Gone to Ground

by Brandilyn Collins

  And what was takin Cherrie Mae so long?

  Meanwhile Tully's phone wouldn't stop ringin. No doubt people all over town were hearin about Mike's arrest and wanted details. Tully checked the ID and most of the time let it ring. Then Trent called. Tully gasped. "I don't want to talk to him!"

  "Don't answer. Besides we agreed we wouldn't tell him anything unless Cherrie Mae's meetin with the police goes belly-up."

  Tully bit her lip until the ringin stopped. "There'll be other reporters. I'll have to hide." Despair crossed her face.

  Then her mother called. Tully picked up. Judy Starke's voice shouted over the phone loud enough for me to hear.

  "What are you doing there? I called and called the house—"

  "I had a friend bring me over. I needed my car and some clothes. I'll be back tonight."

  "Tonight? You need to get back over there now. What if Mike comes back?"

  Tully's eyes closed. "Mom, he's not coming home."

  "You never know—"

  "He's not coming. He's arrested. In jail. Because of what I told the police."

  "Tully, this is not your fault. He's in jail because of what he did."

  "I don't want to talk about this right now. I'll see you later." Tully hung up the phone. She stared at the floor.

  Poor thing looked so young. She was young. What it must be like to be Tully Starke Phillips, caught between a controlling mother and an abusive husband. Who just might be a killer.

  "You are goin back there tonight, right?" I faced her from across the room. "You can't sleep here alone."

  She nodded.

  Another ring—this time from my cell phone. I picked it off an end table and checked the ID. "It's Trent." I pushed the talk button. "Hi."

  "I just heard Michael Phillips has been arrested for Erika's murder."

  "News travels fast."

  "What do you know?"

  I gazed at Tully. "Not much. Probably just the same talk you have."

  He blew out air. "I called the police station to confirm, and Ted Arnoldson actually talked to me. He said they searched the Phillips' house and he found something akin to 'a smoking gun.' But he wouldn't tell me what."

  My eyes widened. Tully looked at me in alarm—what?

  "I have no idea what they found."

  "Man. Wish I wasn't in Jackson."

  "You could always come back."

  "Can't. I got stuff here. Do you know Tully Phillips very well?"

  Tully's eyes still locked with mine.

  "I cut her hair, that's about it. Why?"

  "Just wondering if you could persuade her to talk to me. I called her house but she doesn't answer. Called her parents' house too, just in case she's there."

  "Maybe she doesn't want to talk to a reporter."

  "But it's me."

  "Trent, you're not callin as a friend. You barely know her. You're callin as the crime writer for The Jackson Bugle. Her husband's just been arrested—she's got to be upset."

  He sighed. "Yeah, well. I'll keep trying. Phone me if you hear anything, and I'll run it down."

  "All right." I hung up.

  "What?" Tully sat up straight. "What'd he say?"

  "You know anything about the police findin a 'smokin gun' when they were here?"

  Her face whitened. "I didn't think they found much of anything. But then I didn't talk to any . . ." She bit her lip. "What could it be?"

  "The picture, maybe. Of Mike and Erika."

  "But they already had it on the camera. That's not news."

  "It is if the hard copy's in your house. Last you saw it, Erika had it—just a day before she was killed."

  Tully's breaths got fluttery. A sick look twisted her expression. "Oh . . . I'm . . . going to—"

  She shoved off the couch and lumbered fast as she could toward the bathroom. A toilet lid slammed open. I couldn't listen to the sound of her throwin up—or I'd be right behind her. The world was already tilted. I wanted to get off.

  Eyes squeezed shut, I sagged into the armchair and slapped my hands over my ears.

  Chapter 32

  Cherrie Mae

  At sight a that ring my stomach dropped to my toes. Was it the same one?

  Chief Cotter laid it on the table.

  I leaned over it. "Do it have the initials A.K.L. inside the band?" But I could already see em, catchin the light like they was winkin at me.

  "It's Erika's ring, Cherrie Mae."

  I straightened up, thoughts collidin in my head. "How'd it get there? In the Phillips's house."

  "Mike Phillips, how else? He must have taken it the night of the murder. Since you'd just seen it on Erika—if you remember your statement."

  My lips tightened. "I remember just fine. I also remember takin a picture a this here ring at Mayor B's house not three hours ago."

  John Cotter nudged my computer toward himself to view the picture.

  The chief lifted a shoulder. "Maybe it wasn't the same ring. I couldn't see the initials in any of your photos."

  "Mm. Funny how it was with pictures a all the Closet Killer victims. Which I don't think you gave to Mayor B."

  The chief nodded. The man was tryin to keep a poker face, but it was slippin. I glanced at John Cotter. He was goin through all the pictures, his forehead creased.

  I leaned back in my chair. "You both know somethin funny's goin on here."

  Chief Cotter picked up the ring and put it back in the bag. "I'll admit on the surface it doesn't look good. But we'll take it from here." He slipped off the glove. "I thank you for bringin me these pictures."

  Mayor B did know I'd been in his desk drawer. He knew he had to get rid a the evidence before I tol somebody. But he didn't know I had proof, did he. "That ring had to be planted in Mike Phillips's house."

  Lord, don't let it be by one a these two men.

  "We'll look into it."

  "Which officer found it?"

  "I said we'll look into it."

  The chief and I stared hard at each other.

  He pushed back his chair. "We're done here."

  "Can you print out copies a the pictures? I want to take my computer home."

  "That'll take awhile. Leave it here for now. We'll get it back to you soon."

  "Don't you make em disappear."

  The chief huffed. "We're not gonna do that."

  The timin a the search at the Phillips's house would a been perfect for Mayor B. All he had to do was get that ring over there somehow . . .

  I shook my head. "That ring was planted."

  "I said we'll look into it."

  John Cotter pushed my computer toward me and got up. As he opened the doh, I heard sounds from the lobby. A man greetin Ted Arnoldson.

  The voice belonged to Mayor B. "Chief in?"

  My heart took off out a my chest.

  "Yeah, down in the room. He's talkin to someone right now."

  This was no coincidence, the mayor showin up. He'd heard they was done searchin Mike Phillips's house, hadn't he. And he wanted to make sure that ring had been found.

  "Hi, Mayor." John stepped out a the room. Clearly he didn't want Austin Bradmeyer to see me. They were gon handle this new wrinkle their own way, without Cherrie Mae Devine around. Just what kind a story would Mayor B cook up when they interviewed him without me present? I could imagine him trashin me. Callin me a snoop and a liar, denyin everthing.

  John started to close the doh.

  "Hi, Mayor B," I called out. Puttin a grim tone into my voice. I shoved my computer lid halfway closed.

  John froze. Chief Cotter made an irritated sound in his throat. Footsteps approached. Mayor B appeared, lookin from John to me to the chief. His cheeks blanched.

 
Silence gripped the room.

  Mayor B forced a smile. "Y'all havin a party without me?"

  "Nah." The chief tried to sound nonchalant. "Cherrie Mae was just leavin."

  Mayor B licked his lips.

  "Actually, it's a good thing you come along." I kept my eyes on the mayor. "Since we was talkin bout you."

  "Oh." He laughed, but it came out nervous. "Sounds serious."

  "Cherrie Mae's just teasin you." Chief Cotter snatched up the evidence bag and glove, and stood. "Come on in my office, Austin. What can I do for you?" He started headin out the room.

  Mayor B looked from the bag to Chief Cotter. Curiosity battled fear on his face.

  "No, I ain't teasin, and I think he got a right to know." I stayed put in my chair, not bout to let this meetin come to a close. "Don't you want to know, Mayor B?"

  Austin Bradmeyer stepped past John into the dohway. The chief jerked in my direction. "That's enough, Cherrie Mae."

  "No, no, she's right." The mayor leaned against the threshold, tryin to look casual. "Three people meetin about me in the police station? I'd say I have a right to hear what's goin on."

  Chief Cotter glared at me, then turned back to Mayor B. "I also have the right to follow up with you privately. And that's—"

  "I told em bout the pictures you got, Mayor B. And Erika's ring."

  The chief's face glowed red. "That's—"

  "Wait, wait." Mayor B stepped inside the room, forcin Adam Cotter back. "What pictures? What ring?"

  Well. My jaw moved to one side. I fixed a look on Chief Cotter. Now he had the man headin for a lie. And that tape recorder on the table was still runnin.

  John eased back into the room.

  I looked back to Mayor B. "The pictures a all our murdered women. And you know what ring."

  Mayor B's forehead wrinkled. "Cherrie Mae, what are you talkin about? I don't have any pictures from the crime scenes. And I sure don't have any ring."

  The chief and his son exchanged a glance.

  "Where in the world did you supposedly see these things?"

  "In your office desk. Top right drawer."

  "In my desk drawer?" Mayor B shut the doh and walked toward the chief's vacated chair. Folded his arms and gazed down at me. "Why, that can't be. You'd have to be snoopin in my desk, and surely you don't do that."

  I scooted around in my chair to face him. Chief Cotter edged back toward the table, holdin the evidence bag and glove low at his side. He glanced at the turnin tape in the recorder.

  "If people knew you did that, Cherrie Mae"—the mayor shook his head—"seems to me you'd lose a lot of customers."

  Chief Cotter didn't move, but I could feel sick surprise rollin round inside him.

  "Mayor B"—my back was ramrod straight—"I seen those pictures in a file in your drawer just this mornin. And I seen Erika's missin ring."

  His expression darkened. "You are lyin. And I have no idea why." He threw a look at the chief. "Adam, you can go to my house right now and search that desk if you want. You won't find a thing."

  Chief Cotter held his gaze. "You never had any photos of the victims?"

  "No. Why would I?"

  "And you didn't have Erika Hollinger's ring?"

  "Why in the world would I have Erika Hollinger's ring?"

  "Is that a no?"

  "Of course it's a no!"

  Chief Cotter drew in a long breath. He looked anything but happy. "Cherrie Mae, open up your computer."

  Mayor B's eyes snapped to my laptop, as if it had sprung out a nowhere.

  I lifted the top and moved the mouse around, turnin off the screen saver. The photo a the crime scene pictures spread across the mayor's desk filled the monitor. I turned the computer toward Mayor B. He leaned down and peered at it.

  Color drained from his face like somebody done pulled the plug.

  I sat still as death, my heart bangin.

  "Show him one of the ring," Chief Cotter said.

  I slid the computer where Mayor B, the chief and I could see it. John took his seat at his end a the table, surveyin the mayor's face. One by one I brought up the ring pictures. First in the bottom a the hangin folder. Then the close-up. Then sittin on the desk.

  Mayor B plunked down hard in the chair.

  My voice would barely work. "I took these today. You knew I'd been in that drawer, Mayor B. That's why you wouldn't let me back in your office to clean."

  He ran his tongue over his lips. "I . . . there's got to be an explanation for this."

  Chief Cotter grunted. "I'm listenin."

  "Well, surely somebody put those things there. I didn't know they were in my house."

  "They been there since at least last Thursday, when I first seen em."

  "What were you doin in that drawer, Cherrie Mae?"

  John Cotter scratched the corner a his mouth. "The bigger question is—why are they in your drawer?"

  "I have no idea." Mayor B looked from John to the chief. They both stared back. The mayor spread his heads. "Look, what is this? You gonna let somebody come in here and tell these lies about me? I've been mayor of this town for fifteen years. Been a loyal member of the Methodist Church long before that."

  Settin in church don't mean much, if you're heart ain't right.

  Chief Cotter buffed the side a his head. I could tell he was upset. "Cherrie Mae, thank you for comin down."

  I studied his face. He made a small gesture toward the doh with his head.

  They intended to interrogate Mayor B the rest a the way without me. Fine. I'd done my part. Avertin my eyes from Mayor B, I picked up my purse and stood.

  "You can close the door behind you," Chief said.

  My head nodded. I stepped out without lookin back. Felt like I was leavin part a my life behind. Somebody I'd once thought could be trusted—couldn't. And whatever happened here, I'd never clean the Bradmeyers' house again. Who knew bout my other clients.

  In the lobby I stopped to take a long, deep breath. Ted Arnoldson sat at his desk, files spread across it. He was starin at me. And the anxious look on his face . . .

  "Ted." I ducked my chin.

  "Sounded like some meetin in there."

  Just how much had he heard? That room was a little ways down the hall. I clicked back in my memory to when Mayor B shut the doh. "I reckon so."

  He waited for me to say more. Uh-uh.

  Ted picked up a pen and twiddled it between two fingers. "I heard you say something about Erika's ring."

  "Yup."

  Seconds ticked by. "Well, Chief just showed it to you, didn't he?"

  "Yup."

  "We just found it at Mike Phillips's house."

  "Which officer found it?"

  "I did."

  Oh, Ted. "Where was it?"

  "In the cushions of the couch. Must have dropped out of Mike's pocket."

  "Mm."

  That pen kept twiddlin. I stared at his nervous fingers. He put the pen down.

  "You look puzzled about something, Cherrie Mae."

  Ted Arnoldson was a young officer, years a his career still ahead. Why'd he done it? "Not puzzled. Just . . . sad."

  "Sad?"

  Our eyes locked.

  He looked away.

  Dear Lord, how many people's lives do I have to wreck today?

  I stepped closer, put my purse on his desk. "You want to tell me bout it, Ted?"

  "Tell you about what?"

  "Why you let Mayor B talk you into plantin Erika's ring in Mike Phillips's house."

  His mouth creaked open. "What?"

  I waited.

  "You're out of your mind! Why would you say such a thing?"

  "Why you think I brought my computer in here?"
>
  He screwed up his face. "I don't know."

  "Well, maybe you better wonder bout that. You bein a cop and all. You're supposed to notice the details."

  "Okay, Cherrie Mae." He acted like he was playin along with a child. "Why did you bring your computer in here?"

  "Cause it has pictures on it. Of a file in Mayor B's house. In that file were photos a all the murder victims. And at the bottom was Erika's ring."

  Ted stilled like a wax doll.

  "If I was a bettin woman, I'd wager he got those pictures through you too."

  The officer's gaze drifted from me to the interrogation room. Fear played out on his face.

  I flicked a glance toward the little room. "That's what they talkin bout in there. My pictures. Mayor B's gon have to come clean too. Don't think he won't give you up. Besides, the chief already knows you the one who 'found' that ring."

  Ted swallowed.

  "'It's the nature of truth to struggle to the light.'"

  He ignored my quote. "I did find it."

  I shook my head. "Tell em the truth quick as you can. Maybe the chief will go easier on you if you go to him first."

  Defiance hardened Ted's expression.

  "Ain't you worried bout what Mayor B's sayin right now? He could be layin all the blame on you. I was in there, I heard how the man can lie."

  Which is why I couldn't believe Ted had anything to do with the actual murders. Mayor B surely gave him some story bout needin those pictures—and havin the ring.

  The officer snorted. "They won't listen to him."

  "Chief and him go back a long way. Longer than the chief does with you."

  Ted's shoulders fell. He closed his eyes like he wanted to block out the world.

  "Come on, young man. Get yourself in that room right now. Tell Chief Cotter the truth with Mayor B sittin there. That's what I done—confronted him before he got the chance to spin tales bout me."