All Things Lost (19 page)

     We had to go out on the road to get around the hedge row of trees in order to reach the other house. The rancher and its yard were well-cared for, in stark contrast to the house we had just left. Well tended shrubs grew along its foundation and a wreath hung on the front door merrily bid us welcome. We knocked on the door and it was promptly opened by a woman I would guess was in her early thirties. She had auburn hair cut short and friendly brown eyes. She was slightly overweight but handled it well with stylish clothing. It was obvious she was a woman comfortable in her body.

     “Can I help you?” she said pleasantly, but warily, as if she suspected we were Jehovah's Witnesses about to try our best to save her damned soul from eternal hell.       

     “Yes,” Novak said, “my name is Shane Novak. I'm a private investigator and this is my assistant, Killian Kendall. Could we have a few moments of your time?”

     At the mention of private investigator, her eyes widened, but she stepped out onto the porch. I guess she wasn't quite ready to let us in, but we were trustworthy enough to talk to outside.

     “I'm Becky Haynes. Is this about what happened next door?”

     I'm always surprised at the lengths some people would go to just to avoid talking about something unpleasant. I wanted to say, “You mean the guy getting chopped up with an ax and then burned to a crisp?” but that seemed a little crude so I let Novak do the talking.   

     “Yes, it is. I'm not working with the police on this case so you don't have to answer my questions if you don't want to.”

     “That's ok. Who are you working for, if you don't mind my asking?”

     “We're not really working for anyone. We're here on behalf of a friend of the young man who's been accused.”

     “Caleb?”

     “Yes.”

     “Is he ok? I've been worried about him.”

     “Well Killian went to see him so I'll let him answer that.”

     I was surprised at suddenly being handed the microphone, so to speak. “I…he…ugh…he seemed ok. He said that you helped him out when you could.”

     “He did?” She pursed her lips for a second and I was afraid she was going to burst into tears, but after blinking rapidly for a few seconds, she went on. “I tried to do what I could. It wasn't easy for him.”

     “You knew he was being abused?” Novak asked.

     She looked away. “Everyone knew.”

     “Why didn't you report it?”

     “I did.
Twice.
Nothing ever came of it. After awhile, you just get to the point where you feel there's no point in it. Like I said, I tried to do what I could.”

     “Did you see anything or hear anything the night of the murder?”

     “Not until the fire was pretty high. By then the fire trucks were almost here. Mrs. Fields called them I think. She had a bout with her heart right after that.
Probably caused by all the excitement.
I'm not sure if she's home yet or not.”

     “So you didn't see anything?” he pressed.

     “No, you can see that our view of their yard is pretty well obstructed by the trees there. We put them in as a windbreak and now they've all grown together.”

     “Who was there that night, do you know?”

     “I know Ira was because he came over a little after six and asked if we'd seen his dog. He has, or had, this old rabbit hound that loved to run away whenever it got out of the barn, which was almost weekly.” I could believe that after seeing the state of the barn, and couldn't blame him for running away either.

     
“Anyone else?”

     “I really don't have any way of knowing.
Maybe Nadine.
She was there most nights.”

     “Nadine was Mr. Cohen's…girlfriend?”

     “I guess you could call her that,” Mrs. Haynes said doubtfully.

     “Do you know where we could find this Nadine?”

     “I think she works at a hair salon in town. It's something corny like Hair Apparent or Mane Attraction…something like that.”

     “Do you think you could narrow it down a bit, maybe even give us a last name?”

     “The last name I don't know, but she was always telling me to come down and they'd fix me right up. I think she was implying something but I try not to think about. Let me see if I kept one of her cards.”

     She disappeared into the house and came back out a few minutes later with a business card in her hand. “It was Curl Up and Dye; I don't know how I could forget a name like that. And her last name is Tingle. You can keep the card.” She handed the card to Novak and he tucked it into his shirt pocket.

     “Well thank you, Mrs. Haynes. You've been very helpful. Is it alright if we contact you if we have any more questions?”

     “Please do.
Anything to help Caleb.”

     We started walking away, but Novak stopped suddenly and turned around. “One more question, ma'am.”

     “Yes?”

     “Do you think Caleb did it?”

     “Killed Ira?” she asked in surprise; shocked, I guess, that he would ask her that.

     “Yes.”

     She thought for a minute. “I don't know, I honestly don't know. But I do know I wouldn't blame him if he did.” She turned and walked into the house, shutting the door behind her.

Chapter 11

     We checked at Mrs. Fields' house once more before we left but there was still no answer. Novak stuck one of his cards in the doorjamb and we made our exit amid Bessie's noisy protests.

     “She thinks the kid did it,” Novak commented, interrupting my dark thoughts on the chances of our getting back to the office alive.

     “Mrs. Haynes?” I asked after my brain caught up.

     “Yeah, and so far we've not heard anything that would make me think otherwise. Have you thought about how you're going to feel if it turns out he did do it?”

     “It doesn't really matter much to me either way,” I said honestly. “I don't even know this kid and he didn't exactly endear himself to me on our first meeting.”

     “You're doing this for some reason.”

     “I told you, I'm doing this for my friend's sake. Why are you doing this?”

     “Insatiable curiosity,” he said with a big grin. He pulled the business card Becky Haynes had given him and flipped it over in his fingers a few times. “We're going right by here on our way back. Need a trim?”

     “It is getting a little shaggy, don't you think?”

     “Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it…”

     A few minutes later, we pulled into the small parking lot for To Dye For. It was a private home that had been converted into a beauty parlor, the type found in every small town in
America
. A small sign in the front yard bore the name of the business and a silhouette of a blow dryer and scissors. We walked in and six heads swiveled to stare at us, two of which sported plastic caps and sat under dryers. We were the only males in the room and quite possibly the only ones under 200 pounds.

     “We're looking for Nadine Tingle,” Novak said. I was impressed. He didn't sound at all intimidated. I was fighting the urge to hide behind him.

     One of the ladies stepped forward. She was a large daunting woman with even larger hair that was an unnatural shade of orange. “And who are you?”

     “My name is Shane Novak and this is my assistant, Killian Kendall. We need to ask Ms. Tingle some questions.”

     “What kind of questions?”

     “Are you Ms. Tingle?”

     “No, I'm Anita Johnson. You got a problem with that?”

     I was ready to sound the retreat, but Novak actually seemed to be enjoying himself. “Ma'am, I assure you it's none of my business what you need. I just need to speak to Ms. Tingle.”

     Anita sputtered and the other ladies tried to hide their guffaws under a sudden coughing epidemic. The back door swung open and a tiny woman with bottle-blonde hair strode into the room. From the looks of things, I would guess she spent a lot of time in a tanning bed; her skin looked like worn leather it was so tanned.

     “It's ok, Anita. I'll talk to him.”

     “Are you Ms. Tingle?” Novak asked.

     “Oh please, call me Nadine,” she drawled in a husky smoker's voice. On closer inspection she was quite a bit older than my first impression. A web of fine lines bracketed her eyes and lips, her teeth were tobacco stained.
“Unless you're the
IRS
.
In that case, you can call me tomorrow.”

     Novak held out his hand, “Shane Novak, I'm a private investigator. This is my assistant Killian Kendall.”

     We shook hands, and then Nadine gestured towards the door. “Why don't we step outside? This room has more ears than a bushel of corn and they don't mind telling what they hear.”

     Everyone pretended not to hear that as we followed Nadine's tight jeans out the door.

     “Hope you don't mind if I smoke,” she said, as she lit up a cigarette. I hadn't even seen her pull one out; it just appeared in her lips, as if by magic.

     “It's your lungs,” Novak said easily.

     “Amen to that. I'm so tired of the government trying to tell me what I can and can't do with my own body,” Nadine said as she blew a stream of smoke straight up into the air. “So what do you want to talk about?
This something to do with Ira?”

     “Good guess. What can you tell us about him?”

     
“About Ira?
Ha! Not much. Not much good anyways. Mean son of a bitch.
Meaner than a hog-nosed snake.
And a drunk to boot.
And
he weren't no happy drunk neither
.”

     “Weren't you dating him?”

     “Honey, I haven't dated anyone since I was 20. Dating is a young person's game. We met certain needs for one another.”

     “And what needs were they?”

     “Some things a lady just doesn't talk about.”

     Novak smiled knowingly. “What about his son, Caleb?”

     “What about him? Weird kid, he was real quiet.
Didn't see him much when I was around.
He was always out back somewhere.
Prob'ly
kept girly magazines in the barn or something.”

     “Were you surprised that the police think he might have killed his father?”

     She thought a moment. “I was and I wasn't. I was surprised that he would have the nerve to do anything as gutsy as kill anyone. He was scared of Ira. Can't say I blame him. Like I said, Ira was mean. And he was especially mean to the boy. That's what I mean by I wasn't surprised. I don't really blame him if he did kill him. My only question is: what took him so long?”

        “So you are comfortable with the idea of Caleb committing this murder?”

     “Comfortable? Who'd be comfortable with a thing like that?”

     “I meant you think he did it.”

     “Oh, well that's something else entirely. I don't know. That's not for me to decide, now is it?”

     “Is there anyone else who would have wanted to kill Ira?”

     She snorted and a puff of smoke shot out her nostrils. She was a lady alright. “Sugar, just list all the people who ever met the SOB and you'll know who's wanted to kill him at one time or another.”

     “What about right now? Who would have wanted him dead at this particular time?”

     She took one last drag on the cigarette, dropped it on the stoop, and crushed it out with a dainty little twist of her ankle before kicking it off into the grass. “Now I'm not saying anything one way or the other, understand? But have you talked to the folks down at the Ease Inn where he worked?”

     “No, is there any reason you would mention them?”

     “You could say things weren't real good between them lately.”

     “And why was that?”

     She smiled, “That's your job to find out, now isn't it?”

     Novak smiled back, I swear he seemed to be reveling in the banter. “I suppose it is. And who might I ask for when we visit the Ease Inn.”