by Katie Ashley
I shot him a murderous look, but Patricia merely giggled. “I’m sure it had to be quite shocking when you saw his endowments.”
Shifting on the couch, I replied, “If I’m truly honest, I would have to say I was pretty surprised.”
“I can’t say I blame you. I was pretty surprised the first time I saw King and Kong.”
Catcher snorted. “Excuse me?”
“Those was the nicknames he gave his penises.”
Good lord, the man had actually named his dicks.
“I see,” Catcher replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“So you and Randy dated?” I asked.
“Oh, we more than dated.”
“Considering you saw King and Kong, I assumed you did a whole lot more than dated,” Catcher remarked with a smile.
Patricia shook her head. “No, I mean, we were married.”
My mouth gaped open in surprise. “But in the twenty years he’s been in Taylorsville, he never mentioned being divorced. He led everyone to believe he was a life-long bachelor.”
“That’s probably because we were barely married. We were just a pair of twenty-year-old flower children who got hitched during the Summer of Love by some shaman. It wasn’t even legal. But all these years later, he liked to call me his wife from time to time.”
My mind tried to wrap itself around the image of Randy with long hair, wearing tie-dyed shirts, dropping acid, and saying “Groovy” while making a peace symbol. “Randy was actually a hippie?” I questioned incredulously.
“Yes. We both were.”
“I apologize if that sounded like I was looking down on him or you. It’s just Randy seemed a little too square, for a lack of a better word, to have been a part of the swinging sixties.”
“Trust me. He did quite a lot of swinging. Two and three women at a time.”
“Oh my,” I murmured.
Patricia twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “His appetite was one of the reasons why we didn’t stay together. I just couldn’t keep up. I mean, King and Kong always seemed up for it, and there’s only so much your orifices can take.”
Catcher choked on his water, sending it spewing over his lap and onto the floor. Once he recovered from a coughing fit, he held up his hand. “My apologies.”
As Patricia stared at Catcher in shock, I tried focusing her attention on me. “I can imagine that must’ve been difficult both for him and for you,” I said.
Patricia looked from Catcher to me before nodding. “Yes. It was. More so on me at first, but then when I went on to get remarried, it was hard for Randy. He experienced some dark years then when he truly began to despise King and Kong. He wanted more than anything to be normal.”
“Do you think it could have been Randy’s sexual proclivities that led to his murder?” Catcher questioned.
“No. Most of the people he was with were peaceful, loving people. Like myself, many were Buddhists who wouldn’t believe in hurting a fly, least of all Randy.”
“What about a non-peaceful person who was perhaps jealous of Randy’s endowments?” Catcher suggested.
Patricia smiled. “While that could have been possible, I would seriously doubt it. Although he caused quite a stir when he first came here, people got used to seeing King and Kong.” Patricia turned to me. “You know as well as I do what a sweet, personable man Randy was.”
I nodded. “Yes, he was. It’s hard for me to imagine anyone would want to kill him.”
Catcher cocked his brows. “And you’re sure he was completely honest with you about his sex life after the two of you broke up?”
“Even when I remarried, Randy and I were never truly apart. Although I remained physically faithful to my husband, I was emotionally unfaithful. Because of our relationship, I know without a doubt that he wasn’t involved in something sexual I didn’t know about.”
“Can you think of anyone who might’ve had it out for him enough to want kill him?” Catcher asked.
Patricia nibbled on her bottom lip. I could tell immediately that while she might’ve had an idea, she was hesitant to say. Since I knew she loved Randy and wanted his killer found, I had to assume she was holding back out of fear.
“In many ways, Randy was the mild-mannered pharmacist who enjoyed singing in the church choir. It wasn’t just a clever façade he concocted to hide his other side. It’s just that his wild side was much more dominant. In fact, it often even bled into his professional life.”
Catcher’s dark brows knitted together. “How so?”
“Although Randy did well as a pharmacist, it didn’t totally fund his lifestyle. He loved traveling to exotic locations like Bali and Tahiti. He started using his chemist skills with other avenues.”
“Are you trying to say that Randy was selling drugs?” I asked.
“In a roundabout way, yes. But it wasn’t anything like cocaine or meth. It was his own…concoctions.”
“Concoctions?” Catcher and I both questioned in unison.
“He didn’t like to tell me all that he delved in. By keeping me in the dark, he felt he could keep me clean in case there was any blowback.”
“He was that worried about his safety?” I inquired.
“You must not have gotten a good look at his house. That place is armed like Fort Knox.”
“I did notice the extensive security cameras and door locks,” Catcher said
“His need for excellent security was in part because of what he was into as well as how he was running away from his past. That’s why he chose Taylorsville—he needed a small town to disappear in.”
“So he had been making ‘concoctions’ for quite a number of years?”
“Yes. He had. Apparently, one of them went horribly wrong, and he had to disappear.”
Catcher and I exchanged a glance. The fact that Randy was hiding out from someone meant a huge deal to the case. “He never told you any of the specifics about why he relocated to Taylorsville?” Catcher inquired.
Patricia shook her head. “It was one of the few secrets he kept from me. I think he felt it was protecting me in some way.”
“Do you have any names you could give us who were clients of Randy’s?”
“Zeke Chester. He’s a deacon at the Full Zion Church.”
Catcher’s brows shot up in surprise. “Randy had a holy man on his client list?”
“I don’t know many of the details. I walked in on a conversation a few months ago. Randy wouldn’t tell me anything more than he had been working on something for Zeke to be used in his brother, Ezra’s, services.”
Catcher scribbled his name down in his notebook. “Do you know anything else about this Zeke Chester besides he was a customer of Randy’s?”
“Just that his brother has gained quite a following to his Friday and Saturday night tent revivals.”
“You know a location of those tent revivals.”
“Randy said they were forty-five minutes from here over in Dawson County.”
Catcher nodded and then glanced up from his pad. “I appreciate you speaking with us, Patricia. If you remember anything else about Randy’s concoction business, please let me know.” He then reached into his suit pocket and produced a business card that he gave to Patricia.
I leaned forward on the sofa. “Before we go, I have to ask about Randy’s next of kin. Do you know anything about his family?”
“He was an adult orphan—his dad died when he was seventeen, and his mother when he was twenty-three. His older sister lives in Tennessee, but they rarely saw each other. His family became our circle of friends.”
“I see. Do you know if he had a will?”
Patricia nodded. “Yes. I have a copy of it at the condo somewhere. I’m the executor of his estate.”
“Oh good. I was hoping he had left instructions of what he wanted when he passed away.”
“Yes. It’s all there from being cremated to having the service here at Bare Haven’s chapel.
“You have a church here?” Catcher
blurted.
Instead of being offended, Patricia merely smiled. “We’re not godless people, Agent Mains. We’re just clothes-less.”
Catcher returned her smile. “My apologies. This is all very new to me, but it’s no excuse to show intolerance.”
“Thank you.”
I dug in my bag for the necessary paperwork for Patricia to fill out. “As the executor of Randy’s estate, you can sign for me to release the body to the crematory. Of course, I’ll need you to fax me over a copy of the will.”
When I handed her the paperwork, she stared at it absently for a moment. Once again, tears began streaming down her cheeks. Tentatively, I reached out my hand to pat her shoulder. One of the first lessons I’d learned about the bereaved was not all people want to be touched.
But apparently Patricia wanted it. The next thing I knew she dove into my arms and began weeping inconsolably. It took a few moments to get my bearings since it was the first time I’d had a naked woman pressed against me. But any embarrassment I might’ve felt melted away, and all I could do was focus on giving comfort to Patricia. After all, she’d lost the love of her life unexpectedly and violently.
“Maybe you should get Barry,” I whispered to Catcher.
He nodded before shooting off the couch. Like a mother with her child, I rocked Patricia back and forth, speaking soothing words of comfort. Catcher returned with Barry, and he sat on the other side of Patricia on the couch.
“Patty? I’m here, sweetie,” he said.
His voice seemed to cut through Patricia’s storm of grief. She pulled away from me. Swiping her cheeks, she gave me an embarrassed smile. “I’m so sorry for falling apart like that.”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s totally understandable given the news about Randy.”
“You’re very kind.” She inhaled and exhaled a few deep breaths and then pulled her shoulders back. “I think I’m able to do the paperwork now.”
I pointed to the paper on the table in front of us. “Just sign this.” Once she scribbled her name across the form, I took the papers back. “Thank you.”
Patricia glanced from me to Catcher. “You will find who did this, won’t you?” Her chin trembled a bit, and I feared she might start crying again.
He gave a firm nod of his head. “Yes ma’am. We sure will.”
“Good.”
She rose off the couch and gave us a weak smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head back home. I need some time to process all this. And either a glass of wine or a Xanax.”
Catcher and I stood up. “Of course. As soon as we know anything, we’ll let you know,” Catcher replied.
“I’ll appreciate that.” After shaking our hands, Patricia let Barry lead her down the hallway and out of the clubhouse.
When Catcher continued to stare thoughtfully after her, I asked, “You don’t think she’s hiding anything, do you?”
He shook his head. “No. She gave us all she had.”
“Then why the stare down?”
A mischievous glint burned in his eyes. “I was just trying to imagine her, Randy, and King and Kong getting it on.”
“You’re disgusting,” I replied, as I shoved my paperwork back in my bag.
“Oh come on. Don’t tell me you weren’t wondering about them?”
I slung my bag over my shoulder. “No. My mind isn’t that warped.” The truth was the thought had gone through my mind when Patricia was talking about how King and Kong were just too much for her.
Catcher grinned. “You’re lying, Liv.”
Once again, I wanted to throttle him and his special agent training. “Fine. Maybe I entertained the thought.”
He laughed. “It’s a hell of a thought to entertain. I’m pretty sure that today will go down as the craziest case I’ve ever worked on.”
“I’m pretty sure I would have to agree with you,” I said, as the naked bellhop held the doors open for us.
As we started to the car, Catcher asked, “Before King and Kong, just exactly what was the craziest thing you’ve ever seen on a case?”
I tilted my head in thought. “Probably when I was in undergrad at UGA and shadowing the Clarke County coroner.” I opened the car door and tossed my bag inside.
“So what happened?” Catcher asked as he placed his elbows on the top of the car.
“We receive a homicide call to an apartment complex. When we get there, we find a male and female deceased in the bed. Blood is everywhere. It literally looks like that scene in The Shining when the elevator doors open, and blood comes flooding out.”
“Jesus,” Catcher muttered.
“Anyway, the bodies both have exit gunshot wounds, but for the life of the investigators, they can’t find an entrance wound on the bodies. And I don’t where the hell it came from, but suddenly, an idea pops in my head. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Check their assholes.”
Catcher snorted. “You did?”
I grinned. “Yeah, I did. A quick peek between the cheeks, and it turned out I was right. The murderer had stuck the barrel of the shotgun up their ass before shooting them.”
With a wince, Catcher said, “That’s one sick fucker.”
“Turns out it was the woman’s jealous husband. He came home from a hunting trip and found his wife and best friend screwing. He just snapped.” I dropped down into the seat, and Catcher followed.
After he cranked up, he turned to me. “And I thought my goat-fucking story was wild.”
“Excuse me?”
He laughed. “I was part of a narcotics bust on this guy who lived out in the boonies. He was running a meth lab out of an abandoned travel trailer on his property. Anyway, we get there, and when we knock, the guy yells, “Just a minute. I’m almost there.” Well, we all look around at each other like what the hell is he talking about? After a few more times knocking, we get the same response. So we end up having to use a battering ram on the door to get it down. When we get inside, we find the guy, high as a kite, and fucking a goat.”
I gasped. “Oh my God. That poor goat.”
“Exactly. So we’re all standing there with guns drawn, and he just keeps nailing the goat. He almost got his ass shot off because he kept holding us off so he could come.”
Slowly, I shook my head back and forth. “That is the most disturbing story I think I’ve ever heard.”
Catcher nodded. “Yup, it was my second year out of the academy, and I can still remember it like it was yesterday.”
“I can see why. Something like that would scar you for life.”
“Kinda like Sir Randy of the Two Dicks.”
I laughed. “Randy’s case is shocking…I’m not so sure it would be as mentally scarring as seeing a guy violating a goat.”
“You have a point there.” Catcher glanced over at me. “Speaking of Randy, I’ve been thinking about his concoctions.”
“What about them?”
“I’m assuming Harry Potter must’ve had a place at his house where he was doing his potion making.”
I nodded. “He certainly wouldn’t have done it anywhere else than in the privacy of his home. Makes sense that his house was so secure. That way he didn’t run the risk of anyone finding it.”
“Except all that security didn’t help him in the end.”
“True.”
“When we get back, do you wanna have a look at Randy’s place with me? See if we can find his secret concoction lair?”
I whirled around in the seat to stare at him in surprise. “You want me to investigate with you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Call me crazy, but I just thought that was something for you and your fellow agents to do.”
“Solano just texted me that he and Capshaw were taking the boot treads to the field office along with some of the other evidence they gathered today. Since it’ll just be me, why not?”
“You won’t get in trouble for having a civilian along with you?”
Catcher grinned. “But you’re not
a civilian. As the county coroner, you’re a member of law enforcement.”
“Oh yeah. Right.” Duh. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Talk about a powerful penis presence. Being around Catcher was making my mind a scrambled mess.
When we approached Randy’s driveway, a sheriff deputy’s cruiser was parked in it. Catcher pulled up alongside and rolled his window down. When the deputy followed suit, Catcher flashed his badge. “Agent Mains, GBI. We’re going to have a quick look in the house.”
“Okay,” the deputy replied.
Catcher rolled the window up as we coasted down the driveway. Although I normally wasn’t one to be spooked, I was kind of glad it was still daylight. Sure, I’d had to go on body pickups and unexplained deaths after dark for both the funeral home and coroner’s office, but there just seemed to be something a little creepier about this case. Maybe it was because Randy’s house was so far off the road. Maybe it was because I’d never handled a murder case all on my own. Or maybe it was because of Randy’s two dicks and an ex-wife who lived in a nudist colony, erm resort. Better still, there was the creepiness of his concoction making business. All of those maybes meant I wasn’t too sure what other freakiness lurked within his basement.
As we pulled up in front of the garage, I saw where the yellow crime scene tape had been wrapped around the doors and front porch. After Catcher grabbed his kit from the backseat, we headed to the house. Catcher and I had to dip under the caution tape to get into the house. When we found the door locked, I asked, “Do I need to call Ralph to see about getting inside?”
Instead of answering me, Catcher took his wallet out of his back pocket and dug out a credit card. He stuck it in the doorjamb and jiggled it around. At the sound of the lock popping, he turned back to me and grinned.
“Impressive,” I mused.
“I am a man of many talents.”
“As well as an inflated ego.”
Catcher chuckled as he opened the front door for me. One solitary lamp in the living room lit the way for us. “Since I didn’t do the searching earlier, I’d wager the basement door is off the kitchen,” Catcher said.
I had peeked my head in the basement door earlier in the day, but I hadn’t gone all the way downstairs. “Yup. You’re right.”
