“It’ll kill Momma if she ever finds out.”
“How’s she going to? You going to tell her? Am I?” The woman snorted.
Hardly daring to breathe, I sat motionless, listening. More smoky cigarette odor.
“How could she fall for such an old man? I never understood it.”
Old man? Trey isn’t old. Far from it.
“He must have promised her the moon.”
“Yeah. Everything but marriage.”
“Imagine having that snooty Lila of his as a stepdaughter.”
What?
A disgusted bark of a laugh. “They were the same age.”
“That’s what the senator liked, I guess.”
The senator?
“Shh. No names. You never know who’s listening.”
I froze, clutching the empty glass so tight it nearly shattered in my hand.
“I need another drink. And I don’t mean lemonade. Where did you hide that flask?”
“In the big flowerpot by the back door.”
A sob rent the air. “Oh, dear Lord, we’ve lost our baby sister. Tallulah isn’t coming back. She won’t ever be with us again. Not ever.”
“Come on, Clara. You’ve had your smoke. Let’s go inside. Momma will be wondering. We can have a drink after this is over.”
“It’ll never be over, never.”
“Come on. Momma’s waiting on us.”
I didn’t dare risk a peek, but a few minutes later, the screen door slammed shut, and once again I was alone with the wisteria.
And with the goods on a secret sugar daddy.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Matt … I had to find Matt. But I couldn’t seem to move and sat there a while, clutching my empty glass, my mind whirling with what I’d just overheard. Senator Lott had been Tallulah Bixby’s lover, not Trey Gregson. But Tallulah had lived at Trey’s house. They had been a pair, an item, a couple. Except, they never had been. That meant Tallulah had lived with Trey for the convenience of her real lover, Senator Prescott Lott. There was a fancy French saying for such doings, but for the life of me, I couldn’t bring it to mind.
Too excited to sit still any longer, I jumped off the bench, and in case Tallulah’s sisters were in the kitchen, I tiptoed past the back door and hurried around to the front of the house. Matt was leaning on the porch rail, talking with several men, but he broke away as soon as he saw me.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.”
I tugged on his hand. “I’ll tell you in the car. Let’s go.”
“No fond farewell to Mrs. Bixby first?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to go back inside. Let’s just go.” I grabbed his hand as we hurried toward the car. “Did you learn anything?”
“Yes.” He chuckled. “Sylvie Cooper’s known for making the best white mountain cake in all of Arkansas. And Maddie Ryan’s chicken salad’s based on a hundred-year-old family recipe. How about you?”
It wasn’t easy, but I kept mum until we were seated in the Lincoln with the air-conditioning blasting away, and then I blurted out my story.
He listened without interrupting. “That’s a sleazy tale for sure, but what they did wasn’t illegal.”
“But—”
“I’m not through. It bears looking into. I’ll contact the—”
“Word of this gets out, it could destroy the senator’s career.”
A wry, half-smile lifted Matt’s lips. “Possibly, but it seems to me the American public doesn’t examine a candidate’s private life the way it used to, it—”
“This isn’t just about the senator’s love life. His girlfriend has been murdered.”
“Are you always like this?” Matt turned the key in the ignition.
“Like what?”
“I’m having the devil of a time finishing a thought.”
“Sorry.”
“If this story is true—”
“If? Senator Lott was living a lie and so was Trey. They used Tallulah, led her on, treated her like she was someone to be ashamed of. Someone to hide away like, like dirty laundry.”
I remembered, oh, I remembered, No, I can’t bring you to meet my momma. She’d up and die if she ever found out about you.
“However—”
“And now the poor girl is dead.”
“See what I mean?” Matt seemed halfway fit to be tied.
“My lips are sealed. Spout off all you want.”
“Let’s assume what you’re saying is correct, but consider—”
“Suppose Tallulah came to Eureka Falls that day to threaten the senator. Marry her or she’d go to the media, spill her guts, let the public know all about that phony little love nest. That’s—”
“Enough to get a girl killed.”
“You took them … those words right out of my mouth.”
“High time.” He shot me a fast glance across the front seat. “Here’s something else to think about. Both victims were killed with the same weapon, so more than likely by the same person. Yet they came from different worlds. Didn’t know each other. Didn’t know the same people.”
“Then what was Tallulah doing on Pea Pike that day? There had to be a reason.”
“In murder cases, there’s always a reason. Either she was forced there by her killer, or enticed there.”
A Walmart rig the size of a city block roared past. I stared at its rear lights as they turned into red bull’s-eyes in the distance.
“But why did she come to town in the first place? If it was to see the senator, and I believe it was, what can we do about it?”
“We aren’t going to do anything. That’s for the state police to deal with. As soon as I drop you off, I’m calling Bradshaw. No doubt he’ll want to talk to you, so be available for the next few days. In the meantime, don’t mention this to anyone. And I mean anyone. Got that?”
“No problem. Not with being available, either. I’ll be around. For a while, anyway. I’m out of a job, remember.”
“I seriously doubt it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I predict you have a call from Sam Ridley in your future. Monday morning at the latest.” Eyeballing me across the front seat, he tried for a smile. “How’s that make you feel?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Matt parked in front of my building, I was sure that after last night we’d have one of those awkward walk-to-the-door, come-in-or-not moments. But I needn’t have worried none.
He unlocked my door and handed me the keys. “I owe you a tankful of gas.”
“I don’t figure it that way at all. You saved me a long drive.”
“High test premium. I insist.” He smiled a quick, white flash. “The car’s great. Purred like a kitten the whole way.” The smile fled. “That was good work today, Honey. Expect to hear from Bradshaw sometime soon.” He sent me a two-fingered salute, shrugged off his jacket, and hopped into the Ram. All without the tiniest hint that he wanted to come in and stay a while.
Hmm.
When the Ram disappeared around the corner, I went inside, reset the alarm, and locked the door. I picked up my mail from the foyer floor. Bills. I tossed them and my purse on the coffee table. As I was about to kick off the heels, the front doorbell chimed.
Matt with a change of mind?
A one-eyed glance out the peephole was all it took to send my heart into overdrive. Matt’s prediction had been off by a couple of days. It was Sam, in the flesh. I leaned against the door for a spell, struggling to catch my breath. The chimes rang again. And again. He wasn’t going away. He really wanted to see me.
All right then. Though I had a suspicion my lipstick was worn off and my hair needed brushing, I didn’t waste time fretting but straightened up real good, took a deep breath, and flung the door wide.
Startled by the sudden movement, Sam nearly slipped off the front stair. “I saw your car and knew you were home. I tried calling earlier, several times in fact, but you didn’t an
swer.” He cleared his throat. “So I came by.”
He tried to reach me all afternoon.
He held out a green paper sheath filled with long-stemmed yellow roses. “For you. With an apology.”
I pressed the roses to my face and sniffed but couldn’t detect a scent.
“May I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” My pulse drumming in my ears, I turned and led the way into the living room.
He glanced around. “Nice,” was all he said. That was enough. What he thought about the apartment didn’t matter a hoot. He wasn’t here for an appraisal, at least not that kind.
I set the flowers on the coffee table next to the bills. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I waved a hand at the club chair. “You’re welcome to take a seat.”
He shook his head. “I can’t stay. I just came by to tell you how sorry I am about our dust-up yesterday. Bottom line, I can’t accept your resignation. Ridley’s needs you.” He paused. “I need you.”
“For sales?” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but some of it leaked through.
He flushed, so I knew he’d understood my meaning. “No, not for sales alone. We’re friends, Honey, colleagues.”
He went to run a hand through his hair but stopped in time. Though handsomer than ever, in a tan summer suit with a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes to a fare-thee-well, he hadn’t donned that fancy outfit for me. He was probably on his way to meet Lila.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. In fact, I’ve thought of little else. Trey’s joining Lila and me for dinner tonight, and I intend to ask him how long he’s been in on this casino business. I’ll ask him about the senator’s role in it as well. Lila won’t know anything, of course. She’s never let in on the senator’s projects. He protects her from all that.”
The day had been long, the heels high. I sank onto the sofa and gazed up at him. I wouldn’t break my promise to Matt, but not saying anything about what I’d learned that afternoon was hard, very hard. For in my bones, I knew Trey would lie and Lila would back up whatever he said.
Still, Sam had business smarts. He should be able to spot a lie when it smacked him in the face. On the other hand, he was a man in love and would tend to believe anything his beloved might say.
My head throbbed. And my feet.
“Well?” Sam paused, waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.
I blew out a breath. There was only one question, would I or wouldn’t I? Yes, I’d go back to Ridley’s, at least for the time being. But not for Sam alone, and not for the money, though Lord knows I needed it. I’d go back for Tallulah’s sake. Sam Ridley was the closest connection I had to Senator Lott and Trey Gregson. After today, I was downright certain one of them, or maybe both, had murdered that poor girl.
Who might have harmed poor ol’ Violet, though, I hadn’t a clue. The only one who stood to profit from her death was her creepy nephew Earl, and Matt claimed he’d been working in the lumberyard at the time she was killed. But about Tallulah, I did know something. The men she had believed in and trusted had used and abused her. If I couldn’t feel sorrow over that, I was as good as dead too. And right now, I was too damn mad to die.
“So?” An arched eyebrow, a worried forehead.
“It warms my heart that you want me back, Sam. I’m sorry for what happened, too.” This isn’t easy. “Not that I’m regretful about what I said, but the way I said it was far from mannerly.”
At my words, his shoulders eased, and he flashed a big Sam smile. “It’s a go then?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Excellent. My offer still stands. Take some time off. I’ll handle your calls and see you a week from Monday.”
I was about to tell him of an idea I had for a special promotion. A weekly email blast, each one featuring a different property. We could give it a name that would be easy for folks to recollect … Deal of the Week or some such. But before I could mention it, he checked his watch, anxious to leave.
“Stay where you are, Honey. Relax, get some rest. I’ll let myself out.” He pointed a finger at my nose. “See you next week.” Then he strode toward the foyer and departed, closing the door behind him without the slightest thump.
I sat there for a while, staring at the flowers he had brought, telling myself he didn’t know that yellow was for friends, red was for lovers. On the other hand, maybe he did. With a sigh, I got up and tossed the yellow friendship roses into the trash.
Chapter Thirty-Four
In cutoffs and a T-shirt, with my hair scrunched into a ponytail—and in case Detective Bradshaw called, the cell in my shorts pocket—I got to Josie’s early Sunday morning. This time, no burger and fries. I’d have sausage and grits and make Tommy Lee’s day.
As usual, the place was hopping. After eating, I’d do some grocery shopping, for the first time in living memory, then drop in on Amelia. We had a lot to talk about. Among other things, I didn’t have good news from the zoning board, so the daycare idea was out. She’d likely have to go to Plan B, waitressing nights, not a magic remedy for her money problems, not by a long shot.
“Well, if it ain’t Daisy Mae,” Josie drawled when I walked in. Without waiting to be asked, she poured me a black coffee. “What happened to the suit?”
“I have a week off.” For once, I added cream and two sugars, turning the brew into a kissing cousin of one of those latte drinks.
Josie leaned over the counter. “Just so you’ll know, I think T.L. will quit if you don’t order off the breakfast menu.”
“Grits, sausage, hotcakes, and two eggs, over easy. How’s that?”
“At last. High time, too.”
In her orange and brown uniform, a handkerchief with a crocheted edge spilling out of a breast pocket, Josie never changed. She was always cheery, ready with a joke, and quick on her feet. I didn’t know how she kept up the pace, working in the diner seven days a week, month in and month out.
“When are you taking some time off, Josie?”
“When the public stops eatin’, that’s when. Besides, what would I do if I wasn’t workin’? Go nuts, that’s what. I like it here, meeting folks, pressing the flesh, you know what I mean?”
“You’re a born politician. Why don’t you run for Congress?” I waved my arms around the diner. “You’d have the votes of everybody who ever ate in here.”
She snorted. “Congress? Dogcatcher more likely.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
“Good morning,” he said quietly in my ear.
Startled, I sloshed coffee onto the countertop.
“Detective Bradshaw. What a surprise.”
While I sopped up the spill with paper napkins, he eased onto the stool next to mine. “Just drove in from Fayetteville.”
“The sheriff get in touch with you?”
He nodded. “It’s early yet, so I thought I’d eat and then give you a call. I see now that won’t be necessary.” Steam rising off the mug Josie’d put in front of him, he took a careful sip. “We need to talk, but not in here. Can you meet me at the station after breakfast?”
Imagine saying no to a question like that?
Matt, in full uniform, awaited us in his office. He eyeballed my legs, quickly looking away, but not before a grin escaped him. The cutoffs suddenly felt too short, my legs too long for a police interview. But it was a tad late to be worrying about that, so after Detective Bradshaw turned on his tape recorder, I put my mind to retelling what I’d heard the Bixby girls say. When I finished, he shut off the recorder and thanked me for my testimony.
“Will it help with the investigation?” I really wanted to know.
“Yes and no. Though you say you didn’t actually see who was speaking, your story supports what we were told.”
I gasped. “You knew about Tallulah and the senator?”
He shifted in his seat behind Matt’s desk. “We knew only what the Bixby girls said. So, in answer to your question, you’ve verified the
ir story, but I’m afraid it offers us nothing new. Nothing we can use in a court of law.”
I turned to Matt, who was seated beside me on a plastic chair he’d pulled in from the outer room. “When I told you about this yesterday, you already knew?”
A cautionary flicker crept into his eyes. Didn’t look like he wanted to answer. “That’s about the size of it.”
We stared at each other in silence, until too vexed to keep quiet, I blurted out, “Good grief, isn’t there a man in the world I can trust?”
Matt’s jaw firmed up, but he didn’t wing an angry retort back at me.
“Miss Ingersoll,” the detective’s lips formed a thin line, “the fact that Sheriff Rameros didn’t reveal what he knew is proof he can be trusted.”
The man was dead right. “My apologies, Sheriff.”
“It’s okay, Honey.”
Bradshaw made a show of clearing his throat. “While what you overheard wasn’t about an illegal activity, it does help confirm Senator Lott and Trey Gregson as persons of interest in Miss Bixby’s death.”
I sat up straight. “Because it provides a motive?”
He nodded. One nod only.
It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. “What of the Ames brothers and IP? They’re fronting for the casino investors, and the senator’s in it as well. Using his political clout to get clearances, county support, easements. You name it. And he isn’t doing it for free. He’s being paid off, if not in money, in campaign aid.” I moved to the edge of my chair. “You must’ve heard the rumor circulating around town. He has his eye on the White House.”
Bradshaw nodded. “Most everybody in the state knows.”
“Somehow, some way, Tallulah Bixby had him running scared. I’d stake my life on it.”
“Please be assured no possible suspect or piece of evidence is being overlooked.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly, but I may not answer it.” Bradshaw’s face cracked into what, for him, passed as a smile.
“How can we trap them?”
“We can’t. Both men have denied the Bixby girls’ allegations. As long as they do, our hands are tied. Let me remind you again, they have committed no crime.”
Murder on Pea Pike Page 18
