"What about PETTA? They're the only ones taking credit. They keep posting notes on the clinic saying that. Why would they take credit if it was supposed to be you? Or if someone else did it?" He continued on, ignoring her argumentative head shakes. "And how would they know he was driving? It wasn't his car."
Phyllis's hands clenched into fists and slowly pounded her thighs. Her words were deliberate and spaced. Pained eyes pleaded with him. "I'm not a psychic. I don't know what PETTA is trying to prove, but I don't think they did it. Spivey threatened to kill me. And him."
The last words emancipated raw emotions, despite solid evidence that his uncle's death was an accident. The sheriff had closed the case. Yet none of that explained the phone calls and the bone on his nightstand. "Why?"
Her frown reflected an inner struggle. "You could be in danger if he knew you knew. Maybe it would be better if I didn't say anything." Her chin trembled as she stared out the window. More tears slalomed down the slopes of her cheeks, jumped from her chin. She looked at him, hands upturned in confusion. "I don't know what to do. It's very complicated. And I'm scared. Really scared."
The tautness of clenched jaws carried over to his voice. "If someone killed my uncle, I want to know. Wouldn't you?"
She remained silent a moment, dabbing her eyes with a napkin while looking around the room. "You're right. Family cares more than the law." She placed a hand on his. "But it's between us until we have solid proof. Okay? If you mention it to the sheriff, I'll deny it. And Spivey will know about that real quick. Understand?" She held up two fingers together. "They are joined at the hip."
Will hesitated, then shrugged. It still didn't make complete sense. But it was more information than he had. "Deal." He massaged the back of his neck. It began to limber up, in part because her story sounded so implausible. "Did he threaten you with the sand trap, too?"
"A bunker, whatever that is." Her hands flared, palms up. A quizzical look skimmed across her face. "I assume it's related to golf."
Will huffed his irritation. Spivey's earlier behavior certainly validated the possibility he had issued threats. But, according to PJ, his uncle had blown it off. Barbara's reaction sided against it. Indicated Uncle Bill was on a quest. Hensley had made an oblique comment about being a hero. "Have you talked with the sheriff?"
Will's scalp puckered at her grinding laugh. "Haven't you been listening? I just told you they're connected. Cousins to boot. They run this town. And there's no proof that would stand up in court." Frightened eyes pleaded with his as she leaned towards him. Her fingers touched his. "I hope I can trust you. You're the only one I've told this to."
"What about your family?"
She shook her head, futility displayed in the set of her jaw. "Can't"
"What about family caring about this more than the law?"
"She cares. But she's an old lady." She wiped her eyes. "With her own problems. As you may have noticed when you were there. She was...pleasant. Remember?"
Will, having regained control of his emotions, lifted his hands in a shrug, unconvinced. "What am I supposed to do?"
A single tear schussed down her cheek as her eyes probed his. She didn't seem to find what she sought. "I can tell you don't believe me. But I think Dr. Bill was murdered."
Will grunted, exasperated by the contradictory accounts. Facts could be confusing. "But that's not what the report indicates."
Copper eyes, hard as burnt sugar, turned away, stared out the window, as if he were another in a long line of people who had betrayed her. "Not much of anything is what it appears."
He stretched, yawning. "That's a great philosophy to go through life with."
Full lips pursed in a grimace. Hot eyes swung at him. He bent in to hear her emphatic whisper. She grabbed his hands. They were deep-fried hot. "Whatever. But Spivey knew that one of us was driving. During his last doctor visit, I mentioned Dr. Bill might buy my car, that he was going to test drive it." She shook her head as if disgusted for having confided in Spivey. "Maybe he figured whichever one of us he took out would be an object lesson for the other."
Will wanted to shake her. Shake something. Nothing added up. His tone bordered on condescension. "Help me understand."
"While he was there for his checkup today, he told me to keep quiet about seeing them argue. That the same thing could happen to me."
"Really?"
She nodded, blotting her eyes.
Will rocked his head side to side to dislodge the tautness. "Help me here. Not even James Bond killed someone with a deer."
The irritation in her eyes tainted her response, spoken in a flat monotone. "I can only tell you what I know. He was driving faster than me, so I fell behind a ways."
Elbows propped on the table, he cupped his chin in his hands. "Okay."
"That road follows the river." PJ's hands fluttered, creating an imaginary map in the air. "Can't always see cars ahead of you, only when they swing out on the curves. You've been on that road, right? Crooked as they come."
Will nodded, not wanting to interrupt. Perhaps there would be a logical explanation.
"Then Spivey comes flying by me in his farm truck. Nearly runs me off the road. If he kept up like that, he'd catch your uncle quick. Next time I could see around the curves there was something extra bright bobbing up and down. Like one of those big spotlights hunters use. It could have blinded your uncle. When I got closer, Spivey had stopped and was looking over the bluff. I backed up before he could see it was me, went back to the first house and called the ambulance. That took ten minutes. But somebody else had already called it by then."
"Could have been Spivey. He has a car phone." And a spotlight.
"I know he told the sheriff he drove a little ways upriver to get reception." Her tone reflected doubt. "Anyway, I headed back to see if Dr. Bill was okay. Spivey wasn't there, so maybe he did go upriver, like he said. When I got down to the car, your uncle was dead. Then the ambulance, the law, the brothers Grim, and Spivey all arrived. In his car, not the truck. Heard him tell somebody it was running hot. The law strung up tape, made everybody leave so they could investigate."
"Did you tell the sheriff all this. Maybe somebody was spotlighting deer."
She leaned close enough he could smell the Coke on her breath. "Could have been Spivey spotlighting Dr. Bill, too. Spot lighters hold steady. This was bobbing all over. Like it would being held out a window on a bumpy road."
Will angled his head, released a long breath. "I'll ask again. Did you tell the sheriff?"
"Yes. He didn't believe it. Said I was confused, that I couldn't have seen anything from where I was." Indignant eyes darted from side to side.
"Spivey told me Uncle Bill swerved, did a complete circle. That could be the lights you saw."
"But I saw a bobbing light." The set of her jaw matched the firmness of her voice. "And Spivey wanted us gone. And what he wants is what he gets. I'm scared. I should never have said anything to the sheriff. I mean, he could have been the one who shot through the house."
"But there's no proof Spivey did anything criminal."
Shades of ebony flared through her eyes, streaking their color, as they impaled him with defiance. "Maybe he lighted him, hit him from behind."
"Maybe. How would we prove that? And it doesn't explain why Momma's Girl is on both charts and your initials, or your sister's-"
PJ raised a hand. "Or somebody else's."
"Is on Spivey's chart."
"I can't think of a connection there, unless he has a dog that bites."
"I was there today when his barn fell in on him. And when his four-wheeler malfunctioned. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"
She nodded. "Yeah. He mentioned it while I was taking his blood." She placed two fingers on her lips like fangs. "Wish I could of taken all of it."
Will rubbed the side of his face. "That's it? He mentioned it?"
"Are you asking if I did it?" Her suggestive eyebrow lift, along with her placing a hand on his
, knocked him sideways. "I might bring the barn down other ways, but not like that."
"While I was with your mom, she mentioned something about things beginning to happen. She said she heard voices, that she knew things would happen. They did."
PJ's face clouded while she ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe she heard it on the news. I didn't tell her."
"Possible. But it hadn't happened yet."
"Maybe she was talking about something else. Did she mention anything specific?"
"Point taken. But she did say something about Spivey killing your dad."
Tears welled in her eyes. "Not that again. You must have noticed that Mom isn't all there. She's been acting stranger than normal lately. Claiming Spivey had something to do with Dad disappearing. When she was the one questioned about it." Her face reflected sadness from every facet. "I think she's getting a bit senile."
He agreed. Separating truth from her imaginings would be difficult. "I'm sorry. That has to be hard to watch happen."
"For years after Dad left, she got a letter every week. Ask Barbara."
Her responses concerning Flo and things happening still seemed evasive. "So you don't believe that she could have done it?"
She jerked her head back, wagged it side to side. "I don't know how she knew, or if she was talking nonsense again. You saw her. Do you think she could have done it? Some days she can't find her way from the barn to the house. I've found her sitting on a stump."
"What about Spivey being involved in your father's disappearance?" And how did that fit in with Uncle Bill's death? Or did it?
"Don't buy it. What's the motive? He was a senior in high school then. With a football scholarship to UT in the fall. And like I said, she got letters every week. She's probably got them stashed somewhere."
She was sharp enough to be a lawyer. Even if he didn't agree with her answers, they came fast and seemed well thought out. "During lunch, I met someone claiming to be an insurance agent checking out the wrecked car. Asking what I knew about Spivey. Have you met her? Blonde. Mid-forties. Driving a rental. I'm not sure she told me the truth."
PJ rubbed her nose while sad eyes struggled to remain dry. "No. And I really think we're digressing. We were discussing Dr. Bill. Not my family. We don't need more questions. We need answers."
"I agree. And asking questions is where you get them. She said she was going to speak to you."
Her jaws clenched. Impatience clipped her words. "Hasn't yet."
"Does anyone live in your house besides you?"
Full eyebrows arched as she leaned in, lips parted in a sultry smile. "You're real creative with my implications."
He leaned back, laughing lightly. "No. Just thought I saw someone standing in the door when I was leaving there this morning."
"Listen, Barney Fife, nobody lives there but me." She reached across and put her hands on his. "I'm sorry about your uncle. He was like family to me. You're wanting closure. I understand that." Compassion moistened her eyes. "I wish I could be the one to give it to you, but I've told you everything I can."
"Everything you can? Or everything you know?"
Her head dropped for a moment, like an exasperated mother after her child asked why for the eighty-third time in two sentences. "Don't over-complicate my word usage. I'm sorry if what I've shared doesn't prove it was an accident. I've told you what I think. What I saw. What I heard. That and a quarter will buy you a Coke." She took a deep breath, let it out. An alluring smile displaced the sadness on her face. One hand patted her stomach. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Let's eat while you tell me about you and your plans."
A good detective wouldn't let a pretty face distract him. But he wasn't a detective, much less a good one. He would play along, act dumb, ask any new questions later.
Plus, her hands felt nice atop his.
An hour later, despite her objections, he followed her home, walked her to the porch.
She turned, took his hands, looked up into his face. "I'd invite you in, but I'm emotionally exhausted. There'll be another time. Soon. But tonight I need my beauty rest."
"You could stay up a month straight and still be gorgeous." He glanced over her shoulder, thinking there was a shadow of movement in a back room. "But I need to head back home myself. Thanks for the evening. And the information. Let's stay in touch and keep each other updated if we find anything."
Standing on tiptoes, she lightly kissed his lips. "Thanks." She turned to go in, looked back over her shoulder, smiled.
Chapter 17
Once in his truck, he drove out the lane and pulled into a small pull off. In minutes, he was at the fence twenty feet behind PJ's house. Moonlight made it risky to move across the open yard to a window, so he squatted down behind the boards and waited.
The sound of voices raised in heated discussion floated through the open rear windows. At least two people moved around, casting shadows on the drapes.
The first voice wasn't PJ. But he recognized it. Stacy. The insurance agent he'd met at the junk yard. She did not sound in the range of happy. Why would she be staying here?
"We had a deal. Remember? You weren't going to-"
PJ's voice cut in. "I don't know who did it. Honest. I left here and went to work. Ask them. I even saw Spivey there." He missed some words. "He wasn't feeling so hot."
Stacy's voice moderated but still bordered on torqued. "It sounds exactly like your plan. How do you explain that? Did you hire somebody to do it?"
Though the words were understandable, the subject wasn't.
"I never said anything about doing anything to the sheriff. He had a shed burn down. Then his car ended up leashed to a light pole."
They were arguing about the things that happened to Spivey. And seemed to have discussed it another time.
"That didn't answer the question."
"I don't know who did it. That's all I can say. How do I know you didn't steal my plan, do it yourself?"
He could see someone's silhouette moving around. "Okay. Truce. I'm sorry I accused you. But somebody did it. It's too similar to be coincidence."
It looked like PJ was sitting down. But he could still hear. "What else did you find out today?"
The voice sharpened. "If it happens again, I'm out of here. To answer your question, Spivey is like Limburger cheese. You either love him or hate him."
"Did Mom see you leaving or coming back?"
"I didn't leave until after she did. That was after the vet left."
Surprise raised PJ's voice. "She left? She doesn't drive."
"She did today."
"Could the vet have seen you here?"
"I don't think so."
"But you saw him, right?"
"I did. But I moved away from the door. He couldn't have seen me."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
Stacy's voice took on a cocky tone. "I met him today. He's not bright enough to be suspicious." A pause. "Did y'all have a date tonight? That why you're late?"
"Of sorts."
Now they sounded like girls sharing gossip. "Did you like him?"
"He's nice enough. But you're right. He is a bit gullible. Plain old vanilla."
Plain old vanilla. I'll show you some spice before this is over.
"I hope you didn't tell him anything."
"Only enough to make him an issue for Spivey."
"Why would you do that?" Stacy sounded incredulous.
"Two lines in the water catch more fish."
"We had a deal. Remember? You agreed that my article would be more likely to bring him down than college pranks."
PJ didn't retreat. "What if it doesn't? You said, trust me, you have information that will ruin him. You mentioned corruption and moral issues, but no specifics. Like you said before, with Hensley dead, they'll blame it on him anyway. They might face being unwilling accomplices. Might. Maybe that suits you. But not me. It's way more personal for me, so I don't expect you to understand. He's ruined my family, he's stalking my friend. If Will f
inds something that can put him away, I am fine with that. I shouldn't have agreed to anything just so you could get your big fat story in TIME. So count me out."
"Calm down a bit. This isn't helping. You say he's stalking someone?"
"My friend. Liza Hall. And where did you meet Will?"
Moving quietly, Will shifted his legs. Spivey's resumé continued to grow. And Hensley had called them. How many others? Why?
"He was checking out the wrecked car." Stacy's voice raised again. "Yours, from what I hear. Why didn't you tell me that bit of information? And that your sister was going to marry him?"
"We haven't exactly had a lot of time together. You didn't come back until last night. You might have been working on his barn then."
"If we're a team, which I remind you was your suggestion, we need to be transparent." Stacy's tone demanded answers. "What other secrets are you holding back?"
PJ's voice stiffened. "Fewer than you is my bet."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning this. Your face in the magazine matches the picture. The hair and eyes don't."
Stacy sounded offended. "You investigated me? Where's the trust?"
PJ's laugh overflowed with sarcasm. "We met at a gravesite on the backside of beyond. In the middle of the night. You had a gun in my ribs. Does that inspire trust?"
He stood to a squat, flexing his knees. Neither lady had a reverse gear.
"A stick. It was a stick."
He heard Stacy laugh and smiled himself. That trick only worked in the movies.
Stacy continued. "Good job, checking up like that. As you might have noticed, I'm well-known in some circles. So I wear a disguise most of the time."
"We're squares here, not circles. You sure you're not hiding something?"
"Yes. That I'm staying here. I even parked somewhere else this evening and walked back."
He could see PJ stand up. "You've done stuff like this before."
"That's why I'm called an investigative reporter."
"Thanks for the lesson."
"Let's back up. Who sabotaged Otis's barn if you didn't? Could your mom have overheard us that first night? Decided to do it since you promised you wouldn't?"
"It couldn't be her." PJ sounded stunned.
X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1) Page 12
