That stopped Texas wife number three in her tracks.
Cass touched her belt, checking for her detective’s shield and gun. Frankly, I was glad she wore both.
Blue motioned towards the conference room with her head. “Anybody who’s been married to a Bret or Baxter Ivey, follow me.”
Amazingly, they did, the newcomer after leaning the box against Babby’s desk. The rest of us, Shaver included, followed. I was last in line and when I managed to get inside the room, the three wives were standing at the far end of the table, eyeballing one another. Each was different, but extremely attractive in her own right.
Cass leaned close. “Bret had great taste in women, I’ll give him that.”
Wife three walked to the white board and stared at the medical examiner’s photo of Bret. Her shoulders shook as she drew a long breath, but she stood erect. “What happened?”
“He was hit in the head with a bat and his body tossed in a tank of wine,” Blue said in a flat voice.
Wife three glared at Blue. “A tank of wine?”
“Mine. Bret and I own a winery. Owned a winery.”
The room grew still as the women took each other in, perhaps unwilling to accept that their husband would marry someone so different from themselves. The icy appraisal didn’t end until Nicole caught sight of me and gasped. “Maxine? What happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “A little run-in with one of Bret’s former band mates.”
The newcomer wiped her nose and studied me. “The Bunny guys who killed Bret did that to you?”
“We’re not sure they killed him,” Kay clarified. “But they have been breaking and entering, destroying property, and now they’re committing assault.”
Texas wife number three turned back to the other wives. “I suppose it’s only polite that we introduce ourselves. I’m Frannie.”
“Nicole,” the lawyer from Dallas whined in that nasally voice.
“I’m Blue.” She indicated the coffee Cindy had brought in. “We might as well sit.”
Nicole snatched Blue’s left hand and turned it so her palm was facing down. I felt Cass tense, but Nicole dropped the hand as if it had stung her. “He lied. Everything was a lie,” she whispered as she sank down into a chair.
Shaver slouched beside her and closed his eyes. I felt an ‘I told you so’ threatening to cross his lips, and willed him to stay silent.
Blue’s hand remained suspended in mid-air and Frannie studied it. I knew they were looking at Blue’s hammered platinum band with the square cut sapphire.
“What?” Blue asked. “What did he lie to you about?”
“That’s my wedding ring,” Nicole said to the table. “He took it to have it cleaned and said it must’ve been taken from his jacket. We reported it stolen and filed an insurance claim.” She cut her eyes at Shaver. “You were right.”
Blue slipped it off and put it on the table. “If that timetable of Bret’s marriages is right, you’re the lawful owner. You can have it back.”
“I can do you one better, Nicole.” Frannie picked the ring up and studied it. A slow smile crept across her face. “I made this. He bought it from me in 2001. Even better… he told me it was a gift for his mother.”
HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE THREE WIVES SCORNED
WOE TO THE MAN who lies to his wife. Or wives. The truth always comes out and I counted Bret Ivey a lucky man to be in the morgue. The ring was the ice breaker. Once the women reached consensus on Bretton Baxter Ivey Ivy Ivye’s status as a low life, an odd bond formed. The wives studied the timeline of Bret’s marriages and the more they talked, the more the pieces fell together.
Nicole summed their opinions up: “What a bastard.”
As the only bearer of testicles in the agency, Ned Shaver realized the precariousness of his position and slipped from the building. I peeked around the plywood to see him scanning the square, cigarette in hand, seeking refuge from all the estrogen. He was smarter than I thought.
Kay and Babby turned the Bret bashing back to the reason we were all here: finding Bret’s killer and clearing Blue’s name.
“Who wanted him dead?” Kay asked.
“If I’d known about all of this,” Frannie said with a glance at the white board, “I would’ve.”
“Me, too,” said Nicole.
“Not me,” Blue said. “I’ve got too much to do to get into murder.” She looked at Yvette Hardcastle. After surveying and dismissing Ned Shaver, the defense lawyer had been busy tapping away on her phone. “Should we tell them about the other murders?”
“You killed somebody else?” Frannie asked. Her eyes were watery but I admired her plucky front.
“The police think I did.”
Yvette pursed her lips. “I’m waiting on the DA to send the discovery documents Judge Shackleford granted me. Since Nicole and Frannie round out Bret’s current suite of wives, it makes sense for them to hear the whole story. The murders might be unrelated to the winery or his life with Blue.” Yvette raised an eyebrow at Cass. “Which side are you playing for?”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll start planning my defense today. If you’re working for the Sheriff’s office, you have to leave. I can’t have my strategy getting back to them.”
“It’s not a contest,” Cass protested.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Yvette stated. “The moment Mitch Stone arrested Blue for three murders, this became a contest to determine not Blue’s innocence or guilt, but who’s the better lawyer.”
I saw Cass’s jaw work and knew she was grinding her teeth. But her voice was neutral when she spoke. “I don’t think the DA sees it that way.”
“I can’t afford to believe he doesn’t. Blue certainly can’t. Now, are you working for us, or for them?”
“I’m interested in the truth. I haven’t revealed the evidence the department collected, have I?” Cass looked at me and I shook my head. “I’ll protect whatever defense you come up with, Yvette. Unless we find definitive evidence Blue committed these murders.”
Blue held her hands up. “I didn’t. Really.”
Cass nodded. “There you go. Your secrets are safe with me.”
Blue’s lawyer looked undecided, and Kay spoke up.
“You want Cass on your side, Yvette. She’s smart, she knows how the department thinks, and I trust her completely.”
“Me, too,” said Babby.
“Me, too,” said Cindy, and I didn’t know if she meant it or was sucking up, but either way, I was glad to hear her voice. I also noticed she was wearing the driving mocs. They looked good on her.
Yvette had the decency to ask her client what she thought, and Blue said she’d value Cass’s input.
“For what it’s worth,” Nicole said. “I like Cass and Maxine. They pissed me off yesterday, but that’s Baxter’s fault.”
Frannie was studying Cass. “You’re the cult detective right? And the one who shot that multiple murderer earlier this summer?”
Cass’s creamy skin flushed to the roots of her red hair. “You heard about that?”
“A woman detective? Killing the bad guys? It was all over the feminist blogs.”
“Great.” I knew Cass meant it in the most sarcastic way possible. She hated that kind of attention.
“She’ll be fine,” Frannie said. “Let’s go.”
Issue decided.
“I’ll make more coffee and call out for donuts,” Babby said.
“Make it two dozen,” Kay replied. “Cindy, I want you at the DA’s office waiting to pick up whatever he releases.”
Yvette’s phone dinged. “Better get a move on, Cindy. That’s Sammy’s office. If you see Nicole’s lawyer tell him it’s safe to come back. If he practices criminal law, he might be useful.”
LOOKING GRIM
CINDY WAS GONE LESS than fifteen minutes. Sometimes it’s a blessing to work in a small town.
Yvette dug into the files and started reading, tucking one report behind another as she finished them, refusing
to share.
Cass looked down at her phone and started tapping. The response was swift and she touched her shoulder as she summarized the texts for us. “The bad news is Oscar Matalan and Sugar Murphy are gone. The good news is Kado and Truman found Daphne’s murder scene behind Blue’s house.”
“What now?” I asked.
“We wait.” She settled back in her chair, face inscrutable.
I couldn’t sit still, so I followed Kay from the conference room. When we were clear, I whispered, “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” she said, but her face said she was struggling.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what, sugar britches?”
“For getting us involved in all this. If I hadn’t answered the phone while you were in the powder room, or if I’d told you about Blue’s call when it first came in, we wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t have Yvette rubbing it in your face.”
She smiled that beautiful smile. “She’s nothing, baby. And regardless of how the agency came to be involved, three people would still be dead. We’d still have put Yvette’s name on the list of lawyers. We’d still be sitting around this table, gagging on obscene amounts of White Diamonds.”
I giggled. Kay was dead on; Yvette might be a smart cookie and a sharp dresser, but she needed to learn when to stop with the old lady perfume. Babby was working on donuts in the kitchen and we took plates, napkins, and fresh coffee into the conference room. Yvette was writing on the white boards, making notes about the evidence collected at all three murder scenes. This was the first time I’d seen any of the details.
I was shocked.
Fingerprint evidence. Lots of it. Wine doped with tetrahydrozoline and the eye drops it could’ve come from collected from Blue’s house. A bloody bat found at the winery with microscopic bits of headlight and tail light stuck in the blood. The rope Annie was hung with was an ordinary nylon, but one of the cut ends of Annie’s rope matched a cut on a spool located at the winery. The pottery tool stuck in Daphne’s neck was made by the same manufacturer of the other tools that belonged to Blue, and could’ve come from her set. There were no fingerprints on the wine tank Bret had been found in, and Blue was observed wiping down the tank’s lid and mopping spilled wine from the floor.
Holy cow. This looked grim.
Blue paled and one hand covered her mouth. Babby noticed and motioned for Cindy to pass the donuts and pour coffee. Babby put a cinnamon roll in Blue’s hand. “You need the sugar, Blue. Eat it.”
She did, and color slowly returned to her face. “When you see it all laid out like this,” she said, “I look guilty.”
“You do,” Frannie agreed.
“Who are Annie and Daphne?” Nicole asked. She was sitting next to Shaver who was munching on a chocolate glazed.
“Two of our staff,” Blue answered. “I didn’t know it until last week, but Bret was sleeping with them. Seems he’s slept with a few others, too.”
“Let’s hope Baxter hasn’t left us the gift that keeps on giving.” Nicole gave in and took a donut covered in sprinkles. “Guess it’s time to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases, girls.” She dunked the donut in her coffee. “Here’s to blood and urine samples.”
REFUTING THE EVIDENCE
“THERE’S NOT MUCH HERE.” Yvette stood back and examined her handiwork. “The fingerprint evidence? You work in a winery. Anyone could pick up a wine bottle and glass you’ve touched. When was the last time you were at Annie’s house?”
“About three weeks ago,” Blue said. “She had a party and most of the winery staff went.”
“Were you only a guest?”
Blue frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Did you simply eat and drink?”
“No. It’s hard for me to keep my hands off a stove. I helped her make a few appetizers. Ah,” she said, her eyes brightening. “You want to know what I touched, right?”
Yvette’s lips curved up at the corners. I chose to believe that was a smile. “Do you remember?”
“I was in the kitchen and living room, and I probably went to the bathroom.” She cocked her head to the side. “I opened some doors. Definitely touched the fridge, stove, faucet, countertops, and sink. Probably the computer desk. Maybe the stereo and remote. Did they find my fingerprints in any of those places?”
Yvette looked down at her paperwork and nodded.
“In the kitchen?” Blue asked, voice incredulous.
“Afraid so.”
“After three weeks? Annie knew better than that.”
I was a little tickled at Blue’s indignation, and much relieved Yvette thought some of the evidence could be explained away. In what seemed a perfectly logical manner. Frannie and Nicole were listening intently, as was Shaver.
Kay had slipped the stack of papers from in front of Yvette and was passing them around the table. Yvette scowled and opened her mouth, but Babby glared her down.
Yvette’s chin shot out but she shut her mouth.
Kay studied one page for a long moment. “What about the bottle from Daphne’s that has Blue’s bloody fingerprint on it? Can you do something with that?”
Her question held a tiny note of challenge but Yvette seemed not to notice. Or if she did, acted as if she didn’t care. “Blue? Any thoughts?”
“I cut my thumb Saturday afternoon, but didn’t realize it until blood ran down my palm.” She held up her hand to show us the thumb, which was still wrapped in a bandage. “I was clearing a table and could’ve touched something before I realized what I’d done.”
“Makes sense.”
Cindy spoke up. “The eye drops in the wine?”
Yvette shooed the question away. “They might be able to match the residue in the bottle or glass to the brand Blue uses, but so what? How many people use the same brand?”
“How about the bat?” Cass asked.
“The bat that killed Baxter?” Nicole asked.
“Yes, and possibly Daphne.”
“That’s a little more problematic.” Yvette tapped her chin. “It was found in the garage, correct?”
Blue nodded.
“Who has access to the garage?”
Blue dropped her head into her hands. “Who doesn’t? We don’t lock it because we store stuff for the winery in there. People are in and out all the time. The garage doors are on clickers,” she made the universal motion for pushing a garage door opener, “but the regular doors are never locked.”
“Perfect,” Yvette said. “Who’s got the bat report?”
Babby raised her hand.
“Did they find fingerprints on it?”
“Nope. But they found two types of blood.” She looked at Blue. “Whoever did this used the same bat on Bret and Daphne.”
“Oh no,” Blue said. “If we’d kept the garage locked -”
Kay jabbed a half-eaten glazed donut at her. “They would’ve found something else from the winery to use. So stop that, right now. This isn’t your fault. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused these murders. Do you understand?”
A murmur of agreement swirled around the table.
Blue bucked up. A little.
“Does anyone know what the words on the car mean?” Cindy asked.
“What are they?” I asked.
“‘Now it’s over, bitch’,” she said.
My jaw dropped and I turned to Blue. “Isn’t that what Daphne yelled as she was storming out Friday night?”
“Right after I fired her.”
“That might be problematic,” Yvette said.
“Actually, it narrows the field,” Cass said. “Everyone who was in the winery when Daphne shouted at Blue is a suspect for Daphne’s murder.”
“Good point, Detective Elliot. Thank you for confirming that you’re not batting for the other side.” Yvette grimaced a smile at Cass. “Blue, we’ll need a list of employees who were at the winery that night, preferably with their photos.”
“I think most of the staff have a photo up on
the website. If not a head shot, then they’re probably in the photos we take during harvest. Would someone print them and I’ll check?”
“I will when we break,” Cindy said.
“Is there any way to get a list of customers from Friday night?” Yvette asked.
“Credit card receipts will give us most,” Blue said. “But some people use cash.”
“We can start with those and see who else you remember.” Yvette turned again to the white board. “Given all that, we’re left with the tank. Blue was cleaning the lid and the floor around it before Bret’s body was found. Blue, what was going on?”
“I’d found a sticky spot on the floor. I was a little surprised, but during harvest, all bets are off on our regular routines.” She thought for a moment. “I thought I’d better check the top of the tank to make sure the wine hadn’t sloshed out while we were filling it. Sure enough, there was a sticky trail down the side, but also on the lid. I wiped the tank down and mopped up the mess.”
Yvette tapped her lip. “That could go either way. We can believe you were innocently cleaning the tank and floor, or you were sanitizing a crime scene.”
“What motive did I have for all these murders?” Blue asked.
“For the two girls, jealousy and revenge for sleeping with your husband. For Bret? Revenge for cheating on you. Do you have a life insurance policy on him?”
“Several.”
Eyebrows went up.
“We have life insurance policies on both of us to cover our business borrowing. The policies were required by our lenders, so there’s nothing questionable in them. We also have policies on each other individually.”
“What values?”
“A million each.”
Cindy whistled, and a furious blush swept up her neck and over her cheeks as we turned to look at her. Personally, I thought a million dollars was a little light.
Blue had the grace to smile. “We were both so involved in running the winery, we thought it wise to make sure the surviving spouse had some financial breathing room.”
Nicole’s smile was jaded. “That’s the first positive thought I’ve had in two days. I had a policy on him, too.”
“Me, too,” Frannie said with a laugh. “Better put us on your list of suspects, Yvette.”
A Case of Sour Grapes Page 29
