Killerfind (16 page)

hetta
turned off the
office computers and set the phones to the answering machine. She had wondered
all afternoon about the other Camaro that Ricky had in her shop. Maybe she was
working on one for a customer, even though she hadn’t told Rhetta. That puzzled
her, though, because Ricky knew that Rhetta enjoyed watching the transformation
of these cars under Ricky’s superb craftsmanship. Ricky usually gushed about
her projects.

As Rhetta turned off the last of the office lights
and reached for the keys to lock up, her cell phone jingled from the innards of
her purse. She managed to find it before it quit ringing. She didn’t recognize
the local number.

“Rhetta, it’s Ricky. Can you come and get me? They
let me go. I’m using the sheriff’s office phone.” That explained the unfamiliar
number.

“Sure, I’ll be right there. But how…? Just tell me
you didn’t grab a deputy’s gun, hold him hostage and threaten his life to get
out. Did you?”

“No, of course not.” Ricky chuckled, but with little
mirth in her voice. “The prosecutor and the sheriff got into quite an argument,
and the bottom line was the prosecutor said there wasn’t enough evidence to
arrest me in the first place, so I’ve been downgraded from a suspect to a
person of interest.”

“That’s great, Ricky. Of course, there’s no
evidence. You didn’t do it. I’m on my way.”

Rhetta called Randolph.

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Randolph said.
“Sheriff Reasoner has been called Sheriff Unreasonable by several of the
assistant prosecutors. He’s got a history of jumping the gun. He’s ruined many
cases for Prosecutor Fox. Reasoner wants to call the shots about charges, and
Sylvio Fox doesn’t want him interfering. It’s a mess.”

“Great. Just ducky. A turf war. Does that mean if
Reasoner solves these murders that Fox won’t prosecute?”

Randolph laughed. “They don’t call our prosecutor
Sly
Fox
, for nothing.”

Rhetta shivered at the thought that a killer was
still on the loose. And that someone might be building a case against Ricky.

“I’ll be home after I drop Ricky off. Can you get
the grill ready? I thawed some steaks that need to be cooked tonight.”

“Yep. And I’ll feed the cats, too. Love you. And,
Rhetta?”

“Yes, Sweets, I’ll be careful.”

*
* *

Ricky
appeared to have aged ten years since Rhetta last saw her. Her normally vibrant
red hair hung limply in a ponytail held by a brown rubber band, probably one
she’d pilfered from a county desk. Her jeans fit loosely, as though she’d lost
weight, even though she’d only spent a day in lockup. Ricky, sitting in the
sheriff’s department waiting room with her hands folded primly on her lap,
clutching her purse, gazed up at Rhetta with puffy eyes in a tear-stained face.

Once safely belted in, Rhetta asked, “Why don’t you
come to the house and have supper with us?”

Ricky shook her head. “No, but thanks, anyway. I
need to go home and hug Taffy and Tater. I missed them so much.” Rhetta told
her about Woody tending to the dogs. She didn’t tell her about Taffy’s escape.

“Woody said he signed for a motor delivered to you.
I told him that was the one you wanted to send back. I’ll pay you for it, and
we can keep it for whenever my Z28 gets released from the evidence garage.”

“Okay, no problem.” Ricky stared out the side
window. Rhetta glanced at her friend as she cranked up the air. She spotted
fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

They rode in silence the rest of the way. Whenever
Ricky wanted to talk, she would. Rhetta wouldn’t push her.

After pulling into the driveway and parking, Rhetta
walked Ricky to the back door, and waited as Ricky found her key and unlocked
it.

As Ricky pushed the door open, Rhetta said, “Keep
all your doors and windows locked. There’s a murderer still on the loose.” With
that, Ricky turned and fell into Rhetta’s arms, sobbing openly.

She pulled away and rubbed the tears from her
cheeks. “I didn’t kill him Rhetta. But, I’ll tell you the truth. Saturday night
I was so mad at him, I wanted to.”

hey sat
at Ricky’s
antique
round kitchen table, Taffy and Tater each vying for their mom’s attention by
jumping up on her lap. Ricky hugged them both, and set them down. Taffy, a
terrier mix, immediately jumped back into Ricky’s lap, while Tater, a
Labrador-Golden Retriever cross, lay by her feet, tail thumping on the floor.

“Can you get us a soda?” Ricky asked, hugging and
petting her fur babies.

Rhetta located two cans of Diet Coke in the
refrigerator and returned with two glasses of ice. She set a coaster under each
glass.

“Do you want to tell me why you were so mad at
Jeremy?” Rhetta asked as she popped the tab on their sodas and poured for each
of them.

Ricky sighed and stared at the beverage as it
crackled over the crushed ice.

“I caught him with another woman in his apartment.”
Ricky finally said, as she circled the rim of her glass with her thumb.

Rhetta flashed back to her experience with Jeremy on
Saturday. She hadn’t yet told Ricky about it. Maybe if she would have, Jeremy
might not have been at the barn, and gotten himself killed. Had he arranged to
meet someone out there? This newly discovered other woman?

Rhetta sipped, waiting for Ricky to go on. She’d
gauge when would be the best time to tell her.

New tears began dribbling down Ricky’s cheeks. She sniffled,
then reached across the table for a tissue and blew her nose. “I guess I didn’t
know what he was really like. I went looking for him at the party, and when I
couldn’t find him, I jogged upstairs to his apartment. I walked in on him and
some bimbo. He yelled at me, and called me everything but free and over
twenty-one, as though it was my fault he was cheating on me. I slammed the door
after yelling something like I hoped he rotted in hell, or some such, and then
I left the party.”

“Do you know who he was with?” Rhetta asked,
thinking that this woman could be a suspect in Jeremy’s murder.

“I didn’t recognize her big white behind,” Ricky
smiled. 

Rhetta patted her arm. “I know this is all terrible
about Jeremy getting killed, but you really are better off without him.”

“What’s really terrible is that I’m a suspect.”
Glass in hand, she slid to the floor and cradled the dogs, hugging their necks
and enveloping them into her lap.

“Did you tell the detective about this white-butted
woman?”

“I did. But, frankly, I bet we never find out who
she is. Most, if not all the women at the party, were there with their husbands
or at least with their significant others. I’m sure none will want to come
forward.” Ricky stood, and the dogs wound through her legs.

“Well, I’ll come forward,” Rhetta said.

“What?” Ricky nearly dropped her glass. “You?”

“Wait, no, I wasn’t the white-cheeked woman, if
that’s what you’re thinking.” Rhetta twisted around to examine her rear. “My
butt’s not big! What I mean is that Jeremy made a move on me, too, but I kneed
him in the groin.” Rhetta gathered up the two glasses and headed for the sink.
“I’m surprised he wanted to make a move on a woman so soon after our
confrontation.”

Ricky burst out laughing. “I can just imagine how
that went.” Ricky dropped into the chair, snatched a tissue and dabbed her
eyes. This time, her tears weren’t from sadness. “You were right, Rhetta, he’s
nothing but a big jerk. Or was….Who could have killed him, and why?”

“That, my dear friend, is the million dollar
question.” Rhetta headed for the door. “If you’re not going to come home with
me, I’d better take off. Randolph was getting the grill started.”

She started out the door but turned back to Ricky.
“By the way, Woody said you have another Camaro in the shop. Is that a new
project?”

“Woody talks too much,” Ricky said under her breath.
Rhetta, however, had excellent hearing. “No,” Ricky continued. “that’s just an
old Camaro I had in the other shed that I’m using for parts.” Ricky cleared her
throat, and waved dismissively. “Now that your Z28 may be held captive for a
while, I want to strip this car and sell the parts. If I can do that, and sell
my Trans Am, I may be able to pay for a lawyer.” Ricky sighed. “There goes my
dream of a restored ’65 Mustang. I may need the money for my legal defense
fund, instead of a hot car.”

“Now that you mention your Trans Am, let me see that
so-called check you got for payment.” In all that had happened, Rhetta forgot
her promise to check out the suspicious check.

Ricky pulled open the top middle drawer of an
antique oak sideboard, withdrew the Fed Ex envelope and handed it to Rhetta.
“Do you really think this is a scam? “ Ricky looked wistfully at the envelope
as Rhetta took it.

“Yes, and we may have to get to the bottom of this.
I’ll have Woody help. He’s a computer whiz.”

Ricky smiled. “That’s why you call him
Woody-the-Answer-Man, right?”

“That, plus he always has his finger on the pulse on
everything going on in Cape.”

Rhetta tucked the envelope in her purse, hugged her
friend again, and left.

Poor Ricky. First a scam for her
Trans Am and now her man gets murdered. Boy, when things go south, they go in a
hurry.