Meantime, he was saying that his grandfather probably was getting senile and maybe needed to be in a nursing home.
They had just gotten out the front door when he whirled suddenly and shoved her backward with a vicious jab of his elbow.
By the time she had regained her balance and was shouting “Stop!”, he was halfway across the parking lot heading toward the red Jaguar.
She could hear Demetrius’ sirens, but it wasn’t nearly close enough. She could see that Brayburn was holding a handgun. She shouted “Stop!” again and a blur of a black, white and brown streaked across the parking lot.
The Sheltie was back and on the job, but Jackson Brayburn apparently couldn’t see her.
He stumbled against the dog, twirled around, stumbled again and fell over her, losing his grip on the gun.
“Stop him!” B.J. shouted to the dog over the sound of the siren as the young man scrambled to his feet.
Lady leapt forward, got Jackson Brayburn by the back of his pants in her teeth and jerked him backwards into a sitting position just as B.J. got there and kicked the gun out of his reach.
And then Demetrius was out of his car, taking over.
“What was that you shot me with?” Jackson yelled at B.J. as Demetrius yanked him to his feet and pulled his hands behind his back. “Was that a stun gun? You’re going to pay for this, big time.”
“Calm down,” Demetrius said to him as he twisted on plastic handcuffs, “Nobody shot you with anything. I saw the whole thing. You just went spastic and fell all over yourself.”
B.J. glanced around, but Lady had disappeared.
“Good dog!” she whispered to the air.
Then she called Darby and said, “I think your cold case is hot again.”
Chapter 31
Jackson Brayburn was apparently a child of privilege and had regained his composure after B.J. read him his rights, and told him he was being charged with assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest and attempting to steal two pedigreed poodles.
That was sufficient for the moment, she thought, especially after she had gotten LaKeisha to take a photograph of the bruise Brayburn’s sharp elbow had left just below her ribcage,
“My stepfather is State Senator Fulton Chase,” he said in an icy voice. “He has several attorneys he can call on as personal friends, including Benton Tinsley, who is has considerable influence here in Laurel Grove. I’m just saying that there will be consequences and it will be better for all of you if I am released immediately.”
“So call one of them,” B.J. said. “You’ve got a phone. Tell whoever you get that we’re going to start the interview at three p.m.”
“You expect me just to sit around here waiting?”
“Yes, Sir. You’re under arrest,” B.J. said.
“This is all just nonsense,” he said, trying a new attitude. “I wasn’t trying to steal those dogs. I just saw in the paper that the Stanleys were looking after them, and I figured I could save Grandma Pinky some money by keeping them until she got better. My fiancée just loves animals. Mrs. Stanley can tell you I was prepared to pay whatever bill there was.”
“I advise you to go ahead and call a lawyer,” B.J. said, glancing at her watch.
B.J. went to her office and called Holly Wellston.
Holly also had noisy kids in the background, and it was good to hear her sounding like a normal mom.
“Anna,” she called out. “Don’t you dare get into those cookies! Logan, get off the table!”
B.J. waited.
“I’m sorry,” Holly said.
“No problem,” B.J. said.
“What is it?” Holly asked.
“Just checking something out,” B.J. said. “Do you remember if Kasey ever talking about a man named Jackson Brayburn?”
“Miss Pinky Brayburn’s grandson?” she asked. “You mean the one whose engagement was in the Leader with that big photo?”
She trailed off, cautioned Anna about the cookies again, and then came back with a worried voice.
“Not that I remember. What’s going on? Why are you asking?”
“I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but we have him under arrest for some other reasons, and we need your agreement to have a paternity test done to see if he’s Logan’s father,” B.J. said. “It’s just a swab inside his cheek. I can send somebody over.”
“You think he’s Logan’s father? Really? Why?”
“Partly because Logan looks like he did as a little boy,” B.J. said, “But there’s more. Trust me on this.”
“Well, sure, okay,” Holly sounded oddly relieved at first, but then started arguing. “But we don’t want any child support or any of those people messing around in our lives. If he’s the father he sure hasn’t shown any interest, and…”
“This isn’t about child support,” B.J. broke in. “If the test is negative, then he’s got nothing to do with your family or Logan. If it’s positive, then we have evidence that he knew her and that that he had a motive to kill her. We’ve got other evidence that could settle this whole thing.”
“You think he might have killed her?” Holly asked, almost in a whisper.
Before B.J. could answer, Holly said, “Maybe that’s why she was so dressed up that day. Because he’s from rich people.”
“Maybe,” B.J. said.
“Send somebody over,” Holly said. “But don’t you dare tell him where Logan is.”
Quincy was on her way back from Decatur, and Evergreen was with Pinky, who had completely given up on being sweet, and was going through a litany of complaints about the Hegleys and Chases spoiling Jackson, and her own recent efforts to be a good grandmother by hosting the luncheon.
“The more I think about it,” Pinky said, clutching the crystal, “The more I’m sure Edgar meant to shoot me. What was he doing there out at the crack of dawn? They’re just not the kind of people who recycle, anyway. What I think is that Floramae had just gotten all worked up about anybody connecting Jackson with Kasey Hill. She was downright rude about that. Just awful. I don’t know why I put up with it.”
“I cannot abide Floramae Hegley,” Evergreen said. “What did she say to you about Kasey Hill?”
Pinky explained her encounter with Kasey in the parking lot, and how much Logan had reminded her of Jackson when he was little.
Evergreen nodded. That was it, she thought. The family look. That picture of Logan in the paper had reminded her of Pinky’s son and Benton’s friend Randall, and how he had looked as a baby. It was that family look.
“And anyway,’ Pinky said. “Floramae said that everybody knew that I chattered too much and that Betty Jean Baker had even seen me talking to B.J., and that she hoped I hadn’t even mentioned Kasey knowing Jackson, if she even did. She said that her people—I guess she meant the Hegleys—didn’t even associated with people like Kasey Hill, as if I don’t remember how soon Annette was born after they got married.”
“Good Lord, Pinky,” Evergreen said. “And you stayed polite through all of that?”
“I was just trying to keep the peace until we got through the luncheon,” Pinky said. “You know Betty Jean’s daughter lives just down Russell, and when I saw Chief Bandry that morning, all I could think of is that if I stopped and talked to her, Betty Jean would come tearing by and I’d hear from Floramae again, so there I go walking into the park and Edgar shoots me. You know, I think Floramae told him to shoot me. It would be just like her, always fretting about poor Jackson. I mean that girl was murdered and her child was running around in a tornado, and here’s Floramae thinking somebody cares whether she called Jackson or not.”
B.J. noticed that Pinky had a hard grip on the crystal and was getting a fiercer by the moment.
“Anybody would think she was worried that Jackson killed that girl!” Pinky said.
She stopped mid-sentence and loo
sened her grip on the crystal.
A moment later she blinked, looked a little bewildered and said, “Did I tell you that Chloe called. She’s coming over to do my hair.”
Darby had been briefed and had headed to Chinaberry Lane to talk with the Hegleys’ neighbors. He was happy to be working on the Kasey Hill case again.
He made friends immediately with Betty Jean Baker, because he could satisfy her curiosity about the morning raid the day before. Betty Jean, he thought, was possibly frustrated at not being the neighborhood expert on the Hegley crisis.
She made coffee for him, and peppered him with questions.
“Mr. Hegley is in the hospital in McFall,” he said. “There are charges against him regarding the shooting of Mrs. Brayburn.”
“Oh, I’m sure that was an accident,” Betty Jean said. “Why on earth would he shoot Miss Pinky? I know that she and Floramae had their differences, but he just mostly stayed to himself. What about Floramae?”
“I believe she’s staying with her daughter in McFall,” Darby said. “She just fainted, but we wanted her checked out by a doctor.”
“And that handsome grandson of theirs—has he come back down?
“Back down?” Darby asked. “Is he here often?”
“Well, not really that often, but he was here last…” she paused and said. ‘Whatever day the tornado was. You know that was terrible weather even over here and I might not have seen him except I heard their garage door squeaking open. You know they hardly ever shut it, but I heard it opening, and looked out my kitchen window and there he was. He’s a very good-looking boy, you know. Got his late daddy’s looks, though Floramae doesn’t like to hear that. He likes to think he looks like a Hegley.”
Darby nodded. He had on his most fascinated look.
“That was after the tornado,” she said. “He had put his mother’s little red sports car in the garage and I guess it was because everybody was predicting hail that afternoon, but there wasn’t any. You know hail can really mess a car up. I guess Edgar didn’t care if his truck got hailed on, because it was out in the yard. Anyway, Jackson turned around in the back yard in that cute little car and revved the motor like he was a NASCAR driver. He drove out of there so fast that he ran right over Floramae’s Pride of Mobile Azalea.”
She gave Darby a conspiratorial smile and said “She’s been telling everybody that was tornado damage, but I didn’t tell on Jackson.”
“You know Mrs. Hegley well?”
“I suppose about as well as anybody,” Betty Jean said. “I even got an invitation to that fancy luncheon she and Pinky Brayburn were planning. Is that still going to happen?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Darby said. “Are they good friends?”
“Well they’re both grandmothers of the groom,” Betty Jean said, “But I wouldn’t say they’re friends. You know I mentioned to Floramae last week that Pinky’s always out early walking her dogs and talking to people. I saw her one day talking to Mayor Fuller and another day talking to Chief Bandry, and Floramae got all peevish and said Pinky talked too much. Just between us, she might be a little jealous because everybody likes Pinky.”
Chapter 32
What have you charged him with?” Wayne Sharpley asked when he arrived at half past two to represent Jackson Brayburn. “And what’s this Floramae Hegley heard from her neighbor about somebody hauling off Edgar Hegley’s truck. I thought that matter was settled. What’s this got to do with him?”
“Right now we’re charging Jackson Brayburn with assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest,” B.J. said. “He also was carrying concealed, and he doesn’t have a permit, and he attempted to steal his grandmother’s poodles. We’re still investigating and there may be more charges.”
“Her poodles? What was that all about?”
“The problem is that his grandmother claims that she hasn’t let him near her dogs for years, that he has been cruel to other dogs she had. She was very agitated when Linda Stanley called to check with her.”
“That could just be a misunderstanding,” Sharpley said, although he looked worried.
“He came to town presumably to visit his grandmother,” B.J. said. “So obviously he could have done that first and asked her if she wanted him to care for the poodles. Instead, he went into her garage without her permission, and got her dog carrier out of her car. We’ve gotten that back. And then he went to get the poodles. Mrs. Brayburn is a very mild-mannered woman, but I was in her room when she learned about this, and she was very upset. She said that her grandson had been unkind to her dogs in the past.”
“Also,” Darby said. “We want to interview him in connection with the Kasey Hill investigation. We know he was in Laurel Grove on the day of the tornado. He came down in his mother’s Jaguar, but it was in the garage, so we’re thinking probably he used his grandfather’s truck. We know Kasey Hill had called him, that her grandmother was agitated about it.
B.J. spoke up. “I’ve called the District Attorney. He’s sending one of his assistant DA’s. We’ve agreed to ask your client for a DNA sample to do a paternity test to see if he’s the father of Kasey Hill’s minor child, Logan Hill.”
“I doubt he’d agree to that,” Sharpley said. “I certainly would advise him against it.”
“We haven’t asked him yet,” Darby said. “But we can get a court order if he refuses.”
“Logan’s aunt has already agreed to our getting his DNA,” B.J. said. “The child looks so much like Jackson Brayburn did at the same age that Mrs. Brayburn had actually commented to Kasey Hill on it.”
Sharpley looked miserable.
“I want to call Fulton,” he said “And then I’ll talk to my client.”
Chapter 33
Jackson Brayburn didn’t like the look on Sharpley’s face when he came in and sat down across the conference room table. He was wondering if he should have a better lawyer, even if was just about the dogs and that business with the policewoman.
“Look,” he said. “All I was trying to do was help out with the dogs and Grandma Pinky must have freaked out because I used to tease her dogs sometimes when I was a kid, but Elizabeth loves dogs and I thought we could help by looking after them for a while. I guess she’s all stressed out, anyway.”
Sharpley said, “Well, you didn’t get the dogs, so forget that for now. What were you thinking about jabbing your elbow into Chief Bandry and running across the parking lot? You made yourself look like a felon. And that gun looks like Fulton’s Smith and Wesson to me.”
“Hey, I got hurt worse than she did. She had some kind of stun gun or something like that,” Jackson said angrily. “She zapped me and I ran and then she zapped me a bunch more times and I was like half-paralyzed and fell down. It was brutality. I thought the woman was going to kill me.”
“Just forget that,” Sharpley said. “She’s got a bad bruise on her mid-section. I just saw a picture. What have you got? Capt. Cater says you stumbled twice and fell all over yourself. Maybe you stepped in a pot hole?”
“Look, are you going to represent me or argue with me?” Jackson said. “I just need to get outta here.”
“Are you familiar with the name Kasey Hill?” Sharpley asked.
Jackson tried for a blank look.
“Who?”
“Kasey Hill. Kasey with a K. Did you know her?”
“No,” Jackson said. “Never heard of her. Why?”
“You’re a person of interest in her death by strangling,” Sharpley said. “They have a witness who saw you here in Laurel Grove last Saturday—the day of the tornado. They’re having a crime tech team go over your grandfather’s truck. They’re going to ask you for DNA for a paternity test for a child named Logan Hill, who is twenty-two months old and was out on his own during the tornado. That’s why.”
“I need to talk to Fulton,” Jackson said. “Somebody’s trying to railroad me,
and I need a way better lawyer than you.”
“Fulton’s already told me that if you want another lawyer, you can pay for that lawyer yourself,” Sharpley said. “He frankly doesn’t like being associated with all this.”
“Yeah, right,” Jackson said. “You mean with Mom’s family. Does Mom know he doesn’t want to be associated with her father and her son?”
“We need to stick to business here,” Sharpley said. “You’ve going to be interviewed on videotape in about fifteen minutes. There’ll be Chief Bandry, a detective from the Sheriff’s Office and an Assistant District Attorney, and my advice to you is either to give no answers, or to tell the truth if you did know Kasey Hill, because they can probably find somebody to prove that you did. Refuse the paternity test if you want to, but they can get a court order. Also, just so you know, they’ve impounded your granddad’s truck and are going over it forensic evidence.”
“Like what?” Jackson asked.
“Like your hair maybe, or your fingerprints on the steering wheel or whatever kind of proof they need that you were driving his truck.”
“You ask Mom and Grandma Flo. He doesn’t let anybody drive his truck,” Jackson said, “Now leave me alone and let me think about this.”
B.J. and Darby were just going over the details of the investigation with the Assistant District Attorney, Sharon Parker when a call came from Barney Thomas.
“We just got started on the truck” he told B.J. “But I thought you ought to know we found a red fake fingernail between the seats, behind the gear box.”
Chapter 34
Jackson Brayburn’s demeanor had changed when they sat down to do the videotaped interview. It wasn’t that he looked afraid, B.J. thought, but that he looked solemn, resigned, sad.
If she hadn’t already known that he was mean to dogs, she might have believed the look. As it was, she wondered what he was up to.
During the preliminary and introductions, he bowed his head as if in prayer. Then, before the first question could be asked, he said, “I’m just going to tell the truth.”
Who Killed Kasey Hill Page 14
