by K C Hart
Todd scratched the few hairs on his chin as he often did when thinking. “You know, I have to be back at the station at three. I might as well eat and get full. I probably won’t get a supper break.”
Katy and John drove to Fred’s Fish House and Todd followed in his truck. The place was already filling up. They got a table and ordered their food before Katy started talking about what was really on her mind.
“Todd, I noticed that the news didn’t mention anything about the guitar string around Mr. Clay's neck.”
“You picked up on that, huh?” Todd asked. “Sheriff Reid decided to try to keep that private for a while. He’s following up on a lead we found.”
“You mean that pack of guitar strings that was on the stage?” Katy asked, looking across the table.
They all paused as the waitress brought three huge glasses of sweet tea and a basket of hot buttered rolls. “You saw that too, did you?” Todd said, reaching for a roll. “I should have known you would.”
Katy watched longingly as the two men tore their rolls apart and put the fluffy pieces of bread into their mouths. She had already had her bread allowance for the day with the biscuit. Stupid biscuit. She quit thinking about the hot, airy bread and sipped her tea instead. “I imagine you can get some fingerprints off the envelope. Was a string missing from the pack?”
“Yes ma’am, the top E string,” Todd answered.
“What type of string was around his neck?”
Todd swallowed the last of his roll. “The top E string.”
“Well, ain’t that just a nice little coincidence,” John said, looking from Todd to his wife.
“Yes sir, it sure is,” Todd answered. “Sheriff Reid thinks that the killer slipped the string from the pack and used it as the murder weapon, then dropped the envelope with the other strings in the heat of the moment.”
Katy thought about the sheriff’s scenario as she listened to the men. She wished she had a notebook to write out her ideas, so she could put them in some kind of order. “Wasn’t the E string wrapped double around the man’s neck?”
“Yes ma’am. The killer either slipped the string around Mr. Clay’s neck then wrapped it around a second time, or looped it twice then slipped it over his head.” Todd paused. “What are you thinking, Aunt Katy? I can see the wheels a turning.”
Katy tapped her fingers on the wooden table as the scene formed in her mind. “Todd, I have been playing the guitar a long time. I’ve changed a lot of guitar strings over the years, and one thing I know about them is that they are rough on your hands.”
They had to pause again as the food was set down in front of them. Katy looked at the fried oyster salad and smiled. If she had filled up on bread, there wouldn’t have been room for all of this.
“I ain’t following you, Aunt Katy.” Todd picked up a fried shrimp and dipped it in cocktail sauce. “What does that have to do with the string being looped twice?”
“The killer got the guitar string around that poor man’s neck, then he had to jerk it tight with a lot of force, right?”
Todd nodded as he chewed on his shrimp.
“If the killer pulled the string that tight that fast, it would have rubbed his own hands raw.” Katy stopped and pointed her fork toward her nephew. “He probably would have had to wrap the string around his palm a couple of times to get a good grip and enough leverage to get the job done.” She brought the fork back to her plate. “Did you find any skin cells or DNA or whatever else there might be on the guitar string?”
“No ma’am,” Todd answered beginning to understand. “All that was on the string was the victim’s blood and skin where it cut into his neck.”
This time Katy nodded. “That’s what I figured. I bet the killer was wearing gloves.”
“I see where you’re going with this,” John said, laying down his catfish poor boy. “Why would somebody take the time to put on gloves and use a guitar string to strangle a person, then leave the envelope with the other strings there for somebody to find?”
“Exactly,” Katy exclaimed, “especially an envelope with fingerprints all over it.”
“So,” Todd said slowly, “you think the pack of strings left on the stage was a plant to put the blame on someone else?”
“I’m not sure,” Katy replied, stabbing a big hunk of avocado with her fork. “I just wonder why in the world somebody would use a guitar string as a murder weapon in the first place.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It just seems like an odd choice to me. Like it meant something to the killer. You know, significant somehow.”
“Yeah, now that you mention it, it is kind of strange.” Todd grinned at his aunt, sipping his tea. “You just can’t help it, can you?”
Katy paused as she lifted her glass to her lips. “What? Can’t help what?”
“Figuring out these crime scenes, that’s what.” Todd chuckled and set his glass back down. “And the funny thing is, you see and pick up on things better than anybody at the station.”
Katy couldn’t help but smile. “I just kind of think about everything I see and then try to piece it all together to see how it makes sense. If something doesn’t make sense, then I try to figure out if I have missed anything. It’s like putting together a puzzle.”
“But in this case, the puzzle could be deadly,” John said, taking the last bite of his sandwich. He looked from Todd to his wife. “I just think anybody who would plan out a murder in advance with enough imagination to use a guitar string as a choker has to be a pretty dangerous fellow.”
“I agree, Uncle John,” Todd answered. “This was a killing for a personal reason by somebody who was mad. Not just a little upset, but sure enough mad.”
“Do you have any ideas about who would be mad enough at Rob Clay to kill him like that?” Katy wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Or why somebody would want to kill him like that?”
Todd looked around their table to make sure no one was close enough to listen in on their conversation. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard all of the gossip that has started flowing about all of the women Mr. Clay was dallying with.”
“I’m afraid so,” Katy answered. “But do you really think all of those rumors are true?”
“No, not all of them, but chances are, there’s a little grain of truth somewhere in all of it. I mean, the man had to have done something to get that kind of reputation.”
“Yeah,” John said, nodding his head. “All it would take was one crazy jealous husband, or even a daddy who thought his baby girl had been wronged by an older man, to do this kind of thing.”
“That’s right, Uncle John. And I’ve heard that Mr. Clay liked the younger ones as well as the older ones.”
Katy watched as her husband lifted the dessert menu standing between the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. She decided to not mention his earlier promise to support her in her healthy eating endeavors. She was too full of oyster salad to be tempted by hot fudge brownies and ice cream, anyway. She thought about Emma Robinson as what John and Todd were saying began to soak in through the fudge brownie distraction. Tubby had to be wrong about his wife. He just had to be.
The waitress took the two men’s dessert orders and promised to return with refills on everyone’s teas before the conversation was picked back up. “So, the police are thinking that this is a crime of passion?” Katy asked.
“Right now, we are kind of leaning toward that.” Todd stuck his menu back between the salt and pepper shakers. “Of course, we’re just getting started with everything. I learned from our little mystery last year though. Things are not necessarily what they seem.”
The waitress returned with strawberry cheesecake for Todd and the fudge brownie for John. She accepted her refill of tea and tried to appear gracious. “Have you figured out how he got to the school auditorium yet?”
“No,” Todd replied, putting a piece of cheesecake into his mouth. “We’re still looking over everything at the crime scene and lini
ng up some outside help to figure this out.”
John spooned up a chunk of brownie and ice cream and leaned toward his wife. “Here, honey, just one bite. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours. You deserve a little something sweet.”
Katy smiled at her husband’s thoughtfulness and opened her mouth to accept the offering. “My word, that’s good stuff.” She looked around for the waitress and flagged her back to their table. “I believe I’ll have one of what he is having after all,” Katy said, pointing to her husband’s giant dessert bowl.
John looked at Katy and grinned. “It’s not going to kill you to eat a little dessert every once in a while.”
“You’re right.” Katy took a deep breath and made a decision. “It’s not going to kill me, and I am not going to feel guilty about it either.”
They finished their meal without any further talk of the murder. Katy was too focused on enjoying her treat. Afterwards Todd left in his truck, and they went by the drug store to pick up a fresh notebook.
“So, how do you plan on going about this investigation?” John asked, as they got back into the truck to head home.
“First, I’ll do like I said in the restaurant. I’ll write down everything I already know. Then I’m going to make a list of the things that don’t make sense.”
“Okay, we can do that when we get home. What I want to know though, is where you will be going tomorrow after work, so I can keep tabs on you.”
“Hmmm.” Katy stuck the end of her pointer finger in her mouth as she thought about her husband’s question. “As bad as I hate it, I guess I will start by going to the post office to buy some stamps.”
“The post office? How’s buying stamps going to help you figure anything out?”
“I heard one of The Babes talking yesterday while we were waiting for the sheriff to release us. Apparently, the post office is gossip central for this town.”
“Oh,” John said as understanding dawned. “You’re going to see exactly who’s zooming who.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Katy stretched her arms high over her head and let out a loud yawn as they entered their house. “All that sugar has made me sleepy.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that we only got about two or three hours sleep last night,” John replied as his hand went over his mouth to stifle the chain reaction. “I think a nap would be a great way to finish up the afternoon.”
“I think you’re right.” Katy tossed the new notebook on the bedside table. “I’ll start working on this stuff after I have a little sleep. Maybe everything will be clearer then.”
Chapter Four
Katy picked up the superhero card from her buggy and laid it on the counter.
“Is that all you need today, Mrs. Katy?” The young girl working behind the pharmacy counter scanned the card as Katy nodded. “That will be three dollars and seventy cents.”
Katy pulled the money from her wallet and placed it in the cashier’s outstretched hand. She had been on her way to her first patient’s house when Katy realized she would need a reason to go into the post office. Mailing a card to her grandson would be a good excuse. She slipped the plastic bag holding the card into her purse and started to walk away.
“Mrs. Katy, did you know Mr. Clay very well?”
Katy paused and looked at the young girl. What was her name? She was one of Mr. Friend’s granddaughters, but which one? “Now are you Carol’s daughter or Lisa’s, honey?” Katy asked, deciding to be direct.
“I’m Lisa’s daughter, ma’am. Aunt Carol’s daughter started at Ole Miss this year. I’m still at the junior college. Pawpaw has plans for me or Susan to take over this drug store when he retires.”
Katy smiled at the young girl. She looked about eighteen. She could have easily passed for twenty-one. Kids just wore so much makeup nowadays. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard him say that. So, both of you are going to be pharmacists?”
The young girl leaned in to whisper, so Mr. Friend wouldn’t hear her from back in the pharmacy. “Pawpaw doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be an engineer.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure the old man was not near enough to hear. “I plan on starting at LSU when I get another semester behind me.”
“I bet your Pawpaw will be very proud of you no matter what you major in.”
“I know he will.” The girl smiled a bland smile. “But I just hate to let him down.”
Katy patted the young woman’s hand. “Honey, he won’t be let down having a granddaughter with an engineering degree. I guarantee you.” She looked at her watch and turned to leave again.
“Mrs. Katy, you forgot to answer my question.”
Katy glanced at the young girl. “Oh, about Mr. Clay? I’m sorry, dear. I’m a little distracted today. No, I didn’t know him well at all. I just saw him in the music store from time to time. How about you?”
“Not really, I guess.” The young girl’s face turned a hot pink from the roots of her blond hair all the way down her neck. “But I hate to speak ill of the dead and all.”
Katy watched silently as the young girl…oh what was her name, stumbled over her words.
“Well, he just gave me the creeps.” She paused again to look over her shoulder to make sure she couldn’t be overheard. “One time he was in here and said he needed help at the perfume counter. While I was bent over getting out what he asked for, that old man patted my behind.”
Daisy, that was her name. “Did you tell him that he was acting inappropriately, Daisy?”
“No ma’am. I just jumped like I had been poked with a cattle prod and hurried to the other side of the counter. Ever since then, when he came in, I made sure that somebody else got the joy of waiting on him.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Katy said, watching as the girl fidgeted with the buttons on her shirt. “But look, if something like that ever happens again, you remember that speaking out is a good thing. You have a right to protect yourself from people like that.”
“I felt kind of bad,” Daisy replied looking down at her metallic blue nails. “When I heard about it on the news Saturday night, that was the first thing that popped into my head.” She looked up from her hands and smiled a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I guess that was wrong of me, but I just couldn’t help it.”
Katy patted the girl’s hand one more time. “Don’t you feel bad, Daisy. That old mad had absolutely no business touching you. What you were feeling was perfectly natural.”
Mr. Friend came out of the pharmacy and headed toward the counter. “I’d better be on my way,” Katy said, turning to leave one more time. “I’m going to be late seeing my first patient.”
Katy started her car engine and reached across to get the notebook lying in the passenger’s seat. She and John had spent the afternoon yesterday after their nap writing down all of the things she knew about the crime. She had a question mark by the word “womanizer” written about half-way down the page. She jotted down a quick note about the victim having free hands with teenage girls. If Mr. Friend had known what Rob Clay had done to his granddaughter, he probably would have banned him from the store.
She laid the notebook down and headed out of town to her first patient’s house. Mrs. Simmons had a routine visit today for a blood pressure check. Katy wanted to see the old lady anyway and find out if they had awakened her Saturday night when they brought Tubby home.
She pulled down the long gravel driveway that ran through the trailer park. Tubby’s trailer didn’t have any cars in his driveway. He must have decided to sober up and go back to work. That was good. Intoxicated Tubby was not the easiest person to deal with.
Mrs. Simmons was at her usual post on her front porch when Katy pulled into the lot. She got up every morning and rocked on that little porch all summer long. The only time Katy did her visit inside the woman’s trailer was when the weather was storming, or it was too cool for the little lady to handle it outside.
“Hello, friend,” Katy cal
led, walking up the three wooden steps onto the covered porch deck.
“Hello, friend,” Mrs. Simmons replied. “I hear you’ve had a rather busy weekend.”
Katy sat in the rocker beside her patient and began pulling out her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff to start her assessment. “Yes ma’am, you could say that. I’m sure you have already heard about the man that we found dead at the school auditorium.”
“Oh yes, baby. That’s all that has been on the news. Trudy Mae came by yesterday to pick me up for church and said you were there when they found him.”
“I was. The poor fellow was lying on the stage dead for at least thirty minutes before we discovered him.”
Mrs. Simmons sat quietly while Katy pumped up the blood pressure cuff. The old woman winced slightly as the cuff tightened, then resumed their conversation as the air hissed from the cuff bladder. “That man’s momma died about a year ago, and then his aunt died about a week ago. I guess that was a blessing, though.”
Katy typed the blood pressure reading into her small laptop then placed her fingers on the woman’s wrist to check her pulse. “How do you figure that?”
“Can you imagine how hard it would have been on them two old ladies to know that their boy got killed? No, it’s just better that they had already gone on to meet their maker.”
“Oh, I see what you mean.” Katy typed in the pulse and dug around in her bag for the thermometer. “Did both of the women stay here in town? I don’t know these people that well.”
“They were both at the nursing home. Don’t you still go play your music there?” Mrs. Simmons let Katy stick the thermometer under her tongue.
“Yes ma’am, we still go there every month. I would have probably recognized them if I saw them.” Katy pulled the thermometer from her patient’s tongue and typed the results again.
“His momma never came out of her room when I was there. I don’t think she could get out of bed because she died shortly after I left. His aunt was all over the place in her wheelchair. She had that hair dyed bright red, like Miss Kitty on Gunsmoke.” Mrs. Simmons paused. “You’re probably too young to remember that shoot-em-up show.”
