"Hmm, I always suspected you bought things from him just to help him out." Link let his index finger idly revolve a weather vane depicting a running horse.
The blush spreading across her face confirmed his speculation. "Maybe most of the time. He's brought in some real finds, though. For instance, that weather vane you're manhandling."
He gave the horse another spin. "I have someone looking into the records on Coy's old house--you may have met the new attorney in town, Vince Bertolli."
"Oh, yes. Charming man--I wish Kathy or Beth could date him. He was at the last Chamber of Commerce meeting." Gwen shot him a sly look, her blue eyes twinkling. "Have you met his sister, Anna, too."
Link gave her a stony glare. Best to nip this matchmaking attempt in the bud. "No, and I'm in no hurry to, especially when you have that look on your face."
Gwen pretended to pout, but her good humor burst through in a laugh. With a toss of her black curls, she said, "Oh, Link, she's the prettiest woman in town. I know it's cliché, but she looks like Maureen O'Hara.”
“Hmm, wouldn’t that make her a little old for me?”
“You know very well I mean when Maureen O’Hara was young--dark red hair, sparkling green eyes, alabaster skin, tall, thin but shapely."
She reached across the counter and pinched his cheek. "She'll knock your socks off."
Link leaned back out of her reach, but smiled. "My socks are just fine where they are, thank you very much. What is it with you married women, anyway? You want everyone else in the world paired off."
Gwen looked contrite. "I'm sorry, I guess it's a little soon after Terri's death to start matchmaking. I just want you to be as happily married as Forrest and me."
Link fixed his eyes on the weather vane he gave another twirl with his finger. "I've been married, and I didn't find it the happy experience you and Forrest apparently share."
"Oh, Link." Gwen moved over to place her hand on his arm. "I knew things weren't going well with you two, but I never knew whether or not to say anything. You never mentioned it, so I decided you didn't want to talk about it."
She sighed and returned to her previous spot at the counter as she continued. "Terri could be difficult, but I really tried to like her, honest I did." Gwen blushed again. Apparently she gave away more than she intended.
Link walked around the counter to give her shoulders a quick hug.
"I know you did, Gwen. The truth is, though, that if she hadn't been in that accident, we probably would have gotten a divorce pretty soon. Never would have married her in the first place if she hadn’t been pregnant with Jason. She admitted she did so on purpose. Wanted me to find a job making more money with better hours."
His mind wandered, acrid memories surfacing. He stepped away and pretended to examine glass paperweights on a nearby shelf.
Not usually one to talk about his private life, even to Gwen, he confided, "We knew Nana A. hadn't much longer to live, and we discussed moving back here to live in Akridge House. Terri hated the idea, wouldn't even consider it. Then, when Nana died, I brought it up again.”
He shook his head and looked at his hands. “The day of the wreck, we’d argued about it and she stormed out of the house. She was so furious she probably didn't even see the red light she ran or the truck that hit her car."
He leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his forehead in his hands. "Damn, no matter how I fight it, I can't help feeling my wanting her to move here helped cause her death."
"Oh, no," Gwen said. "Her own poor judgement and bad temper caused her accident." She grasped his hands in hers and forced him to look at her. "Please don't let one bad experience sour you on women, Link. There are so many nice women your age here in town."
He forced a smile. He had not meant to reveal his personal demons. "Like this redhead? Man, you just never give up, do you? How did we get so far off the subject?"
"Were we off the subject?" Her cheeks dimpled and her dark blue eyes sparkled. Damn. He'd be hearing more about this Anna woman or he was mistaken.
"Look, Gwen, don't say anything about this other business to Coy or anyone else except Forrest, will you?"
"All right, if you say so." After a slight pause she added, "By the way, Anna teaches French and German at the college. Her office is next to Kathy's. Kathy said Anna and Vince are only stepbrother and stepsister, although they introduce themselves as brother and sister. Her last name is Zimmermann, with two N's."
Link sighed and walked to the door. "I'll keep that in mind, Gwen with one N. Come let me out of this marriage broker’s torture chamber so I can go home and shoot hoops with my son."
Chapter Twenty One
Goddard summoned Link and Eddy into his office the next morning. Though his suit and tie looked pressed for a change, Goddard’s hair already showed the ravages of his fingers. White tufts stood up on each side to recreate the great-horned-owl look he usually wore.
He leveled a glare at both younger men. “This Dunaway woman’s aunt insists on a memorial service since she can’t arrange a graveside burial until the body’s released. Service is today.”
Link didn’t volunteer that his mother had told him about the service or that he’d planned to go. “You going?”
“We’re going. Sheriff, too, and he ordered all available men to show up. Service is at ten at First Methodist. Be on time.” Goddard turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, a sign they were dismissed.
Walking to their desks, Eddy whispered, “Be a great time for a bank robbery, huh?”
Link laughed. “Let’s hope no one else figures that out.”
The First Methodist Church was one of Cartersville’s largest and oldest. Link signed the guest book and went into the sanctuary, which was filled almost to overflowing. The Francis family had requested donations to charity in lieu of flowers, but several arrangements spread across the space in front of the altar.
Terri’s funeral flashed through his mind and he thought he might have to leave. The only funeral he’d attended since his grandmother’s was that of his wife and that one had been nigh on to impossible to endure. For a few minutes, Link fought guilt and desperation, then took a place on the last row where he could observe the other mourners—and slip out inconspicuously if necessary.
Link saw his parents, who were here because of their long friendship with the Francis family. Though Mitzi had moved away after high school, her mother’s family and the Francis family had lived in Cartersville for generations. No doubt that accounted for most of the crowd, but Link refused to discount the notoriety of a murder as a draw for the morbidly curious.
Eddy slid onto the pew beside him. Link saw Goddard seated next to Chief Deputy Watson about mid sanctuary. Gary Don and his wife sat across the aisle from Goddard and Coy sat with them. Coy turned around and waved when he saw Link. Gary Don poked Coy, whose face displayed his hurt feelings before he turned to face the front of the church.
The organist broke into one of the usual funeral hymns. Zach Dunaway and an elderly man led the procession of bereaved. Next Drady Francis and her husband filed in and their children followed them. Apparently this small group represented Mitzi’s only relatives. Link knew Zach Dunaway’s parents had moved away years ago, but assumed the older man to be Zach’s father.
Once again Link wondered who would receive Mitzi’s estate. He hoped the Francis family benefited. He’d be willing to bet they were footing the bill for the funeral.
Link scanned the crowd while a soloist sang “How Great Thou Art” and “In The Garden.” He recognized a large percentage of those in the church. When the minister stood at the lectern, Link tried to focus on the sermon. The minister hadn’t known Mitzi, and all his phrases and platitudes seemed trite. Soon Link’s mind wandered and he found himself assessing the people around him.
Zach was off the hook since he wasn’t even in the state when Mitzi died. The fact that most of these people were in town at the time of the murder didn’t help. No one so far had se
en or heard anything unusual. After what seemed hours to Link, the service ended. He rose with the others and waited while the family left with the minister.
Link and Eddy eased out the door and staked out a spot where they could watch everyone else exit the church. Goddard nodded as he walked past, but Watson only gave them his feral glare. Gary Don and his wife stopped, Coy trailing them.
Gary Don mopped his face with his handkerchief. He looked as if he’d been crying. “Link, you ‘member Twyla Sue, don’tcha?”
Link nodded. “Haven’t seen you since high school, Twyla Sue.” He nodded to Eddy, “Do you know Eddy Wells?”
“No, pleased to meet you,” she said, but she didn’t seem pleased about anything.
She wore no makeup and had her light brown hair in some kind of fluffy bun thing on top of her head. Her black dress was about as unattractive as any Link had ever seen, but he never claimed to be a fashion expert. Still, being around four sisters and his late wife gave him a little insight into the current styles.
Of course, a smile dressed up any outfit, and Twyla Sue had apparently forgotten hers.
Link thought she appeared more upset with Gary Don than with Mitzi’s death. Maybe having her husband cry in public over an old girl friend annoyed her.
Apparently either oblivious or immune to the sour looks his wife sent his direction, Gary Don shook his head. “I just can’t believe it. Seems like only yesterday we were all in high school and Mitzi was head cheer leader, don’t it?”
Well, no, but what could Link say? This man was his boss, so he opted for the noncommittal. “Those were the times, weren’t they?”
Gary Don nodded and wiped his nose before he stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket. “Yeah, man, we had some great times back then. No responsibilities, no problems, just go to school then live it up. Nothing like now.”
Twyla Sue glared at her husband. Link remembered Twyla Sue had missed the games and pretty much everything else because she worked after school at her father’s drug store. Slaved was more like it. Link worked next door at the grocery mart two nights a week after game practice and on Saturdays.
He doubted Twyla Sue’s straight-laced parents would have let her date before she was eighteen even if they hadn’t made her help at their store. Sundays her father preached at the county’s most fundamental church. Twyla Sue had never been allowed to wear shorts or pants, not even in gym class.
Link also remembered partying lost Gary Don his athletic scholarship and eventually got him kicked out of the university. He wondered how these two had ever paired up. Life sure played some cruel tricks on people when they weren’t looking.
“How’s your family?” he asked. “Your dad still own the drug store?”
She stopped glaring and brightened. “No, they sold it and retired. They built them a house just across the river near the church.”
“Tell them hello, will you?”
“Sure will. We go over there for dinner every Sunday after church.” She glared at her husband again. “Least the kids and I do. Gary Don usually finds a way to be busy.”
Gary Don looked embarrassed. “Well, we better go pick up the kids. Twyla Sue’s mama is watching ‘em and no tellin’ what they’re up to. May have her tied up and scalped by now.”
The prospect apparently cheered him. He started to walk away, but stopped and pointed a finger at Link. “You find out who killed Mitzi, you hear?” He punched Coy on the shoulder. “Come on, Coy, let’s get out of here.”
Eddy stared after them, then echoed Link’s opinion. “Odd pair, the sheriff and his wife, aren’t they?”
Link scanned the other people and answered, “Oil and water. About as suited as my wife and I were.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out, but couldn’t call them back. Thankfully, Eddy let the comment pass without an answer. But then, what could he have said to that?
Chapter Twenty Two
The following morning Link and Eddy set out to canvass the neighborhood where Mitzi Morrison Dunaway had lived the first and last part of her life. Definitely not one of Link's favorite things, he thought he must have walked at least a million miles in his years in law enforcement. Link turned onto the Morrison's street and Eddy pointed to a space between two large trees at the side of the lane.
"Park in the shade over there,” Eddy said. “It's supposed to hit 104 today."
Link worked one side of the street while Eddy worked the other. They agreed to meet and compare notes. By the time he rang the first doorbell, perspiration already beaded on Link's forehead and across his upper lip.
The exercise proved discouraging. At the first two homes, no one even knew the Morrison family. At the second, the owner was unaware Mitzi was living in her late father's home. And so it went. Link knocked at the door of the last house in the subdivision, the one next to the Morrison home.
A young woman opened the door a crack and peeped out over the safety chain. Link showed his badge and identified himself. The door closed and he heard the chain slide.
She did not invite him in but stood with arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the frame. The position of her arms pushed her boobs up and at him. He thought he’d seen her before, possibly at the memorial service the day before. She’d been wearing a lot more clothes then.
Billie Faye Williams looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She wore a tight black knit halter top and the shortest white shorts Link had ever seen. She was barefoot, displaying toenails painted the same brilliant red as her fingernails and lips. Blonde hair frizzed in a lion's mane around her face.
"If it's about that Morrison woman, I have nothing to tell you." Her bright red lips clamped firmly together, as if to say no information comes out of this mouth. Link sighed and cursed to himself. Either people volunteered so much they embellished or manufactured part of the information, or else they were afraid to tell anything. He concealed his irritation and spoke in his normal, officially polite tone.
"Ms Williams, please think back. When's the last time you saw Mitzi Morrison Dunaway?"
"You mean to speak to her? I guess it was at her father's funeral."
"How about the last time you saw her around her home or in town somewhere?"
The hottie hesitated, a scowl on her face. Her boobs heaved in the tight halter top when she gave a huge sigh. "Well...I might 'a seen her around some."
With as much patience as possible, he tried to keep his eyes off her jiggling tits and concentrate on getting information. He asked, "Will you please tell me when and where you saw her? It's very important you tell me even the slightest detail."
She has to know what she's doing. Her boobs heaved with another of her wiggling sighs.
"She used to go over to Papa Jack's to dance sometimes. You know, the place just over the county line? I seen her there last week."
Hot damn. Finally--a clue, someone who'd actually seen Mitzi. "Do you remember what night you saw her?"
She hesitated, then admitted, "Friday night."
"Was she with someone?" Link hoped against hope.
"I'm not sure. She danced a lot with this one guy—I think Ricky is his name. He's about medium height, Mexican, kind of longish black hair. Scary looking guy, tattoos on his arms, and a gold tooth in front." She tapped her front tooth to indicate which was gold.
"What kind of tattoos? Can you describe them?"
"Weird. A rattlesnake crawling around a skull on his left arm. There were some words, but I don't know what they said. Never got close enough to read them."
"Any others?"
"Yeah. On his right arm there was this heart with a knife through it and drops of blood running down." She shuddered. "Very scary guy."
"You think Ms. Morrison, um, Mrs. Dunaway was with him?"
"I don't know. Maybe she just danced with him a lot. He's one of the best dancers I ever saw."
"Can you think of anything else about this Ricky?"
"No." She frowned and leaned forward, giving Link anot
her skin show.
"Look, Deputy. I live here with my folks, see, and they don't know I was at Papa Jack's. They'd give me hell for sure if they found out I was at a place where there was alcohol and dancing."
"There's no need for them to know you told me, Miss." He wondered how parents who disapproved of alcohol and dancing felt about their daughter dressing like a ho—if you could call that outfit being dressed. "Can you tell me anything else about Ms Morrison?"
"No, that's all I can think of."
Link left her his card and asked her to call him if she thought of anything else. Eddy had beaten him back to the car and sat on the front seat with the doors open.
"Any luck?" Link asked as he slid onto the front seat of the car.
"Sort of. Old lady across the street from the Morrison house gave me a lot of gossip on them. Nothing useful. Something odd, though. Recognized her from the memorial service. She said the sheriff sent a patrol car to take her to the service and bring her home afterward.”
“I’ll be damned. She tell you why?”
“No, she thought it was ‘cause he’s such a sweet boy. Her words. Mostly she wanted to tell me about her arthritis and how she can’t sleep well at night and who’s related to who and how long they’ve lived in the county.”
He held up his small notebook. “I wrote it all down like a good boy, though. You have any luck?"
"Eddy, my friend, how would you like to go boot scootin' tonight at Papa Jack's?"
Chapter Twenty Three
Back at the Justice Center, the two officers reviewed their few facts. They now knew where Mitzi Morrison bought her few groceries and fuel for her car, how much she had in the bank, which relatives she visited, and at least one place she went for amusement. The search of her home revealed she spent a good deal of her time reading movie magazines and sensationalist publications from the grocery store newsstand. From the edition of a weekly soap opera guide on a table by the sofa, they concluded Mitzi watched the soaps.
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