Randolph made it clear that he didn’t want her involved in any investigating, and wasn’t too thrilled about her finding Mylene Allard. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. After all, Sheriff Unreasonable had even hinted that she could be a suspect in Jeremy’s death. Look what happened to Ricky. They arrested her.
A cold finger of fear inched up her spine. Could Ricky have killed Jeremy? She admitted that they’d quarreled. No. Definitely not. She shook her head to chase that notion away. Ricky? Never.
However, somebody killed him.
Was it Mylene? Did she kill the brother she hated? Is that why she warned Rhetta away? Then why had she called Rhetta to meet her at the barn? Thinking about that, Rhetta wondered if Mylene wanted to lure her to the barn to possibly frame her for the murder she was planning. Then there was Anjanette. Maybe she really was Jeremy’s stepmother, not his real mother, and killed him over money? What Rhetta overheard from the closet didn’t reassure her that Jeremy wasn’t bilking Anjanette. There was no doubt in Rhetta’s mind that Jeremy was pond scum.
“What was the letter about? Do you owe a million dollars in back taxes and the feds are going to come and get you?” Woody’s question snapped Rhetta back to reality.
“No. Nothing like that. It’s about my father. I sent for his military records. They really don’t tell me much.” She wasn’t ready to discuss the conflicting information about Alexander Franklin Caldwell. She didn’t really even want to think about her father. She’d harbored years of hatred for the man, so she wasn’t going to let him intrude now.
She had a murder or two to solve. In spite of her husband’s warnings.
Chapter 46
Rhetta jolted awake when the house phone on her nightstand shrilled at 5:30 in the morning about a foot from her head. No one ever called on the house phone. Especially at 5:30. Particularly on a Saturday morning.
The night had been a long one. After supper, Randolph had gone to his studio to work, and she’d gone to bed with a book. After finishing the mystery novel she’d started weeks ago, she had a terrible time falling asleep. Randolph had come to bed, had fallen instantly asleep and was snoring and she was still wide awake. When she finally did sleep, her slumber was invaded by a jumble of dreams. In one, her father was dangling a locket in front of her face. When she reached for it, he disappeared. Then she was driving Cami down a gravel road and was engulfed by a cloud of dust, which caused her to drive into a ditch. Then, quickly she was ten years old again and cruising with her mother in her mother’s yellow ’76 Camaro. Then she was fourteen and just received news that she’d lost a seventh grade spelling bee. She woke up confused, but conscious enough to realize these dreams all pointed to losing something precious. Her brain was trying to tell her something. She didn’t have a clue as to what and rolled over in search of more sleep. The house was quiet except for the whoosh of the air conditioning system when she stole a one-eyed glance at the clock. It was 4:20. She didn’t think she had fallen asleep until the house phone jangled her awake. Heart hammering, she snatched it to her ear.
The caller ID revealed it was Woody.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered loudly, hoping to prevent Randolph from waking. Too late. He had already stirred and was sitting up, a puzzled look on his face as he squinted to read the clock display.
“I’m sorry to wake you up, but I got a call from Ricky just now. She and Billy Dan are at Merc’s in Marble Hill. They want to wait for you guys to eat breakfast.”
Wondering if she had forgotten a date made with Ricky, Rhetta shook her head, trying to clear out the sleep bunnies. She couldn’t remember making a breakfast date with Ricky.
Woody went on. “She tried to call you on your cell, but you didn’t answer. So she called me, and I told her I’d call you. Her cell phone battery is nearly dead.”
Rhetta leaned over to study the clock. “It’s five-thirty. I didn’t answer the cell because I’m asleep. I don’t have any appointment to meet Ricky, and by the way, is something wrong for you to be up already?”
“No. Jenn has to work this morning, and I was planning on going into the office.”
Rhetta’s lack of sleep overloaded her patience. She didn’t want to hear about Woody’s day. Her day’s plans had included sleeping in. So much for her plans. “Why does Ricky need to talk to me at five-freaking-thirty on a Saturday morning?” She groaned and lay back against her pillow. Randolph had already gotten up, visited the bathroom, and was on his way to the kitchen. “Never mind, I’m sorry I’m grumpy. Not enough sleep. No problem. We’re all up. Now.”
Woody ignored her sarcasm. In fact, she thought he sounded worried. “She says she really needs to talk to you. Could you call her at Merc’s right away?”
Rhetta swung her legs over the side of the bed, fully awake and alert. “Is something wrong?”
“She didn’t tell me, only told me to have you call her.”
Rhetta thanked Woody for delivering the message, then headed to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, and brushed her teeth. She began to feel human. What would necessitate a call to Rhetta at an hour when even respectable chickens weren’t up? If Ricky and Billy Dan were getting along well, she wouldn’t be calling. If she and Billy Dan weren’t getting along, she wouldn’t be calling. So, why was she calling?
Rhetta padded to the kitchen, found her cell phone and a pair of glasses. She located Ricky’s number in her favorites. As soon as it began ringing, she remembered Woody had said to call Ricky at Merc’s. She was about to hang up, when Ricky answered.
“Rhetta, my battery is dying. Can you and Randolph meet us at Merc’s? Billy Dan and I have something to show you. You’re not go—” The phone went dead.
Randolph had already put on a pot of coffee and slipped out to the deck in search of the felines. She smiled as she saw the four cats curled together on a padded deck chair. They ignored him, obviously not ready to start their day. He poured out their food and returned to the kitchen.
“Do you feel like eating breakfast at Merc’s in Marble Hill?” Rhetta asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She inhaled the rich aroma appreciatively. She followed that with sweetener and milk. Coffee was indeed the nectar of the gods. She couldn’t consider herself functioning until she had her caffeine.
“Why not? It’s a great day to go to Marble Hill.” He kissed the top of her head and headed for the shower.
* * *
Rhetta was waiting, two full coffee travel mugs in hand, by the time Randolph drove the Artmobile around to the front door and picked her up. He’d already turned the air on, although they could have driven with just the windows down, except for the dusty county road. The morning hadn’t yet blossomed into a sauna, although the weather girl had called for another hot, humid day. The sun rising in the east was a giant orange ball peering over the horizon.
“What’s the rush about?” Randolph asked, as he donned sunglasses and guided the truck out on to Highway 34, then westward to Bollinger County.
“Not sure, Sweets. It’s not like Ricky to disturb anybody, so for her to have called Woody so early to call me, it must have been something she couldn’t wait to tell us.” She sipped her coffee, allowing the events of the past week to tumble around her brain. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”
“By the way, I found you and Woody an excellent attorney for your Illinois court date on Thursday. I’ll go over everything with you later. His name is Carlton Hightower, and he comes highly recommended. Seems like he has plenty of experience dealing with the regime in Alexander County.”
“He’ll represent us both?”
“Yes, unless something happens that indicates you need separate counsel, he’s agreed to represent both of you.” Randolph turned off the radio, which had been playing in the background. He normally listened to talk radio, but this morning she found the political bickering too banal to put up with. He must have agreed.
“What do you think is going to happen to Woody and me?” She had been s
o busy that she hadn’t really given much thought about what the outcome of their court appearance would be. She hadn’t thought about it, and was probably blocking it out. In truth, she feared the worst, that they’d be put back in jail for something they hadn’t done. “We didn’t do anything. We truly were at the wrong place at the wrong time. What will we have to do to convince the judge?”
“That’s what we’ll be discussing with Mr. Hightower. We’re to meet with him on Monday. Need both of you to be there.”
“Of course. Will you go with us?”
Randolph reached over and squeezed her hand. “What do you think?”
* * *
Merc’s, a converted Tastee-Freez built alongside Crooked Creek in the 70s, was bustling with activity. Initially constructed as a small walk-up ice cream stand, Merc (short for Mercury) Leadbetter bought the business fifteen years earlier and added on a large dining room and full kitchen. He re-opened as a full service restaurant. Being situated practically on the creek bank, the cedar sided building had suffered through several floods. Each time high water had invaded his building, Merc rebuilt and his loyal customers always returned.
The regulars were already guzzling coffee and discussing serious issues, like the best ponds for catfish. Farmers and politicians alike mingled for breakfast at Merc’s. This being an election year, Rhetta guessed there were way too many politicians to suit the farmers.
Ricky spotted Rhetta and Randolph as soon as they strolled into the smoking section of the dining room, and motioned them over to the booth she shared with Billy Dan.
Rhetta slid in next to Ricky, while Randolph shook hands with Billy Dan, then joined him on his side of the booth.
Krista, the waitress Billy Dan insisted on calling Kathy, immediately appeared at the table with two cups and a steaming pot of coffee. “Hi, Judge, Miss Rhetta. Goin’ to have breakfast this morning?” She filled their cups, refilled Billy Dan’s and Ricky’s and found the stainless creamer pitcher, sliding it toward Randolph. She waited, pad and pencil ready, to take their order.
“Just coffee for me,” Rhetta said.
Randolph said, “I’ll have the bacon and egg biscuit. And a glass of orange juice.” Billy Dan and Ricky ordered the same thing.
Krista nodded. “Be up in a sec.” She disappeared around the corner to turn in the order.
Billy Dan’s hand snaked to the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. Ricky shook her head, and Billy Dan aborted the trip.
Rhetta knew instantly that Ricky was trying to keep her from experiencing a nicotine craving, but with so much smoke in the smoking section, there wasn’t much chance that the effort would succeed. Rhetta already craved one. “All right, girlfriend, what on earth is so critical that you dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night?” She settled for drinking more coffee, hoping that would kill the urge.
Ricky glanced at her watch, then grinned. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I guess it was a little early. But wait ’til you hear this.” She turned to Billy Dan.
“I think you might want to see a place out on Whispering Pines Lake,” Billy Dan said, and reached again for his pack again. Whispering Pines Lake was a recreational area that boasted a fifty-acre lake that a local developer built about thirty years earlier. He’d planned to sell lakeside tracts for cabins, but only about half the lots ever sold, and only a few of them had cabins built.
Billy Dan patted out a cigarette and offered the pack around the table. Everyone declined. Rhetta ate one with her eyes, then drained her coffee. Billy Dan lit up, inhaled and blew the smoke upward, away from the table before he continued.
“About fifteen years ago, I wired up a cabin for Malcom and Adele Griffith. I guess, now that I talk it over with Ricky here, it was probably just before Mr. Griffith disappeared. Never thought too much about it, until we were talking about how you girls found his remains.”
“Why exactly does that require me to sacrifice my sleep this morning?” Rhetta held her cup up at Krista as a signal she needed a refill. She’d need plenty of caffeine to fight the nicotine war.
Ricky leaned over and whispered loudly to Billy Dan, “I told you she’d be like a bear just out of hibernation if we called her too early.”
Billy Dan flicked ash of the end of his cigarette and chuckled. “Not much, except that after I wired their cabin, Mrs. Griffith never came back up here except one time that I know of. Folks in the area say they never see her. She let that friend of Ricky’s, Jeremy Spears, use it occasionally. Once in a while, I’ve seen a few other folks there over the years, mostly during hunting season. Anyhow, that weekend, Adele was here by herself, and called me to ask how to turn the power off when they weren’t here. I drove over and showed her.”
Krista appeared with both arms stacked with plates of breakfast. After placing everyone’s food correctly on the first try, she snatched the coffee carafe and refilled everyone’s cups. “Why do you think that’s so interesting?” Randolph asked, closing his hand over the fresh steamy biscuit, which he guided to his mouth. Krista left to refill more cups around the room.
Billy Dan took another drag on his cigarette, blew a long trail of smoke toward the ceiling then stubbed it out and reached for his biscuit. After chewing a moment, he turned his gray eyes to Randolph. “Nothing all that interesting at the time, except she’s not ever been back, and when she left that day, she had Jeremy Spears come and get her. He left the truck she drove out here parked in the garage and drove Adele home in his car. No one ever came back to pick up the truck.”
Thinking that Ricky must’ve wanted Rhetta to invest in the antique truck, Rhetta piped up, “I’m not interested in restoring an antique truck.” She glanced at Randolph. “What I really want is a Camaro. Preferably, Cami.” She downed more coffee and glanced around for Krista. It was going to be a twenty-cup morning at this rate. She wasn’t sure why she mentioned wanting Cami. She knew that could never be. The car had burned up, was totaled, and probably already crushed into scrap metal.
Ricky swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “We’re working on getting that Z28 back, and finishing it up for you, but hey, this is different. I think we should go and see this truck,” Ricky said, giving in and joining Billy Dan in a cigarette. She cut her eyes toward Randolph. He was busy spreading jelly on a biscuit.
“Randolph, would you mind to go and find Krista? I’d like to get the bill so we can leave.” Rhetta could tell from Ricky’s eye gesturing that she wanted to talk without Randolph hearing.
Randolph swallowed a drink of coffee, then stood and peered around the room for Krista. Not finding her, he headed to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ricky leaned in close to Rhetta and whispered, “We need to see this truck.”
“It’s in a large shed with a window in it, so it’s not hard to get a good view of the front end of the truck,” Billy Dan said, running his fingers through his thick, prematurely silver hair.
“Are we just going to barge in and peer into the garage? Won’t anyone be there?”
“Like I said, no one ever comes down to the cabin anymore. My nephew mows the grass and takes care of the place in the summer.” He tucked the package of cigarettes into his shirt pocket.
“All right, why do we want to see the truck so badly?” Rhetta felt herself growing mildly annoyed. She was beginning to crave a cigarette really badly. As grumpy as she felt, she was on the verge of snatching one away from Billy Dan. Instead, she closed her eyes and willed herself out of the temptation. The nicotine devil danced on her shoulder and poked her with his spear.
Ricky answered. “Because the front bumper is scuffed and dented in a way and with a color that I think exactly corresponds to the dents on the rear bumper cover and trunk panel of your Z28.”
Chapter 47
Rhetta bolted upright, the caffeine working its magic and jolting her alert. Could her barnfind Z28 have dents put there by a truck now sitting in Adele Griffith’s shed in Bollinger County? How could that be possible?
Ricky s
aid, “I’m wondering if that truck may have been used by the killer to push the Z28 over the spot where he killed and buried Malcom.” Rhetta was glad that Ricky spoke softly. She didn’t want their conversation picked up by the locals, or Randolph, who was making his way back toward the table. “And that it might have been Jeremy who killed Malcom. He could’ve hidden the truck out here for nobody to ever find. He may have told Adele that he’d come back and get the truck later.”
“Why would Adele have even called him out here to pick her up?”
“I haven’t worked that part out yet. Unless….”
Randolph had been stopped by an old friend, and was busy standing and chatting.
Rhetta went on. “Do you think they could have been in on it together?” She leaned toward Ricky. “How could we prove that? That truck’s been in that shed an awfully long time, and now the Cape County Keystone Kops have my Z28 and all the parts. So that theory isn’t going to be easily verified.”
Ricky set her plate with the remaining morsel of biscuit aside. “I doubt if Adele had anything to do with killing her husband, if for no other reason than she depended on him for income. She’s been near poverty’s doorstep ever since he disappeared. Well, poverty as compared to how large they lived before. She bought a duplex, and rents out one side and lives in the other. She bought that with the life insurance policy she got when Randolph declared him dead. Up to that time, she got by working as a bookkeeper for one of the real estate agencies here in town. Riverbluff Realty, I think.”
Ricky slid her cup aside and shook her head, and held her hand over her cup to signal Krista she didn’t need a refill. “Anyhow, knowing Jeremy, if he was the one who killed Griffith, he could’ve conjured a reason to come and get Adele so he could leave the truck there. Remember, the two families were pretty tight. If we can get to the truck, I’ll scrape some of the paint from the front end and bumper. I can match it, unscientifically of course, to your car. I’ll get Custom Fabio at the Custom Fab shop to scan the paint. He can tell me what type of paint, and what model car it comes from. The paint they used back in the day was much different than paint is today.” Ricky began gathering up her cigarettes and phone and stuffing them into her tiny shoulder bag.