“I wish I could. But tomorrow’s visiting day at the detention center. Tabitha’s shifting her schedule to come in so I can go.”
“Ah, the detention center.”
“It’s the only day I can see Hank.”
“Right.”
“We need to talk more than we get to on the phone. Plus, he’s been sounding pretty down. Seeing a friendly face will be good for him.”
“No, I get it. You should go, absolutely.” Brian exhaled. “Sorry, I’d go with you—if you wanted me to, that is. I mean, because it’s probably not the greatest place to have to visit. But I promised Ben …”
“I wouldn’t have expected that, honest. And it’s best I talk to Hank alone. At least this time.” As she said it, Callie realized how much both she and Hank didn’t want there to be a next time. What if this dragged on because she couldn’t find anything that would get him out? A terrible thought that she shooed away.
“Gotta go,” Brian said. “Customers.”
They disconnected, with Callie struggling over what more she could do to forward Hank’s cause. She’d come up with a plan of sorts by the time Tabitha arrived, calling out her hello.
“Still no luck finding the bar Hank went to last Saturday night,” Tabitha said as Callie came out of the office. “And the more time goes by, the less likely it’s going to be. I mean, for people to actually remember him and all.”
“It’s a long shot. But I appreciate you and your friends giving it a try.”
Tabitha grinned. “Checking out area bars? We were more than happy to do it.” She dropped the grin. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make a joke out of it.”
Callie flapped a hand. “No problem. By the way, did you happen to see who was covering Shake It Up! when you walked by?”
“I saw Delia heading over to the café, so I’m guessing her friend is watching the shop.”
Callie smiled. “Then I’m going to run over. Call if you need me.”
Pausing outside of House of Melody, Callie looked across the street at the Keepsake Café. It appeared crowded, so Delia might be held up for a while. If she planned to eat her lunch there, Callie would have even more time, though she wouldn’t count on it. A few minutes alone with Jill might be all she’d need. She hustled next door.
Jill looked up as she walked in. “Hi! Delia’s out for a few minutes if you wanted to see her.”
“No, that’s fine. So you’ve learned the ropes, huh?”
“More or less. Ringing up sales is no problem. But tracking down specific kinds of salt and pepper shakers for people—ugh! There’s so many! But Delia’s a text message away if I need her.”
Callie glanced through the window. No sign of her friend. “I have a question for you.” Jill’s eyebrows rose expectantly, as she probably anticipated something innocuous and shop-related. “Why didn’t you mention that you knew Bobby Linville?”
“What?” Jill’s voice squeaked and she stepped back. The surprise had thrown her off balance, just as Callie intended, hoping it might break down some of her barriers. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s true, isn’t it? You both worked at the Portis Playhouse.” Callie hadn’t been sure if the timing coincided, but Jill’s stunned reaction told her she’d hit the mark.
“I … I didn’t think it was important.” Jill reached behind herself and slumped onto a nearby stool. “No, that’s not true. I just didn’t want to talk about it. Period. It was a bad time for me.”
“Bad because of Bobby?”
Jill nodded. “The way it ended. Things were great at first. I was in love, and we had plans, or at least I did. I didn’t know his plans were going in a very different direction.” She rubbed her temples. “I was young—twenty-four, but very naïve—and he was good at convincing people he meant exactly what he said.”
“In other words, he lied.”
“Yup.” Jill straightened. “And it cost me. Cost me a lot, in more than one way. But that’s neither here nor there.” Her eyes flashed. “It was just something personal from my past. I didn’t see the need to make it public.”
“Normally, no,” Callie said. “But we’re talking about the man’s murder.”
“And you think I did it?” Jill’s voice had risen, loudly enough that neither of them heard the shop door open.
“What’s going on?” Delia stood in the doorway, her bag of take-out from the café in her hands. Callie’s and Jill’s heads swiveled toward her.
“Your friend thinks I’m capable of murder!”
“I never said that,” Callie corrected her mildly.
“You might as well have. Just because I didn’t inform you I knew Bobby, you think that means I killed him.”
“You knew Bobby?” Delia stepped in, dropping her food on a nearby table.
“Yes, I knew Bobby! Is that so terrible? We had a fling. It ended. I didn’t want to talk about it. So there!” What she’d said earlier sounded like much more than a “fling” to Callie.
“Oh, Jill,” Delia said, rushing forward. “You could have told me. It would have been okay. And you can tell Callie. She’s just trying to find out all she can so she can clear her friend. Isn’t that right Callie?”
“Definitely. I have to piece together as much as I can about Bobby’s past life, and soon, to find out who would have wanted to kill him. I know it wasn’t Hank.”
“And it wasn’t me,” Jill said more calmly. She smiled grimly. “Maybe I could have killed him back then. But I got over it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Delia said. “He broke your heart?”
Jill’s mouth twisted. “Demolished it.” She laughed, but Callie saw the lingering bitterness in her eyes.
“So now you know Bobby Linville was a cad,” Delia said to Callie. “That must have shown up in other ways.”
“I’m sure I’ll find more examples.” Callie turned back to Jill. “At the festival early Saturday night, Bobby was heading in my direction while I was in line at the ice cream stand. That was close to your booth. It looked to me as though he suddenly saw something or someone he didn’t want to face. Would that have been you?”
Jill’s face flushed but she shook her head. “I wouldn’t doubt it, but like I told you, I only saw him the one time. It was later in the evening and he was arguing with that woman.”
“Yes, Krystal Cobb, around ten o’clock. You must have been shocked to recognize him. Did you speak to him?”
“No! No way! I told you the truth. I got away from there fast and went back to my booth.”
“How much longer did you stay at the festival? Business must have been winding down around then. And you must have wanted to avoid running into Bobby again.”
“Yeah, but I had to pack up all my stuff, you know? That took a while. I really don’t know. Eleven-ish? Yeah, that was probably it.”
Callie saw Delia’s eyelids flicker at Jill’s eleven-ish, though she said nothing. Delia had told Callie about waiting up for Jill as late as eleven thirty. Had Jill just lied, or did she actually not know what time she left?
Callie decided she’d done as much as she could for the moment. She thanked Jill and left, wanting to give Delia a chance to discuss things further on her own with her friend. It seemed highly likely that there was much more to Jill’s story than they’d both heard so far.
Twenty-Two
Brian called again later that afternoon. “I got in touch with the tow truck driver.”
“Good. What did he say?”
“He was called out to pick up a van in front of Annie’s house around one a.m. Thursday. He said there was only the van, and no SUV. That fits with what Annie’s neighbor said. He also said this van has been in their shop for repairs before. The owner always gets only the minimum done, even though he’s been told this could lead to other problems before too long.”
“Did you get a n
ame?”
“Earl Smith. No address given. But he must be local. Once the van was fixed by late Thursday, he picked it up pretty quick. Not likely to be a pillar of society—‘kind of scruffy’ is the description I got—but not a known criminal either, at least not to the people at the garage. Just someone with enough money to keep his rickety van running until it happened to break down in front of Annie’s. That should be enough to settle Ben. At least I hope so.”
“Me too. Thanks for letting me know.” Callie updated Brian about Jill, and he agreed there was probably more to come out.
“Whether you’ll hear it or not is the question,” he said. “Delia can be very protective of her friends.”
“I hope only to a point. Surely she wouldn’t cover up a murder if it came to that.”
“No, but … well, there’s other … I don’t know. I’m probably way off base about that. Forget I said anything. I’ll talk to you later.”
Callie hung up, wondering exactly what Brian had started to say. Forget what he said? That only made it more likely to stick with her.
A customer came in and Callie waited on her, though she was not as fully engaged as she should have been by then. Luckily it was a simple sale—someone who’d already been to the shop and knew exactly what she wanted—so handling it on auto-pilot wasn’t a problem.
Not long after that, she got a call from Lyssa.
“Hey,” Lyssa said rather loudly, with much background noise coming through. “I’m in New York, waiting for my bag, and I wanted to tell you something before I have to run.”
“What’s up?”
“While I was on the plane, I went to that website you told me about. For the Portis Playhouse?”
“Okay …”
“You were right. There’s nothing there about Bobby Linville or that photographer, Jill. But I saw someone else on it.”
“Who?”
“Oh, wait! Here comes my bag. Hold on a minute.”
Callie heard scraping noises and voices, including Lyssa’s firm “excuse me” that sounded more like “move!” Callie’s impatience was growing the longer it went on. Finally Lyssa was back.
“Got it! Sorry. The crowd here is rough! Anyway, what was I saying?”
“You saw someone on the playhouse website.”
“Oh, yeah! You’ll never guess.”
“Don’t do this to me, Lyssa!”
“Okay. Plain and simple. It was my landscaper guy, Gavin Holder! He was in the photos of the grand opening ceremony.”
“Gavin! What was he doing there?”
“I’ll give you a hint: he was holding a shovel. He did their landscaping, you ninny.” Lyssa cackled. “And he was there helping to plant a memorial tree that honored some donor. I might not have recognized him—it was twenty years ago, you know—but the caption gave his name. It said he’d made their outdoor areas beautiful, and that he’d continue to keep it that way, which means he was on their payroll. So he really must have known Bobby Linville. He wasn’t glaring in his direction at the festival because of an upset stomach.”
“Wow, good catch, Lyssa. That ceremony happened around the time Jill was working there, too.”
“You’re sure?”
“A customer of mine put her there in that time frame. Plus, we know Jill’s age when she was in a relationship with Bobby—she said she was twenty-four. It all fits.”
“Aha. The plot thickens. Can you go over to my place sometime and see what Gavin has to say about this? He should be around. Wish I could do it myself, but …”
Callie wished Lyssa could do it too, especially since she’d said that Gavin wasn’t particularly gabby. She’d struggled to get anything out of him, and she was highly skilled at that. But Callie would have to try.
Lyssa, who’d been walking through the terminal during their conversation, apparently made it outside, since Callie heard changes in the background noises. “Oh” she suddenly cried, “I got a taxi. Better go. I’ll check in with you later!”
Callie heard the abrupt disconnect and put her own phone away. As she thought about all they’d been talking about, along with what else she’d recently learned, she realized there was a lot she needed to keep straight. She pulled out a pad of paper, sat down behind her counter, and began to write.
At the top of the page, she wrote:
Time of Murder: Between 12 and 2 a.m. Sunday morning
Below that she wrote:
Opportunity and/or motive:
1. Krystal Cobb
Krystal admits to arguing with Bobby at ten p.m. She claims it was over Bobby’s demand for more money for the band, but there’s no one (alive) to back that up. She also says she left the festival soon after, but again, there’s only her word for that.
Krystal’s daughter, Tiffany, might have known Bobby at college, and she died from a DUI. Bobby had a drinking problem. Is there a connection? Might Krystal blame Bobby for her daughter’s death?
2. Jill Burns
Jill admits to a years-ago relationship with Bobby that turned bad, and there’s obvious lingering bitterness. But Jill seems angry at a lot of things. Could this be blamed on Bobby and whatever happened between them? Jill named eleven o’clock as the time she left the festival, but according to what Delia said Sunday morning, it couldn’t have been that early.
Callie paused, then added another name.
3. Gavin Holder
All we know about Gavin so far is that he probably knew Bobby from when they both worked at the Portis Playhouse twenty years ago. The only suspicious thing is that he wasn’t forthcoming about having lived and worked in Portis. Of course, Lyssa was his employer, not a police detective requiring full and complete answers. But it’s worth looking into further.
Then Callie reluctantly, but for complete honesty, added a final name:
4. Hank
Hank’s anger with Bobby over his mismanagement of the band, particularly the loss of a good recording opportunity, is well known. Bobby was killed with the music box Hank recently bought. His alibi for the time of the murder—getting drunk at a bar, then sleeping it off in his car—can’t be confirmed.
Callie sighed. Once it was all put down in writing, she had to admit it looked very bad for Hank. She could understand why the police stopped looking beyond him. But had they, actually? Hank’s lawyer, Clark Allard, might know. She picked up her phone and called his office, only to hear he was out. She left a message with his assistant, asking the attorney to get back to her.
After hanging up, she looked back at her list of suspects and stopped at Gavin Holder. If Laurie had read Gavin’s expression right at the festival, Bobby was not only known to Gavin but had left a pretty bad impression on him. And Gavin had the best reason of all to stay late at the festival: it was his job. How long had he been there?
Another question Callie had was why Bobby had stayed late—or returned—to the grounds after the rest of the band had gone. Nobody seemed to have an answer to that, but she knew it might make all the difference in identifying the murderer.
She was pondering it all when her shop door opened. She looked up to see Rhonda Furman smiling cheerily, the blue shirtdress she’d worn the other day at her clock shop replaced with a gingham blouse tucked into a denim skirt. She held up a ring of keys and rattled them.
“I’ve been dying to come see your place, so with business as slow as it is, I asked myself, ‘Why not now?’ and locked up to run over here.” She took in Callie’s array of music boxes in a sweeping gaze. “Wow! Can I try a few?”
“Go right ahead,” Callie encouraged her as she came out from behind her counter.
Rhonda wound the key on a small child’s music box nearby, smiled at its tinkly tune, and then moved on, eventually lifting the lids or winding nearly a dozen to play simultaneously. She clasped her hands with delight at the sound. “I love it! Much b
etter than all the tick-tocking at my place.” Remembering Lyssa’s horrified reaction to that, Callie smiled. As though reading her mind, Rhonda asked how Lyssa was enjoying her new clock.
“I know she loves it. But she’s left it behind for a few days to do some book promotion in New York.”
“Ooh, how fun! I’m going to look for one of her books. I’d love to have her sign it.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to.”
Rhonda went around to carefully close the music boxes, then turned to Callie. “You know, I think I should explain a little something.”
“Oh?”
“When you two were in my shop and you told me about the murder at the festival, I wasn’t perfectly honest. I actually did recognize Bobby Linville’s name.”
Callie wasn’t exactly stunned to hear that, though she was surprised to hear Rhonda say it. She waited, expecting to hear something to do with Krystal. Instead, Rhonda said, “It’s a little embarrassing, which is why I fumbled around about it. But it happens that I once bought a car from that man.”
“A car?”
“Yes, some years ago. It was totally on impulse. I saw it advertised in our PennySaver, and it was so reasonably priced. My husband was out of town, so I met with Mr. Linville, drove the thing around a little, and bought it on the spot.”
“I have a feeling that didn’t turn out very well.”
Rhonda grimaced. “It didn’t. The car had lots of problems. When we tried to contact Mr. Linville, it was like he’d vanished. He did tell me he was moving away, which was why he needed to sell the car in a hurry, but still. As I said, embarrassing. I tried to put it behind me long ago, but when you said his name, it came flooding back.” She winced. “Which was probably what that car went through: a flood.”
“You didn’t know Bobby before that?”
“Oh, no.”
“Because I learned that he went to Clayton Daniel College. I believe Krystal’s daughter went there for a while. Did yours?”
“CDC? Yes, our Jamie graduated from there. Bobby Linville did too? Wow!”
A Curio Killing Page 13
