A Murder State of Mind Boxed Set

by Jude Pittman

  An hour later, shopping finished and thirsty, Kelly pulled up to the Hideaway. It was too early for the lunch crowd, so the lot was empty and Kelly parked in front of the door. Inside, Cam was bent over the cooler, a bar towel wrapped around his neck and a lock of sand-colored hair hanging in his eyes. Kelly strode over to the bar and straddled one of the stools. “Busy?”

  Cam jerked his head up and his face broke into a grin. “Hey, Kelly.” He wiped his hands on the towel and reached for a coffee cup. “I was hoping you’d stop by this morning. I’ve been busting my ass since before daylight. If I don’t get some help pretty soon, I’m gonna up and quit on myself.”

  Kelly chuckled and accepted the coffee. “I guess that means you’ll be glad to hear my news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You remember me talking about Stella, don’t you?”

  “You mean Anna’s sister-in-law, the rich broad from Houston?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let Stella hear you call her a broad. She’s driving up here this afternoon to spend a couple weeks with me.”

  “Ah-ha!”

  Kelly shook his head. “Nothing like that. Stella and I are just good friends. I’m doing a job for her niece in Nashville and she’s going to stick around here and keep an eye on the dogs. She’s been a bit bored lately and this’ll give her something to do.”

  “And?” Cam studied Kelly’s face.

  “Several years back, before she moved up to the society crowd, Stella was a barmaid.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Cam’s eyes widened. “Shit, Kelly, no society dame’s gonna be interested in working in this old dump.”

  “There you go jumping the gun again. You haven’t even met the lady. She’s nothing like your idea of a society dame and if you want my opinion, she’ll probably give your business one hell of a boost.”

  “Hey, I’m game. Don’t think this old cowboy’s gonna look a gift horse like that in the mouth. I just wouldn’t have thought a gal like that would have any interest in hanging around a bunch of burnt-out old fishermen and half-assed musicians, that’s all.”

  “Don’t sell yourselves short.” Kelly grinned. “I’ve a hunch Stella will get a big kick out of this place. Besides, she needs something to keep her mind occupied and you sure as hell need some help. Sounds to me like the situation’s made to order.”

  “Hang on while I get the glasses out the dishwasher.” While Cam busied himself stacking glasses, Kelly leaned back on the bar and studied the room. He had a hunch Stella would love this place. It was a good room, steeped in history and full of warmth.

  An ear-splitting screech broke their companionable silence when a car roared into the lot spraying gravel and burning rubber as it ground to a stop. Rocks rattled against the porch and Cam vaulted around the bar.

  “What the hell?” he yelled yanking open the front door.

  Kelly had a sneaking suspicion and it was confirmed when Cam backed away from the door in order to avoid a collision with a fast-moving, long-legged redhead.

  Kelly struggled to keep a straight face.

  “What the hell’s going on, you dizzy-eyed broad?” Cam bellowed. Kelly clutched his waist to keep from splitting his gut.

  Stella pulled herself up to her full five feet nine inches and green fire flashed from her eyes.

  “I beg your pardon.” Ice crisped her voice. “Just who in the hell do you think you’re calling a broad, you long-legged, tight-assed son of a cross-eyed mongrel.”

  Cam’s eyes and mouth flew open. Stella’s comeback had knocked him speechless.

  Kelly unbent, choked a couple of times to stifle his laughter and strolled across the room.

  “Cameron Belcher, I’d like you to meet my very good friend, Stella Davis.”

  Stella glared and Cam goggled. It was too much for Kelly. He slapped his hands to his knees, bent over double and let the laughter roll out of his lungs.

  Stella stuck her nose in the air, fluffed her short red hair and ambled over to a barstool. “Well, is this a bar or not? I’m hot and tired and sweaty and I’d like a beer if your friend there can get the stupid look off his face long enough to give a lady some service.”

  “Oh, boy,” Kelly groaned. “Okay now, calm down, you hotheaded wench. Cam, get over here and give the lady a beer. Then how about you two shake hands and start over.”

  Cam, coming to his senses, whipped around the bar and grabbed a mug from the cooler.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, smiling like a lovesick pup. “I swear I didn’t mean to give offense. You startled me and I’m afraid that just slipped out of my big mouth. Not that there’s any excuse for me talking like that to a lady. Of course there isn’t but—”

  “Hold it.” Stella stuck out her hand. “Let’s shake. No hard feelings. It gave me a chance to let off some steam. Now quit babbling and fill up that mug before I die of thirst.”

  Kelly, who’d been watching the by-play with an amused gleam in his eyes, leaned over and gave her a hug.

  “Well, you sure landed here with a bang. What the hell were you going so fast for? Don’t tell me you had a state cop on your tail?”

  Stella took the mug Cam handed over, tipped it up and swallowed, then placed it on the counter and turned to Kelly. “I wasn’t going that fast. It’s just that I spotted Old Blue when I was almost past the driveway and I had to slam on the brakes to keep from overshooting.”

  “Well, you made one hell of an entrance, I’ll say that for you. I’ve just been telling Cam you might be willing to give him a hand around here. I don’t know, though. It might not be safe to leave the two of you alone together.”

  Stella chuckled and winked at Cam. “Never you mind. We’ll get along just fine. Won’t we, cowboy?”

  Cam bobbed his head, looking pleased and Kelly laughed and turned back to Stella. “Okay, sunshine. Drink up and let’s get down to the cabin and get you settled in. I want to show you around a bit before I take off. You can come back here later tonight and fix things up with Romeo here.”

  “Are you leaving for Nashville tonight?”

  “Yes. I’ll catch a redeye. I’ve a ten o’clock appointment with Mark tomorrow morning. Have you heard anything else?”

  “No. Mark was meeting them at the airport and he planned to accompany Marcy to the station. He’ll stay with her as long as they’ll allow.”

  “Fine. It sounds as if Marcy’s as well taken care of as possible under the circumstances. Now let’s get you settled.”

  Chapter Four

  Kelly leaned back, stretched his legs under the front seat and treated himself to a yawn. He much preferred taking a red-eye because he seldom had a seatmate. He closed his eyes and let his body go limp. He’d grab a few winks and be in Nashville in no time.

  The plane rolled onto the runway, picked up speed, lifted into the air and minutes later leveled off to cruising altitude. The lights dimmed and a stewardess moved down the aisle distributing pillows. Most of the passengers dozed or chatted quietly. The swishing of the air conditioner and the murmur of whispering passengers hummed through the cabin. Kelly drifted off to sleep and didn’t awaken until the captain announced their descent into Nashville. He’d carried his case, so he bypassed baggage, stepped out the automatic doors and flagged a cabby.

  “The Hampton Inn,” he said, climbing into the backseat.

  It was still too dark to see much of the landscape and Kelly leaned back with his eyes closed. The pre-dawn traffic was light into town and it seemed to Kelly that he’d barely closed his eyes when the cabby swung into a circular drive and stopped. Kelly handed over a ten spot to cover the meter and tip. At the front desk, he filled out the registration and accepted the key to 206.

  In the room, he set his bag on the dresser, picked up the phone to ask for an eight- thirty wake-up call and stretched out on the bed. His appointment with Mark was for ten o’clock, so he’d catch a couple hours of sleep and still have time for a bite to eat before grabbin
g a cab downtown.

  * * *

  An attractive brunette took Kelly’s business card, gave him an appreciative smile and led him into a medium-sized, no-frills office. Mark came as a complete surprise. Kelly’d had a mental vision of a slight, owlish young man with an intense air and serious eyes. In contrast, the man who greeted him was a hulking six footer with a thick mop of blond hair, fair skin and crinkling blue eyes.

  Kelly stepped forward, stuck out his hand to receive a knuckle testing handclasp accompanied by a broad grin. “Kelly McWinter, the miracle worker,” Mark quipped, putting the full force of his personality behind the grin.

  Kelly smiled. “I see Stella’s been doing my PR again.”

  Mark’s grin broadened into full-blown laughter. “Damn, you’re one hell of a relief. I was expecting a cross between Sir Galahad and King Arthur.”

  Kelly joined Mark’s laughter. “Stella shared your dossier with me—compliments of your mother—so you can guess what I expected.”

  “Well, now we’ve passed the preliminaries, let me give you a rundown on the latest,” Mark said, motioning Kelly to a seat. “I suppose you realize the cops kind of knocked me on my ass when they sent down to Houston for Marcy after feeding me that line of shit about preliminary details.”

  “Stella mentioned that you got a bit of a shock when she called you to say they were at the door.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Thank God, she had sense enough to call me. You’ve met Marcy, haven’t you? That girl’s a trooper.”

  “She was about done in when I met her but I was impressed. The poor kid’s got enough on her plate right now with a baby on the way, without having to deal with this bullshit. How do you feel about her story?”

  Mark’s eyes flashed and he straightened up in his chair. “Of course, you realize since she’s my client, I’d be in her camp no matter how I felt but as a matter of fact, I’m absolutely convinced she’s innocent.”

  Kelly nodded. “I got the feeling she might be soft-pedaling a bit on Wyatt’s character but other than that, I think she’s giving it to us straight.”

  Mark propped his elbows on the desk. “The problem is she doesn’t have a shred of an alibi. She’s loose for the entire time frame. The only possibility we’ve got of corroborating Marcy’s story is a clerk at the 7-Eleven where she filled up before leaving town. Marcy remembers telling the girl she was headed for Houston and we’re hoping she’ll remember the conversation. She’s off until Monday morning but I’ve already scheduled someone to check her out as soon as she gets to work.”

  “Good.” Kelly nodded his approval. “I was hoping you’d have a local guy to check out some of this stuff. I’m at a big disadvantage, this being foreign turf and all and I’d like it just fine if you had somebody to take care of this end and let me see what I can dig up back in Dallas.”

  “We’re on the same wavelength,” Mark said. “I’ve got a friend, Chris Thorne, who’s a PI here in town. Matter of fact, I’ve set up a lunch date with Chris so the two of you can get acquainted. He’s a go-getter and a sharp investigator. The logistics on this thing are complicated, what with Wyatt living in Dallas and getting killed here in Nashville.

  “What I had in mind was for you to check things out in Dallas and Chris can work it from this end. Among the three of us, I’m hoping we can get a line on something in Wyatt’s background that’ll lead us to his killer.”

  Kelly stretched out his legs and leaned back in the chair. “I’ll tell you, Mark, it’s one hell of a relief to find out you’ve got your head screwed on the right way.”

  Mark grinned. “Same here.” He got up and crossed to a counter. “Coffee?” Kelly nodded. “Thanks. Just black.”

  “Let’s move to the table.” Mark strode over to a worktable piled high with file folders and scattered with scratch paper, sticky notes and yellow pads. He selected a folder from the stack and handed it over. “Here’s an outline that gives you a time sequence of events the night Alex was murdered.”

  Kelly took the folder, laid it open on the table and scanned the timetable.

  “As you can see, after Marcy left, Alex moved into the bar where he stayed until about one-thirty,” Mark pointed out. “According to Marcy, she was long gone by then. There were at least five other people who left the restaurant while she was waiting for the cab to show up.”

  “How long was she out there?”

  “She claims not more than fifteen minutes. She was close to hysterics and standing outside where folks could stare at her just made it worse, so she took off down the street. There’s a bus stop a couple of blocks from the restaurant and she grabbed a city bus and took it home.”

  “Have they managed to track down the bus driver?”

  “Yep but that’s no good. He was a substitute on the route and he claims he was busy trying to keep his mind on the traffic. He says he didn’t pay any attention to who got on and off at each stop.”

  “So we’ve only got Marcy’s word for the time she actually left the restaurant.”

  “That’s right. The cab driver claims he got there within fifteen minutes of the call and the maître d’ backs him up. He went to the door and asked about his passenger and when he couldn’t find her inside, he walked clean around the building looking for her.”

  “I imagine the cops jumped on that.”

  “They sure did. As far as they’re concerned, the reason the cab driver didn’t see Marcy when he searched the lot was because she was hidden in the backseat of Alex’s car waiting to club him with the tire iron.”

  “So they’ve settled on the tire iron for the murder weapon.” “Oh, yes. No question about that.”

  “How do they figure Marcy got into the car? And wasn’t the tire iron in the trunk? How did she get in there?”

  “She had a key. She’s already admitted that to the cops and anyway it was common knowledge at Wyatt Recording. Alex and Marcy have been seeing each other for a couple of years and Marcy ran all his errands for him.”

  “Did they find any prints on the tire iron?”

  “Yes and they all belonged to Marcy.”

  Kelly blinked and Mark nodded. “They had a flat on the way to dinner and Alex changed the tire. Marcy says he asked her to hand him the tools and when he was done, she wiped them all down. She must have grabbed them with her bare hands to put them back in the trunk because hers are the only prints on the iron.”

  Kelly let out a low whistle. “Which means that whoever killed him must’ve worn gloves and the bastard just lucked out that Marcy had already left her prints all over the murder weapon.”

  “That’s how I’ve got it figured but as you can imagine, the cops aren’t buying Marcy’s story for a minute.”

  “So where do we go from here?” Kelly asked, closing the folder.

  Mark stood up and crossed to his desk. “We might as well go catch Chris down at the Huddle House. Maybe the three of us can put our heads together and lay out some kind of a program.”

  “Good idea. I could do with a bite to eat.”

  The Huddle House, a popular eatery for the legal crowd, was jammed with suit and-tie types. Mark got a welcome smile from the hostess, who seemed to know where he was headed without having to ask. Kelly followed them down a long row of booths to the back of the room. At the end of the row, they stopped at a booth occupied by a sandy-haired young man with tortoiseshell glasses, bushy eyebrows and a welcoming smile.

  He stood up and grasped Mark’s hand.

  “Chris, glad you could make it,” Mark said, returning the handshake. He motioned to Kelly. “Kelly McWinter, meet Chris Thorne.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Chris smiled and offered a hand to Kelly.

  “I’ve been hearing some good things about you.” Kelly returned the handshake and the smile.

  “Have a seat.” Chris, looking pleased, motioned them into the booth.

  A waitress handed out menus, filled the water glasses and asked if they wanted coffee. They all nodded and while
she went after the pot, they studied the menu.

  “The luncheon steak’s pretty decent,” Mark offered.

  “Sounds good. I’ll give it a try.” Kelly closed the menu and settled back in the booth.

  “Make it three?” Mark asked and Chris nodded agreement.

  The waitress returned with the pot, filled their cups and took the orders.

  “I’ve given Kelly a rundown on the case,” Mark said, turning to Chris. “I’ll fill you in, then the three of us can do some brainstorming and see where it gets us.” Mark took a sip of coffee and started to bring Chris up to date.

  The waitress brought their steaks and Kelly gave his full marks—nice and crisp on the outside and lots of juice when he put his knife to it. Mark was still filling Chris in on details and while he ate, Kelly mulled over what he’d learned about the case so far— something he’d heard was niggling at him—and, as he chewed on the steak, his mind chewed over the case trying to put his finger on whatever it was that kept digging at him.

  “So what do you think?” Mark’s voice broke into Kelly’s thoughts and brought him back to the conversation.

  “Well, my first idea would be to do some digging into Alex’s business relationships. From what I’ve been able to learn so far, he impressed me as the kind of guy who wouldn’t be adverse to stepping on a few toes.”

  Chris nodded. “I did some snooping around over at Wyatt Recording after I got the call from Mark and I’ve picked up a few things that might be worth checking into.”

  “You’ve got my full attention,” Mark said.

  “Well, for one thing, there’s been some bad blood between Alex and Wyatt Recording’s business manager, Mike Langley. Word is Mike’s been trying to buy out Alex’s interest in the company but Alex wouldn’t sell.”

  “Interesting! It sounds like Alex’s death might be not be such a bad thing for Mike Langley.”