“I will. Just a heads-up, I’m going to have to put Erik in jail when I find him. And the bail bondsman is pretty upset. Erik lost his bail money and will have to come up with more if the judge considers letting him out and the bail bondsman is even willing to work with him. These are facts I can’t change.” Glory gave a wave as she headed to her pickup truck.
I hadn’t really considered the implications of Erik violating the terms of his bail. It was not going to be pretty, for sure. I didn’t know the specifics, but bail on a murder charge would likely be high. And since Erik disappeared and couldn’t be found—while another murder was committed—he’d lost a lot of money.
Back in the dining room, I paused in the doorway to watch Cece and Tinkie in an animated conversation. When they caught sight of me they waved me over.
“Cece did some legwork for us yesterday,” Tinkie said.
“Well, for you and also for Hans,” Cece clarified. “He’s got several story angles going.”
“What did you discover?”
“We talked with the judge who was supposed to hear Erik’s case against Slay over the property matter.”
“And?” I poured another cup of coffee and eased into a chair. I wasn’t keen on including Hans in my investigation, but I couldn’t help but be grateful that this was one step Tinkie and I wouldn’t have to take.
“The judge said the contract Ward Senior signed was nothing less than highway robbery. He said the contract wouldn’t have stood up in court, as it was clear the elder Ward hadn’t understood what he was signing.”
“This is in Erik’s favor,” Tinkie said. “He would likely have won the court case. He had no reason to kill Slay.”
She was right about that, but I could see Cece wasn’t finished. “And?” I pressed.
“And Slay has done a number of those land swaps for legal services in the past. He’s ripped a lot of people off from tracts of timberland.”
“Why hadn’t someone stopped him?”
“I suspect because the elderly people didn’t complain. There was a time when people held lawyers in great respect. You know that. Your daddy’s word was law to a lot of people in Sunflower County.” Tinkie motioned at the coffeepot for me to pour her another cup.
“My daddy wasn’t a crook,” I pointed out.
“True, but people don’t know that these days. It’s like a lot of people want to be bamboozled. They’ve forgotten how to research and make their own decisions. Hive brain. They fall for anything.”
She was right about that.
“Things are more complex now, too. That’s why they hire lawyers, because the entanglements are dense, the language deliberately obtuse. Lawyers are officers of the court and a lot of people think that means they’re honest and decent. A lot of them are, but someone like Slay: rotten apple.”
“Did you get any names of people Slay had duped out of land?” Tinkie asked.
“We did. We’re going to talk to them this morning, if that’s okay?”
Cece, I trusted with my life. Hans seemed fine, and I was sure he was rolling footage of the interviews in case this turned into something worthy of his TV show. That wouldn’t interfere with the Delaney Detective Agency agenda, and it might be that he was letting Cece interview so he could assess her skills or offer her tips. “That would be a big help. But just keep us posted where you are. I was a little worried when you didn’t show up last night.”
“Will do. Hans was saying how he has an idea for a hot music competition, like a reality TV show, centered around the blues and juke joints.”
Tinkie’s blue eyes widened in excitement, an expression that had brought many a man to his knees. “This could be great. If this came to Zinnia and Sunflower County, what a boon for the economy it would be. And Delta State has that great music component—we already have the trained talent. That’s a great idea, Cece.”
Tinkie, more than anyone else I knew, had one finger on the pulse of the community. New businesses helped the bank her daddy owned and Oscar operated, but it was more than just monetary motivation. Tinkie wanted everyone to have a good job, to have warm housing, and healthy food. She wanted prosperity for all.
“Where is Hans?” He’d completely missed breakfast and there wasn’t even a slice of French toast left for him.
“He dropped me off and went back to town. He’s also getting some footage on the history of Lucedale. He’s going to make several shows about his visit here. Smart move budget-wise. Last night we took some footage at the casinos on the Gulf Coast. Lots of potential there.”
I had to agree with that. “Okay, then let’s get going.”
“Do you have any idea where Erik might be?” Cece asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t. But the town is only about five thousand people. How hard could it be to find a pharmacist?”
Cece and Tinkie both laughed. “Girl, there may not be a lot of people here, but there sure are a lot of woods,” Cece said.
“I hope Coleman brings Sweetie Pie and Chablis. We could use a pup with sniffing skills.” I almost texted him, but I didn’t want him to turn around and go back for them if he was already on his way.
“And Pluto?” Tinkie’s eyes sparked mischief. “I wouldn’t leave that cat behind. You know he’ll pee in your shoes for revenge.”
Pluto didn’t do those things, but I’d known felines who had incredible powers of revenge. Pluto had other methods of making his wishes known, and I grinned at the idea of seeing him. I’d missed the black devil.
12
Cece took off for town to interview more people who’d been snookered out of land or money by Perry Slay. The problem was not that we couldn’t find other suspects in Slay’s murder, but that we had too many. Patrice Pepperdine also had an enemies list a mile long, but most of the names on it belonged to bridge club partners or civic organization members who’d had a run-in with her. From all accounts, she had not been a pleasant woman.
Tinkie and I loaded into my car and headed out to follow two leads. One was the purchase of the herbicide and the other was Leda Sellers, publisher of the local newspaper. I had high hopes that Leda knew the undercurrents of life in the little town, and that she might have an idea how Erik Ward spent his free time away from the drugstore he owned and ran.
“Who is working for Erik at the pharmacy?” I asked. “Does he have a fill-in pharmacist?”
“There’s an older man who retired but fills in.”
“And there’s no other pharmacy in town?”
Tinkie shook her head. “Only Erik’s. I’m coming up with crazy theories at this point. Do you think another person might want to drive Erik out of business so a new pharmacy could be opened? Having the only drugstore in town sounds pretty lucrative to me.”
She was right and it was something else to check into. “But why dump the bodies at a miniature Holy Land? That’s the part that’s really getting to me. It just doesn’t fit in with an ordinary scenario of greed or revenge. Why not just leave the bodies in Erik’s garden shed or on the side of the road?”
“That would be far less shocking.” Tinkie bit her bottom lip as we got in the car and drove toward town. “It’s obvious the killer enjoys shock value.”
“And doesn’t care that he’s violating a place a lot of people think is sacred.”
“That’s true.” Tinkie stretched. “I can’t seem to get enough sleep. All I want to do is eat and sleep.”
I patted her shoulder. “So let’s solve this case and get back to Sunflower County. You may be pregnant but I think Oscar would like some more practice at making a baby.” We’d come to the turnoff at the main highway that led into Lucedale proper, and I took a right just as my phone began to ring. The Roadster was an antique, without the newfangled phone technology that allowed for hands-free driving, so Tinkie answered my phone.
“Hello, Coleman. Are you near? Is Sarah Booth going to be a happy woman in a few short hours? Could Oscar get away?” She was like a Gatling gun of questions.
She p
ut the phone on speaker, and I pulled off the road near a stand of pines so I could talk to him without distraction. “Give Tinkie some chill pills,” he said, amusement in his voice. “She’s way, way too tightly strung.”
“She needs more sleep.” I grinned at her. “Is Oscar with you?”
“Couldn’t get away. Neither could Jaytee, and I hate to say it, but I can’t come either.”
“What?” Tinkie and I said in chorus. “Why not?” We were echoes of each other.
“I’ve got my own murder to solve, Sarah Booth.”
“Who died?” I asked.
“The guy wasn’t from Sunflower County. He was with a traveling card game. Looks like someone cheated on a hand of poker and things got too hot. He was shot in the chest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Any idea who shot him?”
“An idea. And an eyewitness. DeWayne, Budgie, and I are headed to roust a suspect now.”
“Be careful.”
“You do the same. When do you think you’re coming home?”
“Day after tomorrow. I hope.”
“I miss you, Sarah Booth. I miss sleeping with your leg thrown over me like I’m an old horse.”
Tinkie and I both laughed. Coleman had to remember that Tinkie was right there, listening. To compound matters, she chimed in, “I’ve heard you’ve given Sarah Booth many a good ride, Coleman.”
Coleman was more than ready for this game. “She’s quite the equestrian. She has me high stepping and cutting caprioles, courbettes, mezairs, the croupade, and the levade.”
“I don’t have a clue what that might be, but it sure sounds kinky,” Tinkie said.
Tinkie could think what she liked, I wasn’t going to tell her Coleman had listed high-level dressage movements. And where had he learned about those? Coleman was a fine horseman, but his focus had always been riding on the farm and trail riding. He was a constant and delightful mystery.
“Tinkie, if I were to teach Oscar some of those moves, you’d be pregnant with triplets.” Coleman could give as good as he got.
“So why isn’t Sarah Booth with child?”
“We are working on it. Hard,” Coleman said. “Just ask Sarah Booth how much she likes it when we apply ourselves.”
“So, you two think you can embarrass me?” We were near the outskirts of Lucedale and I wanted to focus on the case, but there was still time for a little fun. “Just so you know, Coleman, I miss the way your shirt smells like sunshine and starch and home. I miss the security of lying in your arms. I miss the way you wake my body up with your touch. I miss the way your lips move down my—”
“That’s enough!” Tinkie pulled the plug as I knew she would. She liked to torment but she got flustered at any real details. “You two are giving me a hot flash.” She fanned herself with her hand even though the air blowing in the convertible was still cool.
Coleman and I both laughed. Tinkie had stuck her hand too close to the fire.
“Sarah Booth has given me a hot flash, too,” Coleman said, still chuckling. “Now you two get busy and solve that case so you can come home.”
“When you see them, give Oscar and Chablis my love,” Tinkie said before I hung up.
“Will do.” Coleman promised. “You look out for my girl, okay?”
“At the top of my to-do list,” Tinkie said. When the connection was broken, she turned to me. “I’m sorry he’s not coming, Sarah Booth.”
“Yeah, me, too.” It was crazy how sad I was because I wouldn’t see Coleman for another day or two. I’d known him since grammar school and there were many years we hadn’t spoken a word to each other. But that was before. Before we finally accepted that we had an itch we had to scratch. “Let’s focus on the case.” Because doing anything else was only going to make me miss Coleman more.
* * *
The local feed and seed, G&D Farms, was the place to be on weekday mornings in the spring. When we pulled up in the lot, there had to be at least ten farmers getting fertilizer, grass and crop seeds, equipment, and herbicides. Sociable groups of men and women stood around talking weather, crops, and politics.
“Welcome to G and D,” a pretty brunette behind the counter said. “What can we help you with?” I took in the big, new store with all kinds of horse and grooming supplies as well as a huge warehouse behind with feed, seed, and fertilizers. This was a place I could wander around in for hours, finding all kinds of things I needed for the horses.
I introduced myself and Tinkie and explained that we were private investigators. Hardly anyone ever asked to see our license, but this woman, who said her name was Starla, did. She was nobody’s fool. She was plenty friendly, but she wanted verification. We both showed her our certifications.
“We’re working for Erik Ward,” Tinkie explained.
“Damn shame how he’s being railroaded,” Starla said. “Erik’s a cutup and a charmer, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Did Erik ever buy an herbicide from you called MoBlast?”
“Not from me,” Starla said, “and not here. We don’t carry it.” She motioned to a customer in the supplement aisle who was obviously looking for something. “The probiotics are down and on the right.”
“Thanks,” the young woman said and went back to her shopping.
“Where would someone get this MoBlast herbicide?” I asked. “Is it easily available?”
She hesitated. “Erik would know where to get it. He’s a pharmacist, so he knows a lot more about those things than most people. Farmers generally just use what their daddies used or what the county agent recommends. But the biggest user of that particular type of herbicide around here are the commercial lawn companies. They give their clients a perfect lawn—no weeds, edged sidewalks, grass so green it looks to be plastic. But that all comes at a price. Probably a good thing their kids don’t ever go outside to play because they’d be exposed to god knows what kind of chemicals.”
“Are there lawn companies that spray MoBlast in this county?”
“Sure. There are new subdivisions outside of town with big homes and lovely landscaped lawns. It’s not like the farm I grew up on anymore. We mowed the grass and kept things neat, but there wasn’t an obsession over a dang dandelion on the lawn. I have to tell you, I’d take my childhood over anything available today. Swimming in the river or creeks. It was carefree and available for me and all my friends whenever we had time.”
She was right about that. Dahlia House and the many different areas on the property were a fantasy land of fun and imagination for me growing up. “Can you give me some names of people who use MoBlast?”
Again, she hesitated. “I don’t want to accuse anyone, and keep in mind that a lot of those landscapers park their vehicles and trailers on the side of the road. While they’re working, anyone could come up and steal herbicides off their trucks.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but she was dead right.
“A name?” Tinkie flashed her award-winning smile. “We aren’t accusing anyone, but we are trying to clear Erik. That chemical was found in his garden shed. The prints had been wiped off it, so it’s pretty obvious it was put there to frame him. Now we need to know if any of these landscapers with access to MoBlast had a reason to want to see Erik in trouble.”
“Fair enough,” Starla said. “There are a number of small operators, just basically lawn services with mowing, raking, weeding, and fertilizing the lawns. Rory Palente runs Forever Lawn. He puts in the lawns at the exclusive subdivisions and maintains a lot of high-end businesses. Rory is a good guy, but he and Erik didn’t click. I don’t know why. Rory considers himself something of a ladies’ man and the women preferred Erik. I suspect that’s at the heart of their issues.”
“Thanks, Starla.”
“Rory runs about ten trucks, so it could have come off any of them. I know he uses that product to kill persistent problems.”
“How dangerous is it?”
“Depends on who you ask. Label says it�
��s safe, but caution is needed in fields that run off into live streams.” She scoffed. “That’s just about every field around here. I hate to think that stuff’s getting into the water supply, but it’s legal to buy and use.”
“Could you tell us where we might find Rory Palente?”
“Since he’s not here gabbing with the other men, try one of the diners. If he isn’t working, and he works hard, he’s shooting the breeze with some of his friends.”
“Thanks, Starla.”
“Tell Erik that no one believes he’s guilty.”
“Will do.”
Starla caught my sleeve as I walked by. “Be careful. All of you, including Erik. I heard—” She stepped back from me.
“Heard what?”
Starla looked around. “I heard someone intends to pin this on Erik and anyone who gets in the way is going to be hurt.”
“Who said that?”
“It’s only gossip. Some of the men were talking about the murders. No one had anything specific, except that this was dangerous and everyone knows you’re in town working on Erik’s behalf. There are people who’d run you off, by means fair or foul.”
“How about some names?” Tinkie said, handing her a card. Her hand went protectively to her stomach, even though she only had the tiniest bump—and that might merely have been from overeating.
“I don’t have any proof,” Starla said. “You’ve already talked to Snaith. I promise if I hear anything specific, I’ll give you a call.”
She was going out of her way to help us. That was a good thing. “Thanks, Starla.”
“Just be careful.”
13
We found Rory Palente mowing a rolling, two-acre lawn at a French provincial two-story house. The place was perfectly landscaped, including a garden that mimicked the one at the French palace at Versailles. Rory had a four-man crew that was busy trimming hedges, weeding flower beds vibrant with daffodils, lilies, and even a few early tulips. A man on a golf cart spread fertilizer, and another had a pole chain saw and was trimming low-lying limbs. They worked with a precision that made me tired. When Rory stopped the massive mower beside his big pickup truck, Tinkie and I walked over to introduce ourselves.
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