R.P. Dahlke - Dead Red 04 - A Dead Red Alibi

by R. P. Dahlke

  Pearlie butted in, “What I want to know is, did they—”

  Caleb held up his hands. “Ladies, please, one at a time.”

  Pearlie waved a hand in my direction, deferring the questions to me.

  “What about prints?” I asked.

  “Reina and Jason readily admitted that they’d been in the house,” Caleb said, “and of course the police chief’s prints were in her room.”

  “That poor man,” Pearlie said. “He busted in on her attacker and got killed for it. What about other prints, DNA samples and such?”

  Caleb glanced at Mac. There was no delicate way to mention that every orifice of Bethany’s body would have been swabbed. “DNA analysis in Arizona is almost as slow as California.”

  “How long?” Mac asked, his face darkening.

  “Detective Tom said it could take months,” Caleb said.

  Mac exploded, slamming his open palm on the table. “This is my daughter’s killer, for Chris’ sake!”

  “I’m sure the detective will pressure the lab,” Caleb said, “but it’s more than likely that this case will be solved in the usual way—interviewing the obvious suspects, finding the connections linking suspects that lead to the killer, or killers.”

  Mac Coker took Caleb’s answer and snapped a wooden spoon in two.

  Pearlie nodded. “And that’s why we can’t depend on the sheriff’s department to crack this case. We’re going to find Beth’s killer.”

  When Caleb’s lips tightened in disapproval, Pearlie turned on him. “You should be pushing Detective Tom to tell you who they suspect.”

  Caleb’s light green eyes went one shade colder. “The Cochise County sheriff’s department is under no obligation to tell me anything.”

  Even I could decode that message; Detective Tom would not be sharing information that might cause Lalla and Pearlie Bains to meddle where they weren’t wanted.

  “What about tire tracks?” I asked. “Can all of them be accounted for?”

  “Useless after the EMTs and coroner’s wagon rolled into the yard,” Caleb said.

  Mac pursed his lips. “If you will forgive me, I have some calls to make.”

  Seeing Caleb start to rise out of his chair, Mac said, “No, please stay as long as you like. There’s more iced tea and lemonade in the fridge.”

  When he left, I looked around the kitchen with its recently laundered window curtains, the copper pans hanging brightly on their hooks above a recently scrubbed cooktop. Mac Coker had been busy setting to right what he could. But seeing the lack of progress in his daughter’s murder investigation was wearing his patience thin.

  “He’s going to call in outside help,” I said.

  “We’ve still got time to come up with a suspect,” Pearlie said. “Talking about his daughter’s murder has to be painful. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, much less to a senseless murder, and Bethany was his only child.”

  “What did the M.E. say about the timing for the murders? Was the police chief killed at the same time as Bethany?” I asked.

  “The M.E. estimates his death at two or three hours after Bethany died,” Caleb said.

  “So that’s what Dad meant,” I said.

  “What?” Caleb asked.

  “When he said that someone was down there with him, but then he was gone.”

  “The M.E. said the trauma to the chief’s head would have precluded his ever regaining consciousness.”

  “That’s why the killer came back,” I said. “To check on his handiwork, make sure the man was dead.”

  “Finding a critically injured man down there must’ve been a shock for your dad,” Pearlie said.

  “Planting Noah’s jacket at Bethany’s house was meant to implicate him,” Caleb added. “This is one killer with ice in his veins, that’s for sure.”

  “Caleb,” I said, “You mentioned that Reina’s prints were in the room. What about her boyfriend, Julio Castillo. Did—?”

  He reached over and kissed me on the lips. Stunned, I leaned into the kiss and completely forgot what I was saying.

  “Hey! Either of you lovebirds notice there’s a door out of the kitchen?” Pearlie asked.

  “Most farmhouses do,” I said, dreamily.

  “I’m sure the detectives checked out every possible clue,” Caleb said, getting out of his chair.

  Pearlie ignored Caleb and stepped out the back door.

  “There’s nothing out there but bushes and mountains,” Caleb said.

  I took his hand and followed her outside.

  Pearlie stood, hands on hips, panning the soft brown hills as they rose up into mountains.

  I nudged Caleb. “What’d you kiss me for?”

  “Because I don’t want you talking about Julio Castillo. Not in Mac Coker’s house, and not just yet. If you can wait for a few hours, I might have an answer for you. Okay?”

  I shrugged, now confused. “I guess.”

  A buzzard soared overhead, casting a brief shadow across the mesquite and onto an unremarkable trail.

  “There,” Pearlie said, pointing to the track of sand. “That’s how our killer came in and escaped without being noticed.”

  “Homicide has been through this,” Caleb said, pointing to the stamp of feet. “Nothing new here.”

  Pearlie said, “Yeah, but look where it leads—there’s a road up yonder.”

  “And it looks like a bad one too,” I said, craning my neck to see where it went. “But it may explain a few things.”

  Pearlie turned to face us, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

  Without waiting to see if we were following, she turned on her heel and made tracks for the rental car.

  “So did the detective tell you about this road?” I asked Caleb over my shoulder.

  “I keep telling you, they don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ll drive.”

  Pearlie took the backseat, scooting up and hanging her elbows on the front back rest to see where the trail led.

  Caleb followed it until it flowed into another rock strewn and seldom used road. When he hesitated, I said, “I know, it’s a rental, but the road is drivable.”

  Caleb grunted in agreement and turned left. We climbed, rocking through potholes and washed out gullies, and finally crested the bluff. One way led downhill toward the empty mine pit just waiting for its next victim, and the other way went uphill, ending at Highway 92.

  “This is just one big circle,” I said. “It passes Bethany’s, winds down to our place and finally intersects the highway.”

  “The killer could’ve come in and left this way, and no one would’ve seen him,” Pearlie said. “Probably the same person who knocked us off the road.”

  “And this is as far as I go today, ladies,” Caleb said, doing a three-point turn and heading back toward our house.

  “Why? You got plans?” I asked.

  “I’m going to take you two girls home, then have a chat with Detective Tom.”

  “Really? What about?” Pearlie asked.

  When he didn’t answer, I poked him with a forefinger. “And of course you’ll share anything you learn from him with us, right?”

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  Like Pearlie said, he’s always going to be a cop.

  .

  Chapter Twenty-three:

  Caleb dropped Pearlie and me at the house and left to talk with Detective Tom.

  When we walked into the kitchen, my dad had his hands in a large mixing bowl. The smell was enough to make me wrinkle my nose. “Whew! I hope that’s not our dinner.”

  “Dog food. Where’s Caleb?”

  “He went to see Detective Tom. I’m sorry, did you say dog food?”

  “For my dog,” he said, breaking another egg into the bowl. “Scraps and some eggs, because that’s all we have. But as soon as I can get my Jeep back I’m going to town.”

  “First, what dog? And second, why not drive the Bugatti?”

  “T
he Bugatti isn’t street licensed, and I’ve been tempting him with leftovers for a week.”

  “I wondered who was eating all the eggs. Where is he?” I asked, looking out the patio windows.

  “He comes at night. Mostly when everyone’s asleep.”

  “Phantom, huh?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen him, plenty of times. Don’t know if he can be domesticated or not, but he’s a nice looking fella.”

  I added dog food to our grocery list and promised we’d all go into town as soon as Caleb returned.

  Pearlie was lounging on the couch, waiting for her nail polish to dry, when her cell phone rang. I watched her carefully hit the accept call button.

  “Yes, Reina. They did?” Her feet dropped to the floor. “Does he have a lawyer? Okay, okay. We’ll be there in a jiffy.”

  She closed her phone and slipped on her sandals.

  “Reina’s hysterical and begging for help.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Homicide has arrested Julio Castillo.”

  “Caleb told us he has a rap sheet.”

  “Let’s go see if she has any more secrets to share,” Pearlie said.

  I had to remind her that Caleb took the rental car.

  “Not a problem. We’ll take that cute lil’ race car,” she said, heading for the door.

  My dad came out of the kitchen, brandishing a large wooden spoon. “Oh, no you don’t. It’s not licensed. Besides, what’s to keep you two girls from wrecking it, too?”

  “We’re only going to Bethany’s place,” I said pawing through the keys in the bowl.

  “Now just a darn minute! This isn’t just any car, it’s a Bugatti.”

  “Italian? I love Italian,” Pearlie said, “but don’t worry. We won’t be on any public roads. We’re only going as far as the art compound.”

  “Why don’t you take the rental when Caleb gets back,” Dad said. “Then you won’t have to keep borrowing one of my cars?”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted. “I believe that Bugatti is now my property.”

  At my outstretched hand, Dad accepted defeat and handed over the barn key.

  Before I could pocket the key, Pearlie snatched it out of his hand. “I’m drivin’.”

  Dad followed us to the barn, reciting a list of dos-and-don‘ts for operating the car.

  “Unless you want to use the crank, you got to jump start it with the battery. And go easy on the clutch,” he said, as Pearlie revved the engine and motioned for me to get in.

  I managed to sit down before she put the car in gear. “Slow down!” I yelled over the roar of the motor. “This road is so bad, my teeth are rattling!”

  “Jeez, you’re such a girl,” she said, throwing the wheel over and fishtailing into the compound.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Reina opened her door before we could knock. She’d been crying again, and blew wetly into a tissue. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on,” I said.

  “The detectives asked me to come in again. But they only wanted to know about Julio. He’s on parole, they know that. He and his pals were selling marijuana. But he’s been clean since prison, and he promised me he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize either his freedom or our relationship.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I asked.

  “The detectives found bundles of pot stashed in a cavern behind Bethany’s house. It’s not even on the grounds, but they’re trying to make a case against him, that he was using this place, and me, to transport drugs. He swore to me on his mother’s life that he had nothing to do with these drugs.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Except for his time in prison, we’ve been together since high school. I wouldn’t agree to marry him if I thought he couldn’t stay clean.”

  “You’re engaged?”

  Reina thrust a two carat solitaire in front of us, then, as if she understood how the expensive ring looked, covered it with her other hand. “I’m really worried they’re going to try to stick Bethany’s murder on him.”

  Homicide could hold Julio for forty-eight hours before they had to charge him or let him go. They would try to sweat him for a lead, a contact, any connection he had that could give them a viable suspect in the two murders. It was what Caleb would do, and if Reina’s trust in Julio was cracking, we needed to get to the bottom of this.

  “The police are looking to close this case, Reina,” I said. “Julio, with his record for dealing drugs, is the obvious choice.”

  “No,” Reina sobbed. “Julio is a lot of things, but he’s no killer.”

  “Reina,” Pearlie said, touching the girl’s hand. “If you’re so sure that he’s is innocent then let us help you. Does Julio still have associates who could’ve done this?”

  “He-he doesn’t know any of them anymore. It had to be a stranger. The thieves took her cell phone and laptop, didn’t they?”

  Pearlie drew back in surprise. “Who told you that?”

  “I-I guess Mac did. But isn’t that the sort of things robbers do, right? Steal anything they can find?”

  She was grasping at straws—not unlike what the detectives were doing.

  “What can you tell us about Jason Stark?” I asked.

  “Jason? Why? Do the cops suspect Jason?”

  “Was he disappointed that her grandfather left the property to her?” I asked.

  “That was before I got here, but I do know he served time for manslaughter.”

  Pearlie and I looked at each other. Jason had already demonstrated that he had a temper, and manslaughter could’ve been a deal when the D.A. didn’t think he could convict on a murder charge. I wondered who it was he killed?

  I started to ask Reina about it, but she suddenly got up and went to her fridge. While her back was turned, Pearlie whispered, “Jeez, manslaughter?”

  “We need to find out more.”

  Reina came back with a tall glass of ice water. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make it sound like Jason coulda killed Bethany. He loved her. We all did. He was just so ashamed.”

  “Because of her deformity?” I asked.

  “Oh no, he didn’t care about that. It was just that he had no idea she was being attacked. There he was on the property, and he never heard a thing.”

  I could see what she meant. Pearlie and I walked into the barn and watched him work, and he never knew we were there until we walked into his field of vision.

  “You said he loved her. Were they a couple?” I asked.

  “Bethany always said his affections were misplaced. She called it transference. She was like a therapist, you know? She was good with people, really good.”

  Pearlie scribbled in her notebook.

  “Does Jason drive a white truck?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he has a white truck. All those huge sculptures, you know? He has a trailer too. Some of his pieces are pretty heavy.”

  A big white truck barreling down on us—Jason would know about that shortcut to the highway. But why would Jason want to run us off the road?

  We made our excuses and left.

  “Sort of makes Jason look like a suspect, but I just can’t quite wrap my head around it,” I said.

  “No, but I am interested in how Reina heard about Bethany’s cell phone and laptop before we did,” she said.

  “Mac showed us the evidence list, maybe he just did what we would’ve done, ask Reina and Jason if they noticed any missing items.”

  “Then let’s ask him.”

  Mac Coker opened the door with a dishtowel flung over his neatly pressed white dress shirt. “Hello, girls. Do you have something to report?”

  “May we come in?” Pearlie asked.

  “Please do,” he said, and waved us inside. “I was cleaning cupboards and laying mousetraps. This place is overrun with vermin.”

  We followed him into the kitchen.

  “First of all,” Pearlie said, “did you know that the police have discovered a dru
g drop behind the property?”

  He blinked. “I guess I’m not surprised. Bethany said she’d found cigarette butts, and not just one or two, but ten at a time. It made her uncomfortable. That’s why I had Jason put in the security lights around the perimeter.”

  Under the table Pearlie nudged my leg, telegraphing the message. I knew what she was thinking; Jason told us it was his idea to put in the security lights. So who was lying?

  “Did she call the sheriff’s department?”

  “Bethany didn’t like the idea of strangers coming out here. She scooped up the butts and put them in the burn barrel. Who told you about the drug drop?”

  “Reina,” Pearlie said. “She says deputies found bundles of marijuana hidden in a cavern behind your property.”

  “That would explain the bird calls I heard at night. They could’ve been here every night and—” He stopped drying his hands on the towel. “She had a phone in her room. Why wouldn’t she call the police if she suspected—”

  “She did. She called 9-1-1, remember? And Wishbone’s police chief responded.”

  “In broad daylight,” he said, looking out of the kitchen window to where a hidden cavern was used as a drop-off and pick up for drug traffickers.

  “We found a shortcut behind this property, Mac. It’s nothing more than a rutted trail, but it’s a convenient and direct route in and out to Highway 92. The detectives must’ve found it too, and discovered the cavern.”

  “My daughter would never stand for anyone bringing in dope. She must’ve called 9-1-1 after spotting one of them.”

  Mac had a point, and the results had been tragic for Bethany. It was also obvious why Julio would be their primary suspect. He had reason to be here, he had the contacts, and he knew how much the owner insisted on maintaining her privacy. But if Reina was to be believed, that Julio was innocent, there might yet be others who saw the opportunity in this remote location.

  “You said the UPS guy and grocery store truck were the only regular visitors here,” I said. “Did she have any other outside contacts?”

  “Only the gallery owners, and they either e-mailed or Skyped when they needed to talk to her.” Mac lifted his face to the ceiling. Above his head was his daughter’s bedroom.