“Why are you curious about Kemper’s past?” she asked.
“His wife is a friend of mine, and she’s charged with his murder.”
“And you’re hoping to dig up enough dirt from the past to develop reasonable doubt.”
“Something like that,” I said.
There was a long pause. “You want a list of the other investors in the resort?”
“Sure.” I got a pencil and pad from a drawer. “Shoot.”
“There were three of them. Kemper, a small-time gangster named Tony LaCoco, and somebody named Mitchell Raybon. LaCoco has gone on to local fame and fortune as what passes for a true mob figure around Louisiana.”
LaCoco’s name stopped me dead. “Thanks, Ms. Patriquin,” I said. “You’ve been more help than you’ll ever know. By the way, how much was the insurance settlement?”
“Three million. It was a nice, tidy little scam.”
“And the insurance company?”
“It’s right here in the story. Let me see . . . Liberty Associates. I think they’re out of business now.”
“Thanks again.” I hung up the phone.
I placed a call to Billy Appleton at home. Billy didn’t have to talk to me, but he didn’t know that. I pressed my advantage. “Coleman asked me to check and see what you’d found on the Fuquar insurance papers,” I told him.
“I was about to give him a call,” Billy said. “I’ve searched high and low. As I told him earlier, I have the original policies, which were taken out in June of 1986. I remember Lee wanted policies that would provide replacement values, but . . . Anyway, the policy will pay something toward the barn that burned. . . .” His voice faded away.
“And the horse?”
“Ah, no. There was nothing on the horse.” He cleared his throat. “I wish I could say differently, Sarah Booth. I know how much that animal meant to Lee and her financial future. I called the home office just to see if maybe a policy had been filed through another agent. Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. We don’t normally insure horses. If there was a policy, the home office would have known.”
“And Kemper? What about his revised life insurance policy?”
“Ah,” he cleared his throat. “Ah, there’s a snag there. Ah, murder is sort of a different matter.”
“As in?” I wanted to stick him with a cattle prod.
“There’s a reluctance to pay off a claim when there’s a charge of murder. See, the policy is designed to provide financial compensation in cases of natural death, acts of God . . . See, murder is very different. Especially murder to obtain the insurance.”
“Kip was the beneficiary, not Lee.”
“Very true,” he said softly. “Ah, but Kip is dead. Lee now benefits.”
I’d known Billy since he was six years old. In the first grade he’d gone through the desks in the entire classroom and stolen the red crayon from everyone’s pack. He’d hoarded them in a cigar box, taking them out one at a time and sharpening them until there was only a box full of crayon curls.
“Are you saying the policies are invalid?”
“The home office makes those decisions, Sarah Booth.” His words were rushed. “I’m only an agent. I’m not a policy maker.”
“What’s the good of insurance if it doesn’t pay off?” I asked him pointedly.
“It’s not supposed to be an inducement to murder.”
“Lee didn’t kill Kemper.”
“No matter what you think, Sarah Booth, Lee has confessed.”
“And if I prove someone else, or something else, killed Kemper?”
“That’s another story.”
“You’ll be hearing from me.”
“You’d better stop threatening me. I sell insurance policies, that’s what I do. I don’t make up the rules and I don’t enforce them.” He slammed the phone down.
Puzzled by Billy’s panicked behavior, I dialed Tinkie. I didn’t recognize her voice when she answered the phone.
“Oh, Sarah Booth,” she said through a stuffy nose. “I was trying to get up the nerve to call you. I don’t think I’m cut out for this private eye business after all. I’d better resign.”
“Tinkie?” In the last few months, I’d grown to admire Tinkie in a number of ways, and a big one was her commitment to seeing something through. She wasn’t a quitter. “Is Oscar giving you grief?” Her husband had a very narrow view of the Richmond family role in Delta society. I’d been blown away when he’d allowed her to become my partner in the first place.
“Oh, no, Oscar says I shouldn’t quit.” She sniffled. “It’s just . . . Kip.” She choked back a sob.
“Don’t quit on me, Tinkie. I need you.” I needed to tell her Kip was alive, but I had wanted to do it in person so I could impress on her that she had to keep it top secret. Tinkie had many valuable assets as a partner, but keeping a secret was not one of her strengths.
There was a long sigh. “Really?”
“Now more than ever. Lee needs us both, even if she won’t admit it. I need you to do something.” This was one she’d like. “Find out exactly what Mary Louise, Elizabeth, and Susannah did with Bud Lynch.”
“Did?” Tinkie paused. “You mean did?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Why?”
“I have a theory, but I don’t want to prejudice your investigation by saying it. Just find out.”
“Okay,” Tinkie said slowly. “I can do this.”
“I’m certain you can. The only person who ever doubts your ability is you, Tinkie. You’re the best partner a P.I. could ask for.”
“Thanks, Sarah Booth.” Tinkie lowered her voice. “What about Carol Beth and Bud?”
“Leave Carol Beth to me,” I said with some malice.
“Oscar heard up at the bank that Benny is filing for divorce. And there is an ironclad prenup. If Benny can prove infidelity, Carol Beth won’t get a penny from him.”
“Oscar told you that?” Ever since Tinkie had begun to pump Oscar during nooners, he had become a gushing fount of informative tidbits.
“Oscar said Benny may be mild-mannered on the surface, but he’s a barracuda when he’s protecting his assets.”
“You do good work, Tinkie.”
“I seem to have a little talent, don’t I?”
“Absolutely. Call me as soon as you have anything,” I said.
The ruins of the stud barn were visible from the county road. Carol Beth’s big dually was parked at the main house, but I knew she’d be in one of the barns. I parked at the house, and took great care in walking quietly down to the main facility. Whatever Carol Beth was up to, I wanted to find out as much as possible before she saw me.
Hay was scattered down the central barn aisle, and as I entered, several horses lifted their heads, hay sticking from their mouths. They continued chewing, a comforting sound.
The office was empty, and there was no sign of Carol Beth in the feed room. I slipped up the stairs to Bud’s loft apartment. The door was open, and I could hear someone inside. Using all the stealth I possessed, I slipped through the stark den to stand in the bedroom doorway. Carol Beth was straining to heave the big mattress up and over.
“Need some help?” I asked.
She screamed, dropping the mattress and whirling on me as if she would attack.
I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the gold pendant. Dangling it from thumb and forefinger, I held it aloft. “Looking for this?”
“Give it to me.” She made a lunge at me, but I was quicker. The pendant slid back into my pocket.
“Not until you answer some questions.”
“Look, Benny is going to divorce me and leave me without a penny. I need that pendant. Where did you find it, anyway?” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and I realized that she was in a state of complete disarray. Her shirttail was pulled from her breeches, and dirt smudged the fawn color of her pants and white shirt.
&nb
sp; “You know where I found it.” I looked at the bed pointedly. “I want some answers, Carol Beth. Now.”
“People in hell want ice water. Give me that jewelry. It’s mine.”
I stepped back. “Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it.” I turned and walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. After only a few seconds I heard her clattering behind me.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Where are the insurance papers on Avenger? Kemper took out a policy on that horse, and now it’s conveniently disappeared.” I never turned around, just kept walking down the barn aisle. “I was thinking maybe you didn’t want Lee to collect.”
She grabbed the back of my shirt. “I don’t know. I never saw a policy. Why do people keep asking me that question?”
“Could it be because you’re perceived as a chronic liar?”
“If I knew where the papers were, I’d tell you. They don’t mean anything to me. I wanted the horse, not the money.”
I doubted that, but there was a hint of desperation in her voice. “Why didn’t you say that you and Bud were here, in the barn, the night Kemper was killed? Why did you lie?”
She paced down the aisle and back. Her face was composed when she finally looked at me. “The only thing I wanted was the horses. Benny will never believe that, though. I did what I thought I had to do.” She tapped her fingers on the top of a stall. “None of that matters now. Bud is dead. My husband can never prove that I slept with him.”
She was indeed cold-blooded, but she had a point. Now that she believed Bud and Avenger were dead, she’d be heading back to Virginia to mend fences with the man who paid her bills. I had a few more questions. “What’s your relationship with Tony LaCoco?”
Her fingers stilled, and her dark eyes focused on me with the intensity of a laser. “I already had a bill of sale on the horses. They were mine. Legally. But Kemper was going to try and cheat me out of them. The double-crossing bastard took my money and apparently was going to try to collect on an insurance policy. Kemper owed LaCoco a whole lot of money. I thought I could work out a deal with LaCoco.”
“What really happened that night?”
She turned so that she was in profile to me. “Bud wouldn’t help me. I had to get him out of the way, so I went to bed with him and put something in his drink. Once he was unconscious, my intention was to load up Avenger and the mares and take them. I could have done it, too, but that moron Kemper was in the barn office, and he wouldn’t leave.” Her tone was laced with bitterness.
“You had the bill of sale. Would Kemper have tried to stop you?”
“He had no intention of honoring the debt. I couldn’t risk it. He would have called Lee down to the barn. She would have taken steps to have my case disputed. There was a legal point. The horses technically weren’t Kemper’s to sell. I knew if the horses were in my possession, I’d stand a better chance in court.” She turned to me. “Legally, they were mine—payment of a just debt.”
“And the pendant?”
Her mouth twisted up at one corner. “Bud must have pulled it from my neck.” She reached up to her throat. “I didn’t realize it was gone until the next day.”
“What else did you see that night?” It was out of character for me to believe anything Carol Beth said, but this story had the ring of truth to it.
“Kemper was in the office, from about eight o’clock until I left at one. I waited and waited for him to leave. He was on the phone, talking to someone he owed money to. They were threatening him.”
“How could you tell?”
“He was lying, saying that he would have the money in a few days. He said he had a plan. A guaranteed plan. Then he laughed. He said he’d get the money and show his bitch of a wife who was boss. He said he’d kill two birds with one stone.”
“Did you see him try to kill Avenger?”
She shook her head. “Bud started to come around. I knew I had to leave then.”
“And you never saw anyone else in the barn?”
“You mean Lee?” She pushed a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. “I wish I could say I saw her bash his brains out, but I didn’t see anything.”
“Lee confessed that she and Kemper were fighting, that she went to the barn and he followed her.”
Carol Beth walked slowly toward the office door. She pointed inside. “He was there, at the desk, alone. That’s what I saw.” Anger crept into her voice. “If I’d taken Avenger, he would be alive now. Think about that. Kip would be alive. Lee would have her daughter. It’s all such a stupid waste.”
Pulling the gold pendant from my jeans, I tossed it over to her. She caught it and clutched it in her fist.
“This is the only bit of evidence that could possibly prove I had anything to do with Bud Lynch,” she said. “I’m home free with Benny.”
It was almost more than I could stand not to tell her that Bud was alive and still very capable of giving Benny the fine details of her sexual misconduct. Instead, I said nothing.
“I’m going back to Virginia,” Carol Beth said. “Give Lee a message for me. Tell her she’s a fool. Everyone in town is gossiping about her kid and what a psycho she was. Tell her that if she’d listened to that Memphis psychiatrist and put Kip in an institution, Avenger, Kip, and Bud would still be alive today.”
She spun around and walked down the barn aisle, a long, lean silhouette who’d turned her back on what she’d once hoped was her future.
25
Driving through the darkness, I pondered Carol Beth’s cruel words. As Cece often pointed out, it was impossible to keep secrets in a small town. If it was true that Dr. Vance had recommended institutionalization for Kip, then it was time for Lee to face the truth. Sacrificing herself would not save her daughter.
The parameters of my case had changed drastically. My original assignment had been to dig up the details of Kemper’s life that would prove he deserved killing. I’d accomplished that, and more. No one could dispute that Kemper needed to die.
Now I had to convince Lee that she should let Kip stand trial for the act she’d committed. Temporary insanity was still a viable defense for Kip, and a legitimate one, from what I’d been able to discover. With some professional help, Kip might stand a chance of holding on to a portion of her future.
I doubted that Dr. Lazarus Vance would talk to me at all, especially not late on a Sunday evening, but I was determined to give it a try. This was a call I dreaded making. I’d grown fond of Kip, and I didn’t want to confront the possibility that she was mentally damaged.
I got Dr. Vance’s home phone number from Information and placed the call. I was surprised when he answered the phone, identifying himself immediately.
I explained who I was and why I was calling, expecting the standard line about doctor–patient privilege. Instead, the psychiatrist cleared his throat.
“I’ve been very worried about Kip,” he said. “I was so sorry to hear of her death.”
“She isn’t—” I stopped myself. He’d never talk to me if he thought she was alive. “How did you find out about the fire?” A barn fire in Zinnia hardly seemed the kind of story the Memphis newspaper would cover.
“Another of my clients told me. I’ve tried to contact Mrs. McBride, but she isn’t taking my calls.”
“As you can imagine, Lee’s horribly upset. I’m trying to help her,” I said. “What can you tell me about Kip?”
“I’m afraid I can tell you nothing.”
“Dr. Vance, Kip is gone. I need information if I’m going to help her mother. I’m sure this isn’t a violation of any doctor–patient privilege. Kip would want you to talk to me. She left a note clearing her mother of the murder.”
“Since she’s dead, I suppose there’s no harm in talking,” he answered, and I imagined that he was settling back into a comfortable leather chair, a pipe close at hand.
“Kip was a brilliant child. Too smart for her own good. And too conscientious. She carried the weight of that fa
rm on her shoulders. The turmoil of her circumstances affected her more severely than it might another teenager, because of her need to protect her mother and the farm.”
I didn’t doubt any of this. “Kip said she was having blackouts.”
“Yes, a minor break with reality when she couldn’t bear any more. She’d just slip away, deep into a safe place in her own mind. It isn’t that uncommon, really. Many of us do a similar thing in the form of daydreams. We’re bored or uncomfortable, so we slide just beneath the surface of the mind. The danger is when such incidents become a frequent pattern, and when the break from reality is so deep that reconnection is difficult or time is lost.”
“Could a person commit an act he or she didn’t remember in such a state?”
He chuckled. “You’re building a case, aren’t you, Ms. Delaney?”
“I’m exploring a possibility.”
“The answer is yes. In extreme cases.”
“And was Kip an extreme case?”
“The answer is . . . yes. Kip was extreme, in more ways than one.”
I didn’t like the undertone of what he was saying. “What does that mean?”
“I got the feeling that Kip was frequently playing with me. She was a very clever girl. Of course, our relationship had not fully developed. She was my patient for only a few months.”
My stomach knotted. “Playing with you how?”
“Pretending to be emotional, volatile. It did occur to me that Kip didn’t actually suffer from blackout periods, that, perhaps, she was establishing an alibi for something. As I said, she was very clever. Quite a challenge.”
“You prescribed several drugs for her.” I kept my tone neutral.
“Standard practice. Kip had acted aggressively and violently toward another pupil. She was in danger of expulsion. Our public schools have become a battleground for many things, Ms. Delaney, among them the rights of certain students to disrupt the rights of others to learn. It isn’t an easy choice, for a parent or a doctor. Kip needed to stay in school, and the school needed some assurance that she would not attack another student.”
“Attack? Is that an accurate description of what happened?”
“The classmate was taken to a doctor’s clinic for eighteen stitches and a broken wrist.”
Splintered Bones Page 25
