December's Secrets (Larry Macklin Mysteries Book 2)

by A. E. Howe

  “Well… It’s funny that you should ask about him right after you asked about inappropriate behavior. I don’t want to get him into trouble. It was really nothing, but…” She took a deep breath. “It was mostly the way he looked at me. I know how that sounds. But believe me, this was creepy. I’ve had lots of guys give me the once over. That’s one thing, but this was something else. It wasn’t that he was looking at something he wanted… More like he was trying to decide whether it was worth taking.” She shook herself. “The whole thing weirds me out.”

  “Did you talk to him at all?” I was hoping for a little more.

  “No, I didn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Did you tell anyone how you felt about him?”

  She looked down at the floor. After a long pause, she looked back up at me. “I should have. Usually I’m the one that’s pushing people to action. I’ve worked in women’s clinics and told women over and over that you have to speak out when there’s a problem. But there wasn’t anything I could put my finger on and specifically say he did this. It even sounded a bit hysterical in my own head to be worried just by how he looked at me. That’s not a fair way to deal with people. But it nagged at me a bit, thinking about him being around other people here at the co-op. But a week later he was gone, so I let it go.”

  We asked a few more questions which she answered calmly and openly. We asked her to have her husband call us sooner rather than later and left.

  Chavez and I discussed the interview as we made our way to the next house on our list. We both felt that she had been honest in her answers and we weren’t expecting any great revelations from her husband.

  Next up was Ellie’s family. They were renting a small cinderblock house. The yard was filled with metal artwork; made from scrap materials, the pieces were clever and interesting. There were several alligators made of metal in different poses with palm trees and palmettos. A small one depicted a gopher tortoise and another was a rattlesnake.

  A hissing sound could be heard coming from the side of the house. I followed Chavez, who bypassed the front door and followed the sound around the back of the house to a large pole barn. A short, heavyset man wearing a welding hat and leather apron was using a blowtorch to cut out shapes from an old metal sign. He stopped cutting and stepped back to look at the bear that was forming in the metal, then he noticed us and lifted his visor. He had a dark complexion, with heavy features and black hair.

  Chavez spoke Spanish to the man, who answered back. His eyes were dark and serious.

  “This is my colleague, Deputy Larry Macklin. He doesn’t speak Spanish,” Chavez said. The man nodded respectfully at me. “Mr. Zacapa is from Guatemala. His English isn’t so good.”

  They spoke in Spanish for a couple minutes. I recognized Ellie’s name, but not much else.

  Chavez turned to me. “He’s Ellie’s father. Henry talked to him about what happened that day. He says he was mad, but he felt that Henry handled it well.”

  “The man go,” Mr. Zacapa said and shrugged.

  “Did you tell anyone else in your family about what happened?” I asked and Chavez translated.

  Mr. Zacapa thought for a moment. “Madre. Yes. No more.”

  Chavez asked a question and Mr. Zacapa answered. “He says it’s possible that his daughter told someone else, but he doubts it. She was very embarrassed.”

  When we left, I asked Chavez what he thought about Mr. Zacapa as a suspect. It’s hard to judge someone’s answers when you don’t speak the same language.

  “Salt of the earth type. I think he was being honest. If he saw someone hurting a member of his family, he would be capable of hurting or killing them. But in cold blood… No, I don’t see it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Our next stop was Terri Andrews’s house. Cara had said that her parents might or might not be home, depending on her father’s doctor appointments at the hospital. The house was an interestingly formed concrete construction. I’d call it Frank Lloyd Wright meets Planet of the Apes. It had an odd appeal to it, seeming to grow up from the ground. We knocked on the hobbit-like wooden door and it was opened by a middle-aged woman with a grim face. But she managed a smile when she saw us.

  “Can I help you?” She looked from me to Chavez and back to me.

  “We’re here about the death of Mr. Gibson,” Chavez said.

  “Oh, yes, we heard about that. Come in.” She stepped back from the door, giving us room to enter. “I don’t know how we can help.”

  She closed the door and led us into the center of the house. The doors to other rooms in the house all opened onto the living area. There were paintings, pictures and wooden carvings everywhere. Only the open nature of the house kept it from feeling too cluttered. It made you think of an art museum where the curator couldn’t decide what he liked best.

  “Almost all of this is Terri’s work,” Mrs. Andrews told us.

  “Amy, who is it?” came a shout from behind one of the doors.

  She headed for the door. “Bill, they’re from the sheriff’s office. They’re here about that man that was killed.” She went through the door and in a few moments wheeled her husband out into the living room. Both his legs were missing at the knee and there was a bag hanging beside the chair that suggested urinary issues. He held his left arm at an odd angle to his body.

  “I’m Bill and this is my wife, Amy. I don’t know what we can tell you. This is our daughter’s house. We’re just staying here until I get done with the doctors. Or as done as I’m going to get,” he said in an attempt at humor.

  “I’m sorry. Cara said that you were in an accident?” Too late I realized I’d used Cara’s first name too causally and looked over to see if Chavez had noticed. But he was looking sympathetically at Bill.

  “Yes. A couple months ago we were on our way here to see Terri. My own stupid fault. Rainy night. I started to fall asleep and jerked the steering wheel, lost control and hit a tree.” He reached out and took his wife’s hand. “I’m just glad that it was me that got the worst of it.” She squeezed his hand, then put her own on the arm of the wheelchair.

  “We’re talking to a number of the families who live in the co-op.”

  “Like I said, this is our daughter’s house. She’s in Italy right now.”

  “She wanted to stay and help me with Bill, but she’d already been accepted into an art program in Rome. We didn’t want her to miss out on that,” Amy added.

  “Did she mention anything about a man bothering her?”

  “What do you mean?” Amy looked at us quizzically.

  “A man here at the co-op. Following her? Maybe just making her feel uncomfortable?”

  “Noooo, I don’t remember her saying anything like that.”

  “Would she have told you if she was having problems?” Chavez asked.

  Bill laughed slightly and took Amy’s hand again. “My two girls are as close as a mother and daughter can be. They tell each other everything.”

  “He’s right. She’s our only daughter and we’ve spoiled her. Not that it hurt her. She’s a great girl.”

  “Is there a way that we can contact her?”

  Bill and Amy looked at each other. “You can call her cell phone. I’ll give you her number,” Amy said, going over to the kitchen counter and searching for a piece of paper. “We made sure that she could use her phone overseas.” She wrote out the number and offered it to us.

  There was an awkward moment when Chavez and I both reached for it. I let him take it. His jurisdiction, after all.

  We talked with them for a little while longer, not that we had any good questions to ask, but I think both Chavez and I felt like we needed to stay for a few minutes after disturbing Bill Andrews. He seemed to appreciate visiting with us.

  Back in the van, I copied down the number. “What time is it in Rome?” I asked Chavez, who was trying to fend off Mauser.

  “Six or seven hours later, maybe.”

  I dialed the number. After four
rings a woman answered. “Hello?”

  “Terri Andrews?”

  “Yes. Who is this?” She sounded annoyed, or maybe angry.

  “I’m Deputy Larry Macklin. I’m calling from Gainesville.” I didn’t bother explaining that I wasn’t an Alachua County deputy.

  “Has something happened to my parents?” She sounded very scared.

  “No, no, nothing like that. Your parents are fine.” I felt stupid for not realizing that might be her first thought after getting a call from a deputy. “In fact, your mother was the one who gave us this number. We’re investigating the murders of two men that you might know and we had some questions for you.” I put the phone on speaker. “My colleague Lt. Chavez is here with me.”

  “Murder?”

  “Yes, a man named Timberlane and another one named Gibson have been killed.”

  There was only silence from her end.

  “Terri, are you there?”

  “Sorry, you said that they had been killed?” She sounded confused. Not surprising if you’re running around Rome and suddenly get a call from investigators asking you about two guys you hardly knew back in the States.

  “Yes, did you know them?”

  “I… don’t… Yes, I guess. They lived at the co-op, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. I don’t think I can tell you much. I may have met them, but that’s all.” She sounded sure.

  “You don’t remember having any trouble with either one of them?”

  “Trouble, what kind of trouble?”

  “Unwanted attention. Sexual harassment. That type of thing?”

  “No, of course not. I have a class in a few minutes. Is that all you needed to know?”

  Chavez and I looked at each other. Finally I said, “Yes. But if you remember anything about the men or their interactions with other folks here at the co-op, please call us at this number.”

  “Okay. I can’t imagine what I could know that would help, but I have your number. I need to go now.”

  “Next,” Chavez said.

  I pulled into the driveway of a neatly kept doublewide trailer decorated tastefully for the holidays. According to the map it was the home of Karen Gill and her daughter, Andi. Mauser was dancing around in the van so I decided to take him out for a short walk before knocking on the door. Chavez, protests aside, seemed to enjoy Mauser as we walked him around the wooded lot next door.

  We heard the door of Karen Gill’s house open and close. As we came back to the van, a short, full-bodied woman stood watching us. She smiled at Mauser. “Can I help you all?” she asked in a deep Southern accent.

  Chavez went over and explained who we were and why we were there.

  “And who’s that big boy?” she asked. “Can I pet him?”

  I assured her that he’d like nothing better, and then answered all of her questions about him. Finally, having finished the Mauser meet-and-greet, I put him back in the van and gave him a treat.

  “It’s still pretty cold out here. Let’s go inside,” Karen offered. We followed her into the house. It was clean, but cluttered with life—coats, books and cat toys. I caught just a glimpse of an orange tabby running toward a back room. I wondered if he’d been watching Mauser through the window.

  “I did know both of them. I organize a lot of the community get-togethers. And part of that is making sure that the new people know they’re welcome.”

  “Did you get any unwanted attention from the men?” I asked and thought I saw her tense up.

  “What, like flirting?” she asked rather quickly. “Not really. Maybe a suggestive word or two, a look, but I didn’t pay much attention. I’m usually running around trying to get everything done. Honestly, I’ve had relationships where the guys told me that they had wanted to talk to me for months, even years earlier, but they never had the chance. I was either moving too fast or talking too much to give them a chance. Well, I guess you can tell that I’m a bit of a talker. But both of them were nice enough. I wasn’t sure if they were going to fit in or not. I’ve been wrong plenty of times, so I’ve learned to keep my judgmental side in check.”

  She stopped talking for a moment and I figured I’d better jump into the gap. I was happy we’d at least found someone else who had talked with Tyler and Gibson. “What can you tell us about your encounters with them?”

  “Encounters…” Again I saw a funny look on her face. “That’s a fancy word for dropping in and inviting them to a picnic. Let me think. They were pretty friendly at first. The first time I met Mr. Timberlane, he had just moved in a week or so before, and he still had a couple boxes of his stuff sitting in the living room. Gibson was there too. Funny thing was, they seemed like old friends. Not like people who’d just met a week earlier. I even asked if they’d known each other before and they both said no, maybe a little too fast, if you know what I mean. But, like I said, they were real friendly and asked if there would be beer at the picnic. That kind of thing. Now that you mention it, I think Timberlane did wink at me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time,” she finished, looking away from my eyes.

  “You said they were friendly at first. Were they not friendly the next time you saw them?” I inquired.

  “What…” Karen seemed momentarily confused. “Oh… Oh, no, no, they really weren’t, but I thought that was just ’cause I’d interrupted them.”

  “Interrupted them doing what?” Chavez chimed in. I could tell by the way he was watching her that he’d picked up on the fact she was hiding something.

  “They had a friend with them. It was in their front yard. Which is why I was a little surprised they were upset that I stopped to talk to them. If you want privacy, go inside. Right? But they didn’t want me there and made it pretty obvious.”

  “Did you recognize the man that was with them?”

  “No. He was short and had receding red hair. Probably in between Timberlane and Gibson in age. Wearing a T-shirt. Wait… The shirt was from a restaurant. I thought at the time that I wouldn’t want to eat there if he was the type of employee they hired. Express Burgers, that’s it. I got the feeling that he was either going to work or just getting off. The three of them were whispering like girls in the back of class. I told them about a birthday party for one of our older members. They just blew me off.”

  Chavez and I were both interested in this mysterious third member of the clique. I didn’t tell Chavez that Cyril Riggs had described the same man. Secrets. Sooner or later I was going to slip up. I was certainly risking losing Chavez’s trust.

  “Do you think you could identify this man if you saw him again?” Chavez asked.

  “I’ve got a good memory for faces. I’m sure I could do one of those lineups and pick him out. I would feel bad, but there was so much negative energy coming off those three. I hope I’m not telling tales out of class. But with two of them dead, it sounds like something bad was going on.”

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Fifteen. Why?”

  “Do you think she might have had any run-ins with these men?” Chavez was trying to be delicate, but I saw the look that came over Karen’s face. She didn’t like the suggestion. The idea seemed to take her by surprise and her face flushed red.

  “No. No, she would have said something. We’ve had that talk several times. Kids, you have to repeat the message at least a dozen times and have them repeat it back to you almost as much before you can believe they’ve heard and understood what you’ve told them. I am well aware of what can happen to a woman in this world. My daughter is mature and savvy. If I thought for a minute…”

  A look of understanding came over her face. “Oh, I see. Yes, if they had done something to Andi, then I would be your prime suspect. I’d be ashamed if I didn’t do something.” She paused again. “I guess I shouldn’t be saying that, but damn it. I… Andi…” Karen’s feelings seemed to be muddled up with something besides motherly concern.

  “I have children of my own. I think every parent feels the way you
do,” Chavez said. “It’s natural to want to protect them and normal to want to get back at someone who hurts them.”

  “They were that kind of men?” she asked softly. Again there was something else there. I tried to decipher what it was, but couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “We think they might have been. Didn’t Henry tell you why he’d asked Timberlane to leave?” I asked.

  “No. Henry wouldn’t. As talkative as I am, Henry isn’t. If you want to get gossip out of him, you’d better be prepared to pull it out with a tow truck,” she said with half a smile.

  “Would you ask your daughter about them and let us know if she has any information?”

  We said our goodbyes and Karen walked us out to the van for one more look at Mauser, who managed to haul himself up off his cushy bed and stick his nose out the window.

  “I swear that’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen,” she said just before we drove off.

  “I want to go check out Express Burgers,” I said.

  “Yes, me too,” Chavez admitted. “Let’s finish the last interview.” Then he asked, “So what did you think of Ms. Gill?”

  “She was hiding something,” I stated flatly.

  He nodded. “But what? I think we’ll have to talk to her again.”

  After consulting the map, I drove to Reed and Debbie Holly’s house. It was a large, rambling wood-framed home with cedar siding tucked back in the woods. Three dogs of various sizes and colors ran out to meet the van. Two of them high-tailed it for the porch when Mauser stood up and gave two thundering barks of greeting out the window. The third dog, a small medium-sized brown and white mix, looked up in adoration at the giant. We got out and were accosted by the dog’s nose as she sniffed us up and down, trying to take in as much of Mauser’s scent as possible.

  A man in a red flannel shirt came out onto the porch and stared at us. “Can I help you?” he yelled.

  Chavez pulled out his badge and held it up. “Alachua County Sheriff’s Office,” he yelled back.