by Meryl Sawyer
Clay nodded but he had a faraway look in his eyes. “This will give Dad a running start on his opponents. With the reward the bank is offering to find Elmer’s killer, people will be riveted to their televisions.”
Tori tried to look on the bright side. Maybe she would get some free publicity, too. The judge’s speech might even turn Doris Purtle around, and Tori could sell her estate. She would need that commission to throw the kind of wedding the Kincaids would expect. At the very least, becoming a Kincaid would save her career in Twin Oaks.
Tori hated being involved in politics, so she tried for a smile and kept her thoughts focused on the wedding. If they had it soon enough, her mother might be able to attend. Please, God. Keep her alive until the wedding.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Clay said with a smile. “This ring is only temporary. I’m going to buy you the big diamond we saw in Jackson.”
“YES INDEEDY, you’re not going to believe this,” Nora told Justin when he walked into the station on the morning following the discovery of the thirty-eight.
“Tell me the state crime lab has run the ballistics test on the gun.” He’d sent it over to Jackson with one of his deputies within half an hour of finding the weapon. It was a top priority test, since there had been only one murder in the state in two weeks.
“No. Of course not.” Her taut features scowled. “They’re slower than a dyin’ June bug. I’m talking about the tip line. Yes, indeedy. We’ve received over fifty tips on the Toyota. Kat Wells has been spotted more often than Elvis.”
“The reward has brought them out of the woodwork.” Redd trotted by Justin’s side as he walked into his office with Nora. “Any of the tips seem promising?”
“Hard to say. Some are outrageous. I doubt Kat’s dancing in a strip joint in New Orleans.”
He struggled not to think about Kat. He’d predicted this from the get-go. The rate of recidivism among ex-cons was astronomical. He had thought he could help change her and like a fool, he’d tricked himself into believing it was working.
“A trucker claims to have sighted her south of Memphis at about six this morning.”
Justin considered the information as he watched Redd curl up under his desk. Memphis was a big town. It would be easy to get lost there. If he were on the run, he would head in that direction.
“Get the police chief in Memphis on the line. I’ll talk to him myself.”
Justin looked through the tips while Nora contacted the Memphis police chief. None of the tips looked terribly promising, but you never knew.
“An old guy by the name of Cooter phoned and wants you to call him,” Nora told him while she waited for the police chief to speak with Justin.
He thought about Cooter and the meth labs hidden in the forest. It could wait. Busting the operation wasn’t a priority right now. The chief came on the line, and Justin explained the situation. He promised to alert his officers in the field to be on the lookout for the Toyota and Kat.
“Lola Rae called,” Nora told him. “She said to tell you Maria is at work today. Her car broke down in Jackson. That’s why she didn’t make it in yesterday.”
Justin decided he would question Maria when he had time. He remembered the way she’d unexpectedly appeared at Kat’s studio. Perhaps she’d seen something that could be helpful.
DAVID WATCHED the trucks roll away from the loading dock with the special edition of the Tribune. He’d come back last night after the gun had been found and worked until dawn to produce a two-page Extra! He rehashed the murder, the sighting of Kat’s car by the Highway Patrol, but his major focus was on the gun found during the search.
It had killed him to write the special edition. Somehow he felt as if he were betraying Kat, when the reality was she had let him down. What Justin had said made sense. Kat had thought no one knew she was meeting Elmer. That’s why she’d kept the gun.
“Come on, Max,” he said to the puppy on the leash beside him. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The puppy scampered in a circle, twisting the leash around David’s knees. Usually David would have smiled at Max’s antics, but today he felt lower than he ever had since his accident. Christ! Where did he go wrong? He shouldn’t have allowed himself to become emotionally involved. He’d liked Kat and had wanted to help her. He should have known better.
He walked down the street and saw a paper vending machine. Through the glass, he saw the Extra! headline: WEAPON FOUND? His stomach took a dive south as he thought about what he’d written. He’d told the truth, stuck to the facts. Still, he’d condemned Kat, and something inside made him hate himself for it.
He found himself standing, Max at his side, in front of All Washed Up. He looked through the window and saw the shop was empty except for Lola Rae. David opened the door and walked in.
“Hello, I’m David Noyes. I spoke with you on the telephone yesterday about Kat Wells.”
The brunette looked up from the reception desk where she appeared to be totaling receipts on a small calculator. David recalled Kat telling him how friendly and helpful Lola Rae had been. The woman eyed him with unconcealed suspicion.
“I’m her friend. I want to help her.”
Lola Rae nodded. “Me, too. I just never expected…this.”
“What did Kat say the last time you saw her?” he asked although he had already asked her this when he’d phoned.
“Like I told you, I wanted her to join us for dinner.”
“Us?”
“Maria and Gary Don and me. Maria works here and makes awesome Mexican food. Know what I mean? Maria should open a restaurant. And Gary Don is my boyfriend.” She rose up on tiptoe and called, “Maria, aqui por favor.”
From the rear room came a diminutive brunette with creamy cocoa-colored skin and intelligent brown eyes. “You need Maria?” she asked in a Spanish accent.
“This is Kat’s boss,” Lola Rae explained. “I was telling him about the last time we saw Kat. You’d made tamales, but she couldn’t join us.”
“Why not?”
Lola Rae shrugged, but Maria said, “She go see madre. Mother.”
“Someone called for an appointment,” Lola Rae said. “I didn’t hear Kat say she was on her way to her mother’s.” Lola Rae thought a moment. “I’m not surprised though. Her mother treats Kat like dirt, but she’s near death. Know what I’m sayin’? What daughter wouldn’t want to say goodbye?”
A husky man with sandy hair and a pack of cigarettes in the rolled-up sleeve of his T-shirt shouldered his way through the door. “Hey, cutie,” he said to Lola Rae. “What’s the haps?”
“Just talking with Mr. Noyes. He’s with the Trib.”
“The paper?” The guy turned to David and stuck out his hand. “Gary Don Willingham. I tend bar out at Moonin’ N Coonin’. This here’s my gal.”
David had never been to the seedy tavern on the outskirts of town. He’d heard the walls were festooned with raccoon skins nailed up by guys who’d shot them. Using flashlights to “tree” raccoons and kill them was a local sport that David preferred not to think about. Moonin’ N Coonin’ attracted a young crowd and was known as a place where you could score any type of drug and gamble in the back room.
“Babe,” Gary Don said. “Let’s talk. I can’t see you tonight. Jimmy called in sick. I have to work his shift.”
Lola Rae’s lips thinned. She moved out from behind the counter and walked into the back room, Gary Don at her heels.
David turned to Maria and spoke slowly to make sure she understood his question. “Did Kat say anything else about where she was going?”
Maria gazed down at her small hands and flexed her fingers. “No. She leave. No see again.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IT WAS ALMOST DARK and Nora had just left for the day. Justin looked up and saw David coming through the door of his office, his puppy at his side. Uh-oh. Justin had the mother of all headaches from chasing his tail all day and coming up with nothing on Kat. He needed to go home and crash.
/> “Any luck finding Kat?” David asked.
“None. Lots of tips generated by the reward, but nothing panned out. She vanished into thin air.” He massaged the knot in the back of his neck with one hand and stroked Redd under the desk with the other.
David sat in the chair opposite Justin’s desk. “I spoke with Maria Sanchez.”
“Really? Did she have anything to say?” Justin had been meaning to interview the woman, but he’d been too busy.
“Kat told Maria that she was going to visit her mother.”
“What? Lola Rae didn’t mention it to me.”
“I went to Loretta Wells’ condo. She’s pretty strung out on morphine. She doesn’t know if she saw Kat, didn’t see her, or Kat came to her in a dream.”
This case is really screwed-up. So what else was new? “Does the woman have any idea when she might have or might not have seen her daughter?”
David shook his head. “No, but she’s clear on one thing. Before she ‘goes to glory’ Tori is going to marry Clay Kincaid.”
“Is she sure? They’ve been dating for years.”
“When I dropped into the No Latte Café for a sandwich, everyone was talking about the heirloom ring Tori is wearing.”
“I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch! I never thought Tori and Clay would actually get hitched. I figured the judge had other plans for Clay.”
“According to Loretta, it’s going to be a big wedding, and the reception will be at the judge’s home.”
“There you go. A marriage made in heaven.” An inexplicable feeling of urgency came over Justin. “She told you all this yet couldn’t remember if Kat came to see her?”
“It took me more than an hour to pry this gem from her. She kept fading in and out.” David leaned forward and rested his arms against the desk. “Know what I think?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Lola Rae hit it on the head. Despite the way Loretta treated Kat, the woman is her mother and she’s close to death. Loretta might be confused, but I believe Kat dropped by.” David let his words hang there for a few seconds. “This would definitely be the case if Kat was planning to leave forever.”
If she’d been planning to leave, Justin thought, why hadn’t she taken the gun with her? Redd nudged his way out from under the desk and went over to see Max. The puppy licked him and Redd jumped back. David chuckled, but Justin couldn’t see humor in anything right now.
“Did you come up with anything from that list of license plate numbers your source gave you?”
“Not really. A lot of Louisiana plates. Several are registered to a car service that’s a front for Drexel Sartiano.”
“Figures. The casino is connected to the most powerful crime family in the area.”
“Do you know Gary Don Willingham? He tends bar out at Moonin’ N Coonin’.”
Justin shook his head. “I don’t know him, but I know that joint. Not a weekend goes by that we don’t get a complaint that some guys are mooning passing motorists. Why?”
“He’s Lola Rae’s boyfriend. There was something about him…”
“Let’s run him through the computer and see if he has a record.” Justin opened the National Correctional Facilities database and typed in the man’s name, then looked up at David. “Willingham did time in Arkansas for armed robbery. That was twelve years ago. Nothing since then. No local problems.”
“I could be wrong,” David admitted. “It was just a hunch.”
JUSTIN HAD DINNER at the counter of the Gator Grill. He’d ordered his usual, chicken fried steak, but he barely ate two bites before asking for a to-go box. Redd would have a feast tonight.
He was in his pickup and nearly to the home he’d leased when the cell phone in his pocket pulsed. He pulled it out and saw the sheriff station’s number on the caller ID screen. “Radner here.”
“Sir,” the night duty/dispatcher said. “A Mr. Hobbs called.”
Cooter. The ornery cuss had called earlier in the day, too. “What does he want?”
“Wouldn’t say. He has to talk to you in person. He doesn’t trust the telephone.”
Honest to God, some things never changed. The old geezer had always been secretive, paranoid. “Did it sound like it could wait ’til morning?”
The deputy hesitated a moment. “No, sir. It might have to do with that Wells woman. Mr. Hobbs asked if anyone else had claimed the reward.”
“Okay, I’ll swing by his place,” he replied even though he seriously doubted Cooter had any relevant information.
Justin turned the pickup around and drove toward Shady Acres. The trip took him past Moonin’N Coonin’. He decided to stop. David Noyes was a perceptive, intelligent man. If he picked up strange vibes from Willingham, the guy might be worth investigating.
He drove into the parking lot. Two gray clapboard out-houses slouched in the beam of his headlights, one marked Bulls while the other said Heifers. Perfect. The clientele here would be rednecks right down to the mud on their cowboy boots. He left Redd locked up in a lot full of vehicles.
It was busy for a weeknight. The riverboat had put most roadside taverns out of business, but not this place. Justin figured they sold enough drugs on the side to keep the bar open as a front. When he had time, he was going to see what really went on at this place. He had no doubt this would be a point on the meth trail.
He walked in and saw a couple of guys playing pool on the far side of the room. They didn’t notice him, but a hush fell over the rest of the group. A bluish haze hung in the air from the cigarette smoke. The joint reeked of tobacco, beer, and cheap hooch. He went straight to the bar even though the man behind it didn’t look a bit like the mug shot of Willingham.
“I’m looking for Gary Don Willingham,” he told the balding man who was drying a glass with the dirtiest rag Justin had ever seen.
“He’s off tonight.”
“Where does he live?”
The bartender hitched his head to one side. “Trailer out yonder.”
“Thanks.” Justin turned to leave.
“He ain’t there. He’s with his girlfriend.”
Justin left, deciding he’d check on the man later. Tracking down Lola Rae might take some time. He needed to see if Cooter had any valuable information first.
The drive to Shady Acres Trailer Village took longer than it should have. Justin had swung by Kat’s place to see if she—by some miracle—had come home. Yeah, right. The studio was dark and there was no sign of her car. S’okay. What did he expect?
When he drove into the trailer park, he noticed most of the lights were on in the rows of single-wides. The one where he’d lived was dark. In the dim light coming from the neighbors, the place appeared more forlorn than it had during the day. He tried not to remember how cheery his mother had managed to make it look.
He parked in the back where Cooter lived in a trailer pocked by thirty years of rust and corrosion. The television was blaring and sounds of some reality show filled the night air. From his pickup, Justin could see a TV screen that dwarfed the small space. Cooter always had the biggest television he could fit into his trailer. He didn’t spend a nickel on anything else, but he had to have a big new TV set every eighteen months.
“Hang in, boy.” He petted Redd’s nose. “I’ll be right back.”
The thunk of the pickup’s door slamming brought Cooter to his door. “Thass you, Justin? Took your dadgummed time.”
Justin stopped a foot from where two planks on cinder blocks led up to Cooter’s trailer. “You have some information about the Bitner case?”
Cooter put his index finger to his lips and shushed Justin. He motioned for him to come inside. The fine hairs across the back of Justin’s neck prickled to attention. Never once—not ever—were the tenants invited into Cooter’s trailer. Justin bounded up the planks, anticipating catching a case of terminal herpes just by crossing the threshold.
Well, I’ll be a dawg. He’d expected the inside to be trashed, but it wasn’t. It was small and clean
with a brand-new plasma television. A well-worn Naugahyde recliner was positioned in front of the set. The only other furniture visible from where he stood was a tiny kitchen table with one chair.
“I don’t want no one to hear what I’m sayin’. Next, they be claimin’ the reward.”
Could Cooter actually know something? The man was so agitated that Justin might have thought he was on something, but past experience told him Cooter was actually excited. The only other time he acted like this was when he was expecting the delivery of his newest television.
“Okay, what do you know?”
“Not so fast. My reward—”
“Cooter, the bank is offering a reward for the person who provides information that leads to the arrest and conviction of Elmer Bitner’s killer. You know how long trials take….”
The old man grunted. “A year at least.”
“It’s late. Did you drag me out here for nothing?”
“Quitcher sassin’, boy. I seed that blue Toyota yer lookin’fer.”
Any hope Justin had been harboring evaporated. Everybody and his mother had spotted the car. That many blue Toyotas in Twin Oaks. Who knew?
“This mornin’ the car was parked near Dwayne Hill’s pickup.”
“What?”
The Hill family owned a big chunk of the unincorporated area not far from the casino. They were hollow people who didn’t come into town much. They lived on the land that had been in their family since before the Civil War. The Hills claimed to be related to the Southern general, A.P. Hill. It might be a lie or just wishful thinking, but no one dared dispute the tough bastards.
Justin had been in classes with Dwayne Hill after the courts forced the folks in the hollows to send their children to school. They’d played football together, but they hadn’t been friendly. Dwayne rarely talked to anyone. When he did, it was just before a fight. The kids had taken to calling him “Dwayniac.”
Justin suspected Dwayne was much smarter than he looked or acted. His father, Throck Hill, had outsmarted everyone when farmers had given up on growing sugarcane and rice. Throck plunged ahead and planted soybeans, and it had paid off—big time. They’d made so much money that Dwayne refused to accept a football scholarship to LSU. Instead, he worked with his father.
