Okay, I knew I wouldn’t actually be responsible, that if Old Man Goodson had killed the girl, he would be the one responsible, but a very small, important part of me toyed with the idea live and let be with regard to my old friend.
Millie nodded. “I know you know that’s not how it works, but I also know you got a heart bigger than most, and you’d feel partly responsible anyway.”
I nodded then, too.
“But you don’t have to worry yourself one bit, because he didn’t do it. I as much as told you that earlier. It was one of them kids. Now, I don’t know if it was that boyfriend of hers or someone else, but I know for certain it wasn’t Old Man Goodson just as much as I know it wasn’t Buford Jennings either.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
She laughed. “Honey, I don’t do wrong.”
That got a real smile from me.
“You know how many times that woman’s cheated on that man? I can count four, and I’m not including Clyde Covington. ‘Sides, what’s killing a teenage girl going to do to stop two adults from doing what they did?”
“People are killed for less, Millie. What if it was a matter of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“You listen here honey. Those sheriff deputies, they searched that entire farm, and they didn’t find nothing that proved that girl was killed there. Not a thing. In fact, the Covingtons even said they’d just cleaned the inside of the chicken barn the day before, so there would have been something, drag marks, blood, whatever, if she’d been killed there. That’s why they think she was killed somewhere else and then her body dumped in another place.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
She nodded. “And a lot of time. That’s why I think it was them kids. They were young enough and strong enough to do it, and they had all the time in the world that night without nobody paying attention.”
Except that Millie herself said the Forsyth County Sheriff had brought in additional help to squash the issues at the illegal drag race.
She acknowledged the worry on my face. “Talk to him. He won’t be worried, and I know if you can help solve the case, he’ll have that burden lifted. He don’t talk about it, but I’m guessing he’s always been worried people think he did it. I know I sure would be.”
That made sense. And Dylan told me to interview the potential suspects, to ask questions before jumping to defend my friend. I had been asking questions, and though I hadn’t interviewed everyone else, that didn’t mean I shouldn’t go ahead and talk to Old Man Goodson. “I think I will. Maybe I’ll head over to his place.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, now I wouldn’t do that. His wife might up and shoot you.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“That woman is slicker than a snake.” She stood. “Besides, those four musketeers were just here a half hour ago. Said something about goin’ down to the sunflower farm in the morning to take some photos like the kids do.”
“But they’re not in season.”
“That’s what I said. Henrietta said that meant they could sneak in and not pay a dime.”
We both laughed.
“God bless that woman. She is a character, isn’t she?” I laughed at the image of the four of them sneaking into the sunflower farm. “I can see that making sense to them.”
“Well, us seniors do have to budget our money.”
“Thank you, Millie. I appreciate your insight. I owe you.”
“Never you mind that sweetie. You’re like kin to me. You don’t owe me nothing.”
I hoped she appreciated the way I intended to pay her back regardless.
Dylan ended up not coming by that night. I’d played outside with Bo for a bit, and he finally called, saying he need to work late. He sounded give out on the phone, so I convinced him to go home and rest once he finished. I was exhausted too, and neither of us needed to stay up late just to be together. We’d be spending every night together soon enough.
* * *
The original owners of the sunflower farm sold the property a few years back, just before the boom of photo opportunities in flower farms kicked into high gear. I often wondered if they regretted that sale. I’d driven by it hundreds of times, noting the packed lot and heads popping out of the flowers throughout sunflower season. Belle had even suggested Dylan and I have our engagement photos there, but we hadn’t even considered taking engagement photos. It just seemed like too much work.
Ugh. I really needed to figure out what my heart wanted for my big day and all that included. I wanted Dylan, and I wanted to be Mrs. Dylan Roberts, at least that much I knew.
Old Man Goodson’s beat up pickup was parked down the road from the farm. Not at all obvious, I thought, my sarcasm kicking in. At least the kids who’d tried to sneak in parked down the street and at the biking trail, but that was a good quarter mile walk, and I figured the oldies didn’t have it in them to walk that far.
I parked alongside his truck and searched the closest area of the browned masses leftover from the sunflowers first. I found them within minutes, and what I saw could never be unseen.
“Oh, hey there, Lilybit.” Henrietta waved from Billy Ray Brownlee’s lap. The thing was, Billy Ray’s back faced me. Henrietta, whose age I only assumed was upwards of seventy-five, straddled an even likely older Billy Ray, her face pointed in my direction. Goodness gracious, I really didn’t need to see that.
“Pull your dress up a bit on your left leg,” Bonnie hollered. “Show me more skin.”
Some what? I considered a swift about face, but I had a murder to solve, and more importantly, a friend to clear, so I braced myself and approached the scene. Besides, these four hooligans didn’t need to be arrested for trespassing or indecent exposure. “Um, you do know this is private property, right?”
Bonnie let go of the camera, letting it hang from the strap around her neck. “We ain’t hurting nothing, besides, we’ve got a special relationship with the sheriff. He’ll do right by us.”
Considering she’d recently been nicknamed Granny Clampett, Bonnie was the last to say that. The woman would probably end up on the FBI’s watch list if she had another incident involving a gun. “I wouldn’t bank on that. He’s just been re-elected and has a load of campaign promises to keep you know.”
Henrietta smiled so big I saw the holes where her molars once were. “Keep shooting. I got me a roll going here.”
Bonnie held the camera and snapped a photo.
I held up my hands and spoke loudly. “Um, guys? I’m serious. This isn’t a good idea.”
Henrietta groaned. “What’s wrong with us taking a few photos out here? We’re not bothering nobody.” She yanked the left side of her loose-fitting, though probably intentional, bright yellow sunflower patterned dress back over her knee and grunted while trying to climb off Billy Ray’s lap. Not quite able to get her right leg high enough behind her for the dismount, it caught on Billy Ray, and she tumbled backwards, sliding to the ground in a lump.
Bonnie snapped away. “Yeah, that’s good. I like action shots. Now roll over and pop up on your elbows.”
I held back a giggle. Just the thought of Henrietta rolling and popping anything was funny.
Henrietta’s left hand reached her pale yellow jelly shoe on her left foot. She yanked it off and threw it at Bonnie, missing her by a few feet.
“Ha!” Bonnie laughed. “You throw like a girl.”
I helped Henrietta up and adjusted the bottom of her dress. “There are hundreds of other places in town y’all could be doing this, you know. Why here? And really why such inappropriate posing?”
Henrietta held her chin high. “All the kids are doing it. Bonnie’s grandson showed us a bunch of pictures on that grammy site. What’s the big deal?”
“Grammy site?”
She shrugged. “Something like that, but it don’t matter. It ain’t a biggie. We’re young at heart.”
“Well, young at heart is different than being an actual kid, you know.”
>
Old Man Goodson was nowhere in sight. “Where’s your fourth partner in crime? I came to see him.” I prayed he wasn’t somewhere close by changing into clothing I didn’t need to see.
Bonnie pointed behind her. “That man pees like a race horse. Third time in an hour he’s had to go. Told him he needs to get his prostrate looked at.”
“Prostate?”
“Yeah, you know, the thing that makes him pee.”
I bit my lip. That wasn’t the job of the prostate, but I wasn’t about to talk about to get into a medical and health discussion with them at that moment. God only knew what they’d say. Thankfully, Old Man Goodson appeared though a thickening. I blinked to clear the visual forming in my head. I’d already seen enough I didn’t need to see, and I didn’t like my mind playing tricks on me like that.
“Well, lookie here. We got ourselves another photographer. Lily, you want to take some photos of the four of us?”
Oh heavens, what had I gotten myself into? “Um, I—”
“That’s a mighty fine idea,” Bonnie said. She wrapped her arms around Old Man Goodson and lifted her right leg a few inches off the ground. “Here, hold my leg up. It’ll be just like the photos my grandson showed us.”
As he crouched down to grab her leg, they both lost their balance and stumbled forward. “No, no, no.” I rushed to their aid and kept them upright. “How about I take one of the four of you standing next to each other like respectable adults normally do?”
The two women shrugged. “You’re such an old fuddy-duddy,” Henrietta said.
I pulled the camera strap over Bonnie’s head. “Yes, I know.”
The four of them stood next to each other posing like four children who’d been forced to have their photo taken.
“Come on, you grumpy old people. Act like you like each other.” I aimed the camera at them. “On the count of three, say bacon. One, two, three.”
They each mumbled bacon without any hint of smiles, but I took the photo anyway. “Y’all are no fun.”
“Says the fuddy-duddy.”
I ignored Bonnie. “Old Man Goodson, I need to talk to you about something. Alone, please.”
The lighthearted air staled.
“Everything okay, Lilybit?” Henrietta asked.
I did my best to smile genuinely. I didn’t want any of them to worry, especially Old Man Goodson. “Of course. This will just take a minute.”
We walked back toward our cars while the others stayed in the sunflower field.
Old Man Goodson leaned against his truck and pulled a can of chewing tobacco from his pocket. I knew he had the habit, but I rarely saw him do it, so I knew he was concerned. “This about Larry Junior?”
Larry Goodson Junior was involved in a tragedy surrounding a deceased client of mine, and after all was said and done, he’d received a five-year sentence at Ware State Prison in South Georgia. Larry Senior and I never talked about it. I’d never considered the situation an elephant in the room, and I hoped he hadn’t either.
My shoulders slumped. “No, it’s not. But, about that—"
He stared me straight in the eyes. “Lily, you did the right thing, finding out what happened to Myrtle Redbecker. Don’t you forget that. What Larry Junior did is on him, not you.”
I promised myself if I ever found out who stole the Hansard’s coin collection I’d give them a what for until the cows came home. I hated what I had to do, and I blamed them. “This is about something else, and I’m sorry to ask, but it’s important.”
He spit the chew from his mouth and nodded. “I figured we’d end up having this discussion someday, what with you doing all the investigating you do. Surprised it took this long really.”
I leaned against his truck too. “You know what I want to discuss?”
He sighed. “’Course I do. That Jennifer Rawlings’ murder, right?”
I sighed too. “I never really thought about it all until someone asked me to check into it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Clara Covington?”
I shook my head. “It’s a long story, and I’d really like to keep it between us if you don’t mind.”
He agreed.
I pushed a rock with my foot, hoping for a few seconds to think. “I don’t know how to ask this, so I’m just going to—”
“I didn’t hurt that girl, Lily, and no one in town thinks I did either.”
The weight sitting on my chest for the past few days lightened, but I needed more than just those words to be sure. “My heart tells me that’s true, but Deputy Pittman had you on his list, and if I’m going to figure this out, I have to know why. What happened?”
“Clyde Covington was a no good scoundrel, that’s what happened.”
I almost laughed. “That seems to be a general consensus, excluding his wife, of course.”
“Don’t know why she stayed with the man, but I know people asked the same thing of me and my ex.”
Until a few months ago, Old Man Goodson and his wife Ermajean lived separate lives in the same home and were still legally married. She’d made a last-ditch effort to get back together, but for reasons that weren’t any of my business, and I assumed were named Henrietta and Bonnie, he’d decided enough was enough, and filed for divorce. Shortly after signing the papers himself, he moved into Billy Ray Brownlee’s spare bedroom and had been there ever since.
“Maybe it was a similar situation?”
He shook his head. “Me and Clara, we talked about it once. She never said why, but I think it had to do with the business more than anything. They made themselves a good living back then, and I bet she’s got a good retirement now because of it.”
I had a feeling that was the reason many people stayed in relationships. “Did you ever confront Clyde about the affair?”
He stared off into the brown massy field and nodded. “I did what any proud man would do. I told him to stay away from my wife or he’d pay.”
“Oh.”
He shifted his eyes and looked directly into mine. “That was just my pride talking. I wouldn’t have done anything. I’d even let him have Ermajean, only he didn’t want her, not for more than what he used her for already that is. He even told me that. Laughed when he said it, too.” He shrugged. “When I thought about it, I realized I didn’t much care whether she stuck around or left, and that’s pretty much how it’s been since. But I didn’t want my son not to have his pa ‘round, so I stayed.” He kicked a rock. “Whole lotta good that did him.”
“You’re a good man, Larry, and I believe you’re a good father, too. People make their own decisions, and his didn’t have anything to do with how you raised him.”
“I try to believe that.”
“Did anything ever happen around his niece? Did you ever have any confrontations with her?”
Old Man Goodson stuffed another gob of chew between his bottom lip and gums. I hated that habit, and I’d made sure to tell him that every chance I got, but it just didn’t seem right to lecture him about it then. “I didn’t have a problem with that girl. She was just a kid. I only went to the farm once, and when I did, she wasn’t there.”
“Did you go to the farm the day she was killed?”
“No, ma’am. I was at the shop the entire day till I went home for the night. Even showed the receipts for work I did to that deputy.”
“What did he say?”
“That he might come back and get copies of those and to make sure I wasn’t lying, said he’d probably be calling my customers to check.”
“Did he come back?”
“Never did. Not for those anyway. He asked me a few more questions, but that was all.”
“Did you have any interactions with Jennifer Rawlings in town? Something someone could have seen maybe?”
He dragged his hand down his gray beard. “Nope, and I told the deputy that, too.”
“What about your alibi for that night? Were you really at home with Ermajean?”
He nodded. “’Course I was. Why would I l
ie?”
“Then why did she say you weren’t?”
“She never said I wasn’t, just that she was sleeping and couldn’t say for sure I didn’t leave the house again after she went to bed.”
Deputy Pittman must have assumed she was lying. “Why would your name be circled then, and why would Deputy Pittman write probable killer next to it?”
His jaw clenched, and his neck stiffened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “Because that…because Clyde Covington accused me, that’s why. He didn’t like that I confronted him about his going out on his wife with mine. Even Clara didn’t think I did it. She told me that herself. Said she knew it was Buford Jennings like she knew the sun would come up every morning. That didn’t matter none to Clyde though. He wanted me to take the blame.” He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down his neck. “That deputy should have investigated Clyde a heck of a lot more than he did.”
Both Clyde and Clara were cleared of suspicion, their alibis checking out. Clyde spent the day at a poultry factory, and Clara had a doctor’s appointment, and then they played cards with friends, which Deputy Pittman verified. “His time was accounted for, so he wasn’t a suspect.”
Old Man Goodson shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know why somebody would kill that girl, but I know I didn’t do it.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I believe you.”
He turned toward me and smiled. “Thank you, Lilybit. That means a lot to me.”
Bonnie burst through the browned sunflowers and rushed over. “Uh, we got ourselves into a bit of a pickle.” She pointed to the green pickup truck headed our direction. “We need some help getting Henrietta out of the flowers right quick. She fell in a hole and twisted up her ankle but good. Billy Ray can’t carry her alone. She’s too heavy. Told that woman she needed to lose that fat butt of hers, but she don’t listen to me.”
Old Man Goodson and I glanced at each other. “I’ll take care of the pickup, you go help Henrietta,” I said. I pointed at Bonnie’s chest. “And you go with him. I do not want you here.”
Open House Heist Page 7
