by Libby Howard
“Everyone thought you’d be heading off with Holt for pre-season training.” That seemed like a good lead-in to my questions, even though the comment sounded a bit odd coming after her insistence on knowing all the gory details of Holt’s death.
She scowled. “I’d hoped so, although I knew it was a long shot. I wasn’t a one-night stand. He was pretty much with me all weekend. I was expecting him to offer, but Monday night I got the ‘it’s been fun’ speech. Jerk.”
Monday night. Although I couldn’t see Kendra as the type of woman who would be crawling underneath a pickup truck with a cutting torch in hand. “Did you guys go to the fireworks Monday night?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We almost didn’t make it in time because after the parade, Holt and I went back to my apartment for some fun, you know. He had to drive like a maniac to get the carnival grounds in time. I thought we were going to have to park way out by the grocery store, but one of the parking guys recognized Holt and waved him to one of the handicapped spaces in the lot.”
I really didn’t want to contemplate what sort of activities they’d been doing to lose track of time for twelve hours.
Drove like a maniac. That meant it was unlikely the tie rod had been damaged before the carnival. And if Holt had parked in a handicapped space, he would have been in the gravel lot where the sparklers were—a perfect spot for sabotage.
“And you guys were there until the fireworks ended?”
“Yeah. Then we went to the party. Well, first we pulled off in this field and got frisky, then I made Holt run by the liquor store, then we went to the party.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought. She might not be terribly broken up about Holt’s death, but it was clear she’d enjoyed being with him. And enjoyed being with him as well. Sheesh, how many times had they done it that day? Although when Eli and I had been young, we’d probably been the same.
Wait. Liquor store? “What did Holt buy at the liquor store?”
She sniffed. “A six-pack of those canned margaritas for me. Oh, and a bottle of whisky for me to take home since he was buying. Holt didn’t drink. Thankfully he didn’t mind that I did. Wish I hadn’t left the whisky in his car, but I didn’t think that he was going to dump me and not drive me home.”
“He left you stranded at the party?” I was outraged, even though this woman was as shallow as a saucer. At least I knew where the bottle of whisky had come from, although Miles would no doubt counter that Holt probably took a few swigs out of it when no one was looking.
“Well…he didn’t exactly leave me stranded,” she confessed. “We fought because he’d been talking to that Smith girl, then when he told me that I was just a weekend fling, I threw my canned margarita at him and left.”
The visual of her throwing a canned margarita at Holt was amusing. “So you walked home? Hitched a ride? Was the party near your house or something?”
Kendra gave me that look that young women give older women who have uttered something completely out of touch with modern times. “No. Duh. David drove me home.”
I was completely out of touch with modern times. “Your ex-boyfriend David? You dump him and spend the whole weekend between the sheets with Holt Dupree, then a few days later, after you’ve been rubbing his nose in your new fling, you stomp off in a huff and get the guy to drive you home.”
“He’s not my ex-boyfriend,” Kendra said, outraged. “I never dumped David. I mean, if Holt had asked me to come with him, then I would have dumped David, but that didn’t happen. We were just on a break. And when Holt gave me the shove, right in front of everyone too, the break was over.”
Had David tampered with Holt’s pickup before all this had gone down in revenge for being made a cuckold? If so, then he would have been taking the risk that Kendra would have been hurt, or possibly killed in the accident as well. Or maybe after being publicly humiliated, Kendra had convinced her not-ex-boyfriend to do an act of revenge on Holt’s truck.
“What time did you and David leave?”
She wrinkled her nose. “One? Two? It was late and we were really drunk.”
“And Holt left at the same time? To drive Peony Smith home?”
She laughed. “Holt was still there when we left, but he wasn’t with that kid Peony. He was with Violet.”
Holt had been with Violet—his girlfriend from back in high school, the one, judging from the expression on his face at the concert, that he’d never fallen out of love with. It didn’t really have any bearing on my unofficial investigation. Violet didn’t have any motive that I knew of to wish Holt harm, and I couldn’t see her crawling under a truck to tamper with a tie rod any more than I could see Kendra doing that. I did note her name though, just in case I needed information on what happened after Kendra and David left the party.
It was dinnertime, and I didn’t really have a good excuse to go interview David Tripp, but Kendra had helpfully shared that he was on shift at the firehouse tonight, so I drove over there, hoping for the best. A fireman, tossed aside for a weekend fling with a football star only to take Kendra back when her plans for her new beau hadn’t panned out. It was a humiliating situation for any guy, but I could imagine the scorn would be far worse for a fireman.
I had no idea what David Tripp looked like, but the friendly captain at the firehouse called him over, then stood next to three other guys obviously curious what a sixty-year-old woman would want with their buddy. I was assuming that David had suffered enough, and asked him to come outside, claiming that I needed to talk to him about a part in J.T.’s reality YouTube series.
He came out of a back room, the sort of fireman who should be gracing the covers of a romance novel. David was Chippendales-dancer hot with light brown wavy hair and sexy stubble on his chiseled jaw. Sultry blue eyes gave me a once-over, then he smiled and I felt a bit weak at the knees.
Kendra ditched this for Holt Dupree? Correction, Kendra went on a break? Holt had been a good-looking guy, but David was breathtaking. I guessed in Kendra’s eyes, money had a higher value than drop-dead gorgeous looks.
“I spoke with Kendra a little bit ago and she told me you gave her a ride home from the party Monday night.” I jumped right in without any preamble because it was getting late and I was hungry, a bit flustered by this smoking-hot fireman, and quite honestly I wasn’t sure how to ease into this as I’d done with Kendra.
“Is Gator doing a show on Holt Dupree’s accident? That’s so cool!” David straightened his shoulders and assumed a serious, camera-worthy expression that made me feel on the edge of a swoon. “Yes, I drove Kendra home about one in the morning. She’d had a huge fight with Holt Dupree, thrown a can of beer at him, and dumped him. She told him she never wanted to see him again, that she was going back to me.”
It wasn’t beer. And Kendra didn’t dump Holt.
“That’s not what she told me. That’s not what the others at the party are likely to say either.”
He deflated before my eyes. “Can we not put that in the video? I mean, yeah he crooked his finger and Kendra came running. He’s a celebrity. He’s got an NFL contract. I just cleared my probation period as a small-town firefighter. Of course she’s going to give it a shot and see if she can hit the big time with Holt.”
I had never in my life known a man to rationalize being dumped in such a logical, unemotional way, so I raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Okay, yeah I was mad. She’s been my girl for a year now and suddenly she chucks me aside for some dude who she knows is going to dump her after a night or two? It’s embarrassing.”
“I’ll bet you were angry with Holt, blowing into town and taking away your girlfriend like that.” I commented.
He snorted. “No. I was mad at Kendra. Can’t blame a guy for wanting a piece of that. I mean, look at her. But we were exclusive. We’d been together a year.”
“At least she didn’t sneak around behind your back.”
“She could hardly do that if she wanted to be more than a one-night thing with Holt,” David commente
d reasonably. “She wanted more. She was like glue to him from that party on Persimmon Bridge until the fight Monday night. Wouldn’t return my calls or texts or anything.”
He had motive, although he didn’t really seem all that angry with Holt. I’m sure he had enough knowledge about vehicles from his job as well as access to the equipment to cut through a tie rod end, though.
“So tell me about the party,” I asked, figuring if I confronted him directly, he’d clam up and I’d get nothing.
“I got there after the fireworks and had a few beers. Was eyeing up some girl from Milford when Holt and Kendra arrived. I didn’t expect they’d be going, and thought about leaving when I saw them.” David scowled. “She was hanging on his arm, her hair all messed and her lipstick freshly touched up. After a year together, I know what Kendra looks like when she’s been getting some. I really didn’t want to be there with them, if you know what I mean, but I’d had a couple beers and needed to wait before I drove home. Besides it was a big party and I just kinda stayed out of their way.”
“But Kendra knew you were there.”
His expression turned dreamy, with a sappy little smile. “Yeah, she did. Holt was talking to that girl he grew up with, the one he dated back in high school who isn’t really that hot, especially compared to Kendra. He was just talking to her, but Kendra likes to have a guy’s full attention, so she said something to him. They fought. And yeah, he told her she was just a good time for the weekend and to not get any ideas. She started screaming and threw her drink at him then stormed off.”
“And went right to you.”
The smile got even sappier. “Yeah, right to me. It had been a couple hours and I hadn’t had anything else to drink, so I took her home. And I showed her how a man should be treating a smoking hot babe like her.”
Eww. It was clear to me that David would have never risked Kendra’s safety, or beautiful face, by tampering with Holt’s truck pre-argument, and I got the feeling that after the fight he was more interested in dragging Kendra off and proving his devotion than in taking the time to stick it to the guy who’d dumped her. I was pretty confident in crossing David off my suspect list.
But maybe he’d seen something. He and Kendra had left before Holt, and it was looking like the sabotage had been done at the party.
“Where were you parked? Were you anywhere near Holt’s truck?”
He blinked in surprise, the sappy smile fading a bit. “Yeah, I guess. We were all parked by the garages and next to the loaders and pavers. They’d moved all the equipment aside and there was a ton of space.”
Loaders and pavers? “Where was this party? Who was giving it?”
“Buck Stanford. Not at his house, but at the paving company shop in the field back behind the buildings and storage areas. It was a huge party—bonfire, more fireworks, even a DJ. Kegs all over the place.”
“Why would Buck Stanford invite Holt Dupree to his party?” I asked. “Unless he crashed it. Do you think he crashed it?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him. That’s why I was so surprised when Kendra and Holt showed up. I thought Buck would kick him out, or maybe there’d be another fight like there was after the concert. Guess they worked it out though, because Buck went over and said ‘Hi’ to Holt. Even gave him a beer. I’m not saying he was all buddy-buddy with the guy, but he wasn’t running him off his property with a shotgun either.”
I suddenly had a new top suspect.
“Did Holt drink the beer?” I asked, mostly to myself.
David laughed. “He gave it to Kendra. I gotta say the whole weekend, any time I saw Holt Dupree, he was never drinking alcohol. Pretty much all he had was bottled water, and he drank that stuff by the caseload from what I could tell. Don’t blame him with that NFL contract. Guy can’t be too careful when there’s millions riding on his being able to intercept a pass.”
“So it seems unlikely that Holt’s accident was alcohol related?”
“I mean, the guy could have been sneaking a few drinks late at night when there was no one around to see. Can’t rule that out. But in my opinion, I think he just judged that curve wrong. I can’t tell you how many serious accidents we respond to on that road, in that same exact spot. It’s a dangerous curve.”
It was. And even more dangerous if someone had sliced almost through the tie rod of your truck.
Chapter 20
Buck wasn’t at the Stanford Paving offices, so I left a message for him to call me and took a quick peek around while I was there. There was a section of flattened ground with the remains of a large bonfire and a few stray beer cans in the back. I stood by the charcoaled logs and looked to where the parking area would have been. The buildings and the heavy equipment blocked most of my view. Partiers wouldn’t have had a clear view of their cars, or the ability to see someone taking a cutting torch to one of them. There would still be a risk that someone would head back to grab a sweater or another six pack of beer and see, but it might not be huge risk with the equipment and other cars in the way.
A shadow formed just off to my left.
“I’m working on it. Be patient, okay?”
The ghost shifted, and a charcoaled log rolled off the stack then lurched forward shedding bits of black ash.
“Kicking logs isn’t going to bring you back to life or help us send whoever tampered with your pickup to jail.”
The log launched a few feet forward. This was starting to scare me. Seeing dead people was bad enough without them shoving things off counters and kicking things. I turned to face the ghost but it moved, staying in my peripheral vision.
“Go away. Go away or I’m calling Olive.”
Without waiting to see if my threat had any effect, I spun around and stomped off, waiting for a charcoaled log to whack the back of my head. It didn’t. So either Holt was gone, or he’d never practiced punting during his years in football.
Heading back, I walked the parking area, trying to hurry before someone from the paving company showed up to ask me what the heck I was doing. The receptionist hadn’t seemed all that interested in anything that didn’t involve her cell phone, and it was after hours. Hopefully no late-working employee would catch me.
Hopefully Buck Stanford wouldn’t catch me. I was getting an uneasy feeling about this whole not-a-case. If it was Buck who’d tampered with Holt’s car, I didn’t really want to confront him. No, leave that to the police. I’d had enough of brushes with murderous criminals in the last few months.
Right by a huge pile of gravel I found it. Holt and Kendra had arrived late due to their field-frolics and pit-stop at the liquor store, and the paved parking area closer to the party was already filled according to David. Out by the entrance was a section of packed dirt where the company stored the asphalt and stone for their work. There was a spot with sparse flattened grass and tire tracks, and a portion where it looked like fireworks had been set off—fireworks or perhaps sparks from a cutting torch.
I’d gone as far as I could. I wasn’t a licensed private investigator, and I certainly wasn’t the police, so I got in my car, picked up the phone and called Miles. And when he answered, I dumped the whole mess in his lap.
“Good Lord, Kay, I was about to send the cavalry after you,” Judge Beck commented as I came through the door.
I dumped my laptop and purse on the table and bent to pick up Taco, who was meowing insistently and weaving around my legs.
“He’s lying,” Judge Beck told me. “I fed him half an hour ago. He wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept jumping on my lap and meowing in my face. He thinks he’s starving, you know.”
“He’s always hungry.” I bent my head so Taco could bump my forehead with his and rub his face along mine as he purred. Little fattie. It was hard to resist giving him treats when he was so adorably affectionate.
“Well I was hungry too. There’s leftover mac and cheese in the fridge.”
My stomach growled at the thought and I headed to the kitchen. “Come with me. I’ve got a million th
ings to tell you. Holt Dupree’s truck was tampered with—tampered with enough for him to lose control and wreck.”
I told the judge the whole story while I warmed up the mac and cheese and was gratified by his astonished expression.
“So you think it’s Buck Stanford?” He frowned. “There’s not enough there to bring charges against him, you know that, right? Motive and opportunity do not make for a solid indictment case. Now if someone saw him, or heard him threaten to do it…”
I put up a hand. “I know, I know. I called Miles Pickford and gave him what I’d found out from Kendra and David and what I’d seen at the paving company. He’s in a better position than me to scour the town for witnesses and build a case.”
He was in a better position than me if Buck was our culprit and decided he wanted to shoot or stab the person investigating Holt Dupree’s death.
The judge’s smile held more than a hint of relief. “Good. Let him handle it. For all we know, Buck is innocent and someone else messed with Holt’s car.”
“There aren’t that many suspects who had motive, knowledge, and the ability to take a cutting torch to a tie rod underneath a truck. Heck, before today I didn’t even know what a tie rod was. And don’t ask me to crawl under a car and point to one, because I’m pretty sure I’d get it wrong.”
“So you thought either David or Buck, but who’s to say one of the other suspects isn’t a secret mechanic. Lots of women work on their own cars nowadays. We’re in an age of equal opportunity, you know.”
He was teasing, but I couldn’t help grin at the thought of Kendra Witt crawling under a truck to torch the suspension system. If that woman wanted to kill someone she’d use a knife, or a canned margarita, and it would be in the heat of passion. Violet or Peony might know enough about cars to do it based on their background, but neither one had reason to want Holt Dupree dead—especially Peony who was in the truck at the time of the accident.
“I’ll admit for a moment I thought it might be Ashley Chen’s dad. Or Swirly Maury.”
