Cover Your Eyes (8 page)

The receptionist picked up her phone, dialed and then turned away from them to speak. She sounded calm at first but then grew more agitated as if she’d hit a roadblock. “I’m telling you, Delores, you need to let Mr. Rehnquist know the cops are here.” Another hesitation. “Fine, I’ll send them to your desk and you can tell them.”

She hung up the phone. “Go on back through the double doors. I’ll buzz you in. Last office on your right you’ll see Delores. Dark brown hair, sour look on her face. Can’t miss her. She’s Mr. Rehnquist’s secretary. Talk to her.”

“Appreciate the help.”

She rose and smoothed manicured hands down her skirt. “No one is going to jail?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“If you have to arrest someone, start with Delores. She’s a real bitch.”

“Right.”

She pressed a button, a satisfied smile on her lips. A buzzer buzzed and a lock clicked open. Deke and KC walked through the door and followed the carpeted hallway lined with gold and platinum records. At the end a tall brunette with a deep, annoyed frown rose from her desk.

“Officers,” she said, stopping in their path. “Mr. Rehnquist cannot see you right now. He is busy. And I’ve half a mind to fire Nancy for sending you back here.”

Deke grinned again but this time his patience had thinned. “Get your boss.”

Her brows drew closer and she took a step back. “I’ll see if he’s here.”

Deke watched as she moved briskly back to the corner office. A quick knock on the door and she vanished behind it.

“You’re one scary son of a bitch,” KC said. “Like Buddy in his prime.”

Deke had not feared Buddy’s long shadow when he’d joined homicide knowing it would fade in the light of his own work. But thanks to Rachel Wainwright’s challenge, Buddy was back on center stage.

Deke and KC moved forward, knowing now that Mr. Rehnquist was indeed in his office or the gatekeeper would have said so.

Seconds later the woman reappeared, her angled face harder and more defined in a frown. “Mr. Rehnquist said that he’d see you.”

Deke didn’t thank her but moved toward the door with purpose and direction until he came face-to-face with a tall, reed-thin man dressed in head-to-toe designer denim gear that spoke of money. Rehnquist wore his blond hair long enough to brush the edges of a crisp collar. Buffed nails caught the light. Disregarding a Botox-smoothed forehead, Deke estimated his age to be early forties.

The light carpet was thick and plush, a contrast to the record producer’s glass and metal desk. The walls sported pictures of Rehnquist with the top stars in country music.

Rehnquist grinned and extended his hand. “My secretary tells me you are investigating a murder. Sounds mighty exciting.”

Deke’s annoyance spiked but he kept it buried. Instead he shrugged off his cop demeanor and slipped into the role of a fan. He’d learned working undercover that attitude and body language created as good a disguise as a costume. “Never a dull moment for us. Never a dull moment.” He gawked at the gold and platinum records framed and hanging on the walls and whistled. “Looks like you’ve had some success.”

Rehnquist’s chest puffed. “We’ve done well. Hit the charts.”

“I’ve got a tin ear but I appreciate a good song. You sign any singers I’d recognize?”

Rehnquist listed several singers. “Most don’t realize how well we do.”

“My goodness. That’s impressive.” He pulled his notebook from his breast pocket. “Wish I could talk to you more about the music. I know my baby sister would have a million questions. She’s a singer.” He shook his head, smiling as if he were more fan than cop. “But I got to take care of business. No rest for the weary.”

A hint of annoyance flickered across Rehnquist’s face. “I hear ya.”

“We responded to a mighty bad scene last night. A young woman was brutally beaten to death.”

The spark in Rehnquist’s gaze dimmed. “That so?”

“Her name was Dixie Simmons.”

What remained of the sparkle fizzled. “That name supposed to be important?”

“She called you several times in the last ten days.”

“A lot of people call me.” He reached for a pen and clicked the end several times.

Deke had played this cat-and-mouse game hundreds of times. What amazed him was that the mice always made the same moves. “Do they call your private line and talk?”

Tension rippled up Rehnquist’s arm as he gripped the pen tighter. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand? Dixie called your private line ten times in the last ten days and spoke to you at length one time.”

Rehnquist clicked the button on the pen in and out. “There’s no proof that I was on the other end of the line.”

Deke stripped away his smile like a mask. “That won’t be hard for me to prove. Won’t be hard at all. So don’t play games with me. What did you and Dixie talk about?”

“I’ve never heard that name.” Rehnquist’s lie bounced wild like a free throw hitting the rim.

Deke pulled his phone from his back pocket and scrolled to Dixie’s driver’s license picture. He held it up and watched as Rehnquist studied the picture, frowned and raised an eyebrow as if seeing the face for the first time. With the authority of a practiced liar said, “I do not know her.”

“That so?” Deke didn’t like games, but if Rehnquist wanted to play, he’d oblige. He casually scrolled to the brutally disfigured image taken in the medical examiner’s office and held it close to his vest like a gambler with a winning card. “How did you know her?”

“I just said I didn’t.”

“Did you know this gal?” Deke turned his phone around.

Rehnquist looked at the picture, paled, and turned away. “Jesus.”

“Not nice, is it? Someone wanted to erase Dixie’s identity.”

Rehnquist slid his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t do that to her.”

“Did you know her? And please do not lie to me again. I’m working on no sleep and as my partner will tell you, I’m difficult when I’m sleep-deprived.”

He swallowed as if bile rose up his throat. “Okay, I did know her. We met at a party.”

Reaching the truth one baby step at a time. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much. Other than she was pretty. I remember she wore red.”

Another lie. Another giant step back. “Why was she calling you?”

“She was ambitious. She had talent and she had drive. I admired both. I see talent. I see drive. I don’t always see both together.”

“So your relationship was strictly professional?”

“Absolutely.”

KC arched his shoulders as if he’d awoken from a long slumber. “You weren’t sleeping with her? Because I can tell you, if she made an offer to me, I’d be hard-pressed to say no.”

Color rose up in Rehnquist’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

KC laughed as if chatting at the hunting lodge with an old friend. “You were sleeping with her. I hear it in your high and defensive voice.” He looked at Deke. “But I’ll give him credit; that hint of outrage and shock was a nice touch.”

Deke folded his arms and studied Rehnquist. “Never sells me on a lie.”

“Really?” KC shook his head. “There was a time I’d have fallen for it but not anymore.”

Deke met the man’s gaze. “You lying about sleeping with Dixie Simmons?”

“Maybe I better call my lawyer.” Rehnquist moved toward his desk and reached for the sleek black phone. “I don’t have any more to say.”

“Shit,” KC said. “I hate it when I ask a simple question and I get attitude. Hell, it’s a simple yes or no question.”

Rehnquist tapped an agitated finger on his desk. “You two are trying to trap me.”

“So you didn’t sleep with her or you didn’t kill her?” Deke asked.

“Neither!”

Every bit of Deke demanded he haul the guy to jail, but he’d play one more round. “Frankly, I don’t care who you sleep with, Mr. Rehnquist. I don’t. I’ve no interest in telling your wife or your girlfriend or whomever that you and Dixie were sleeping together.” That wasn’t totally true. He’d do both if it meant solving the case. “But I need to have the basics of Dixie’s life so I can find her killer.”

“If you are hiding an affair, what else are you hiding?” KC asked.

Beads of sweat plastered wisps of blond hair to his tanned forehead. “I never said I was hiding an affair.”

KC hooked his thumbs behind his thick brown belt. “One lie always makes me wonder what else they are hiding. I suppose now we’ll be getting a search warrant for his office, house, and even his car.”

Deke’s gaze bore into Rehnquist. “Imagine what we will find when we search his residence.”

Rehnquist fisted his fingers as his face flushed. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” Deke said. “I’m willing to work with you on keeping your secrets as long as you work with me. But if you keep pushing, we’ll take this all up to the next level. Won’t be pretty or easy, and I’d just as soon not have to fuss. But I’ll do it.”

Rehnquist drummed his fingers on the phone’s receiver and then curled them into a tight fist before drawing back. “I’d been sleeping with Dixie for about two months. We had no formal arrangement but we met for sex often. She was one of those gals who was fun to hook up with initially but she had a lot of emotional stuff that was tiring. She craved attention. It’s what made her good on stage. She all but fed off the energy of the crowd and when she was jazzed she was hot in bed. But after a while her neediness had me avoiding her calls.”

“Then in the last ten days?”

“I finally took her call a couple of days ago because she threatened to show up at the office and strip off all her clothes.”

KC arched a brow as if the image flickered across his mind.

“I can’t have that kind of bad publicity. We are like a lot of businesses these days. We’re struggling and can’t afford any trouble. I took her call and talked to her and told her what she wanted to hear.”

“What did she want to hear?”

He sighed. “The usual. She was pretty. She was smart and I was hot for her. The same kind of crap chicks eat up.”

KC scribbled notes. “When is the last time you saw her?”

“Two weeks ago. And that is the truth. We did talk on the phone but I haven’t seen her since September.”

Deke held up the mangled image of Dixie. “Who would do this to her?”

Rehnquist’s gaze skirted away as if running to hide. “Holy shit. Don’t show that to me again. I don’t know who would do that to her. Shit!”

Torn flesh and blood quickly grew grotesque when the heart stopped pumping blood and life. “The person who did this was angry.”

“Detective Morgan is right.” KC pulled gum from his pocket and slowly unwrapped it. “Dixie’s killer wasn’t satisfied with killing her. He went out of his way to strip away all her beauty and humanity.”

Rehnquist moistened his lips as if struggling to keep his stomach from upending. “I could never have done that to her.”

He’d seen killers get sick at the sight of their work. In the heat of murder, the brain’s morality values clicked off and urges turned primal and animalistic. After the fact, when the adrenaline cleared and conscious thought returned, regret and disgust reappeared. “You sure about that?”

Rehnquist’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’m no saint, Detective. No saint at all, but I never would have done that to Dixie. For Christ’s sake we were lovers.”

And lovers killed lovers all the time. “Are you married?”

His spine stiffened. “Yes.”

“Did your wife know about Dixie?” KC asked.

“No! I’m careful to leave the office behind me.”

“Whoever killed Dixie was angry. Very angry. Could have been the work of a jealous woman.”

“Judi is a gentle soft soul. She’d never hurt anyone.” He hesitated. “Once she did find evidence of my playtime. She confronted me, but she was rational and calm.”

“Maybe she ran out of calm,” Deke said. “We all have violence in us, it’s just a matter of dialing up the right combination.”

“Not Judi. Not like that.”

“You’d be surprised what people can do,” KC said. “Saw a lil’ bit of a woman kill her six-foot-seven husband with a baseball bat. Later folks kept saying over and over how nice she was. Even the nice ones snap.”

“Judi wouldn’t have the strength right now.” Color rose in his face. “She’s nine months pregnant and due any day. She can barely get out of a chair, let alone do that.”

Deke suppressed an oath. “What do you know about Dixie?”

“Not much. I wasn’t looking for love, just sex.”

“You promise her a record deal?”

“I made no promises.”

“You hint?” KC asked.

“Look, I’m no angel. We’ve established that. But I did not kill her.”

“Where were you Thursday night?”

“New York. In meetings with attorneys and a singer until two in the morning. And I can give you names.” He scrawled several names and numbers on a monogrammed sheet of linen paper. “I flew into Nashville early this morning.”

Deke studied the list and then folded it in half with a crisp line. “Stay in touch until I’ve made these calls.”

“Sure.”

Outside Spinners Records, Deke slid behind the wheel of his car as KC climbed into the passenger side. For a moment the two sat, each soaking up the silence.

“My money says he’s not the guy. Dixie talked with someone who was smart enough to use a burner phone. And clearly this guy had Dixie call his direct personal line.”

Deke rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I don’t think he’s the one. But hell, I’ve been fooled before.”

“So we head to Dixie’s apartment.” KC flipped through notes. “She has a roommate named Tawny.”

“Rudy Creed mentioned Tawny. She’s also a singer. Not as good as Dixie.”

KC nodded. “Jealousy comes in all kinds of forms.”

He fired up the engine. “So it does. Let’s go find Tawny.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the Wild Horse Saloon. The place was large, crammed full of tables hugging the edges of a stage that stretched across the width of the room.