Deserts, Driving, and Derelicts

by Tonya Kappes

  I headed through the door with the donuts, having decided I’d start with those. It was as quiet as a church in the station. When you walked in, there was a window and a door.

  “Can I help you?” A petite older woman with soft grey hair and saggy jowls asked after she slid the window open. The nameplate on the other side of the glass had Agnes engraved across the brass plate.

  “Hi,” I greeted who I assumed to be Agnes and stepped closer to the window. “I’m Mae West and I’m here to fill in for Betts Hager, ma’am.” That was one thing I didn’t forget after I left Kentucky twelve years ago. My manners.

  My mama and daddy always made sure that I used manners everywhere I went. It was something I took pride in.

  “Oh, dear. Don’t call me ma’am.” She winked. “I’m Agnes.” She tapped the nameplate before she slid the window shut. The door next to the window opened. “Betts called me this morning and told me you’d be here. But my noggin’ sometimes forgets little details.”

  She was the cutest thing. She stood only five-foot-tall and she wore a simple button-down dress and thick=soled white shoes.

  “I thought I’d bring donuts. I had to stop by The Cookie Crumble on my way here when I saw it was open. I was dying for a sweet treat this morning.” I handed her the box.

  “My grandson loves that place.” She took the box and opened it, sticking her nose down in it and lifting her chin back up with a grin on her face. “Cinnamon and sugar. My favorite.”

  “Why don’t you take one before you put them out, for your grandson.” I pointed back to the van outside. “I’ve got to get the supplies.”

  “Mmmhhhh.” She gestured with her finger for me to go on and licked her lips, not taking her eyes off the box of sweet treats.

  I popped open the back door of the van and read the note Betts had left. Betts wrote that Agnes had all the inside scoop on anything and everything, including what needed to be cleaned.

  There was already a slew of police officers gathered around the table. They didn’t even bother looking my way when I walked back in.

  “Already a hit and not even cleaned a thing.” Agnes winked from her perch at the window.

  I went about the business of looking busy, but I was really looking around to see where the prisoners were kept.

  “What are you looking for?” Agnes had walked over to me. “I can help. Betts had mentioned that she didn’t think you’d been in here before and to help if you needed it.”

  “I was wondering where the prisoners were that’s all.” I smiled, trying to throw Agnes off.

  “You mean you want to talk to Tammy Jo Bentley because that’s the only person in our cell. If you call it a cell.” There was a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Am I that obvious?” I asked.

  “I recognized your name when Betts told me you’d be here. I file all the notes from the detective reports.” She tapped her temple. “Like I said, my noggin’ ain’t that great, but if I remember correctly, you, Mae West, are the one who found Camille Braun.”

  “Unfortunately. But the problem is that I’m not even friends with Tammy Jo. I went to her house to clean for Betts like I’m doing here and now I have to take care of her dog. I wanted to ask her some questions about Fifi’s care. I mean, she’s this fancy poodle.” I took my phone out of my pocket and swiped to the photos. “Look here. I had to take a picture. I have to put feminine pads on the dog during her menstrual cycle.”

  Agnes had a pair of glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. She pulled them on her nose and looked at my photo.

  “I’ve seen a lot in my days working here, but that’s crazy.” She leaned in a little closer.

  “I just have a couple of questions. Do you think I could talk to her?” I asked with dipped eyebrows.

  “You better hurry up. Those donuts are good, but they won’t hold them off forever.” Her chin slid past her shoulder and she looked at the group of men sipping their coffee and stuffing their faces with the cinnamon and sugar treats. “Right on through that door.”

  “I don’t need a key?” I asked.

  “Mae West, this is Normal, Kentucky. Not Compton.” She made a funny and I had to smile. I liked Agnes. She wasn’t just cute, she was snarky. My kind of spunky older lady. “Besides, I told Hank Tammy Jo didn’t kill no one. Look at them nails of hers. Perfect to a T.”

  “Camille was stabbed. Tammy Jo could easily have stabbed her and not even gotten a chip.” I did a stabbing motion and took notice of my fingernails.

  “Tammy Jo had her and Fifi’s nails done a Cute-icles about an hour before the anonymous call to dispatch. She doesn’t get the quick gel slapped on either. She gets the full package, fake nails with shellac. Helen Pyle said that Tammy Jo is driven to Cute-icles and picked up. Helen also said that Tammy keeps her calendar clear after their appointment for at least two hours to let their nails dry.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the officers still stuffing their faces. She put her hand on a file.

  “If I can’t get Hank to see that Tammy didn’t do it, maybe you can.” She slid the file closer to the edge of the desk. “I remember Hank talking about how the community really embraced you when you moved here. It used to get his gills that people would talk to you and not him.”

  She tapped the file and I looked down at it. Camille Braun was written on it. My eyes snapped up, my mouth hung open in surprise. I’d never considered I’d get to look at the file.

  “I’m going to the bathroom. You can go on and clean.” She gave a sweet smile and excused herself from any sort of snooping I was about to do because she couldn’t lie if someone did catch me.

  There was obviously something she wanted me to see if she was going to great lengths to get me to look at the file.

  I plopped the bucket of cleaning supplies up on her desk and when I felt like no one was paying attention to me, I put the file deep inside. With the broom and bucket in my grip, I headed towards the room where Tammy Jo was being held.

  Instead of going right on in, I ducked into a corner and opened the file. The coroner’s report said that Camille Braun had only been dead for about half an hour. That might not seem like a big deal and wouldn’t get Tammy Jo off the suspect list. But as a woman who took getting her nails very seriously, this told me and Agnes there was no way Tammy Jo did it because it didn’t give her enough time for her nails to dry.

  “Did you find the sink okay?” Agnes peeked her grey head around the corner and jutted it out a couple of times like a cuckoo clock. Her eyes drew down to the file. “Let me take you to her.”

  “I read the coroner’s report.” I could feel the tension rising up within me. “You and me, we know how important our nails are, but why didn’t Tammy Jo tell him that?” I asked.

  We passed the interrogation room on our way into the room with one cell. Tammy Jo was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. That’s all the time you have,” Agnes warned. “Hank will be in soon and you’ve not even emptied the trash. That’ll be the only thing they notice in case you don’t get to the rest.”

  Was Agnes giving me a pass on cleaning?

  “Mae, what are you doing here?” Tammy Jo beamed at me. “Is something wrong with Fifi?” She lifted the back of her hand to her forehead. “Don’t tell me.” She threw herself back on the cot. “I can’t take it.”

  “No. She’s fine. See.” I took my phone out and showed her the pictures I’d taken of Fifi.

  Tammy Jo pushed herself back up and walked over to the cell bars. I held the phone between the bars and let her take a look.

  “She’s so cute. She’s really enjoys playing with the little kids in the campground.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

  “She’s a dirty mess.” She gave me a disapproving look. The line between her brows creased. “I’m sorry. Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “She misses you.” I wasn’t sure if I believed it because Fifi did look very comfo
rtable in my camper.

  Tammy Jo perked up. “Really?”

  I nodded and looked at my phone. I’d already eaten up a lot of minutes talking about Fifi.

  “I’m here filling in for Betts.” I glanced back at the door to make sure we were still alone. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m a little sore. I’m not used to sleeping on that. I have a feather bed at home.” She tried to convince me she was okay, but the dark circles under her eyes told another story.

  “I talked to Camille the day I was at your house cleaning. She told me about the fancy pocket watch and how much it was worth. I also heard that your watch was stolen. Do you think she was killed over the watch?” I asked.

  “My lawyer told me not to talk to anyone.” She nibbled on her lips like she was trying to keep something in but it was bursting to get out.

  “I know Ava. She did bring Fifi over. And it’s no secret I helped find my ex-husband’s killer. If you want to get home to your beloved Fifi, maybe I can help you get out of here quicker.” I reached over and touched her fingernails. “I know that you were at Cute-icles the morning of the murder and you don’t do anything for a few hours after, much less kill someone. Unless Camille had stolen the watch.”

  “No.” She gripped the bars, not turning to face me. She shook her head. “There’s no way Camille stole the watch. Even though the camera shows that she took it.”

  “Camera?” I asked.

  “Yes. There’s cameras all over my house. Hank had come over the day you were cleaning because I wanted to hire him for more security for the KKA event.” Her head dropped. “I’ll be kicked out of the association now.”

  “Not if you let me help you,” I said. “Do you have a camera in the office?” I asked.

  “No. I have one on the watch and outside. That’s why I’m here. Hank looked at the footage and arrested me after my fight with Camille was caught on tape.” She blinked several times.

  “Why did you fight with her?” Some hesitancy was rising in my stomach. I didn’t want to overstep in my questioning her, but I had to know.

  “She took the watch out of the dome before Clark Wait, the horologist, stopped by. She knows that’s a no-no.” She clutched her chest. “I took it from her and put it back, but not without telling her that if she touched it again, that’d be the last thing she ever touched.”

  “Back up. Tell me why you have a horologist coming by?”

  “Each day, Fifi’s schedule is based on the tick of the watch. The dome allows the clock hands to echo a tick loud enough for just a dog to hear. Fifi is trained to the tick. I have a horologist come by every day during Fifi’s naptime so she won’t be disturbed. Clark winds the watch and makes sure it’s in perfect working order. After all, Fifi is from a long line of good breeding.”

  “Did Fifi go down for a nap after you got back from Cute-icles?” I asked.

  “Yes, Fifi was napping. Clark was on his way and I’d had a visitor. . .” She abruptly stopped talking. Her mouth widened in a dramatic O and her face drained of color. She pushed off the bars and eased back to the cot.

  “Are you talking about the woman visiting you before I showed up for the check?” I asked and caught the look of shock on her face.

  “That woman has nothing to do with this. So, you just forget that you ever saw those wine glasses.” She was smarter than I was giving her credit for. “Camille Braun knew that the watch was worth 2.2 million dollars. That watch is gone. If Hank Sharp finds the watch, he will find the killer.”

  “That woman had nothing to do with the KKA?” I asked.

  “No.” Her voice was tight as she spoke.

  “What about the scratches on your arm? Just admit it if you struggled with Camille.” I had to know everything if I was truly going to try to help her.

  She stood there for a second as though she were trying to remember what I was talking about. Her jaw dropped and her eyes popped wide open.

  “Fifi just had her nails done. Just like your nails, they need to be filed. Fifi’s nail were clipped but her nails are filed by walking on the concrete. I don’t let Cute-icles file them because a natural file that brings her nails to perfection, making her worth more and more.” She looked down at her arm and rotated it towards me. “See. There’s a couple lines from the edges of her nails.”

  There were two rows of small scabs on her forearm exactly where I’d seen Fifi resting when I’d first showed up when I’d gone to clean for Betts.

  “Did you even know anything about the watch on the mantel?” She asked with a curious look in her eyes.

  “No clue. I know one thing for sure. If it were my watch, I’d have it in a locked drawer. Not out in the open.” I took a few steps back and looked out the window of the door. I had to be extra careful not to get caught.

  “Your average person has no idea. They think it’s some silly little watch that my husband had.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve said too much.”

  “Is it true that you’re leaving the watch for Fifi if you die?” I asked.

  “It is. Dog breeding isn’t cheap. There’s good stock out there and I’ve got to get Fifi the best male to sire her children. This money will help her to leave a true champion legacy.” She talked as if Fifi were a Royal Princess or Queen.

  “You don’t have any family that knows Fifi is getting your money that might want to seek revenge?” I was grasping at anything to look into.

  “No one but my employees knew.” She tapped a finger per name. “Ralphie, Camille, and Norman. Now, you and Ava Cox.”

  Ralphie, the gardener. I jerked my head when I heard Hank’s voice.

  “The day I came to clean, I overheard Camille and Ralphie. Did you know they were an item?” I asked.

  “Of course I did,” she said. “They think they’re so sneaky, but when you live alone, you hear everything. I think she was dating someone else and giving him the runaround.”

  “She told him she couldn’t see him anymore because she didn’t want to risk her job or your finding out. That Fifi was everything to her.” I blinked a few times while I tried to think of the exact words but put that aside because I knew I had to hurry up before Hank caught me. “He truly did threaten her.”

  “Ralphie?” Tammy Jo’s chin ducked to the side and she looked at me under her brows. “Trust me. I want to get out of here, but Ralphie wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, I try to get him to kill ants in my garden and he puts down this organic stuff that I swear costs me a fortune and doesn’t work.”

  There was some rumbling around outside in the hall.

  “I’ve got to go but know that Fifi is in great hands. I promise to take good care of her until you get out of here.” I rushed out of the room and quickly picked up the duster from the bucket where I’d left it in the corner where Agnes had found me reading the file.

  I pressed my lips together as an onslaught of emotions swirled inside. I knew Tammy Jo was innocent. Camille was dead. The gardener and Camille had a very serious conversation while I was at the house cleaning. Then there was Norman. He was the insurance man. What could he possibly know? A shiver ran through me like I could tell I was onto something, but what?

  I turned around in time to see Norman, accompanied by Hank Sharp, being led into the room where Tammy Jo was being held. Frustration came off Norman in waves. I busied myself with the duster going along the baseboards and heading towards the front of the department.

  The whole ride back into downtown, I contemplated which employee knew what and what they had to gain from stealing the watch. If Hank hadn’t found the watch, was he holding Tammy Jo on circumstantial evidence? If that was the case, she’d be out in less than twenty-four hours and Fifi would be a fluffball of my past. Norman was her insurance man. He’d for sure have to answer some questions that could prove vital.

  That’s when I decided it was time to pay him a visit. And I knew exactly where his office was. Next to The Laundry Club. I took advantage of the parking spot betwee
n the two shops and waited until I’d seen Norman walk into his office after he’d gotten back from seeing Tammy Jo.

  TWELVE

  “Can I help you?” the woman behind the half-moon counter asked when I walked into the insurance agency. Her long dark hair was caught in a low pony-tail and pulled around her shoulder in a chic way. She had beautiful milk chocolate skin with big brown eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No.” I looked around. Norman did well for himself, I thought, and noticed all the rich textured furniture in the front office space. “I was hoping to talk to Norman.”

  There were a few couches with fabric matching the curtains in the front window of the old home. The white trim popped against the deep gray walls.

  “I’m sorry. You need an appointment. Mr. Pettleman is a busy man.” Her fingers clicked along the keyboard of her computer. “I can get you in next week. What type of insurance were you wanting to talk about?”

  “Fifi Bentley’s insurance.” When she jerked her head up and eyes away from the computer monitor, I knew I had her attention. “I’m currently taking care of Fifi Bentley while Tammy Jo is unable to. I live in a campground and Fifi really loves to run around and I want to make sure my allowing her to do so is okay.” I pulled my phone out and pulled up the photo of Fifi. The one with the diaper and the dirty paws. “Look how cute she is with those dirty paws. She loves the mud.”

  “Let me see if Mr. Pettleman can just fit you in real fast.” She picked up the phone, turned her head away from me, curling her palm around the receiver and whispered. She turned around and gently placed the phone back in the holder. “Mr. Pettleman will be right out.”

  “Thank you,” I chirped and put the phone into my back pocket.

  There wasn’t even enough time for me to walk around and see what all the framed newspaper articles were about before Norman appeared.

  “Mrs. West.” Norman headed straight towards me, his eyes staring into mine with his arm outstretched. “Is something wrong with Fifi?”