Killerfind (8 page)

ednesday
afternoon the Streak’s
outside thermometer read 102 when Rhetta slid behind the wheel. Before she’d
locked up her office for the day, she’d glanced at the weather icon on her
desktop, and if it was to be believed, the area was experiencing the hottest
September on record. Inside, the SUV had to be twenty degrees hotter. She
cranked on the air conditioner, setting the fan to high speed and rolled down
the window to blow some of the heat out. Sweat beads immediately popped out on
her forehead.

Her cell rang just as she began pulling out of the
parking lot. She’d forgotten to set the iPhone on the console. She stopped and
groped around inside her purse, finally locating the instrument after upturning
the purse on to the passenger seat. Just as she answered, the phone quit.
Crap
.

 She didn’t recognize the number, so she tried
calling back. She didn’t leave a message after hearing a generic phone company
pre-recorded message.
Probably a wrong number
.

The phone rang again. Before she could speak, a
bubbly sounding Ricky said, “Hey, girlfriend, what are you doing?” Ricky was
perpetually cheerful.

“Putting everything back in my purse, since I had to
dump it out for a call I just got and no one was on the line.” Rhetta stuffed
everything back in her bag and sat back, relishing the now frigid air blasting
out of the vents.

“Hope you didn’t cuss too bad.”

“I want you to know I didn’t cuss at all,” Rhetta
said. She didn’t count
crap
as a cuss word.

“Right. Listen here, my friend, we’re having a big
barbeque and get-together at Jeremy’s mother’s swanky place this Saturday. She
just got a pool installed and we’re going to break it in. I’d love for you and
Randolph to come.”

“Isn’t September a little late for a pool party?”
Rhetta wiped a tissue across her sweating brow, and reconsidered. “I guess it
wouldn’t be, not when it’s a hundred plus outside. What am I saying?”
Perspiration continued to drip down her nose. Since she also felt her back and
neck sweating in spite of the frigid air, she knew she was experiencing that
perk of being forty-plus. As Ricky chattered on about the event, Rhetta
wondered when Mrs. Spears moved into the house. She’d have to ask Ricky when
she paused to breathe. According to Ricky, after losing her home Mrs. Spears
had rented a two-bedroom duplex, which was a far cry from owning a luxury home
and getting a new pool.

Ricky was still prattling. “The pool was supposed to
be finished two months ago, but the company was way behind after its huge
spring sale, so they finally got hers finished right before Labor Day.”

Rhetta started to decline, since she didn’t like
Jeremy, and Randolph didn’t like pools. However, she’d never met Mrs. Spears,
so curiosity prevailed and she accepted the invite. Randolph would mutter and
fuss that he wanted to spend the weekend doing anything else but sitting around
a pool. He never swam in them, claiming there were too many possibilities of
swimming in substances other than water.

“Sure, that sounds like fun.”
Liar
. “What
time and where?”

Ricky rattled off the address and Rhetta tapped it
into her phone. “What can I bring?” She immediately thought about heading to
Primo
Vino!
to pick up a couple of bottles of local wine. Randolph didn’t drink
anymore, but she was sure everyone else there would partake.

“Mrs. Spears is having the event catered, so I’d say
you probably don’t need to bring anything. Except if you want to stop at
Primo
Vino!
”

Rhetta laughed. “Who knows who so well now?”

“
Ciao
.” Ricky signed off before Rhetta had a
chance to ask her about Mrs. Spears’ new fancy digs. Oh, well, she’d find out
this weekend.

Rhetta placed the phone on the console and pulled
out on to Kingshighway.
Hmm. I guess Mrs. Spears is recovering financially
since losing her husband and her home. Maybe Mr. Spears had a big life
insurance policy. A catered party and a new pool?
She recognized the
address as being one of the stately older homes near Southeast Missouri State
University. How did the widow Spears get a loan to buy another house so soon
after the foreclosure? Rhetta knew she couldn’t have gotten a loan—unless
Jeremy had signed for her. He might have. He was single, and had a decent
income, if she remembered more of Ricky’s details about him. However, Ricky had
commented that Jeremy wasn’t making money on his project yet, and couldn’t have
financed the subdivision without help from his California investors. His credit
couldn’t have been good enough to buy a half million-dollar house for his
mother.

Mrs. Spears must’ve fallen into some major money
some other way.

t six
o’clock Saturday
morning the thermometer was already hovering at 85, with the high expected to
be near 100 once again. The local weatherman declared this would be the
thirteenth straight day of 100-plus temperatures, and would thus set a new
record for a September heat wave. Rhetta groaned, and poured herself another
cup of coffee.

Randolph padded down the stairs from the upstairs
bedroom. “Got some more of that brain juice?” Rhetta found his favorite mug and
filled it for him. He joined her at the kitchen counter.

“Do we really have to go to this shindig today?” He
sipped, then peered at her over the brim of his cup.

“Sweets, if you don’t want to go, you know I won’t
insist. I’m doing this for Ricky. I know she wants me to get better acquainted
with Jeremy, so I agreed. I didn’t mean to obligate you.”

Randolph stood and flexed his shoulder muscles, then
slid an arm over her shoulder. “If it won’t upset you, I think I’ll stay here.
I don’t like being outside in this heat, and I’ve got a ton of work to do.”

His “work” wasn’t a job, but it consumed him
nonetheless. Since his retirement from the bench, he’d been painting steadily.
He lost several work days in the weeks following his accident. Now that he was
well, he painted feverishly, preparing for a one-man show scheduled for the
first week of October at the Rivers West Gallery, the art co-operative in
downtown Cape Girardeau where he was a member. In addition, his paintings had
been selling briskly on Etsy, an internet site for artists. “At the rate I’m
going, I’m going to need to clone myself.”

“Are you complaining?” she asked and he grinned.

“I remember the old saying about being careful what
you wish for.” He hugged her and kissed her gently. “Thanks.”

She hugged him back, and kissed him solidly. “I see
the cats are ready for their breakfast,” she said, and headed for the sliding
door to the deck. The four felines were seated side by side, staring at them,
noses pressed to the glass. Although each cat was a rescue cat, all had banded
together to stare inside, and thus train their people to feed them.

*
* *

Rhetta
cruised along North Henderson Street past the campus and turned left onto
Medford Circle. The huge trees lining the cul-de-sac formed a picture-perfect
canopy, while the sun sparkled through the leafy overhang. She easily located
the Spears’ address. The two-story brick Federalist manor was the only house on
the circle with a plethora of vehicles parked in the driveway and crammed into
every possible street spot. The old money upscale neighborhood homes all enjoyed
large garages and paved driveways, so most likely these vehicles, ranging from
Escalades to Beemers, belonged to the guests of the home she sought. She
circled the circle twice without locating a parking spot, so she returned to
Henderson Street and parked in the lot near the University Center. With no
classes on Saturday, there were plenty of open parking spaces.

Sliding the straps of the tote bag containing the
wine onto one shoulder, she slid her purse onto the other, and began the
three-block trek to Mrs. Spears’ home.
Crap, I forgot my cell phone.
She
returned to her SUV and realized she’d forgotten to lock the Trailblazer’s
doors. “Good thing I had to come back,” she muttered. When she snatched her
phone, she noticed a missed call. She recognized the same strange out-of-state
number that had called her earlier in the week. She locked the SUV, and leaned
against the driver’s door. A few clicks and she was online at 411.com, where
she checked the reverse number locator. It was registered to an Illinois cell
phone, but there was no other information available.

Who could this be? Wonder if it’s
a customer?
Her
cell number was on her business cards, and on the bank’s website, so being a
Saturday whoever called probably figured she wouldn’t be at her office. But why
hadn’t the caller left a message? Either time? This second call couldn’t be a
wrong number again. Rhetta’s answering voice message clearly indicated who she
was and what her office hours were.

She was still thinking about the call and staring at
her phone as she strolled to the sidewalk when a bright red Mustang convertible
pulled up. Jeremy waved at her, properly this time, she noted.

“Hi, Rhetta. Let me give you a lift to the house.”
He swept alongside the curb, leaned over and opened the passenger door from the
inside.
A gentleman would have gotten out and opened the door.
He hadn’t
earned any points. She thought about telling him so.

Instead, she considered Ricky and for her friend’s
sake, she forced herself to smile and act grateful. “Thanks. It’s darned hot
out here.” Rhetta leaned in and placed the tote bag and her purse in the back
seat. She stuffed the phone into the pocket of her white capris, and slid into
the passenger seat. “Looks like there’s already a crowd at your mother’s. Where
will you park? I circled around and had to come back to the Henderson lot to
find a spot.”

Jeremy’s perfect lips parted, displaying teeth in
what he probably thought was a winning smile. “I’ll go in the back way up the
alley. It’s our private entrance.” His arrogance oozed from every pore, but she
bit her tongue. For Ricky. This day wasn’t going to be easy.

He beamed a smile at her that was undoubtedly meant
to disarm her. Someone had obviously paid an orthodontist a tidy sum on his
behalf. Although she smiled back, Rhetta knew it was her phony one again. It
was hard to be genuine with this guy. She wanted to like him for her friend’s
sake, but she had met too many self-important men exactly like Jeremy, and just
couldn’t warm up to him. His whole demeanor was cookie-cutter yuppie, from his
bleached blond longish hair that he kept pushing back out of his eyes as he
drove, to the loafers worn without socks. Having the top down didn’t bother
Rhetta. Her hair was so short it barely moved.

She studied his profile and could see why Ricky was
taken with him. He was middle-aged handsome, with just the right amount of
creases and lines in his tanned face to upgrade it from boyish. Apparently, he
could be very appealing. He wore white chino shorts, which showed off muscular
tanned legs. She remembered the middle finger salute, though, and decided his
charm was all show.

As Jeremy zipped up the alley, he waved at an
elderly gentleman in a security guard uniform.

“Do you have your own private security here?” Rhetta
asked as she whipped her head around to stare at the guard.

“No, just for today. With so many people invited,
Anjanette thought it would be best, especially to protect our neighbors’
privacy.”

“Who is Anjanette?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Anjanette is your
hostess, my dear Rhetta. She is also my mother.”