Killerfind (24 page)

hetta
dropped Ricky at
her
home, making it back to the office just in time to meet LuEllen, who was in her
car, getting ready to leave for the day. They waved as their cars passed each
other.

Woody’s Jeep was snugged up to the building. The
lights inside the office were on, as were the computer monitors. Rhetta took a
deep breath and strode in.

Woody merely nodded as she asked, “Hi, Woody, are
you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t turn around from
studying his monitor.

“LuEllen said that you weren’t feeling well this morning.”

“That was this morning. I’m fine now.”

He swiveled his chair to look at her, then leaned
back so he could point to his monitor. “I see you took Paducah by storm today.
Where are you going tomorrow? Things have been pretty quiet in St. Louis lately.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

She felt relief wash over her. She hadn’t realized
how much she was worried about Woody until this very second. Woody wore a full
out grin by the time she reached his desk and joined him in watching streaming
video featuring herself and Ricky on
Live News at 5.
Woody, the
newsaholic, had the local television station’s news website up following the
story.

Her cell phone barked Randolph’s “Who Let the Dogs
Out?” ring tone. She winced as she answered, knowing that he had probably just
watched the same coverage on the television news.

“Hi, Sweets.”

“Please don’t tell me you got arrested in Paducah
today. Where are you?”

“I didn’t get arrested and I’m in my office. Didn’t
you get your voice mail? I didn’t even get a ticket going through Illinois.”
Randolph groaned. She was glad they were having this conversation by phone.

“No, I didn’t get any voice mail from you.” He
paused a moment. “I just looked and I’m sorry, there was a missed call and
message from you. I guess I just didn’t see it. The main reason I’m calling is
that I don’t have good news for you. Although, I’m just glad you don’t have
more bad news for me.”

Maybe she should’ve waited until she got home to
talk to him about the trip to Paducah. But then, it was Randolph who’d called
her. He usually didn’t break bad news on the phone. She hoped he hadn’t run
over one of the cats. Her heart leapt up her throat and stuck in her windpipe.

“Did you run over one of the cats?”

“What? No, why do you ask? The cats are fine.”

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath.
She let it out in a long sigh.

“Then what’s the bad news?”

Now it was Randolph’s turn to sound uncomfortable.
“The Alexander County State’s Attorney just called.”

Her stomach knotted.

“He said he’d see you in court next week.”

hetta’s
stomach lurched. She
didn’t have the heart or guts or any other innards strong enough to tell Woody
the bad news. She’d wait until morning, after she had a chance to talk it over
with Randolph at home. See what their options were. Those being—according to
Randolph—bad and worse.

She told Woody, “I’ve had a horrible day, and I’m
sore all over. I’m heading home. I suggest you leave too. We’re technically
closed, and the phones are on auto answer now, anyway.” The clock read 5:30.
She gathered up her briefcase and purse.

“I’m waiting for the Greens to get here. They
couldn’t come until after they got off work at five, so they should be here any
second.”

Rhetta logged off and shut down her computer. “You
have keys, right?”

“Yes.” He answered abruptly as he always did when
she mentioned keys. She asked him that regularly now whenever she left before
he did. Ever since the time he had hauled several trash bags out and tossed his
keys and cell phone into the Dumpster along with the trash. He claimed the keys
and phone were in his hand one second and flying out the next, following the
trash. He swore a poltergeist had snatched them. He had crawled up and over and
into the bin to retrieve his phone and keys, but when he got in, he couldn’t
get out. After rooting through God-knows-what and finally finding the keys and
phone, he’d been forced to call Jenn to come and get him. And, to bring a
ladder. He had to take the Jeep to the car wash the next morning to hose the
stench out of the interior.

The Greens, a pleasant-looking older couple arrived
just as she was leaving. Rhetta asked Woody if he needed anything else, and
when he said he didn’t, she left. Just as she aimed the key fob at the door to
unlock it, she remembered that her iPhone was on her desk. She returned to the
office, muttering to herself about being so forgetful. She heard her generic
ring tone as soon as she opened the door. She lurched across the office and
snatched it up just in time. The next ring would’ve probably sent the call to
voice mail.

“Why didn’t you come on in?”

Rhetta instantly recognized the voice. “I, uh.”
Rhetta didn’t know what to say. There were few times in her life that she’d
ever been at a loss for words. Apparently, this would be one of them.

“I followed your adventure on the news this evening.
My, my, you do get around.”

“We went to Paducah to get Ricky’s money back from a
scammer,” Rhetta finally said. Why did she feel like she had to justify why she
was in Paducah to Mylene?

“You shouldn’t be trying to find me. That could
prove dangerous for you. Leave well enough alone, Rhetta McCarter. I had a soft
spot for you when I heard about you finding my father’s remains. I wanted to
enlist your help to solve the riddle about my father. I bailed you out of the
Cairo hellhole. I’ve changed my mind. Do yourself a favor, and don’t come
looking for me anymore, all right? Jeremy is dead. Don’t you be next.”

“What do you know about Jeremy? What—” Rhetta was
talking to air. Mylene was gone. The call had been from a blocked number so she
couldn’t call her back.

Rhetta stared at the phone.
What did she mean,
next? Next to die?

 don’t
know what
to make of
it, Randolph. Was she threatening me? I want to let the Sheriff’s office sort
it out. I’m done with the whole mess. I never should have gotten myself
involved.” Rhetta played with her food, then set her fork down. Randolph had
surprised her by preparing his trademark meal—home-cooked spaghetti. While she
appreciated his kindness in fixing supper, she was too wound up to eat it. She
pushed her meal aside. They had taken their plates out to the table on the back
deck, and now found themselves surrounded by plaintive felines.

“You didn’t eat much,” Randolph commented as he eyed
her nearly full plate.

“I’m not very hungry. I just can’t get Mylene’s
phone call out of my mind. Maybe she killed Jeremy. She didn’t seem very
surprised or sorry about his death. In fact, she sounded like she didn’t care
much for him at all, calling him her bastard brother.” Rhetta reached down to
stroke a black and orange tabby that she named Pirate, because he always stole
every other cat’s toys and food. The fur encircling his right eye was black,
and looked like a pirate’s eye patch, giving further merit to his name.

Randolph cleared away the remnants of the meal, and
returned with fresh glasses of iced tea. The sun had nearly set, casting
crimson-tinged shadows along the horizon. Rhetta sat back, and Pirate jumped on
her lap, curled into a fat orange and black ball of fur, and began purring.

Randolph handed her a beverage, then pulled a chair
up alongside hers. “This business in Alexander County isn’t going away, so
let’s deal with that first. Also, I want you to completely stay away from the
Jeremy Spears and Malcom Griffith investigations. Hear?” He smiled.

“I hear.” Although she knew Randolph was right about
removing her sticky nose from the investigation, she felt she had to stand up
for herself. “In my own defense, I didn’t mean to get involved. We couldn’t
help it that we found Malcom Griffith’s body. It’s not like we set out to find
him. As to Mylene Allard, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with her, if she
hadn’t called me.”

“Uh-huh, but speaking about Mylene Allard, let’s get
back to the Alexander County problem. I need to find a criminal lawyer for
you.”

Rhetta’s heart sank. “And for Woody, too.”

“Yes, Woody, too. Of course. I’m checking with some
friends who practice civil law over there, so they can refer me to a good
criminal defense lawyer.”

She winced. Just hearing the words criminal defense
lawyer in reference to herself made her stomach clench. She thought she
wouldn’t be able to eat again until this was resolved. The reality that she
might go to prison made her sick. “Randolph, I’m sure Mylene will give them a
statement that we had nothing to do with whatever was going on.”

“What makes you think Mylene plans on doing anything
to clear your names? She’ll be looking out for herself, I’m sure.” Greystone, a
solid grey, formerly feral cat jumped into Randolph’s lap. Rhetta had rescued
Greystone when he was a tiny spitting and clawing kitten stuck in a downspout
on her office building. He had managed to draw blood on Rhetta’s hand as she
worked to extricate him. Now, he was another fat McCarter feline. His contented
purr could be heard over Pirate’s.

Rhetta and Randolph sat a few more minutes in
silence, petting the lap cats. The other two cats sat nearby, tails swishing,
waiting for supper. Rhetta’s mind spun with everything that had happened. Who
had killed Malcom Griffith? Who killed Jeremy? Was it the same person? And why?
As far as Rhetta was concerned, Mylene was the obvious suspect. Her thoughts
churned up a scenario where Mylene could have also killed her father. She tried
to let on to Rhetta that she loved her father, but that could’ve been all show.
Mylene was, after all, in show business. Okay, not exactly show business, but
body-showing business. Same difference.

What about the affair between Anjanette Spears and
Malcom Griffith? Did Anjanette’s husband know about it? Could he have killed
Malcom Griffith? It would have taken someone strong to push the Z28 over the
spot where Malcom was buried, unless someone used a truck or another car to
push it. Did Mr. Spears really die from a stroke, and how much money did
Anjanette or Jeremy come into? Was Jeremy cooking the books for the subdivision
and did someone find out about it? Like one of the California investors? Could
they be mobsters who decided to take care of Jeremy for skimming their money?
But if they were mobsters, they probably would have shot him, and not conked
him on the head with a metal detector that happened to be lying around. That
made Rhetta think it might be a crime of anger and opportunity. Someone who
knew him. Ricky? No, she shook that thought away. She circled back to Mylene.
How did she fit into all of this?

Her head spun itself into a major headache. She set
a protesting Pirate down and went to the master bedroom bath in search of
Advil. When she returned, she spotted her phone on the counter in the kitchen.
She carried it along with her iced tea refill to the table outside.

Just as she sat, and Pirate returned to her lap, the
phone vibrated and she heard the metallic strains of the William Tell Overture,
the former Lone Ranger television show theme music. She set it for Woody
because he liked to call himself
The Loan Arranger
.

“Hey, Rhetta, I forgot to tell you that you need to
go to the post office to pick up a certified letter. It came today, but
required your signature. I thought you might want to get it before you come to
the office tomorrow.”

“Did you get one today, too?” Rhetta’s heart
thrummed thinking it was some sort of letter to notify her that she needed to
be in court.

“No, why?’

“No reason, just wondering.”

“Uh-huh. Something’s up, and you’re not telling me.
See you in the morning,” Woody said, and disconnected.

“What was all that about?” Randolph had emptied his
lap of his feline, and was feeding all the cats their supper. Pirate
reluctantly left Rhetta’s lap to join the others.

“Woody forgot to tell me that I have a certified
letter at the post office. Would the Alexander County court send me something
certified?

Randolph shook his head. “No, that’s very doubtful.”

Now, what?