Apparently, Dewayne's arrest for murder had triggered, or maybe accelerated, other serious ongoing criminal investigations. He might have escaped the clutches of an inept county deputy, but he hadn't been so lucky with the Feds. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms had swooped in with guns blazing, so to speak, on the shed out behind his house where he kept his construction materials. Dewayne Schuman, homebuilder and former felon, was apparently buying and selling things he ought not be. Behind some sheets of fiberboard and vinyl siding, he had stacked about forty wooden crates of various weaponry.
That in itself was plenty bad enough for a convicted felon, but Dewayne was doing a little modification of his inventory as well. Being somewhat of a thinker, he had quite efficiently labeled each box with helpful identifying details such as "full auto," which in layman's terms means fully automatic and seriously illegal. Not being an expert on either construction or arms dealing, I still suspected that Dewayne's profits from selling guns were considerably more than from selling houses. How that all fit into the tangled web of murder and assorted shootings, I had no idea, but odds were that it did.
Detective Rick seemed interested in my assumptions, suppositions and wild-ass guesses, but I was afraid he was mostly concerned about how I obtained the information, which told me I was fairly close in all the above. His curt "you're not to discuss this information with anyone" comment was a pretty good clue as well.
I took a turn, leaning back in my chair with an arrogant little smirk. "You know, Rick, I've been thinking."
He didn't groan, but I suspected he did so internally.
Professional types such as Rick do not appreciate amateur types such as myself attempting to "help" them with their work; therefore, I did not wait for him to ask me what had been weighing on my mind and shared anyway. "I know you've already talked to Gifford," I said, not knowing that at all. "He and Dewayne were awfully chummy at the mayor's funeral. I guess you know all about that."
He made a quick note on his pad then looked back at me, but said nothing. Not to worry, I had plenty more to chat about.
"It's also common knowledge that Gifford didn't care for either BigJohn or Lucille. That doesn't make a huge ripple in the cesspool of suspects, but it's definitely something to be aware of. On the surface, being mayor of Kickapoo, Texas, is hardly worth killing for. Officially, the job pays a whole dollar a year, but the rumor is that the kickback potential is in the mid-five figures, which ups the possibilities considerably. And you do remember about the mayor's wife's new Town Car, right? The grapevine says BigJohn paid cash, and those things aren't cheap."
Rick thought for a moment then said, "The Bennetts were still married, you know. It's certainly not unusual for a man to buy his wife a car."
If he was saying this stuff to insinuate anything regarding my mother and her poor choices, he was wasting his breath. "I am well aware that the Bennetts were legally married at the time of his unfortunate demise. The mayor had told my mother a rather different story, however, going so far as to show her something he called divorce papers. You might want to check on that too. He said he'd officially filed, but then the wife showed up in town and subsequently so did a new Lincoln. Kind of makes you wonder why, doesn't it?"
I let him stew on that for a few seconds then added, "It could be important to know the exact sequence of events. I don't know what Mayor Bennett had in the way of assets, but as long as the grieving widow was still legally married to him when he died, she'd retain control of all the community property. That included the water treatment plant lots he was trying to scam the city for and a tidy lump sum distribution from his retirement plan, not to mention the paid-for Lincoln, a mobile home and who knows what else."
Rick looked at me, waiting for more details.
I just shrugged. He didn't need me to tell him that Velma Bennett was far better off financially with BigJohn out of her way than if he'd stayed alive and divorced her. Personally, it would have probably been an even bigger relief. Following that train of thought, killing my mother out of spite was an easy leap. Adding me as a potential target wasn't, but she was still a viable suspect in my book.
Rick made a few more notes then thumped his pen on his notepad. "You certainly seem to know a lot about all of this." He sounded kind of impressed and was smiling just a little strange.
It was a nice change from the suspicious looks I usually get, and in a different situation, I would have suspected he was flirting with me. I decided to ignore his grin. "I know more than I want to, but I'm in the middle of this whether I like it or not. When people start shooting at people I love, not to mention me, I tend to get pretty interested in details."
"Details are good."
Odd comment, and not the most professional he could have made, but I chose to ignore it. "Sheriff Parker said you'd be helping his department out on this case, but exactly what is your role?"
His eyes twinkled and his boyish grin widened. "I get to interview all kinds of interesting people."
The look on his face was drifting farther into the non-business realm and I was not amused. "Uh huh. I'm just interesting because I'm from Colorado and can translate what the natives are up to into a language you understand."
"Maybe," he said, chuckling. "But, I've also learned a great deal about you over the last few days, and I have to say I'm impressed on quite a few levels."
Oh, please. Anything he'd heard about me around here couldn't be good, and I surely didn't want to get into some idiotic flirtation thing. I was, however, definitely flattered that he seemed to find me attractive enough to sidetrack an official interview. I haven't had many young studs making fools of themselves over me lately. That honor generally falls to guys with AARP cards and pacemakers. "I don't know what you've heard about me, Rick, but one thing I promise you is true."
He raised an expectant eyebrow. "What would that be?"
"When a woman gets to be about forty, she realizes that she doesn't have to put up with the same bullshit she did when she was twenty. Nor is she quite as gullible." I paused and smiled for effect. "She begins to care less about offending people and more about just getting to the point."
His brow wrinkled a little. He was beginning to see where I was headed and was deflating accordingly.
"I've over forty, Rick." I watched as that little detail sunk in, but I didn't see it deterring him as I'd expected. Fine. I could keep going. "So, no matter how cute you grin, surfer dude, I'm not going to be the older woman that you remember fondly for teaching you something or other about love, meaning sex."
A telltale band of red crept up his bronzed neck and he tried to sputter out a denial.
I didn't let him. "I could be misreading the signals you're sending--and let's just go with that--because, you see, we've got a killer on the loose. And you, Rick-the-big-city-detective, may be about the only chance we've got, under the circumstances, to catch him."
He toyed with his pen, looking down, unsure what to do next.
Since I am a sucker for salvaging male egos--and since he apparently had exquisite taste in women--I decided to play along. "Off the record, if I was five years younger and you were five years older, I'd zip you off to some plush hotel and give you something to tell your pals in the nursing home about fifty years from now."
He looked up at me and grinned. "I bet could too."
Before he started trying to convince me the age thing didn't matter, I said, "But there's a certain sheriff that might not find that amusing. And, since this is the first time we've wound up single at the same time in twenty-five years, I'd like to see what happens."
Rick's eyes widened and his face fell. Apparently, there were a few dots he hadn't fully connected. "I…I…"
"I'm flattered, Rick, really, and it's okay," I said, smiling. "Now, how about we forget out little fun flirtation and I entertain you with more local gossip?" I didn't wait for him to process and nod approval, I just leaped right on in. "I guess you know about Ethel Fossy, the geriatric stalker, also known as Bony Butt. Besides lurking outside my mother's house and following her around, little church lady Ethel also indulges in hang-up calls and hate mail."
Rick's pallor had warmed to an embarrassed blushed, but he looked relieved to be back to business and quickly flipped through his notes to get himself back on track. "Isn't she a friend of Mrs. Bennett's?"
"Yes, that's the one. She's also a big supporter of the late mayor, which muddies up the obvious motive. Fossy also went to the same church as the Bennetts, so there shouldn't be any "my church is better than your church" overtones or undertones, although Ethel's pretty firm on the fire and brimstone business."
Detective Surfer Dude nodded and wrote. "She is kind of a character."
"Aren't we all," I muttered.
He smiled, an appreciative, but professional smile. "Anything else?"
Well, yes, I could speculate all day, but I didn't want to. "I think that's about it."
He pulled a business card from the side pocket of his notepad, jotted something on the back and slid it across the table to me. "My cell phone is on the back. If you think of anything else, give me a call." As he said the words, his face turned a little red. "Now, just because you have my number doesn't mean you can call me up and ask me out on a date. You're just going to have to understand this is strictly business."
"Understood, Detective Rankin," I said, playing along. "I promise to control myself."
With the awkwardness smoothed over, we stood and chatted for a few minutes. He promised to give old Bony Butt a good scolding and tell her it was not okay to harass people, even if she could find what she considered scriptural justification. He also said he'd check her activities against those of the Bennetts to see if anything looked suspicious. I doubted Rick would be able to scare Ethel straight, but it was at least something.
"Thanks, Rick," I said, extending my hand. "I'll let you know if I think of anything else."
Lucille burst into the kitchen, a strange look on her face. "Calhoon Fletcher! I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner."
Rick released my hand and turned toward Lucille. "Miz Jackson, are you referring to Commissioner Fletcher?"
She nodded; her face pale. The Bing Cherry lipstick she'd so carefully painted on didn't help matters at all, the contrast making her face look all the whiter. "Oh, my, I just don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Everybody knew Fletch was trying to get rid of BigJohn because of all the problems with the builders and water plant and what not. Well, just about everybody in town was thinking we needed a new mayor. But Fletch took it personal about trying to stick the city for those lots. He'd even gone so far as to tell BigJohn he was going to condemn those lots for the water plant rather than pay BigJohn's price. Personally, I think Fletch was just jealous he didn't think to buy the lots first."
Rick flipped open his notepad and went back to work.
"Okay," I said, trying to link this up with any of the other situations, issues or gunfire. Nothing jumped out at me. "So we add his name to BigJohn's hate list."
Lucille nodded again then sighed heavily. "You may as well put Fletch on my hate list, too."
Rick looked up, brushed a blond lock from his forehead. "Why is that, Miz Jackson?"
"I suppose you know about that recall petition against Fletch. Well, it was my idea, and I started it going around the day before BigJohn was killed." Rick didn't look aware at all but that did not deter Lucille. "I'd just had enough of his picking on BigJohn, not that the old goat didn't need it, mind you. But Fletch's hands were just as dirty as anybody's, and I didn't think it was fair that he got off scot-free."
My mother had started a petition?
My
mother? Spouting off was one thing, but doing something official about it was quite another. I was highly impressed. "Wow, Mom, that must have taken some effort."
She looked at me, obviously missing the point that I was proud of her activist activities. "Well, Jolene, I'm not helpless. Granted, it wasn't an easy thing to do, what with getting all the I's dotted and T's crossed so the petition would be official, but it was something that had to be done, and I did it."
"May I see a copy of the petition?" Rick asked.
Lucille pulled a folded paper from her pocket. "I hadn't gotten but a dozen or so signatures, but everybody in town knew about it. It was just a matter of time before I had what I needed for a recall. After the shooting, of course, I didn't keep up with getting people to sign."
I'd heard Lucille say Fletch was dirty before, but I didn't catch any specifics. Condemning land is legal, if exceptionally unpleasant for the owners, so that couldn't be the main issue. "What were your specific reasons for the recall?"
Lucille patted her hair. "There were plenty of them. Fletch had pulled so many shenanigans it was hard to know where to start. There were a lot of things that we couldn't prove, but it wasn't for lack of working at it, I'll tell you for sure."
I have to admit that I was completely and totally shocked at my mother's involvement in politics and her resulting activism. When I was growing up, the closest she came to caring about politics was voting for president simply to cancel whoever my father voted for.
"Did you find something illegal going on?" Rick asked.
"You're mighty right we did. Merline and I had been snooping into some of the deals going on in Bowman County for quite a while. We began to piece things together and figured out that Fletch had set up a planning and zoning board that was supposed to manage the so-called growth in the county. Supposedly it was to make sure some big, smelly plant didn't get built in the smack dab middle of a neighborhood, that sort of thing."
Rick pulled out a chair, sat back down and motioned us to do the same. I debated leaving him with Lucille, but her story was getting a mite intriguing, if I did say so myself, and I definitely needed more details to add to my own theories.