by Farrell, Lia
Sheriff Ben Bradley
Raised by a good Southern mother, Sheriff Ben Bradley immediately stood up when Mrs. December came in the room. She was slim and striking with short dark hair, in contrast to her daughter, who was blonde and curvier. She tsk’d as she walked past a pile of wood shavings swept into a corner of the room. Mae closed her eyes briefly but didn’t move to sweep it up. Ben wondered whether Mae resented her mother’s efforts to improve her housekeeping, but then noticed Mae was unfazed by the implied criticism. In fact, Mae seemed calmer with her mother present.
“I’m Suzanne December and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sheriff. I know your parents. They’re lovely people.” She smiled and took his hand in a surprisingly firm grip.
“Thank you, Ma’am. This is Deputy Phelps. He’s helping me out today.”
George Phelps nodded at Mrs. December but didn’t offer his hand in greeting. Instead he stayed near the digital recorder. Ben sighed inwardly at George’s lack of social graces. To his dismay, George displayed a pretty lackadaisical approach to his job in general. His shirt was buttoned wrong over his pudgy stomach. He had inherited Phelps from the previous sheriff so he tried to be philosophical about his deputy. Due to his length of service, removing him from his position would be a nightmare and, once in a great while, George found out something useful.
“I’m here in connection with the death of Ruby Mead-Allison. Her death may tie in with the controversy surrounding the widening of Little Chapel Road. I was hoping that you could give me some background on the issue.”
“I’m happy to do anything to help the law, and especially such a handsome young man in uniform.” She smiled flirtatiously at Ben.
“Mother, would you like some coffee?” Mae stood at the sink with her back to them.“No thank you, dear. Let’s see … The effort to widen Little Chapel Road began about five years ago when the road commissioner, Aubrey Stillwell, proposed an extensive widening project. Mae, there are nine houses on this street, correct?”
Mae nodded.
“All nine families rejected Mr. Stillwell’s original proposal to make Little Chapel Road a four lane boulevard. Then there was the regrettable incident involving the Jensen boy. Do you remember that, Sheriff?”
“I think so, but I was new on the job then. Could you refresh my memory?”
“The boy was waiting for the school bus, standing ankle-deep in water with shrubs all around him. This road has no shoulders and no true bus stop. When the bus came, the driver didn’t see him. The school secretary called the parents because he wasn’t at school. Since his parents knew he had gone down to the bus stop, they were in a panic. Before the whole incident was over, the police were on site and divers were prepared to search the river. Luckily, someone spotted the little boy walking near the school and called his parents.”
“What is the current plan for the road?”
“Mama, I can tell him about the current plan,” Mae said. The road will still have two lanes, but they’ll be much wider. There will be shoulders and a bus stop. They can do all that without impacting the slave wall.”
Ben Bradley cocked his head. “Tell me about the slave wall.” When he first saw the traffic counting cord around Ruby’s neck, he sensed that her opposition to widening the road might be the motive for her murder. He adjusted his posture to a more alert stance and listened intently.
Mae walked away from the sink to stand in front of a huge painting—an abstract landscape in vivid colors—hanging on the only wall in the kitchen that seemed totally finished. “Malone” was painted across the bottom right corner of the canvas in bold red letters.
“Excuse me, Mrs. December, but I just noticed the painting. I have one of his works, too.” Ben walked over to the artwork.
He caught the look Mae exchanged with her mother. What was that about?.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Ma’am.”
Suzanne cleared her throat, “Please have a seat at the table with me, Sheriff. As I was saying, slave walls are those old dry stacked rock walls that line roads and divide pasture land throughout Tennessee. They go back to the seventeen hundreds and slaves built most of them. Many people feel that if the walls are allowed to disappear, much of the area’s charm will go with them.”
“Thank you. Now, can either of you tell me how Ruby fits into this picture?”
Suzanne continued. “Ruby Mead-Allison was totally opposed to widening the road. She filed a lawsuit to prevent the action. I thought the suit was frivolous and was surprised when James Connolly, her attorney, took on the case. Ruby always was a spoiled child. She insisted on getting her way and was a little too free with her person in high school and college. Are you getting all this, Sheriff?”
Ben stifled a grin. “Free with her person” was an awfully refined way of saying the girl slept around.
“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you. This is very helpful.”
Suzanne smiled. “Before the judge ruled on the action, he asked to have the traffic volume measured. Aubrey Stillwell did that, using a laser light system, and the results favored the need to widen the road. Then Ruby dug up some information about the laser light equipment being unreliable. She purchased one of those cords that lie across the road and count vehicles. Her testing showed slightly different results. Mae, I think I’ll have that coffee after all.”
Mae was standing by the large window over the sink, looking out toward the barn and the trees behind the house. As she brought over the coffee pot and a cup for her mother, Ben took a moment to look around. Although the house was in the process of being remodeled, he could see that the wall between the old kitchen and the dining area had been removed. Light flooded both spaces. The cabinets were white and a period after Shaker style. There was a pot of red geraniums on the windowsill. It was a pleasant space.
“The road commission hearings degenerated into free-for-alls. Two weeks ago, poor Mr. Stillwell announced that he’d delayed his retirement. He said he’d do so again if necessary, just so we could have Little Chapel Road meet the standards of the county. He just hoped he’d live long enough to see it happen. Is this what you needed?”
“Yes. This information has been extremely helpful. As you probably already know, Ruby didn’t die a natural death. Do you have any ideas about who might have had problems with her?”
“I’ve already heard several theories,” Suzanne said. “Some say Mr. Stillwell snapped and killed her. I don’t believe it for a moment. I’ve known Aubrey since we were in high school. I’ve also heard people say David Allison might have done it. They were in the middle of a contentious divorce. David is staying down the street with his business partner Steven Fanning. I assume David would inherit Ruby’s property if she died before their divorce was final.”
“Provided he wasn’t involved in her murder,” Ben said, coolly.
“Quite so,” Suzanne said. There was a short silence. “I’ve heard rumors that Ruby’s attorney, James Connolly, once tried to ditch her frivolous lawsuit, but she forced him to pursue it. His aunt and uncle live at the end of Little Chapel Road, down by the river, and they signed the petition to support the widening, but people say Ruby utterly refused to allow Connolly to drop it.”
Ben stood up from the table. Mae was picking up cups and carrying them to the sink. His eyes lingered on her graceful movements and curvaceous figure. “Thank you both again. We’ll definitely check all these folks out. Right now, I think I’ll pay a visit to David Allison.” Ben knew that, other than the person who found the body, the most likely killer was a spouse or ex-spouse.
Mrs. December stopped him as he and Deputy Phelps were leaving.
“Since there’s been a murder here on the street, I expect you and your force will keep a particular eye on Mae. She lives here all by herself, you know. I need your assurance that you’ll protect her.”
Ben tried unsuccessfully to suppress an image of Mae clinging to him, begging for protection. He really needed to get a life.
“You don’t need to worry. We’ll b
e patrolling the street.”
He paused on the porch and heard Mae’s voice. “Mama, I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can, sweetie, but it doesn’t hurt for the sheriff to be reminded that you’re here alone. He certainly is a handsome man, isn’t he? Good taste in art too.”
Both women laughed. George looked at Ben with his eyebrows raised. Ben stopped eavesdropping and hurried out to his car. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear Mae’s answer to her mother’s question and he definitely didn’t need his deputy to hear it.
Ben drove back into Rosedale and dropped Phelps at the office. As his deputy was getting out of the car, Ben said, “George, I need information on Ruby’s financial situation. Can you handle that?”
“Me, boss?” George asked, sounding astonished. “Doesn’t Dory usually do that sort of thing?”
“You two can work together on the money angle,” he said firmly. If he didn’t give George a job, he knew the deputy would while the day away on the Internet. Driving away, he mentally reviewed the most likely suspects in Ruby’s killing, coming up with the husband, road commissioner, attorney, unknown lover, and old boyfriend.
He called Wayne Nichols’ cell and they agreed to meet for lunch. He wanted the older detective with him for David Allison’s interrogation. Ben respected Wayne as a detective. At fifty-eight years of age, he had the experience and skills that allowed him to pry deeply held information out of suspects and had a very high “solve” rate. However, Wayne tended to treat him as the new kid on the block, and Dory was no help, often laughing at his naïveté. He knew he was still earning their respect. Between Wayne and Dory, he had an uphill climb to be seen as the boss at only thirty-two years of age.
Driving to the restaurant, Ben reluctantly acknowledged his shortcomings when it came to investigating such a high profile murder. Detective Wayne Nichols had worked fifty murders or more. Ben had only worked two previous murders and each one had ended with a spontaneous confession. This victim wasn’t some lowlife druggie or hired thug. This was the murder of the only daughter of the most prominent family in Rosedale. Unlike his detective, who seemed to relish the idea of hunting for a killer, Ben feared he was out of his depth.
Chapter Five
March 20
Detective Wayne Nichols
While Sheriff Bradley was meeting with Mae, Detective Wayne Nichols and Deputy Robert Fuller began “house to house” interviews with Ruby’s neighbors on Little Chapel Road. They arrived at the Ingram residence by 7:15 a.m. The houses were all located on large parcels of five acres or more. The Ryans on the north side and the Ingrams across the street had been Ruby Mead-Allison’s closest neighbors.
Wayne Nichols served as Chief Detective for Rose County and the neighboring counties on an as-needed basis. Deputy Robert Fuller aspired to be a homicide detective. He was of average height and weight, wore his scruffy golden-brown hair short and had gray eyes that could be piercing. His smooth skin and owlish glasses made him look even younger than his actual age of twenty-six. Wayne would have preferred to work alone, but Ben insisted two people had to be present for all interviews. If he had to have a partner, Robert was certainly better than the laid-back Phelps. Fuller paid close attention to what was happening and often had astute observations to offer.
Wayne rang the doorbell.
Lucy Ingram answered the door looking more washed out than when he had seen her last. She wore pajamas and her feet were bare. Her light brown hair was wildly tangled. “Good grief, Wayne. You know I pulled a long shift last night. I didn’t even start work until nine and the ER was ridiculously busy. The ambulances were playing my song all night.”
Wayne knew Lucy’s job as an ER physician was extremely stressful. He admired how effectively she dealt with life and death situations day after day. They had been dating until a few months ago. A stab of remorse hit him as he remembered how they had ended things.
“Sorry. I’m not here to ask you about the hit and run from last night. This is about your neighbor, Ruby Mead-Allison. I’m sure you’ve noticed the yellow crime scene tape we put up near her driveway.”
“Yes, I did. I wondered about it, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but Ruby was murdered. Her body wasn’t found until yesterday. I knew you’d be sleep-deprived, but we needed to talk to her neighbors as soon as possible.”
Lucy’s hazel eyes widened and she swayed where she stood. Wayne put a gentle hand on her shoulder and anchored her in place. The skin under her light pajama top was warm.
“How awful.” Her voice was quiet. “You two better come in. It’s cold out this morning. I’ll have the coffee going in a couple of minutes.”
They trailed Lucy’s slight form into her spacious home. The slate tiled entryway led into a gleaming new kitchen with stainless steel appliances, soapstone countertops, and a gray and silver tiled backsplash. Light streamed pitilessly through the oversized windows, highlighting the faint scars on Lucy’s intelligent face. She had never explained their origin. A lab accident? A fire? Maybe if they had managed to share such details, they would still be together, Wayne thought regretfully. But then he remembered Lucy’s words, accusing him of wanting to know everything about her while sharing none of his own background. She had been right. His past was sealed.
“This is the first time I’ve been in this room since you remodeled. The kitchen looks like a lab.”
“You’re right,” Lucy said with a half-smile. “I am what I am.” As a doctor, Lucy had once mentioned she preferred a simple, sterile environment at home as well as at the hospital.
They each took a chair around the clear Lucite kitchen table. A small crystal vase in the center held a few wilted daffodils but no water—another indication of the long hours she worked
“When was the last time you saw Ruby?” Wayne asked.
“The fifteenth, I think. Hang on. Let me get my cellphone.” She left the room briefly and returned to the kitchen carrying the phone and looking calmer. “I worked until nine and was home by ten. I remember now. I didn’t actually see Ruby that night, but there was a car in her driveway and her lights were on.”
“All right, good. Try to go back to that evening in your mind if you can. It’s been warm lately. Did you sit outside on your porch?”
“Yes. I was trying to get used to my shift change. This visit, by the way, is screwing me up again.” She glanced at Nichols and narrowed her eyes but then smiled as she shook her head.
“It’s not the first time my schedule has collided with yours, is it?” Wayne said with a grin.
Lucy turned to the Deputy Fuller, who had been focused intently on their conversation. “Detectives make lousy boyfriends.”
“Or maybe ER physicians make lousy girlfriends,” Wayne said.
Robert shook his head, looking embarrassed “Please, can we get back to business?”
Lucy and Wayne exchanged wry looks.
“I sat out on my front porch until past midnight.”
“Can you see or hear much that goes on at the Mead-Allison residence from your porch?”
“Yes, I can. I often hear Ruby’s music, mostly her clients’ country songs. Sometimes I smell cigarettes, or something stronger,” Lucy raised her eyebrows. “If the wind is blowing just right, I can hear the sound of ice tinkling in glasses. I heard two people arguing that night but couldn’t make out what they said. It was Ruby and a man. She had a loud voice, so I know it was her, but the man was quieter. I didn’t recognize his voice. Then, later I heard the car pull out of her driveway.”
“What time was that?”
“Around eleven or eleven thirty.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Not for a while. Ruby probably went into the house and shut off the music. The lights were all off by then. At about one a.m.—I was still trying to stay awake to get my body used to working nights again—there was a second vehicle in her driveway.”
“Was it
was the same car?” Wayne asked.
“No, it wasn’t. The moon was full and I could see it was a truck. A pickup.”
He gave her a slow, encouraging smile. “What else?”
“Shortly after the second vehicle arrived, Ruby’s back door opened. That door always squeaks. After that, I didn’t hear a thing. I fell into bed and slept like a stone. Nothing wakes me after a sixteen-hour shift. Sorry.”
“Very helpful info. One other thing,” Wayne said, “how did you get along with Ruby? Would you say you were friends?” Robert sat up a little straighter, absorbing every bit of Wayne’s questioning style.
Lucy seemed to be taking her time responding and Nichols waited, watching her closely. He wanted to carry out this interview by the book, despite their former relationship. Law enforcement training repeatedly stressed the importance of never letting personal feelings get in the way of professionalism. Besides, Robert was watching his every move.
“We used to be, before she sued me.”
Wayne leaned forward, listening intently.
“It happened during my kitchen remodel. I had to have an excavator dig up my septic tank. Ruby thought the digging changed the drainage from my downspouts, forcing the water across to her driveway.” Lucy’s voice shook and her neck and chest flushed. “Instead of talking to me about it, she had her attorney file a motion to stop construction and sued me for damages.”
“How were things resolved?”
Lucy gave a short laugh. “I had to pay her off in order to finish my kitchen.”
“So, she was scrappy then, like you?” Wayne teased.
“No, not like me. I’ll only fight if I have to. If Ruby thought that someone had hurt her or her property, she would go after them with everything she had. She pestered me about wanting to buy the lot next door for a while. When I told her I wasn’t interested in selling, she was furious. I don’t know why she even wanted it. Poor David was completely under her thumb, and once she had dominated him she lost all interest in the marriage. Everything was a battle with that woman.”
