by Jude Pittman
Penny tensed and her face paled. She shrunk back in her chair and tightened her lips.
Jack pressed on. "Can you tell me exactly what time Krystal got home last night?"
Penny's fingers shredded the napkin and she glanced at the doorway. "Shower stop. Krissie here soon."
"It's important, Penny. I need to make sure she was home before midnight."
Relief flooded Penny's face. She bobbed her head. "Krissie home early. Clock say only seven."
"Did she stay in all night or did she maybe go out again?"
"No. She take pills for sleep. Go to bed."
Jack frowned. "You're sure?"
"Very small apartment." Penny waved her arm in a circle. "Krissie no leave. Sleep all night."
"Okay. I hate to break it to you like this but Krystal's mother was murdered last night."
Penny clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Apparently it happened sometime between midnight and two a.m., so you're going to be an important witness for Krystal."
"Witness! Witness? Explain."
"The police will want you to tell them what you've just told me."
Shaking her head back and forth, she clutched her arms across her breasts. "Police? No police. I no talk police."
"Don't be scared." Jack smiled to reassure her. "It's different here. Talking to the police is nothing. They'll ask you a lot of questions but as long as you tell them the truth, they'll treat you just fine."
Her voice rose. "No. Must be other way."
"Tell me about yesterday afternoon?" Jack changed the subject.
"I wait. Krissie tell you." Penny kept her head down but Jack spotted tears through her fingers.
"If Krystal was as upset as you say, she might not remember." Jack's voice was gentle, encouraging. "If I know the whole story, I'll be able to help when the police question you."
Penny lifted her head and almost met his eyes. "Krissie go to Houston. Come home. Say she hire detective to find mother." Penny paused and glanced at the doorway.
Jack took a sip of coffee, waited a moment then nodded encouragement. Finally, Penny continued. "Krissie not talk much. She have fight with uncle. She ask him tell her about mother and father. He no tell. Krissie angry."
"Did Krystal tell her uncle she was going to hire someone to find her mother?"
"Not say." Penny shrugged.
"Okay, that's fine." Jack said. "Now, what about yesterday afternoon. Did Krystal say how she planned to approach her mother?"
"No."
"Do you know what caused the ruckus?"
A puzzled expression crossed her face and she tilted her head. "Ruckus? I not know this."
"Sorry. I mean, what happened that made the security guard think Krystal was attacking her mother?"
"Man come with whiskey. Mother drink. Krissie no like that. She try grab bottle, trip and fall into mother."
"Did Krissie strike her?"
"Not hit. Fall over chair. Guard person come. Krissie run away."
Jack shook his head. "I was afraid something might happen out there. Anna wasn't exactly Harriet Nelson."
Penny's face clouded again and Jack corrected himself. "Sorry, that was an inside joke about an old television shows I'm sure you've never seen."
"Very bad thing. Krissie not like to talk."
"I'll go easy on her. She'll have to be told about her mother's death, though, and she'll need to explain to the police."
"I go get Krissie now? You like music?"
Jack nodded and gave her a friendly smile. She reached across the table and turned on the radio. Another Asian custom—entertain your guests.
"Thanks," he said. "You go get Krystal. I'll be fine."
She padded out of the room. Jack leaned back and listened to a country ballad. Sunlight streamed in the window and whoops of laugher drifted up from the swimming pool. After Penny'd been gone about five minutes, Jack started to get restless. He was up, pacing the floor, when a news bulletin caught his attention.
"Early this morning the body of a white, middle-aged woman was found by a security guard at the Indian Creek flea market. The woman, whose name is being withheld pending notification of next of kin, had been strangled. The coroner estimates time of death between eleven-thirty p.m. and one-thirty a.m.
"Police are seeking a young woman who was involved in a struggle with the deceased earlier in the day. This woman is in her early twenties, attractive, with light blond hair and a slim figure. She is approximately five feet five or six and was wearing dark wool slacks and a red-and-blue print sweater. Police are asking anyone with information to contact the Tarrant County Sheriff's Department."
Jack heard a gasp and jerked his head around. Krystal stood in the doorway. She had her hair pulled back and tied with a scarf and her slim body was wrapped in an oversize white robe. All the blood drained from her face, leaving it the color of chalk. Just as she slumped, Penny—who barely reached five feet—grabbed her from behind.
"I've got her," Jack said
Penny nodded and allowed Jack to lift Krystal into his arms.
"This way." She led him into a small living room.
Jack settled Krystal onto the couch and stood back. Penny dropped to her knees, smoothed Krystal's hair and crooned reassurances.
The lyrics of a Texas line dance pulsed from the radio. Jack walked back to the kitchen and shut it off. Silence gripped the room. Tears spilled down Krystal's cheeks and Penny fetched a washcloth to wipe her friend's eyes.
"I never even got to ask my mother why Daddy killed himself," Krystal sobbed.
"It's okay, Krissie," Penny soothed.
Krystal lay silent for several moments, then opened her eyes and focused her gaze on Jack.
"Is this why you're here?" she asked in a barely audible voice.
Jack bent down beside the couch and took her hand. "It was in the morning paper. I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to the police but I wanted to give you some time to prepare yourself for their questions."
"Oh, no!" Her eyes sprang open. "I can't see the police. I've got to talk to Uncle Andrew first. He doesn't even know I hired you to find my mother. I've got to go to Houston. I can't tell him on the telephone. I just can't."
Jack frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't wait that long. I could lose my license for withholding information in a murder case."
Krystal clutched his hand, her eyes wide and pleading. "Couldn't you wait a couple of hours? Please. Just give me time to catch a plane to Houston and tell my uncle in person."
Her voice was pathetic. Damn! He always went soft when a pretty young thing begged for help. "I'm taking a big chance here but I guess I can give you that much. I have some business over in Arlington that'll take me 'til about four. I'll head over there now and call in at the cop shop after I'm done."
"Thank you." She smiled through her tears.
"I call. Get seat on plane." Penny said. She lifted her eyes to Jack and gave him a warm, grateful smile.
Jack let himself out of the apartment and walked back to his pickup.
Jack leaned against his truck and took a deep breath. It’d seemed like a good idea back when Krystal hired him to confirm things with her Uncle Andrew. Andrew’d sure thought so and been grateful for Jack's confidence. He'd felt a bit guilty at the time. Technically it was a violation of Krystal's confidence. But given the circumstances, he'd eased his own conscience by reassuring himself that it was in Krystal's best interests to keep her uncle informed. The money Andrew paid him for duplicate copies of his reports hadn't hurt any, either.
What the hell! It was a tough business and a man had to look out for himself if he wanted to stay independent. Jack gave himself a mental shake and climbed into his truck.
"I'll give her a break and then wash my hands of it," he muttered. He turned the key and started the truck.
By the time he'd pulled out onto Camp Bowie, his mind was fixed on his client in Arlington and Krystal's problems were left behind.
Chapter Five
"I'll be just fine." Krystal leaned across the seat and gave Penny a hug.
She unlocked the car door and pulled the handle, then turned back to Penny. "Now I don't want you to worry anymore. I'm going to talk to Uncle Andrew and he'll take care of everything."
"You will telephone?"
"I'll call as soon as I talk to Uncle Andrew. That's a promise."
Krystal hopped out of the car and headed to the terminal. At the Southwest Airlines booth, she stepped up to the counter and smiled at the ticket agent.
"May I help you?" His voice was crisp and professional but his eyes brightened at the sight of the stunning blonde holding out her American Express card and his smile held real warmth.
"I have a reservation for the noon flight to Houston." Krystal returned his smile with an automatic twist of her lips.
She sighed with relief when she boarded and found the plane almost empty. She couldn't have handled a talkative seat companion. She needed quiet time to get her thoughts in order.
After take-off, Krystal leaned back in the seat and turned her face to the window. Memory rolled in with the passing clouds, taking her back, back in time, to the Saturday before her seventh birthday. Mommy had promised her a big party with clowns. She'd gone to sleep dreaming about the clowns. Then she'd heard a loud bang.
"Mommy!"
Mommy didn’t come. She’d buried her head under the covers and cried.
"Would you care for a soft drink?" A friendly voice brought Krystal back from the past.
"Thank you, no." She shook her head and the flight attendant crossed to the next seat across the aisle.
Turning back to the window, Krystal forced her thoughts away from the past, to how to handle Uncle Andrew. The last time she'd been home, they'd had a fight over her mother, a fight she remembered word for word.
"I'll be twenty-five in a couple of months. Don't you think it's time somebody told me the truth about my mother?"
"She wasn't a fit woman to raise a child!
"At least you could tell me why she left!"
"No, as a matter of fact, I couldn’t. I have no idea what was in her mind. She had no interest in you when you were a child and there's no reason to think that's changed. You'll only rake open old sores if you try to find her."
"Do you know where she went when she left Houston?"
"I have no idea where she went and furthermore, I don't care. Nor do I want to carry this discussion any further."
Krystal slammed out of the study and spent the rest of the night in her bedroom. She'd had her own agenda though and Saturday morning, as soon as they'd both left—Stella for the beauty parlor and Uncle Andrew for golf—she'd gone to the attic and spent hours digging through old trunks and unpacking stacks of photo albums. She'd made up her mind to hire a detective. He’d need a picture, and there had to be one here somewhere. Except there wasn’t. Finally, tired and sweaty, she'd pushed the last trunk back into place and started to leave. Then she’d spotted a small leather suitcase tucked away in an alcove.
It’d taken a while but she’d jimmied the lock and opened the case. More linen. Disgusted, she'd lifted a handful. A faded pink jewelry folder lay on a stack of doilies. She'd picked it up and it crinkled in her hands. Untying the satin ribbon, she'd pulled out a long white envelope. The writing, scrawled in her grandmother's spidery hand, had been impossible to read without her glasses. She'd tucked the envelope into her pocket, closed the suitcase and stacked it back in the alcove.
"The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign." The flight attendant's voice brought Krystal back to the present and the descent into Houston.
After she deplaned and rushed through the terminal, she strode toward the long line of taxis waiting in front of the airport. She jumped into the first in line and gave the driver her uncle's address in River Oaks. Then she settled back in the seat and tried to concentrate on her upcoming talk with Uncle Andrew. It was hopeless. Her mind kept darting between the past and the present. When the cab swung into the drive, she still hadn't figured out what to say.
The cab dropped her off at the front entrance. Krystal peeked through the garage window. The Jaguar was gone so Stella was off somewhere but the BMW was there. Thank God. Uncle Andrew’d probably be up in his study. She let herself in and climbed the stairs to the second floor. She walked noiselessly down the hall to the big corner room and knocked on the door.
"What is it?" Andrew grumbled.
Krystal turned the knob and stepped inside the room. Uncle Andrew, a small, neat man with dark, gray-streaked hair, lifted his head. His sharp brown eyes on Krystal's face.
"I didn't know you were coming home this weekend," he said.
"I wasn't. Something's happened and I need to talk to you."
"You'd better sit down." He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "What's happened?"
Krystal sat and met his unblinking gaze. He never relaxed. His dress, like his manner, was always rigid and proper. She took a deep breath.
"I hired a detective agency to find my mother."
Andrew's face tightened. "I thought we went all through this business of Anna the last time you were here."
Krystal's eyes flashed. "What you mean is that I begged you to tell me about my mother and father and you refused. What did you expect me to do?"
He shook his head. His eyelids drooped and hid his expression. "Did you get your answers?"
She hesitated, then shook her head.
"I'm sorry." A sigh escaped his lips. "I was only trying to spare you."
Krystal gripped her lip with her teeth. She wanted to scream at him but her courage wavered. She dropped her eyes and covered her face with her hands.
"You know your Aunt Stella and I have your best interests at heart?"
Krystal shook her head. "Maybe you care but don't try and tell me Stella gives a damn, because I won't believe it."
"Okay." He ignored the dig at Stella. "Let's not quarrel. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Andrew leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.
"I went to see my mother. And made a complete fool of myself."
Andrew frowned. "Go on."
"I fell into her and knocked her out of her chair. It was nothing, really but it looked bad. A security guard came and pulled me off her."
"Then you haven't talked to Anna yet?"
Krystal shook her head. "No. And I'll never get another chance because somebody went to the flea market last night and killed her."
"What?" Andrew jerked forward.
"She's dead. The detective told me about it this morning. They found her body out at the flea market and they're looking for me."
"Why would they be looking for you?" He kept his eyes on her face.
"Because somebody told them I attacked her." Krystal's voice trembled and she fought back tears. "I wasn't there last night, if that's what you're wondering. I didn't want her dead. I wanted her alive so I could talk to her. Now the police are looking for me and it's all your fault. If you'd answered my questions, I wouldn't have hired a detective. I know you don't want any more scandal in the family but what am I supposed to do now?"
"Please, Krystal." His voice was almost gentle. "I was wrong. I admit it. I didn't realize you were so desperate you'd go to a detective. If it's so important to you we can talk about it later. Right now we need to decide what to do. You say you haven't talked to the police yet?"
"No. As soon as I heard about it, I had Penny drive me to the airport."
"Good. I'll get Tom Masters and have him call Fort Worth. This business is best handled by a lawyer. Tom can explain and try to put some pressure on the police to keep your name out of the papers. Now. Where were you last night?"
"I was home in bed. I felt like a fool for losing control of myself at the flea market. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, not even Penny. I took a couple of sleeping pills and they knocked me out."
"Will Penny vouch for that?"
"Of cours
e she will. Her bedroom's right next to mine. She knows I didn't go anywhere."
"Okay, that's good. Now why don't you go down to the kitchen and make us some sandwiches while I call Tom and get that over with."
When the door closed behind Krystal, Andrew reached for the telephone. "Hell of a mess," he muttered as he dialed his lawyer's private number. "Hi, Tom. Andrew Davis here. With a problem."
"What's so urgent it can't wait until Monday?" Tom sounded like he'd been roused from a nap.
"Anna's dead. She's been murdered."
"The hell you say! When did this happen?"
"Last night. Krystal says she was strangled."
"Krystal? She's not mixed up in this, is she?"
"She says not but the cops are looking for her."
"What for? Where is she?"
"Here with me. She says she didn't do anything."
"There must be some reason they're looking for her."
"She went out to Anna's flea market on Saturday afternoon and made a scene."
"What kind of a scene?"
"I don't know. She came in here with some wild story about falling and knocking Anna off her chair."
"Are you saying she was there when Anna was murdered?"
"No. That happened sometime in the middle of the night. Krystal left after the fracas with Anna. She claims she was home all night and her roommate will back her up."
"Good. That makes it easier. I'll call Fort Worth and find out who's on the case. Krystal will have to give them a statement but they won't be too hard on her. Now what about you? Are you clean?"
Andrew hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was strained. "That's the hitch. I took a run down there Saturday night. I wasn't all that sure Anna would keep her mouth shut and I wanted to have a talk with her."
"I told you on Friday to stay away from Anna!"
"Sure, that's easy for you to say but you know what my position is. All I wanted to do was find out where Anna stood. Frankly, if it seemed like she needed any encouragement, I was prepared to offer an increase in her annual income."
