had to figure out why they’d been meeting.
It was one thing to assume they’d been having an affair, but we had to prove it. Then prove the motive was correct and place either Nadine or Parker in the proximity of the crime scene.
“And you know what else? If Nadine was having an affair with Parker, she would’ve had easy access to his car keys.”
“We’re doing it!” Aggy’s face lit up. “We’re actually going to solve the case.”
I tempered my expectations. As much as I wanted to get swept up in the excitement of a new lead in the case after the certainty that everything was going to fall apart, I had to maintain a clear head. We didn’t have the evidence we needed.
Or the connection between Parker and Nadine, other than a quick meeting that could hardly be considered clandestine.
Thankfully, I had a hunch who might know what was going on. And she’d be more than willing to talk.
We got into the car, Aggy brimming with theories for the first time since she’d been here, and me silent.
We were running out of time. Every minute Mona spent behind bars made this worse. I had to kick this investigation into high gear.
17
“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice.” I stood on the Gossip Circle’s headquarters’ top step, trying not to press too hard or too fast. Time was ticking away—the sun arced toward the horizon slowly, the sky blushing peach.
The BBQ Burger Murder Page 8
