Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “If that’s the case, you’ve got yourself an eyewitness?”

  “Yeah, sort of. Problem is he couldn’t give us a decent description of either guy.”

  Griff managed to keep his voice calm and level. “Thanks for the info.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me.” Watson added, “Nothing official mind you, but why don’t we meet for drinks later today. Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

  Griff called off the digits to his cell number, then said, “Thanks, man. I’ll owe you one.”

  With a lead detective as cooperative as Watson, they might not need an informant, but Griff believed in covering all his bases. It wouldn’t hurt to have more than one source of information.

  * * *

  Nic had picked up Detective Watson’s animosity the moment they’d met. He was one of those old-fashioned police officers, despite not being a day over forty-five, who thought women should stay at home, barefoot and pregnant. No doubt, at sometime in his life, some woman had kept him pussy-whipped, making him resent all aggressive females. Well, tough shit. She didn’t have the time, patience, or inclination to care.

  Suck-it-up had been her motto for a long time.

  As a professional courtesy and in the spirit of cooperation, she had invited Lieutenant Watson to join her and Josh when they questioned Randy Tidwell, the night clerk from the motel where LaShae Goodloe’s body had been found.

  Nic and Josh had arrived in Birmingham late yesterday and gone straight to the Bessemer Police Department before checking into their hotel. Four other members of the BQK task force had come in this morning and were at present doing their jobs, just as she and Josh were.

  Ever since she arrived at headquarters at eight o’clock today, she’d been expecting to see Griffin Powell. He was like a bad penny, he kept showing up. But so far, he hadn’t put in an appearance. Was he waiting so he could show up at this afternoon’s press conference? Probably. He seemed to like nothing better than harassing her. One of these days, he was going to step over the line and give her a legitimate reason to arrest him.

  She hated to admit that she lived for that day.

  “Watson’s waiting for us,” Josh whispered for her ears only. “Ready to go in?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” She offered the Bessemer detective a curt nod, then opened the door to the interview room and marched in, Josh and Watson following her.

  The motel clerk sat alone in the small room, reared back in one of the chairs at the table, arms up, his fingers locked behind his head. The guy certainly appeared to be relaxed.

  “Mr. Tidwell, I’m Special Agent Baxter, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” She walked over to him and held out her hand.

  He shot up out of the chair and shook her hand. “Are you the one in charge?”

  “Yes.” She inclined her head to the side, where Josh stood. “This is Special Agent Friedman.” She glanced behind her and said, “And I believe you’ve already met Detective Watson, with the Bessemer PD. You spoke to him briefly yesterday.”

  Tidwell’s gaze moved around the room, from one person to another, then he focused on Nic. “When my boss called and told me that LaShae Goodloe, from WBNN, was murdered at our motel, I didn’t know the killer had been one of the guys in Room Ten. Either the one who rented the room or the other one.”

  “Tell me what the one who rented the room looked like,” Nic said.

  “Well, he had shaggy blond hair and blue eyes. He was average height and just a bit on the stocky side. Not fat, just solid.”

  “Would you recognize him, if you saw him again?” Nic asked.

  “Probably.”

  Nic narrowed her gaze. She got some odd vibes from Tidwell, nothing sinister, just slightly off. She had a feeling he was the type who liked the idea of being a key witness.

  “You wouldn’t give Lieutenant Watson any details about either of the men you saw when he questioned you earlier. Why not?”

  “I didn’t want to waste my time with an underling.” Tidwell grinned. “I was saving my story for the top dog.” He pointed at her. “That would be you.”

  She knew that comment stung Watson’s masculine pride.

  “Okay, so you saw this blond guy go into Room Ten, but then you saw another man come out a few hours later.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I had stepped outside to get a Pepsi from the machine in front of the office and I saw this other guy sort of sneaking out of Room Ten. He didn’t think anybody saw him. But I did.”

  “What did that man look like?”

  “About five-nine or ten, thick build, but not overweight. It was dark, so I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but his hair was brown. Dark brown, I think.”

  Hair color and eye color could be easily changed in a matter of minutes with contact lenses, hair dye, or wigs. Her gut instincts told her that the blond man who entered and the dark-haired man who exited Room Ten were one and the same. Average height, stocky build.

  Nic motioned to Josh, who removed copies of three sketches from his briefcase and handed them to her. Lieutenant Watson glared at the sketches she held, then looked up, and frowned at her.

  “I have some sketches that I’d like you to look at and tell me if any one of them resembles either man you saw.” Nic laid the sketches out on the table, one by one. “Take your time.”

  While Tidwell studied the sketches, Lieutenant Watson gradually maneuvered around behind Nic so that he could get a better look.

  “None of them are the blond guy,” Tidwell said. “And I’m not sure, but this one—” he tapped his fingers against the profile sketch that Griffin Powell’s artist had drawn.

  She hadn’t been surprised when she had received the sketches, via e-mail attachments, a couple of days ago. After all, Griffin had been sharing information with the FBI ever since Judd Walker hired him to search independently for Jennifer Walker’s killer. Nic hated to admit that sometimes he’d gotten hold of info they hadn’t.

  “Was the man you saw leaving Room Ten wearing a hat or sunglasses?” Nic asked.

  “Nope, but I saw him from the side, just like in this picture and this looks like the guy.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tidwell.” She turned to Josh, who nodded his understanding. She then spoke to their eyewitness again. “Special Agent Friedman is going to ask you a few more questions, and take your official statement, then you may go. And thank you for your cooperation.”

  When she exited the interview room, Lieutenant Watson followed her, but before he could speak to her, Officer Deaton, Watson’s partner called out to him.

  “Can I see you a minute, Jere?”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Baxter,” Watson said, totally disregarding her official title and using the word “Ms.” as if it were a slur.

  Something was up. She could feel it in her bones. Watson and Deaton talked quietly, each occasionally glancing her way as if she were the topic of conversation. After a couple of minutes, Deaton headed off and Watson walked over to her, a defined reluctance in his step.

  “The crime scene boys have a key piece of evidence that they’re going to turn over to your people.” He was doing his duty, but she could tell that it stuck in his craw.

  “Why haven’t you mentioned this evidence before now?”

  “Because until the crime scene team gave it a thorough once-over, we didn’t know it was all that important.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that explanation. So, tell me what this key piece of evidence is.”

  Watson bristled. “We found LaShae Goodloe’s purse at the scene, but didn’t figure it would amount to anything, not even when we saw the compact tape recorder.”

  Nic eyed the detective inquisitively.

  “Well, she was a TV reporter. Sort of. So it made sense that she’d have a tape recorder. We turned the purse and everything in it over to the crime scene boys. They rewound and played the tape this morning. There was part of an interview on it with some poor bastard talking about how he’d been sexually abused by h
is minister when he was a kid. And …” Watson paused for effect.

  “And?”

  “And the tape picked up the killer telling the victim exactly how he was going to kill her. The tape didn’t pick up every word he said, but it’s clear enough for voice recognition if we had a voice to compare it to.”

  Chapter 28

  Within half an hour of their arrival in Birmingham, Griff knew that things had changed, not only between Judd and Lindsay, but with Judd himself. It wasn’t that he’d done a complete about face overnight, but anyone who had known him for any length of time would have picked up on the subtle differences. And Griff had known Judd pre-Jennifer, during his marriage, and post-Jennifer. Although the man who had arrived at the Wynfrey less than an hour ago was neither of those Judds, Griff recognized the fact that traits of both remained. The intensity was still there and the jitteriness from badly needing a drink, but Judd appeared to be less sullen and definitely wasn’t as hostile or volatile.

  “I’m on my way to meet up with Detective Watson,” Griff said to Judd. “Why don’t you come along with me.”

  While Judd looked at him inquiringly, Lindsay asked, “Am I not invited?”

  Griff shook his head. “Afraid not. Neither you nor Maleah. It seems the lieutenant prefers dealing with men.” He grinned at his newest female Powell agent, a petite blonde with big brown eyes and a wet-dream kind of body. The lady also had a degree in criminal justice, was an expert marksman, and a killer poker player. That last bit of information had come straight from Rick Carson, who’d lost his shirt in a recent game with the lady.

  “Oh, I see.” Lindsay pursed her lips and nodded. “Leave it to you to find out just how to play the odds. I swear, Griffin Powell, you’ve got a chameleon personality that can change on a dime.”

  “That kind of talent is priceless in my line of work.”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes upward and shook her head.

  Griff winked at her. “While we men are out doing all the hard work, why don’t you girls arrange for dinner in my suite for all of us—Rick and Holt, too. We’ll have a powwow and compare notes.”

  Maleah glared at Griff. Grinning, Lindsay shook her index finger at him.

  “He’s halfway kidding,” she told Maleah. “But just so you know, the big boss is definitely an equal opportunity employer, but he’s also a bit of a male chauvinist.”

  “I believe that’s what’s known as a backhanded compliment,” Griff said.

  “You boys go on.” Lindsay waved them off. “Maleah can bring me up to date on anything I need to know.”

  Five minutes later, Griff and Judd were on their way from the Wynfrey to the bar in Bessemer where Lieutenant Watson had told Griff he’d meet him.

  “I’ve got some very interesting info for you,” Watson had said. “A new development in the case.”

  He hadn’t pressed Watson for the info over the phone, knowing the lieutenant was probably the type who preferred getting his pats-on-the-back in person.

  As Griff entered Highway 459, he gave Judd a sideways glance. “So, are you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Judd asked, as if he had no idea what Griff meant.

  “Exactly what’s going on? What happened between you and Lindsay?”

  “We’re okay now. Really okay.”

  “Meaning?”

  “We’re working on figuring out our relationship.”

  “Is that right? Well, while you’re figuring it out, don’t you dare hurt her again,” Griff warned.

  “If I do, it won’t be intentional.”

  Griff grunted.

  “I … uh … I’m not sure about anything,” Judd admitted. “I’ve been in a dark hole for years and now I’m trying to drag myself out of it. I may make it. I may not.”

  “If you’re not careful, you could drag Lindsay down into that dark hole with you because she’s going to hang onto you for dear life and try to singlehandedly pull you out.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Do you? That woman would die for you and all you’ve done for the past four years is—”

  “You were right about my needing her.”

  Griff exited 459, following Lieutenant Watson’s directions. He didn’t respond to Judd’s comment until he pulled up at a red light, then he looked directly at his old friend.

  “What can I do to help you?” Griff asked.

  Griff saw hope in Judd’s nervous smile. “The first thing I need is help to stop drinking.” He swiped his hand over his mouth. “I haven’t touched a drop in days and it’s getting harder, not easier.”

  “Come back with us to Griffin’s Rest. Let Yvette—”

  “I’ve already spoken to her and she offered to work with me. But I don’t want to involve Lindsay, and if I go to Griffin’s Rest, she’ll be there. I want to do this one thing on my own, without her being anywhere around.” Judd looked at Griff, man to man.

  “I understand. We’ll find you the best rehab clinic in the South.”

  “Thanks. And I don’t want to put it off. I want to check in as soon as we see what’s what with this new BQK case.”

  “Look, I’m meeting Lieutenant Watson in a bar,” Griff said. “If I’d known you were trying to stop drinking, to go cold turkey—”

  “Don’t turn around and take me back to the hotel,” Judd said. “I want to hear what this guy has to say. I need to be a part of this.”

  “You’re already sweating just thinking about—”

  “I’ll order a Coke and if I even act like I’m going to drink anything stronger, kick me on my ass.”

  “You can count on it,” Griff told him.

  It took less than fifteen minutes for Maleah to make all the arrangements for dinner in Griff’s suite for six people and for Lindsay to contact Rick and Holt to inform them of Griff’s plans for an evening work session.

  “So, we seemed to have taken care of that pretty quickly,” Lindsay said as she looked at Maleah, smiling, and doing her best not to stare at the new Powell agent.

  Maleah had hired on a few months back, right before Christmas and had only recently completed the mandatory six-week training session that each new Powell agent had to take. No exceptions. No matter what a new employee’s background— be it law enforcement, military, mercenary, or someone fresh out of college—Griff sent them off to his own special boot camp. Some made the cut. Some didn’t.

  For the life of her, Lindsay couldn’t understand why a woman with Maleah’s looks and brains would want to be a P.I., even if Powell agents were the best in the business.

  “I guess you know this is actually my first field assignment,” Maleah said. “I was surprised that Mr. Powell brought me along and called in another agent to help Angie guard Ms. Hughes.”

  “Griff likes to give new agents a variety of assignments so he can grade them on their abilities in various areas. That way he can decide what they’re best suited to do within the agency.”

  “You seem to have worked exclusively with him on the Beauty Queen Killer cases. Is that right?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve done an odd assignment now and again, but my main job is working with Griff on the BQK cases.”

  “I’ve heard quite a bit about Mr. Walker from the other agents, and I have to say he’s not what I expected. He doesn’t seem the beast I’ve heard he can be.” As if realizing she’d said something she shouldn’t have, Maleah clenched her teeth in an “oh, crap!” gesture. “Sorry, I spoke before I thought. It’s one of my weaknesses. I know you’re personally involved with—” Maleah shook her head. “God, I’m sorry. I’m nervous and talking way too much.”

  “It’s okay,” Lindsay assured her. “I’m sure some of the agents have filled you in on my history with Griff and Judd. Probably Angie, since you two have been working together at Griffin’s Rest.”

  “She wasn’t gossiping. Honestly, she wasn’t.”

  “Don’t sweat it. It’s no secret that I joined the Powell Agency for one reason on
ly—to help Griff track down the Beauty Queen Killer. And my motivation was personal. Not only was I partnered with the lead detective on Jennifer Walker’s murder case when I worked with the Chattanooga PD, but I’ve been in love with Judd for quite some time.”

  Gazing at Lindsay with a look of admiration in her big brown eyes, Maleah said, “I think I’m going to like you. You’re straightforward and honest.”

  “Well, I think I’m going to like you, too.”

  “Friends in the making?” Maleah held out her hand.

  Lindsay took her hand and they shook on the friendship deal.

  “Look, there’s something I’ve been wanting to bring up to Mr. Powell,” Maleah said. “But since I’m new at the agency, I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Would you mind if I run it by you?”

  Curious, Lindsay indicated with a hand wave that they should sit down on the sofa there in Griff’s suite. “Come on. You can fill me in on whatever it is.”

  “You sit,” Maleah said. “I’ve got to get something out of my briefcase, then I’ll join you.”

  Lindsay sat. Maleah grabbed her briefcase off the desk by the windows, took a seat by Lindsay, deposited her case on her lap and popped it open. She lifted out a file folder. “Take a look at these. Newspaper and magazine clippings and a detailed report about this woman.”

  Lindsay took the file folder, opened it and stared at the glossy magazine photo of an attractive, petite blonde. She scanned the article, which focused on the former Miss UT, who was now an actress, playwright, and director. Paige All-good was relocating to the Knoxville area and planned to open her own theater after she established a little theater group whose members would enact her plays and the plays of her writer friends. Ms. Allgood was a widow who had inherited a sizable fortune from her much older husband, thus enabling her to fulfill a lifelong dream.

  “This is interesting, but I don’t see—”

  “Take a good look at her,” Maleah said. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”