He thought he recognized a camelback settee from his sister's antique shop. The dark cherry lamp table with the piecrust rim looked familiar, too. Great, he hoped Gwen had been the source for all the antiques in the room.
Ms. Holmes quickly returned. "Mr. Bertolli asks you to come right in."
Vince stood as Link entered. He and Vince were close in age and both had black hair. Vince stood and inch or so under six feet and solid, stocky build compared to Link’s own lanky six-feet-four. Easy going and friendly, Vince seemed to like everyone--except those who broke the law. Link agreed with him there.
"Hey, been working out?" Link asked as Vince grasped his hand in a killer grip.
"Had to. Getting soft in the gut." Vince asked, "Say, what's it been, three months? The retirement party for Judge Haynes, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, probably was. I saw the newspaper picture of your ribbon cutting. You living here or commuting?"
Vince beamed and launched into a description of his latest acquisition. "I just bought the prettiest piece of land in the state--it's south of here on the river. Until I can build, though, I'm stuck in a lousy apartment here in town."
"It'll be worth it to have what you want," Link said.
"My thoughts exactly, although it can’t happen too soon for me. Hey, listening to you rave about Cartersville started me thinking about this as the ideal place to settle down. Heard you'd moved back but hadn’t gotten around to contacting you yet. Couldn't stay away any longer, huh?"
"Jason and I moved back about a couple of months ago." Link didn’t go into the inheritance thing but let his gaze roam around the room. Handcrafted bookcases lined the wall behind a massive mahogany desk. "Quite an office you have here. Not as plush as the one at your old firm, but very impressive. Feels more inviting."
Vince looked pleased. "My sister decorated it for me. I would have used chrome and glass. Anna went for antiques to keep the spirit of the restored downtown." He tugged at his cuff. “This just a welcome to the neighborhood, or business?”
Link took the chair near the desk. "I have a unique problem. You know what deputies make, so you know I haven't much money to pay you."
“Of course, some of my clients moved with me, but I think I can work you in pro bono.” Vince looked pointedly down at the copy of TEXAS LAW REVIEW that lay open on the polished and otherwise uncluttered desk.
Link got the idea that business was a little slow for Vince's taste. He laughed. “Not free, but maybe a discounted rate.”
Vince smiled. "What's the problem?"
"Two problems. First is probably just personal. The other is strictly business and confidential." Link unbuttoned his shirt pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper. "I've outlined everything here."
Vince took the paper and scanned it. When he looked up, his brow furrowed above eyes so dark a brown it was hard to tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began. "Let's see--Coy Cox? Do I know him?"
"You've probably seen him riding his bike around town. He pulls a homemade cart behind the bike and collects aluminum cans, bottles, odds and ends--anything he can sell for recycling or salvage."
The attorney nodded, "Ah, yes, I've seen him. Didn't know his name." Vince's gaze returned to the bottom of the sheet.
Link sat motionless, his hands resting lightly on the arm of the chair belying the tension in his body. Sharing information involved risk. Was Vince as trustworthy as he believed?
When Link spoke, he masked his doubts. "If I start checking on these things, it'll get back to the wrong people. Lawyers or aides pour over records all the time. No one will question you checking this. Will you do it?"
Vince hesitated only a second before agreeing, his expression solemn. "Sure. When do you need this information?"
"Yesterday would be perfect," Link said and flashed what he hoped was a brilliant smile.
"I'll bet it would." Vince returned a sardonic grin. "Well, I'll see what I can do." He folded the sheet of paper and slipped it into the inside jacket pocket of his brown suit. "Believe it or not, I have a client coming in about half an hour. After that, I'll get busy on this."
"Vince...I don’t want to talk about this at work. If you need to talk with me about any of this, call me at home. My number's on the sheet of paper. If I'm not there, leave your name with my housekeeper."
Chapter Eighteen
Back on his assignment from Goddard, Link began his questions with Mitzi's aunt, Drady Francis. She lived on Mulberry Street, about three blocks south of Akridge House. She answered the door and her red-rimmed eyes looked as if she had been crying.
Her dark hair was cut short, and she was a small woman. He knew her to be near the age of his own mother. She wore black slacks and a gray knit shirt with black stripes. And a red apron similar to those Maggie favored.
When he explained why he had come, Mrs. Francis asked him in and seated him on the sofa. She sat in a chair across from him and asked, "Aren't you Katherine and Lamar's boy?"
"Yes, ma'am." Link figured he'd still be called “the Dixon's boy” when he was sixty if any of his parents' friends were alive by then. "I'm real sorry about Mitzi, but I need to ask you some questions about her."
Mrs. Francis dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. "It's such a tragedy, but I knew that girl was coming to a bad end. She was wild right from the start, just like my sister."
Link tried to keep an impassive face. "When did you last see her--your niece?"
Mrs. Francis pursed her lips a moment before answering, "Let's see, I guess it was a couple of nights before she, um, you know."
"Did she date anyone local?"
She gave a shrug. "Probably. I don't know who, but she wasn't the sort to stay home alone."
Link shifted his weight and leaned forward. "Please tell me everything you know about her since she came back to town."
Mrs. Francis took a deep sigh and leaned back in the armchair. "Well, Mitzi came back for her father's funeral two months ago. She and her father were never close, though. He never seemed interested in her."
She raised her hand and added hastily, "I don't mean he was mean to her or abused her in any way. He just didn't pay her much mind. You know, he let my sister do all the raising of her. Mitzi came back for Jimbo's funeral--Jimbo was what we called her father--and stayed. I don't know much about what she did all day."
"What about her mother? Were they close?" Link tried to remember Mitzi as she had been in high school, but only a smiling face came to him.
"Oh, they were close--unless they were fighting. They were both high tempered, you see, so they were either thick as thieves or feuding." Mrs. Francis dabbed at her eyes, "Mitzi took it real hard when Ruby--that was her mother--died four years ago. She never came back to visit after that, not until Jimbo's funeral."
"What sort of mood was she in the last time you saw her?"
A pensive look came over Mrs. Francis and she seemed almost hesitant to answer. "She was in a real good mood, cheerful and talkative, real talkative."
"Was there anything different about her this time from her previous visits?"
"Well, you see, she'd been asking me a lot of questions lately." She looked hesitant, embarrassed.
The hairs on the back of Link's neck prickled. "What sort of questions?"
She twisted the corner of the apron and refused to meet Link's gaze. "About her parents."
"What exactly did she ask?" His kept his voice soft, but prodded, "Please try to remember everything, Mrs. Francis. It could be very important."
Mrs. Francis looked away from him, as if she were embarrassed. "She wanted to know about when she was a little girl, and before she was born, too. You know, did her parents fuss, who her parents' friends were, if her mother had any, um, boyfriends her father didn't know about. Things like that."
Now she turned her head to look at him and her gaze met his. "Actually, you see, they were embarrassing things. Well, Ruby was a tramp.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “There. I said it
, and it's true, even if she was my own sister." Link's eyebrows furrowed. Little things he'd heard growing up drifted through his mind. Things better left forgotten--unless you investigated murders for a living.
"Did you tell her what she wanted to know. Honestly, I mean?"
"Oh, yes. I would never have volunteered the information, because I would never want to hurt her. To have hurt her." She paused to dab the apron to her eyes again. "Once she asked me so many pointed questions, I figured she knew the sort of woman her mother was. I saw no reason in lying to protect either of them." Mrs. Francis chewed her lip now and continued to twist her apron.
"Did you give her what she wanted to know? Were there names of men?" He wondered if Mitzi could have tried to blackmail an old boyfriend of her mother's after all these years.
The woman shook her head slowly and shrugged. "No, I didn't know any of them for certain. Ruby was sly, she was. I always suspected it was because the men were married. I was never sure of the names any more than I was sure if there was just one man or a dozen."
Too bad, thought Link. "What about Mitzi's friends since she's been back? Think hard. Do you know any of their names?"
Mrs. Francis shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. She was so much like her mother, you see. I think she must have been seeing a man, but she was very secretive about him." The woman sobbed into the apron she brought to her face. Her body shook with the wracking sobs.
Awkward as he felt, Link waited patiently while Mrs. Francis gave in to the bout of tears. When the sobs ceased, he probed again, "Any idea who this man might be?"
She shook her head. "He's probably married. I tried to warn her time and time again."
Link asked, "What about girl friends, coworkers?"
"I don't think she had any female friends here. She didn't have a job, either. There was a good bit of money from her father's insurance policy, forty thousand. Plus the house and car. So, you see, she was okay for now."
She tilted her head, lost in thought. "She kept saying she was settling the estate. She said it over and over again. 'I'm going to settle Papa Jimbo's estate,' she'd say just like that. Then she'd laugh. She made it sound like Jimbo was wealthy or something, but he wasn't. Maybe it made her feel important to say it that way."
Link handed her a business card. "Thank you, Mrs. Francis. Please call me if you remember anything else, no matter how trivial it might seem."
As he climbed into the car, he dialed his mom. "Have you paid a condolence call on Mrs. Francis?...Figured you would...Yeah, she's taking her niece's death hard. I expect she could use a cheerful face right away."
Chapter Nineteen
By the time he checked with Eddy at noon, Link felt no closer to knowing the dead woman than when he left her aunt's house. The two men decided to try the house where Mitzi had lived.
"What did you find out from the ex-husband?" Link asked as they left the Justice Center.
Eddy looked anything but satisfied. "Not much, except the divorce was not final--apparently it takes longer in California than in Texas. He wasn't devastated by her death, but seemed shaken. Said she wasn't a faithful wife. He talked to her as recently as last week, though."
"Really? What about?"
"He said she was talking about how she was on to a good thing here. Said she was going to settle her father's estate and retire on the proceeds." Eddy shrugged as the car stopped in front of a modest brick home. Each of the homes in the neighborhood sat far back from the road on parcels of land ranging from one to five acres.
Eddy glanced around the neighborhood. "Don’t get me wrong, this place is okay, but it’s not what I’d call plush. Wait until you see the inside. Doesn't look like Morrison had all that much money.”
Link nodded. “Aunt said the insurance policy was only forty thousand.”
“Yeah, and Zach said he knew Mitzi barely had enough money to pay for the gas to drive back to attend the funeral. Doesn’t look like that much of an estate to settle."
Link shook his head and opened the car door. "That's the same thing the aunt said. Mitzi kept telling her she was settling her father's estate. Those words exactly." He stood near the front walk looking at the home. "What do you figure this would run on today's market?"
Eddy answered, "Let's see. This is about an acre here, don't you reckon? That house is older but it would be run to 2000, maybe 2500 square feet, wouldn't it? My guess would be about two hundred thousand--maybe two fifty or so if they got a buyer from California or the East Coast."
Link nodded and added, "Mitzi was thirty-three. You can't retire at that age on forty G's and the proceeds from the sale of this house, can you?"
"No, even if the interest rates were better than they are now. Maybe the father had bonds or stocks, something like that."
“Zach coming back for her funeral?”
“Wants to but he’s broke. I think he’s seeing dollar signs in front of his eyes. Said since the divorce wasn’t final, her estate should go to him.”
Link thought of Drady Francis and knew where he hoped the estate went. That woman actually mourned Mitzi’s death. Link stepped up the walk and fished the door key from his pocket, the same key found in Mitzi's handbag.
Inside the house, Eddy peered around. He looked forlorn. "Goddard and I went over this pretty thoroughly yesterday. Found nada. Of course, we were mainly looking for evidence she was murdered here."
"Let's give it another go. The aunt gave us permission to look all we want until after the funeral and this can be sold."
"What're we looking for now?"
"Anything that might have been overlooked yesterday. The ex-husband didn't know of anything there in California, did he?" Link asked.
Eddy shook his head. "According to him, when she heard her father died she just loaded everything in her car and moved back here in a flash. Said she lived in a furnished apartment there. Guess there wasn't that much to move. Got the impression they'd always had money problems. If she has any stuff left out there in storage or anything, he doesn't know about it."
"No safe deposit key with her handbag,” Link asked.
“Nope.”
Link glanced around the dreary living room. “She must have saved all her important papers in here somewhere."
The men started in separate rooms and worked through the house. They met in the hall.
Eddy said, "We took in anything even remotely of interest yesterday. I don't have even a paper clip today."
"All I have is this photo. Shows Mitzi, but the other person has been torn off." Link pounded his fist against a doorframe in frustration. "Damn, there has to be something else here we've missed."
Back at the Justice Center, Link assured Goddard, "I'm sure there's something in that house we've overlooked." By now, Link wished he'd listened to Maggie and used that antibiotic ointment with painkiller on his shin.
Goddard clamped his jaw, then said, "We can't spend days searching that damn house. What else have you come up with?"
Eddy and Link reviewed the fruits of their respective investigations.
Goddard snorted at their efforts.
“What about her car. It ever turn up?” Link asked.
Goddard nodded. “On the WalMart parking lot, clean as a whistle.”
Link said, "So, we're still nowhere with this thing. There has to be something we're missing here. She talked to someone besides her aunt and the murderer."
Goddard snapped, "Damn right. And first thing tomorrow you two find out who she talked to and what she talked about."
Chapter Twenty
On the way home from work, Link stopped by Timeless Treasures, his sister's antique shop. Of his four sisters, Gwen was nearest his age and the one with whom he had most in common. They shared their father's dark coloring, lean build, and facial features.
It was closing time. Gwen let him in and locked the door behind him.
"Careful. Step around this stuff here. I just got these pieces from an estate sale."
"Nice."
She paused to point at one of the new finds. "Look at this old traveler's lap desk. It has a secret compartment." She moved her hand along the base and a small drawer slid out. "Don't you love it? And this drop front desk is a real find."
"Yeah, it's great." He ran his hand along the hand carved desk front before he followed her to the sales counter. "Why didn’t you tell me Coy moved from his old house on Madison Street?"
Her expression of surprise answered his question. "I had no idea. Why would he move? And when did he?"
Link leaned his elbows on the counter near the cash register to watch Gwen make out her bank deposit. "Right after Christmas--of the year before last."
Gwen put aside the money she'd been counting and gave Link a look of bewilderment. "Link? Are you sure? I mean, Madison Street is a dead end so I never go by the house, but I see Coy often. For heaven’s sake, the man eats breakfast with us at least twice a week. He's never said a word about moving."
"Look, Gwen, keep this quiet, will you? Something fishy is going on here. He said he had to move because his mother never paid taxes on the place. Gary Don lets him live in a place he owns just north of town. Man, it's a real rat trap. I could bust Gary Don in the mouth for parking Coy there."
"Hmm. You mean Gary Don Clayton, our esteemed Sheriff?" She rolled her eyes. Link knew her low opinion of the sheriff.
She continued, "Do you remember their mothers were either first or second cousins? Gary Don is some sort of executor or conservator or something for Coy since Mrs. Cox died."
Link shrugged. "Yeah? Well, he's doing a lousy job of managing Coy's estate."
"Do you think Coy gets money from being disabled?"
"I don't know if he's ever been tested.” He paused a moment to think about it. “Surely he was when he was in school.”
“Maybe he fell through the cracks—you know, I.Q. too high to be classified retarded, but not high enough to be truly functional."
"Yeah, guess that's possible."
Gwen chewed her lip, then added, "You'd be surprised, though. He's learned a lot about which items are valuable and which aren't. Some days when there are no customers in the shop he comes in and asks questions about various things. You know, why is this here, what makes people want it, that sort of thing."
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