“Did you ask Candy for the coins?” Tony tried to connect the dots in his head.
“Oh, yeah, and she acted all confused and claimed she didn’t know nothin’ about them.” Duke leaned forward. “There’s nothin’ worse than a liar, is there?”
“A killer,” Tony wanted to say, but forced himself to tamp down the angry words straining to jump from his throat. Somehow, he was sure Duke would believe his reason for killing was justified.
Tony kept his eyes on Duke, and when he saw the man realize what was about to happen, he said, “Wade, I want you to use your handcuffs now.”
Wade turned Duke away from the door. “Place your hands on the counter. Palms down. Feet back here.”
Duke followed instructions, almost as if he didn’t believe it was happening.
“What if she wasn’t telling a lie?” Tony’s question brought Duke’s head around just as Wade locked the second wrist to the first behind his back. The muscles in Duke’s shoulders showed the strain created by the uncomfortable position.
“No way.” Duke shook his head. “She had to know.”
“We, or more precisely, the church ladies, found some coins while they were cleaning.” Tony paused, letting the information hang in the air.
“See? I told you.” Duke lifted his handcuffed hands slightly and smiled in triumph. “I knew she had them. I’ll bet they were in her bedroom.”
Tony was fascinated by the hole the man was digging so deeply and putting himself into. “No. They were in the attic, sitting in a dusty box I’m sure Candy never knew about.”
Duke stared at Tony. “So what was worth so much out in the garden that she begged me to leave it alone? I had to whack her just to make her quit screeching at me.”
“What was she saying?” Tony felt uneasy. He hated the violence and unwarranted pain. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the details of what Duke had done.
“ ‘Leave Alvin’s plants alone!’ ” Duke shouted. “She screamed the words at me, and so I knew he had buried them in the garden. Isn’t that what people do with treasure? If she had just given me the coins, none of this would have happened. It was all her fault.”
The bell over the door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. Tony glanced toward the open door. “Sorry, the store’s closed for a while.” When the door shut again, Tony said, “Let’s lock up and go to my office, shall we?”
“This better not take long.” Duke frowned. “I’m losing business every minute I’m closed. You want my vote in the coming election?”
Tony ignored him.
The transfer to the Law Enforcement Center didn’t take long. They ushered Duke into the interrogation room, ironically in this case, nicknamed the greenhouse, and turned on all their electronic recording devices. Tony thought there were a fair number of double meanings connecting the murder site greenhouse and their confessional.
Wade unlocked the handcuffs and settled their suspect on a chair facing the table, then stood near the door. He waited.
Tony settled onto the chair facing Duke. “You sure you don’t want a lawyer?”
Duke snapped at him, “Quit asking me. The answer’s still no.” Duke had refused an attorney no fewer than six times, on videotape and in a voice recording.
“Okay then, just tell me exactly what happened.” Tony glanced at Wade and tipped his head, indicating Wade should join them and sit at the table. His deputy’s fingers were wrapped tightly around the pen and edge of his notebook.
“It’s not like it matters, not now.” Duke sneered in the direction of the video camera. “She got what was coming to her.”
“And how did her death come about?” Tony hoped his expression merely showed his curiosity and not his revulsion.
“I went over there the night before,” Duke said. “We talked about the money thing. I said since the brat probably wasn’t mine and wasn’t even living with her any more, I wasn’t paying her another dime. Next thing you know, she threw me out of the house.” Duke’s eyes narrowed. “Nobody tells me what to do.”
“But you left.” Tony let the statement hang.
“Yeah, well, I decided I’d come back in the morning, in the daylight, so it would be easier to find things out in the garden. I knew better than to dig in the dark. Even the moon can’t light up her backyard, not with all those trees.” He jutted his chin out like a belligerent child refusing to admit being afraid of the dark. “I told her I’d be back and I left.”
“What time did you return in the morning?” Tony felt his tension in the strength of his grip on his pen. He was surprised the thing hadn’t broken in half. It did seem a bit curved in the center though. He carefully stretched his fingers.
“It was maybe ten-thirty. I went to the store and opened up first. There wasn’t much going on, so I told my part-time employee I was going out for coffee. I grabbed a bolt cutter off its hook on my way out, drove by, and picked up the wife.”
“You took your wife to visit your girlfriend?” Wade’s voice raised in apparent disbelief.
“Bolt cutter?” Tony frowned. “What was that for?”
“Incentive.” Duke gave Tony the “how dumb can you be” look. “What do you use when your woman doesn’t obey?”
Tony was positive Theo had never promised to obey him. He found the whole concept of obedience of a spouse close to absurd, except with Duke, it became horrifying. He thought he’d change the direction of their chat for the moment. “Why take your wife?”
“It was her idea, sort of, because she said she was sick to death of her and the kids paying for my sinful ways.” Duke leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. Spittle filled the corners of his lips.
“Okay,” Tony said. “Let’s go back to your story. You grabbed your bolt cutter and picked up your wife and then headed out to Candy’s house? Is that correct?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Duke slouched back further onto his spine. “Are we about done here? I got things to do.”
“True, so true.” Tony couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the arrest and booking procedures that would accompany Duke’s intake in the jail. He might have smiled if he wasn’t so angry. It would take his staff some time to process their newest resident. Paperwork. Fingerprints. Photographs. They’d switch Duke’s personal work clothes for an ill-fitting orange pair of pants and a shirt stenciled with Park County Jail, Inmate. Take away his fancy cowboy boots and give him some shower shoes to wear. He’d be issued a blanket, but the blanket was most likely not up to Duke’s normal standards. Explain the rules.
Tony didn’t think Duke was going to be a compliant prisoner. “Let’s go on. What happened at Candy’s?”
“We went out to the garden. She showed me Alvin’s tool shed, and I picked out a couple of things to dig with.” His expression displayed true aggravation. “Good thing I was wearing gloves. Some of those old handles were more splinters than wood.”
Tony was rather hoping Duke would succumb to blood poisoning or tetanus. He considered it rather bold of the felon to be so cranky about the situation. “What was Candy doing and what did you do next?”
“Candy was no help. None at all. She kept yammering on and on about Alvin not liking people in his garden and how she might not be much of a mother, but the least she could do was stay out of his garden. She tried to squeeze past me so she could slip away. Like she could get away from me. Dumb cow.”
Duke was bristling with anger and self-assuredness. “Hell, I whacked the back of her head with the bolt cutter, just to get her attention.”
“Why didn’t she fall forward then?” Tony didn’t want any holes in the confession. While they had been talking, Archie Campbell, their prosecutor, had arrived and was silently watching the show.
“I don’t guess it matters now.” Duke’s words slowed as the problem he’d created for himself began to sink in. “She started to fall, so I grabbed her hair and yanked it good and hard and kinda jerked her backwards. She fell on her back in that stack of garbage Alvin called a gr
eenhouse. Stupid. It was all her fault. She brought it on herself.” Duke glared at each of them in turn. “Bet you would have done the same.”
“And?” Tony wasn’t going to argue with Duke, but he certainly was not going to agree with him either. “So really, why did you bring the bolt cutter?”
“To open the padlock.”
Tony wanted everything to be cleared up, neat and tidy. “The padlock on the tool shed?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it locked?”
“No.” Duke leaned forward on his chair. “But I had already looked all over her house and couldn’t find the notebook or the money.” He swallowed hard. “She was bleeding me dry.”
“Did you try explaining your financial situation to her?”
“Explain?” A sound that could have been called a laugh escaped Duke’s mouth. “For a dumb chick, she was mule stub-born. You could talk all day and never convince her of anything.”
Tony wondered if Duke had ever heard the old saying about not speaking ill of the dead. If he had, it hadn’t impressed him. “So after looking in the house, you headed for the garden and shed, or did you do something else first?”
“I went to the shed and the key was in the lock.” Duke shook his handcuffed hands for emphasis. “I pulled out a few tools and asked her where to dig. The cow ignored me. Just lay there in the greenhouse, staring at me. I pulled some of the tarp off the roof, thinking maybe with some more light, I’d see some sign of something being buried.”
“And then?” Tony saw no signs of remorse in him, no acceptance of guilt.
“And nothing. I dug in a few places but Candy wouldn’t talk to me, you know, like tell me where it was buried.” He pouted. “I dumped the yard tools under the steps and told her I was through paying her. Then I threw one of those flip-flops she was always falling out of at her. She couldn’t walk two steps without having to stop and put them back on, but she just blinked a few times and then stared at the sky and ignored me. Can you believe that? Dumb, stupid cow.”
“What happened to the flip-flop later?” Tony managed to act conversational, but he was totally revolted by the true nature of this man.
“I should have just tossed it on the ground, but I thought it’d be funny to shove it in the mailbox like I did all that money over the years. Payback. She deserved payback.” He clenched his hands and shook his head, swinging his long mane of hair across his face.
Tony gently placed the sealed evidence bag containing a powder-pink notebook about the size of a deck of cards on the table. Carefully noted on the bag was the case number. The victim’s name, Candy Tibbles, and the suspect’s full name, Duke Michael McMahon, were printed on the bag. “I expect you can guess whose fingerprints we found on this besides Candy’s.” Tony smiled. “It has your thumbprint on the front and three identifiable prints of yours on the back.”
What he didn’t mention was it also had McMahon’s wife’s fingerprints on it. Some they couldn’t identify, but he guessed they belonged to Hydrangea Flowers Jackson. They were not digging her up to check.
“I don’t guess I’m getting the money I’m due, am I? Alvin gets to keep it all?” Duke sat there in front of witnesses and continued to spout angry words maligning the woman he’d killed, the elderly woman who’d rescued the pink book, and his own wife who’d let someone steal the book from her fire.
Tony was afraid to move. Afraid of himself. And what he might do to the man. He motioned to his deputy. “Wade? Get him out of here.”
“Yessir.” But Wade sat still, looking almost as paralyzed as Tony. “I’m on it.”
After a second, the spell broke and they both rose to their feet and escorted the most blatantly stupid criminal in the world to the jail.
Then they went to talk with Mrs. McMahon, who was delivered to his office by Sheila and Mike. Her story matched Duke’s except for one notable difference. She was sobbing, apologizing for everything she’d thought and encouraged Duke to do. “I never, ever, thought he’d kill Candy. I just wanted him to spend the money on his family. I even told him I wouldn’t care if Candy put the information about them being a couple on the front page of the newspaper.” She lifted tear-drenched eyes, “I’m so sorry.”
“How did Hydrangea get the pink book?” Tony asked.
“The old lady saw it and reached into the burn pile and grabbed it before the fire reached it. She had quick hands for a senior citizen. What was I supposed to do, knock her down and take it away?” Mrs. McMahon’s hands fluttered helplessly. “She stopped by our yard a lot to chat, always dragging this old cloth tote filled with strings and newspaper clippings and things she found by the side of the road. I thought it was safe enough.”
“Until it showed up again.” Tony handed her a wad of tissues. “Did you see a couple of cell phones in her bag or a key on a chain?”
“No.” She laughed, a bitter hollow sound. “No phones anywhere, but, I saw Duke pull a key and chain over Candy’s head. I guess he pulled so hard they flew out of his hand and vanished into the shrubbery.”
“Did you search?
“No. We ran.”
Tony wasn’t sure what Archie might charge her with. “I’ll get your mom to watch your kids until we know what’s going to happen.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” The brokenhearted woman sat staring at her hands. “I knew you’d find out. I saw the woman next door standing in her window. She must have seen it all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
* * *
“So what do you think?” Tony stared at his ceiling.
Wade’s attitude was subdued. He spoke softly, slowly. “I think he killed her just like he said and looked around but couldn’t find the gold. So he took his bolt cutter and went back to his store like nothing had happened. I’ll bet he put it back right where it had been.”
Tony agreed. “Let’s get a search warrant. I think we’d better go check those tools in the store for blood and fingerprints. We certainly don’t want to miss something and let Duke get away with murder.” His musing was interrupted by a call from the head jailer.
“Sheriff, sir, did you promise Duke he could go home?”
“I did not.” The question made Tony smile. “I promised not to waste any more time than necessary listening to his whining, and I read him his rights captured on video, and then I said he wouldn’t have to worry about clothing.”
“I suspected it was something like that. We’ve got a real cranky prisoner.” There was amusement in the jailer’s voice. “He doesn’t approve of his new clothes.”
“That’s too bad. Why don’t you give him the scratchiest blanket in your inventory.”
“Sir?” Sheila stood in his office doorway. For what seemed like the first time in weeks, when he looked at her, she was clean and dry and her normal well-groomed professional self. Her hair was neatly combed. She wasn’t sweating or covered with blood. He liked it. Maybe something in his county was returning to normal.
“Do you have a minute?” Sheila’s fingers toyed with her watch.
“Come in.” Tony thought she seemed almost tentative, which was not her style at all. Of all of his deputies, Sheila usually struck him as the most steady and self-contained. He’d always supposed it had something to do with her continuing sniper training. She exercised, ran for miles, climbed trees, always carrying heavy things, and then she had to turn around and be motionless, sometimes for hours. He’d never seen her fidget. Ever. If anything, her stillness often made him want to move around. “Is there a problem?”
“It’s personal.” Sheila gently closed the office door before approaching his desk.
Tony waited, a touch of apprehension growing within him. He found himself thinking, please, please don’t let her quit.
Sheila stopped in front of his desk and ignored his gesture toward a chair. She paused, then exhaled. “Not Bob has asked me out to dinner.”
“He has good taste in women.” Tony pretended there was not a problem. He couldn’t even begin to
measure his personal relief. “What was your answer?”
“I told him I’d have to check with you. He’s a victim. I’m one of the investigating officers.” She stared into Tony’s eyes. “Is it ethical?”
“Not exactly.” Tony laced his fingers, placed them on his desk, and leaned forward. “What do you think of him?”
“Not Bob has nice eyes and nice feet.” A flush of pink touched her cheeks. “If I wasn’t staring at his life leaking through my fingers, I might have noticed more.” She swallowed hard. “I keep thinking, what if I’d let him die?”
Tony knew Not Bob’s life hadn’t been completely under her control. “You did all you could. Luckily it was enough.” They were words he’d heard himself and hadn’t agreed with. Sometimes the truth sounded like claptrap, a word his late father had loved. Tony supposed there were worse things than starting to sound his old man, as long as he didn’t succumb to the temptation to refer to anyone as “the old dear.”
“He sent me flowers along with the invitation to dinner.”
Sheila’s words pulled him back from his mental wandering. “Roses?”
“Worse. Tulips and daisies.” The corners of her lips pulled down. “My favorites. How did he know?”
Tony guessed it was a case of blind good luck on Not Bob’s part. Tony didn’t know Theo’s favorites, but was pretty sure she liked the ones printed on fabric better than cut ones in a vase. He hoped so. “Maybe they were the only ones available.” He laced his fingers, tapping his desk with his thumbs. “Officially, in this case, I don’t consider you dating him a problem. He’s a grown man. You’ve never dated another victim?” He turned it into a question, and was relieved when she said no. “This is a small town. You obviously knew about him before the incident because you saw him working and knew what he did for a living. What did you think about him then?”
She smiled and her eyes sparkled. “I thought he handled a shovel well, and it gave him nice broad shoulders.”
Tony laughed at her comment. “Okay, there is every reason for me to believe you two would have met without the match-making abilities of a nut job with a hammer and wrench.”
Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight Page 25
