Todd flushed. “That he’s been in trouble almost as long as he’s been alive. That he was arrested at eighteen and spent two years in Riverbend prison for assault and battery. That while he was there, he was recruited by a crime organization in Memphis, and when he was released, he moved there and went to work for them. A couple of years later, when the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations arrested the leaders, he managed to stay out of jail by the skin of his teeth.”
“Good for him,” I said.
“After another couple of years, the TBI cracked down on the organization again, and made what almost amounted to a clean sweep. Except for Collier, who disappeared before anyone could catch up with him. He resurfaced six or eight months later in Knoxville, with a group of guys who were hijacking tractor trailers and fencing the contents. That lasted a few months, and then the TBI wiped them out, too. They nabbed him, and held on to him for as long as they could, but eventually they had to let him go for lack of proof. He moved on to Chattanooga and Jackson, and then to Clarksville, where he had something to do with thefts from the military base. Earlier this year, he showed up in Nashville. Where he was on the scene when Brenda Puckett was murdered.”
“He was on the scene 45 minutes later,” I corrected. “We’ve talked about this, Todd. He didn’t have anything to do with killing Brenda. Or Clarice Webb.”
Todd ignored me. “And two weeks before that, my dad suspected him of having had a hand in doing away with his mother.”
“Your dad had no proof that anyone was involved in LaDonna Collier’s death,” I protested. “If he did, he would have arrested someone by now.”
“Just because there’s no proof, doesn’t mean Collier didn’t do it,” Todd said.
Just because Todd wanted Rafe to be guilty, didn’t mean he was, either, but I had no time to say so. Todd added, “All it means is, he’s very good at covering his tracks.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I answered. “Doesn’t it seem more likely that he’s just not a very good criminal? Everything he’s ever gotten involved in has been shut down by the police after a month or two.”
Todd shrugged. We sat in silence for a moment or two while Todd ate his cheesecake and I drank my coffee.
“So is that it?” I asked eventually, keeping my voice level. “Because it’s interesting, but not really surprising. I already suspected that he had an alternate source of income. One that wasn’t entirely legal.”
Todd looked at me. I could see the wheels ticking behind his eyes. He was debating whether to tell me something, and he wasn’t sure. But was it because he wanted to keep it in reserve for next time, or was it because he wasn’t entirely sure it was accurate...?
Eventually he decided. “There’s more. Do you remember Elspeth Caulfield?”
I wrinkled my brows. “I can’t say I do, no. Who is she?”
“She went to high school with us. You, me, and Collier. My year. Her father was a preacher for some little fundamentalist sect west of Sweetwater.”
A glimmer of a memory was beginning to come to me. “Petite, blond girl? Very quiet? Had some sort of nervous breakdown, and never came back?”
“Her parents took her out of school before senior year, just after you and I started dating.”
I nodded. I remembered now. Vaguely. I hadn’t had anything to do with Elspeth and wasn’t sure I’d recognize her if she walked through the door right now. “What about her?”
“There were rumors at the time that she was pregnant and they were taking her somewhere to have the baby so no one would know.”
I tightened my stomach muscles. I’ve heard it can help someone beat a lie detector test, and I could really use some help in not showing my reaction right then. I had a feeling I knew what was coming, and I didn’t want Todd to guess that I knew, or more accurately, that the idea bothered me.
Todd smirked knowingly. “Would you care to speculate as to whose baby it was?”
“Not Rafe’s,” I said. “I asked him just the other day if he had any children, and he said no.” None he knew about.
“Maybe he doesn’t know,” Todd said, playing right into my secret worry. “He was in jail by then. Or maybe she had an abortion. It’s not difficult to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy.”
His attitude said, very clearly, that any child of Rafe’s would be unwanted by any woman in her right mind. I didn’t answer. I’m not sure I could have spoken even if I’d tried. It’s not something a lot of people know, and Todd certainly didn’t, but at one point during my short and ill-fated marriage to Bradley, I’d had a miscarriage. It had happened very early in what was an unplanned pregnancy, almost before I knew I was expecting, albeit not before I’d had time to get over the initial shock and start looking forward to the happy event. In retrospect, considering the way things turned out between Bradley and me, it was probably just as well it had happened the way it did. Our simple, uncontested divorce would have been a thousand times messier had there been children involved, and a child would have tied me irrevocably to Bradley for the rest of my natural life. All in all, I couldn’t really regret the way things had fallen out. Still, there were times like now, when I was reminded, that I mourned the loss.
“Have you spoken to Elspeth about this?” I asked when I could trust my voice again.
Todd looked shocked. “Of course not. I can’t pry into her personal life.”
The fact that he’d pried into mine, not to mention Rafe’s, didn’t seem to have occurred to him.
“So how do you know she was pregnant? Maybe it was just a rumor.”
“Everyone knows what happened,” Todd said. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Talk to Cletus Johnson. He was there; he’ll tell you.”
“Marquita’s ex-husband? That Cletus Johnson?”
“Deputy Sheriff Cletus Johnson,” Todd said.
“The same Cletus Johnson who gave Rafe a black eye a couple of weeks ago? And I would trust his word because...?”
Todd flushed. “Just go talk to him, Savannah. He’ll tell you.”
“Fine,” I said coldly, “maybe I will.”
Or maybe I’d talk to Rafe instead. Someone who’d actually be in a position to tell me something definite, and not just rumors and speculation and innuendo and sour grapes.
Chapter 12
For a few moments after leaving the Wayside Inn, I thought seriously about driving back to Nashville rather than facing mother. But it was late and in spite of what I’d tried to show Todd, I was upset by what he’d told me, so I turned the car toward the Martin mansion after all. And was rewarded by not seeing Mother. Her bedroom door was closed and the lights out, and by the time I got up the next morning, I was alone. If it had been anyone but my mother, I would have suspected that she’d spent the night elsewhere, because her bed showed no evidence of having been slept in, but knowing her as I do, I didn’t think anything of it. She’s obsessively concerned with appearances, and had just put her bed in apple-pie order before heading out to the spa or hair-dresser or breakfast, that’s all.
I was happy to avoid her. I didn’t want to discuss my dinner with Todd. I didn’t want to ask Cletus Johnson about Elspeth Caulfield, and I was reluctant to look for Elspeth herself. So I did the only thing I could do, and visited the one member of my family who was, at least provisionally, on my side.
The law offices of Martin and McCall are located on the town square, in a turn-of-the-(last)-century brick building with a green canopy. The company was started by my great-grandfather back when the country was young, and my father worked there his entire adult life. Currently, the resident Martin is my brother Dix, while Jonathan McCall, our sister Catherine’s husband, makes up the other half of the company. Catherine also has a law degree, but she doesn’t practice much these days. For the record, I’m the only Martin of my generation who didn’t finish law school. Instead, I dropped out to marry Bradley, and never went back.
Jonathan – bless him – was closeted with a client, but Dix was avail
able to talk to me. When I walked into his office and closed the door behind me, he looked up from the paperwork on his desk and squinted. “You look horrible.”
“Nice to see you too,” I answered, sitting down in one of the worn leather chairs in front of the cherrywood desk that had belonged to my father and his father before him. Dix leaned back in his swivel chair and folded his hands on top of the manila folder on the desk.
“Late night?”
“Not with Todd. Just with worrying.”
Dix sighed. “What’s going on now?”
“Didn’t Todd tell you what he’s been doing? Let me show you.” I dug in my purse and fished out the photograph of myself and Rafe that had started the conversation yesterday. “Look at this.”
Dix looked, and shook his head sadly. “When are you going to learn, sis?”
“I had dinner with a friend,” I said angrily. “It wasn’t even a date. If I sleep with him, or – God forbid! – fall in love with him, then you can give me a hard time, but not for having a meal.” Unless it was breakfast in bed, but we wouldn’t go there. Literally or in discussion.
“Fine,” Dix said. “I won’t give you a hard time. Although mother would, you know.”
“Why do you think I made Todd give me the picture? I know he can probably get another copy, but at least this way, he won’t be showing it to her right away.”
Dix shrugged. I added, “You have to make him stop, Dix. You’re his best friend; he’ll listen to you. He has to understand that he can’t hire private investigators to follow civilians around. I know that he’s worried about me, but Rafe will have a fit if – when – he finds out. And if he gets upset, there’s no telling what he might do.”
“Do you plan to tell him?” Dix asked.
I bit my lip. “Todd brought up some things I’d like to ask him about. If I do, he’s going to ask me who told me about them, and how that person found out.”
Plus, it wasn’t fair to let Rafe go about his – probably nefarious – business with a private eye dogging his footsteps, when I knew about it and could warn him.
“And you can’t just let it go?” Dix wanted to know.
“I might, if I could get the answers I want without having to ask him. Do you by any chance remember Elspeth Caulfield from high school?”
“Just barely,” Dix admitted. “Didn’t she drop out early?”
I nodded. “Although, according to Todd, she didn’t drop out so much as was taken out by her parents, either because she had a nervous breakdown, or because she had gotten herself in the family way and they wanted to hush it up.”
Dix nodded. “I remember now. Quiet girl, but very intense. One of those ‘still waters’ types. A lot going on underneath the surface.”
“Todd intimated that she was pregnant, and that the baby was Rafe’s. Do you remember hearing anything about that?”
“I remember hearing all sorts of things,” Dix said. “But now that you mention it, I think I may have heard something about that, yes. It was years ago, though, so it’s difficult to remember the details.”
“Todd said that Cletus Johnson would know.”
“So why aren’t you asking Cletus?” Dix wanted to know. “Afraid of what he’ll say?”
“Of course not,” I denied quickly. “I just don’t want to cause any more gossip. Cletus Johnson is a deputy sheriff, and if I call him and start asking questions about Rafe, he’ll tell Sheriff Satterfield, who’ll tell mom, who’ll ground me for the next hundred years. I’ll be like Sleeping Beauty, locked in a tower away from everyone. Except when I get out, I’ll be 127, and no one will look twice at me.”
“At 127 you’ll be dead,” Dix said. “So what do you want me to do? Call Cletus myself?”
“Would you? He might be more inclined to tell you rather than me. All you have to do is give him that same old excuse: that you’re worried about your sister getting involved with Rafe.”
“Excuse?” Dix muttered, but he didn’t say it loudly. “All right. For you. I’ll give him a call later on today, and let you know what he says.”
He saw my mouth open and preempted my protest. “No, I’m not going to do it now, while you’re sitting here. It’s too early in the morning, and I don’t want to have to worry about what you hear. I want to filter the information I get first.”
“Just don’t leave anything out,” I warned, getting up to go.
“Not to worry, sis,” Dix answered dryly, “I won’t.”
I considered – I really considered – driving over and knocking on Elspeth Caulfield’s door, but in the end I decided against it. Not only would it be rude to show up unannounced, but it was probably better to hear what Cletus Johnson had to say first, not to mention Rafe himself. Or Marquita. If Cletus knew something, maybe Marquita did, as well. Although, just as Cletus was firmly anti-Rafe these days, Marquita was pro-Rafe, and I wasn’t sure I could trust her testimony any more than I could trust her ex-husband’s. It just goes to show that one should always attempt to get the dirt right from the horse’s mouth, and even then, take everything with a grain of salt.
Lila’s memorial service took place in the ballroom at the downtown Sheraton, without Lila herself. Lila’s mother had taken her daughter’s body back to Detroit for burial, and this was just an excuse for the rest of us to get together and eat, drink and be merry, speeding Lila on her way in a manner of which she would have approved. I did my best to keep a smile on my face, although I admit it wasn’t easy. A huge photograph of Lila, blown up to many times life-size, hung on the wall above the banquet table, and every time I looked up at it, a new wave of guilt swamped me. The food looked and smelled exquisite, but I couldn’t choke down more than a few carrot sticks. Leaving my plate behind, I started circulating instead, and after a few minutes I came across Tamara Grimaldi, who was standing with her back against the wall near the door, dressed in the same boxy business suit she’d worn to Brenda Puckett’s funeral a few weeks earlier.
“You know,” I said as I stopped beside her, “I always knew there would come a time when I’d be reading the obituaries looking for the names of friends who had passed away, but I didn’t think it would happen so soon. This is the third funeral I’ve been to in less than a month, and it’s freaking me out.”
“There’s been a veritable open season on Realtors lately, hasn’t there?” Detective Grimaldi agreed. “You’re being careful, I hope?”
“You sound like my mother. Yes, I’m being careful. I’ve even considered buying myself a weapon of some sort, to keep in my handbag. Just in case.”
“That might not be a bad idea,” Grimaldi said, “although you did a fine job of apprehending Mr. Lamont with your lipstick.”
“I couldn’t have shot him with it, though. But I don’t think I want a gun. Carrying a gun is an invitation to shoot someone, don’t you think? I’d rather have something nice and safe and girly, like defense spray.”
“I’ll give you the name of a store,” the detective said. “It might not be a bad idea to take some self defense lessons, too, while you’re at it. If nothing else, you’ll learn never to open the door to strangers.”
“I already know that,” I said and lowered my voice. “Are you any closer to finding out who killed Lila?”
A shutter came down over her face. “We’re working on it. An arrest is not imminent. Although we’ve found a witness who saw what we think was the murderer come out of Lila’s building in the early hours on Saturday morning. Wearing coveralls and carrying a black duffel bag.”
“Really?”
“Really. The next time you see Mr. Collier, maybe you’ll be so good as to tell him to hold himself in readiness for a lineup?”
I swallowed. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. So... um... are any of your suspects here?” I looked around the room.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Detective Grimaldi said. “Although there are people here I’ve spoken to. That’s the victim’s ex-hu
sband over there, in the yellow. Malcolm Rodgers. He was the one who found her.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” I said, diverted, while I looked at Malcolm. He was a flashily good-looking black guy with his hair in cornrows, dressed in a too-spiffy mustard-colored suit. “Malcolm, I mean. You’re looking into him, I’m sure. He used to beat her, you know.”
“No,” Detective Grimaldi said, “I didn’t know. I’ll have to look into that.”
“He put her in the hospital once. After that, she filed for divorce and got a restraining order, I think.”
Grimaldi nodded. “Mr. Rodgers says he got a phone call from Lila sometime on Friday night – not a message, just her number on caller ID while he was out – and he waited for her to call back. When she didn’t, and she didn’t answer her phone in the morning on Saturday, he decided to stop by. When he got there, he found her dead.”
“He probably thought she wanted him back,” I said. He looked like the type who would.
Detective Grimaldi shrugged. “He has a record for petty theft and drug dealing. It’s some years ago now, and he swears he’s clean, but she might have thought he knew something about the robberies.”
“Or maybe,” I said slowly, “she recognized him. Maybe that was why she didn’t seem as distraught as Kieran Greene about what happened. And maybe she threatened to expose him, and he killed her, and then pretended to find her.”
Detective Grimaldi smirked. “Have you ever thought of writing thrillers, Ms. Martin?”
“God forbid,” I said piously. If I were to write anything, it would probably be a steamy romance novel, since that’s what I tend to read. “Anyway, Kieran was scared out of his mind, and I would have been too, but Lila didn’t seem too worried, did she? She even managed to flirt with one of the burglars. Which makes sense if he was her ex-husband and she recognized him. He even has pretty, brown eyes.”
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