One Foot in the Grave

by Denise Grover Swank

  He sat back. “Well, that’s another story, but if she was lookin’ for something to make a person compliant, oxy wouldn’t be the way to go. Now who was she wantin’ to drug?”

  “I’m not sure, but it looks like she was hoping to put Bart in a compromising position.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Obviously it didn’t happen,” I said.

  “Or maybe Bart caught her in the act and left her murder to Carson Purdy, who buried her on my property to implicate me if she ever turned up.” He held out a hand again. “See? That wasn’t so hard, and it would have kicked up a lot less dirt if you’d come to me directly.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t going to call him on it. “There’s something else.”

  He made a small shift in his posture. “Shoot.”

  “I know this was a long time ago, but did anyone bring you a Chevy Cavalier around that time? It would have been someone looking to dispose of a car.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I realize it was a long time ago.”

  “Who do you plan on sharin’ this information with?”

  “I can keep it between the two of us.”

  He pursed his lips and cast a glance toward the bar, a small grin lighting up his eyes. “Your boss ain’t too happy with me talkin’ to you.”

  Sure enough, Max was glaring at him, looking like he was prepared to vault over the counter to intervene. He’d known Bingham was coming, so this had to be for show.

  “As long as you behave yourself, you’ll be fine. Now tell me what you know.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table. “Between you and me, I got a phone call from a woman. She had a car that needed to disappear and wanted to know if I could help. I said sure, bring it by, but she wanted me to come get it instead. I told her that I didn’t work that way. So she said she wanted to drop it off, no contact. I said fine, leave it at the end of my driveway, and I’ll send a guy to drive it in the rest of the way. I asked her how she wanted me to pay her, and after some hemming and hawing, she finally said she’d pass on the money, even though I could tell she really wanted to take it.”

  A woman?

  “I’ll admit, I was damn curious, but I didn’t ask questions. I figured it was a disgruntled wife tryin’ to get back at her soon-to-be ex by gettin’ rid of his prized Corvette or something. Only it turned out to be a Chevy Cavalier. A real piece of shit at that.”

  “And the time frame aligns with when she left?” I asked.

  “It’s been a few years, but I’d say yes. Plus, that’s not how I do things, so it stuck out.” He leaned even closer, his eyes alight with the knowledge he was about to share. “There’s one more thing that I found odd.”

  “Okay…”

  “When I said I was curious, I was curious enough that I hid in the woods, waiting to see who dropped off the car. It was definitely a woman, but it was the person who picked her up that caught my attention.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone in a deputy sheriff car.”

  I sat back in my seat. Had it been Paul? Had he recruited a woman to help him dispose of the car? Was it Mitzi?

  He released a short laugh. “Awww…the wheels are turnin’…”

  “This has been more helpful than you know.”

  “Then my work here is done.” He started to slide out of his seat.

  “Why were you so agreeable?” I asked.

  He paused at the end of the seat. “Lula. She likes you, and you gave her the benefit of the doubt. And she’s fond of that fool brother of hers.” He stood. “But don’t push your luck in the future…unless it involves Bart Drummond. When it comes to him, I’m all ears.”

  He and his men left, and I hurried over to Max to assure him I was fine.

  “Well?” Max grunted when I reached him behind the bar.

  “He had some really valuable information. Something that could ultimately save Wyatt’s ass.”

  Max looked skeptical, but I didn’t have time to pacify him. I had a lot of thinking to do.

  While I served my tables, I spent the next five minutes mulling over what Bingham had told me, trying to make it fit with what I knew.

  A woman.

  The top two women who came to mind were May and Mitzi, and May seemed the most likely suspect. By her own admission, she’d been upset about Heather leaving. Maybe she’d killed her in the heat of the moment. But who had Heather been talking to about getting drugs? Or had May made that up?

  Would Mitzi answer more questions if I called her? Paul would likely be at work.

  I headed over to the bar again. “Max, I need to make a phone call.”

  He gave me a wary look. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I grabbed my purse out of the back room and found Mitzi’s phone number, then went into the office, my heart beating like a jackrabbit while I placed the call.

  “Hello?” a tentative female voice answered.

  “Mitzi?” I asked. “This is Carly.”

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  Obviously she blamed me for what had happened with Paul. “I had a few more questions.”

  “I’m not talkin’ to you,” she said. “You got me into all kinds of trouble.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen, but an innocent man is about to be arrested.”

  “Maybe he’s not so innocent,” she snapped.

  “You and I both know that’s not true,” I said. Then, deciding to take a chance, I said, “We both know who killed her.”

  She was silent for a moment. “What do you know?”

  Oh. Crap. “I know Paul helped dispose of her car.”

  “You can’t prove that,” she said.

  Wait. Was Mitzi the killer? What if I’d gotten it wrong, and Paul had helped her dispose of the body rather than the other way around?

  “How’d you come up with Tulsa?” I asked. “She never told anyone she was going there. Did you drive all the way there to mail that postcard to Hilde?”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” she asked. Then she gasped. “You think I killed her?”

  “If you didn’t, how’d you know about Tulsa?”

  “Abby told me.”

  “How did she know? She wasn’t even here at the time.”

  “I don’t know. Probably on a phone call. I know Abby was really stressed about money at the time and didn’t come back home much.”

  “Did Paul take a trip to Tulsa around the time Heather disappeared?” We’d already asked his ex-wife, but it seemed worthwhile asking Mitzi too.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even know him then, but I don’t think he’s ever been to Oklahoma.”

  If Paul hadn’t mailed it, then it must have been done by his female accomplice.

  Oh. God. Only one other person had known about Tulsa.

  “I didn’t kill her. I swear,” she said, starting to cry. “The only thing I’m guilty of is calling the sheriff about Wyatt. I felt terrible about doin’ it, but Heather convinced me that I might be savin’ someone’s life. Only the more I think about it…he was so drunk I suspect she drove him to the state park and then told the officer he’d been drivin’.”

  So she really had set him up.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, starting to sob. “But Paul’s on the warpath and out for blood right now, so if I were you, I’d lay low.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said, but she’d already hung up.

  I sat in the chair for several seconds, trying to figure out what to do with the two bombshells that had been dropped in my lap. I couldn’t do much with the confession, but I could talk to Abby. Did I call and confront her? It didn’t seem like a good idea. If she really had killed Heather, then she might run. I needed to wait for Marco.

  But it turned out I couldn’t. Much to my surprise, Abby was sitting at the bar wh
en I emerged from the back.

  What was she doing here?

  I walked behind the bar and ignored Max as I sidled up in front of her. “Hey, Abby,” I said, trying to sound breezy but not entirely sure I was pulling it off. “This is a surprise.”

  “I was just wondering whether you’d had a chance to talk to Mitzi.”

  “I did,” I said, resting a hand on the edge of the counter.

  “Did she tell you anything that proved helpful?”

  “She did,” I said. “She said that you were the one who told her about Tulsa.”

  Her face paled, her usual confidence draining away.

  “I know Paul helped you,” I said. “I have proof.”

  She looked like she was about to be sick.

  “I guess the question is why,” I said. “And how.”

  She glanced around the room. “I’ll tell you, but not here.”

  “Then I guess you can tell the sheriff,” I said.

  Her eyes flew wide. “Carly. Please! Just let me explain what happened.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you alone. I’m not stupid.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears. “Carly. I need your help. I’ll tell you everything, but not here.”

  “Then how about Max’s office in the back?”

  She hesitated. “Okay.”

  I walked over to Max and whispered, “Abby’s part of this, and she’s going to tell me how in your office. I need you to get Tiny to watch the back door in case she decides to do something stupid.”

  His eyes flew wide and he whisper-shouted, “What the hell, Carly? Why are you goin’ back there at all?”

  “Because she knows what happened and we have no guarantee she’ll tell the sheriff. Especially since a deputy was involved. This might be the only way to clear Wyatt’s name.”

  I started to walk past him, but he stopped me. “Do you have your recorder?”

  “No,” I said, cursing my luck. “The tape was full and Marco took it.”

  Turning to his side, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He tapped on the screen and then dropped it into my apron pocket. “To record the conversation.”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking for Abby and finding her at the end of the bar. Had she seen Max give me his phone?

  “Back this way,” I said when I reached her. I led her back to Max’s office and motioned for her to sit in Max’s chair while I took a seat on the guest chair.

  “I’d like to shut the door,” she said.

  “That’s not happening,” I said. “But I assure you that we won’t be disturbed.”

  She didn’t answer, just twisted her hands in her lap.

  “You were in town the night of Heather’s going-away party?” I asked. “Why didn’t you go?”

  “We both agreed it would be better that way.”

  “You couldn’t be tied to it if everyone thought you were in Knoxville. You came back to help Heather drug Bart so she could blackmail him.”

  She nodded, refusing to meet my gaze.

  Now the drugs made sense. “She asked you to get a drug to put him out.”

  “I didn’t want any part of it at first,” she said, tears falling into her lap. “But Heather convinced me the payout would be worth it. She knew how desperate I was. I was behind on my rent, my next tuition payment was loomin’, and I had a trip to Tulsa with my class.”

  “Which is why the postcard came from Tulsa.”

  She nodded.

  “But she changed her mind,” I said. “And you freaked out because you still needed the money.”

  “I was pissed, and truth be told, I was a little drunk. We were supposed to meet at the overlook and then go see Bart at his house. He thought Heather was coming to renegotiate, but we planned to drug him with a horse tranquilizer in his office and get photos of him with Heather, in the nude of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  “When she showed up, I was sitting on the hood of my car, staring out at the overlook, holding that stupid syringe full of ketamine as I tried to talk myself out of doing it. She sat down beside me and told me that after all the planning we had done, she’d changed her mind, and she was leaving after all, which was all kinds of ironic, since she’d kept needlin’ me about not chickenin’ out. She started callin’ me Peep.”

  She shook her head and sniffed. “I was pissed. She’d treated me like a yo-yo for years. Hot and cold, but I always came runnin’ back. So I shouted at her, telling her what a selfish bitch she’d been. I said I was done. She was furious and slapped me. We had a little shoving match, and the next thing I knew, she’d been stabbed in the belly and the plunger had been pushed down.”

  “So you’re saying you accidently injected her?”

  She nodded. “I panicked. It was a dose intended for a man a lot bigger than her. Plus, I’d stolen the drug—I’d be kicked out of vet school if they found out. So I’ll admit that I stayed out there with her for a bit while I tried to figure out what to do. I decided I’d take her to the sheriff’s office in Ewing and dump her off at the front steps.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I took her car, figuring I’d hide it somewhere and find a way to get back to mine. I shoved her in the backseat and was halfway between Drum and Ewing when I saw flashing red lights behind me. I was being pulled over by a sheriff’s deputy. I was terrified, but then he told me to get out of the car and move to the back. I was praying he wouldn’t see Heather. So much so that I let him feel me up and do other things I’m not proud of. He seemed pretty satisfied with himself. He insisted on walkin’ me back to my door, like he was a fuckin’ gentleman. I tried to stop him, but he saw Heather.”

  Marco had to figure out a way to get that predator off the streets.

  Abby continued, “He recognized her right away, not that I was surprised. It’s a small town, and Heather was the kind of person people noticed. I told him that she’d overdosed and I was on my way to Ewing to get help. He checked her pulse and told me she’d never make it to the hospital in time. He knew she’d been paid off by the Drummonds, and he said he wouldn’t turn me in if I gave him half the money. I didn’t know what to say, but I did know she still had the check. I was scared enough that I agreed.

  I followed him out to a section of Bingham land. He told me that Todd Bingham’s daddy had buried tons of bodies out here. What was one more? Then he took the keys and left, tellin’ me he was gonna get a shovel. I nearly left on foot while he was gone. Heather was dead by the time we parked there, and I was scared and upset. He was a sheriff’s deputy. Could I really disobey and leave? When he came back, he had two shovels. He made me help him, but the ground was hard, and we only got the hole about three feet deep. He tossed her into the grave like a bag of potatoes, then made me cover her body with dirt. Told me it was a good reminder not to use drugs. Then he made me drive her car to his house and park it in his garage, and he took me back to my car. He told me to cash the check, and when I came back with his share of the money, we’d deal with the car together.”

  “And you deposited the money in Tulsa?”

  “I had her debit card and I knew her PIN. So I used her debit card to buy several money orders while I was there. If anyone was looking into her disappearance, they’d see a footprint in Tulsa.”

  “Why didn’t you turn him in?” But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was a ridiculous question.

  “He was a sheriff’s deputy. Who would believe me over him?” She huffed. “It’s one of life’s awful coincidences that he ended up marrying Mitzi.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Although Mitzi still claimed to have met Paul after Heather “left,” she’d been involved with Heather’s attempt to set up Wyatt, and I suspected Paul might have played a role too. Maybe he’d pulled the car over that night because he’d recognized it as Heather’s, because he’d wanted or expected something from her. Still, I didn’t feel any need to share that with Abby. I didn’t want to destroy their friendship. I knew
manipulative men, and they’d both been in the clutches of one.

  I just nodded. “Would you be willing to testify against him now?”

  Her face paled. “I could lose my vet license.”

  “An innocent man might go to jail, Abby. And Paul Conrad will just keep screwing people over. Literally.” How many women had he accosted over the years?

  “I can’t!” she exclaimed in a panic.

  “I know you’re scared, but Marco will help you. And Detective White. She handled my case after Carson Purdy tried to kill me. She’s not corrupt. I’m sure she’ll be fair.”

  Her body was shaking and her face and neck were splotchy. “I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t want to blow up my life.”

  “I know,” I said, “and maybe you won’t have to. You didn’t intentionally hurt her, and you tried to get her help.”

  “But I stole the drugs, and I didn’t tell Paul she was in the car when he pulled me over.”

  “I don’t know how the authorities will handle any of that,” I said. “And I know you’re scared, but aren’t you tired of keeping this secret?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “I am.”

  “Then let me help you figure out a way to do the right thing. Maybe you should talk to an attorney first and they can negotiate terms for your statement.”

  She nodded again.

  “Okay. That’s good,” I said. “You stay in here, and I’ll go see if I can get Marco to drop by.”

  I left her in the office and went back out to the dining room, heading straight for Max and handing him his phone. “I got a confession of sorts. Be sure to save the recording.”

  He took the phone and tapped the screen. “While you were back there, a sheriff’s deputy dropped by and said to give this to you.”

  He pointed to a sealed envelope on the counter. I opened it and read the message, not surprised to see a typed note.

  If you want to see Wyatt Drummond again, bring Abby out to Wyatt’s hiding place. We’ll both be waiting. And don’t bring anyone else.

  You have until ten, and then I start making Wyatt into a pincushion.

  “What did the deputy look like?” I asked as I lowered the paper.

  “I don’t know. Medium height. Sandy-brown hair with a bit of a receding hairline.”