by K C Hart
Katy picked up her phone and they compared the stationary to the picture. “It looks like the same paper to me,” she said slowly, “but it’s hard to be sure.” She lowered her phone and thought for a second. “We need to compare that letter to the real note.”
“But wouldn’t the real note be at the police station?” Misty asked, lowering the paper as she looked at Katy.
“Yeah, I guess.” She raised her phone back up and started punching the screen. “I need to call Todd.” Katy punched Todd’s number, hoping it wouldn’t go to voicemail.
“Hey, Aunt Katy.” Todd’s voice floated from her phone. “I was going to call you in a few minutes. I talked to those old men at the service station.”
“Did you figure things out?” Katy sat the phone down and placed her nephew on speaker phone.
“We figured out that Donnie Gibson was lying about not taking his cousin to the auditorium last Saturday,” Todd replied. “Once he found out somebody saw him there fighting in the parking lot, he started crawfishing.”
“I bet he did,” Katy smirked. “What reason did he give for lying? John said he bet it had something to do with his little girl.”
“That’s just what he said. He said he was trying to get full custody of his daughter, and if his ex-wife found out he had been in a fight, she would use it to take their child back.”
“Well,” Katy said slowly, “that does make sense.”
“I guess so, but it’s public record now. He said he helped his cousin get away from that guy and then got in his car and drove away. It doesn’t help us much, but at least we know how Mr. Clay got there.”
“Did he tell you who the young guy was?” Katy asked. “You need to talk to that guy and find out why he was beating on Mr. Clay and if he had an alibi for the next hour or so.”
“No ma’am. He said he didn’t know the fella, but I’m not sure I believe him. He’s already lied once, trying to keep the fight quiet, so he might be lying again.”
“Hmph,” Katy snorted. “You would think he would be a little more cooperative about catching his cousin’s killer.” Misty waved the pink paper in front of Katy’s nose. Katy took it and watched as Misty walked back to the front of the store to help her mother with the counter. “Look,” Katy continued, “I’ve found out a few things since I talked to you yesterday. Can I come by or meet you somewhere?”
“Sure, I was just fixing to go grab lunch. I’m running a little late. You want to meet at the Burger Barn?”
“I need a glass of tea. I’ll meet you there in about five minutes.” Katy walked to the front of the shop.
“Just keep that letter. I have a copy of it on file,” Misty said, sliding a floral arrangement across the counter to a young man in a suit and tie. “I’m going to be busy the rest of the day, but let me know what you find out.”
Katy hopped back in her car and was back at the Burger Barn in just a few minutes. Todd was waiting in the parking lot, and they walked in together.
He ordered a burger and fries. Katy brought in her to-go box from earlier and ordered tea. While they ate, she filled him in on Rob Clay’s two girlfriends and about seeing Johnnie Mae Smithers at the funeral home the night before. She told him about the third mystery woman and showed him the list of domino players and their wives.
“I can see that the man didn’t mind playing the field,” Todd said, “but how is this going to help find the killer? Do you think one of these women killed him?”
“Maybe, but I need to show you one more thing.” Katy pulled out the pink stationary from Morse Funeral Home. “Look at this paper. It’s the same type of paper that the note was written on that we found by Mr. Clay’s body.”
Todd put his burger down and reached for the paper. “Hmmm.”
“Now look at this list of names.” She shoved the napkin with the list of husbands and wives’ names from the domino house across the table. “What if the EM on the note is not a name. What if it is initials, like for Edna Morse?”
Todd looked at the pink paper, the napkin, then up at Katy. “So, you think that Edna Morse was having an affair with Rob Clay, too?” Todd shook his head. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”
“Not any harder than thinking that Emma Robinson strangled the man,” Katy said, rather defensively.
“I suppose you’re right.” Todd took both pieces of paper and tucked them into his pocket. “Give me a little while to check this out. If she did write this note, then we need to bring her in for questioning.”
“What about Johnnie Mae Smithers?”
“Why not?” Todd took another bite of his burger. “If we ask enough women, we might figure out who the angry guy was in the parking lot. I have a feeling that fight had to do with a woman.”
“I think so, too, but it must be somebody that’s involved with the hairdresser,” Katy said, sipping her tea.
“Why do you say that? Both of the other women are married.”
“I know, but the old men at the gas station said the guy looked like he was in his thirties. That’s too young to be either of their husbands.”
“Oh yeah,” Todd nodded, “I see what you mean. I guess I need to talk to her too.”
“You are going to be busy.” Katy put the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth.
“From the looks of things, you’ve been busy for the last couple of days.” Todd wiped his hands on his napkin and started sliding out of the booth. “Well, I had better get started. I have to run all of this by the sheriff and get his approval. I’ll let you know if I find out anything new.”
After Todd left, Katy sat a while longer and finished her tea. She decided to call Misty to see if she knew where the gothic hairdresser’s shop might be located. If she did, Katy would just drive by and see if a pick-up truck was parked anywhere around that fit the description Herman had given her yesterday.
She hurried to her car to make the call. She needed to get under way. She wanted a chance to look around before Todd put two and two together. He would probably be busy the rest of the day with Emma Morse and Johnnie Mae Smithers, but she didn’t want him to beat her to the hairdresser’s shop. He would scare the woman’s brother off with his official, police-formatted questions.
Katy’s hunch was right. The blue-haired girl was a beautician. Her salon looked like a revamped metal storage building. A sign on a wooden stake reading “Hair Essentials Now Open” stood in the grass by the street. Katy drove by the building a couple of times, trying to figure out the best way to get to talk to the woman. The building shared an empty lot with a food truck that sold bar-b-que. The lot next door held the mini storage.
She pulled up in front of the small white van with a side window cut out where you placed your order. She guessed they would be having pulled pork from the food truck for supper tonight. A menu written in bright red letters on a piece of plywood was attached to the side of the van under the order window. Katy pretended to study the food choices while she studied the front of the little hair shop.
A burley woman in a white t-shirt and apron, splattered with orange barbeque sauce and grease, stepped up to the window, cleared her throat and stared down at Katy. “You want to order something?” she asked, pushing back the hairnet that was crawling down her forehead toward her bushy eyebrows.
“Oh, uh, yes I do.” Katy looked up at the woman. “Give me two pulled pork plates, pork and beans and potato salad, please.”
The woman slammed the glass window shut without so much as a thank you. Katy turned her attention back to the hairdresser’s place. Within minutes the blue-haired woman came out of the building and sat on the top step. Katy jerked her head down and started digging in her purse. Hopefully, the woman hadn’t noticed that she was over here staking out her hair place. Katy glanced back up, breathing a sigh of relief. The blue-haired woman lit a cigarette then pulled out her cell phone, none the wiser.
Katy decided to take the bold approach and walked across the small dirt yard to where the woman was sitting. �
��Hello. I think I saw you at the funeral home last night.” Katy stuck her open hand toward the woman. “My name is Katy Cross.”
The woman looked up at Katy and squinted as she blew out a stream of gray smoke from her mouth and nose. She slowly stuck her phone in the pocket of her black smock then finally reached up and shook Katy’s hand.
“Pam Newman,” she said, taking in Katy from head to toe. “Have a seat.” She scooted over on the wooden step.
“Thank you. I’m just waiting for them to fix my plates.” Katy nodded her head in the direction of the food truck. “I hate having to cook supper after I get off work.”
“That stuff is full of fat,” Pam said before taking a pull off her cigarette. “It will kill you.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Katy replied, deciding to not state the obvious. She coughed behind her hand as the smoke from the cigarette floated her way. “So how did you know Mr. Clay?”
“We were dating. How did you know him?”
“Just from the music store and the radio. I play the guitar, and he often waited on me when I went in his store.” Katy watched as the woman inhaled another long drag of the cigarette. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, me too,” Pam mumbled. “We weren’t living together yet, but we had talked about it.” She turned from looking at the food truck toward Katy. “Was that your old man with you last night?”
Katy could feel Pam looking at her but continued to stare straight ahead. She was scared to turn in her direction. If she did, the smoke from the cigarette was sure to make her cough in the woman’s face. “Yes, that was my husband John. He’s a really good guy.” Pam didn’t respond so Katy finally turned to face her, in spite of the gray fog surrounding their heads.
“Rob was, too, I think.” Pam wiped a tear out of the corner of her heavily-lined eyes. “I mean, I know he slept around, but hey, what guy don’t? He was good to me.”
Katy patted the woman on the back in silence. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She attempted to force down another cough, but the need for clean air was too strong and the cough echoed in the silence.
“Oh, sorry about the smoke.” Pam leaned over and stuck the nub of the cigarette under her black high-top Converse and ground it into the step.
“It’s okay.” Katy could feel her own eyes start to water, but not from emotion. “You had a man there with you last night, too. Was he a brother?”
“That’s my little brother Brock.” Pam’s face softened with a smile. “He works in the neighboring county.”
“You really favor each other. I could tell you’re related.” Katy blew a puff of air from between pursed lips to clear the smoke that was just starting to thin.
“He’s an understudy at a tattoo salon. Just as soon as he’s good enough, he’s going to move in with me and work out of my shop.” Pam pointed in the direction of the food truck. “I think your plates are ready.”
Katy had been distracted looking at the tattoos on Pam’s arm. She followed Pam’s finger over to the food truck. A white plastic bag sat in the open window, and the burly woman was looking at them like they had stolen her last buck. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I better go.”
Katy stood, and Pam stood with her. “If you ever decide to do something a little more modern with your hair, come on back.” Pam reached out and touched a piece of Katy’s hair that was sticking out from the side of her head. “I can fix you up.”
“Thank you, Pam. I just might do that.” Katy turned and started walking toward the pork wagon. “I just might do that.”
Pam Newman filled her mind as she drove back home. Of all three women, Pam seemed to be the least likely to fit into the role of a jealous murdering lover. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t have been her brother. Had there been a big silver truck in the parking lot at the funeral home last night? She puckered her lips as she concentrated on what she had seen, but it was no use. She had not been paying enough attention to the vehicles as they were walking in. She chuckled to herself. Where was Herman when you needed him?
There had only been one car parked at Pam’s hair place, and it was a dirty, dented-up little black Toyota. She hadn’t noticed the model, but it was shaped kind of boxy, like the style of about a decade ago. Maybe her brother did drive a late model truck, but it didn’t seem to fit with what Pam said about him moving in with her and working out of her shop. It sounded like she was the more established and settled of the two.
No, she was missing something. She sighed as she once again pulled into her garage. She was just going to have to go visit Donnie Gibson at the music store. The Styrofoam containers landed with a thud on the bar. She reached under the counter for a pot to make tea while checking her phone. Todd had not tried to message her. She glanced at the time and realized she had missed her last check in with John. He hadn’t tracked her down, so maybe he was relaxing a little about her investigating the crime.
She laid the phone down and pulled two tea bags out of the ceramic container on the cabinet as her back door opened and John walked in. “I smell barbeque, and you didn’t check in a while ago,” he said, all in one breath. He began peeking in the white containers.
“You are correct on both accounts.” Katy dropped the tea bags in the boiling water. “I got busy with the food truck lady and forgot. Sorry.”
John walked around the bar and wrapped his arms around Katy from behind. He leaned down and nuzzled the top of her head. “Well, if the food truck lady is the person who has you smelling like an ash tray, we might have to find something else for supper.” John let out a slight gag as he backed away from his wife like she had the plague.
“No, that didn’t come from the food truck.” Katy pulled the neck of her scrub top up and sniffed it. “Is it that bad?”
“What’s that phrase they use on those commercials?” John stuck his arm out and waved his hand in a circle in her direction. “You have gone nose blind if you can’t smell all that.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right.” Katy sat the tea pot off the burner and pointed to the empty pitcher. “You finish making the tea while I go take a quick shower, then we’ll eat.” She started walking down the hall toward her bathroom. “Oh, hey,” she called over her shoulder, “if my phone rings, answer it. I’m expecting a call from Todd.”
“You got it, Mrs. Marple,” John called from the kitchen. “Wait, Katy, your phone is buzzing.” Katy returned to the kitchen and took the phone from John’s outstretched hand.
“Aunt Katy, you hit the nail on the head with Edna Morse,” Todd said as she put the phone to her ear. “The sheriff showed her that pink paper you gave me and then a copy of the note from the crime scene. She just busted out crying right there in her office.”
Katy stared down at the floor. “So, we were right. Edna was the third woman having an affair with Rob Clay.”
“Yes ma’am. She said they’ve been seeing each other a year, but he told her about a week before he died that he thought it was time to break it off.”
“And that’s why she wrote the note,” Katy interrupted. “She got dumped.”
“Yes ma’am. She said she wrote it on the last day of the voting for the Battle of the Bands. She went by the radio station to get the list of winners and left it on his desk.”
Katy slowly paced up and down the kitchen floor. She picked the collar of her shirt up and sniffed it again. John was right, she did smell like a cigarette butt. “So, did you bring her in for questioning?”
“We have her at the station now with Mr. Morse. Poor old guy. He was clueless.”
“Well, now that you know that Emma didn’t write that note, can you let her go?” Katy reached the side of the bar and sat down on a stool. She looked up at John who was listening to her side of the conversation.
“I’m not sure what they’re going to do, but there are still those fingerprints on the guitar string package.” Todd sighed. “Getting a statement from Edna Morse gives us another suspect and shows that Emma has been telling
the truth about everything else, but I just don’t know how things will progress from here. She should be able to get out on bail though.”
“Is the sheriff still considering her the lead suspect?” Katy was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Y’all are planning on questioning the other two women, aren’t you?” Katy could hear the aggravation in her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
“I can tell you ain’t a happy camper right now, Aunt Katy, but give the sheriff time to do his job. He decided to follow up with Edna Morse today. He will check on the other stuff first thing in the morning. Besides, we aren’t even sure there is a third woman. All we’ve got on that is some gossip. And even if there is, we don’t have a clue who she is.”
Katy decided she was too aggravated to tell him about her visit with Pam Newman. She would wait until he had talked to Johnnie Mae Smithers tomorrow. He wouldn’t do anything about Pam tonight, anyway. “Oh Todd, one more thing. What kind of vehicles do the Morses own?”
“No silver Ford F150, if that’s what you want to know. Mr. Morse drives a Cadillac, kind of like the one that Rob Clay owned.”
Katy said good-bye to Todd and looked at John. “You will never guess who the other woman was.”
John had opened one of the Styrofoam containers and was examining his supper. “Who?” he asked, without looking up.
“Edna Morse.”
John let go of the container lid and stared at Katy. “The woman that does all the PTO and Rotary Club stuff?”
“That’s the one.” She reached across the bar and reclosed the lid over the food. “She wrote the note that was signed EM. So at least that part of the case against Emma has been dismissed.”
“Well, I’m sure she will be glad to hear that. By the way, I saw Tubby today. He seems to be hanging in there.”
“We really need to go visit him, John. He’s taking this as hard as, or harder than, Emma.”
“I stopped by and prayed with him before I came home today.” John walked around the corner of the bar to the cabinets. “Now go get that shower while I get this tea made. Our supper is getting cold.”
