Authors: Fern Michaels

Kentucky Sunrise (14 page)

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise

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“I can do this, can't I?”

“I don't know, Jake. I think you can, but that's the mother in me talking. I think you can do whatever you want within your own limitations. Don't give up, Jake. Even when you think you can't do it for another hour, another minute. Call on all your inner reserve and
do it.
That's what I had to do. It's what I still do every day of my life. Try and get some sleep, and Harry and I will call you at three-thirty. Turn the phone up as high as it will go and make sure you put it right by your head.”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks. I love you. Tell Harry I love him, too.”

“Good night, Jake,” Sunny and Harry said in unison.

Jake hung up the phone, his eyes burning. Sometimes life just wasn't fair. He didn't care so much for himself, but he did care for his mother. No matter how bad things were, no matter what went wrong, her sunny disposition always came through. If he turned out to be half the person she was, he would definitely be ahead of the game.

He looked at the stack of videos and the pile of books and decided they would have to wait for another day. He was going to bed. He couldn't ever remember going to bed at eight o'clock at night. He also couldn't ever remember getting up at three-thirty in the morning. He had a whole new life now, governed by rules and regulations, just the way his mother lived. It wasn't a bad thing, all things considered. Not a bad thing at all.

It was like every other police station in the country, manned by overworked and underpaid police officers. The smell of disinfectant was strong, the coffee was black and bitter, the donuts stale. Empty sugar packets were scattered everywhere on the makeshift table along with the stirrers and Styrofoam cups. Hatch looked down at the mess and closed his eyes. This definitely was not the kitchen at Blue Diamond Farms, where everything gleamed and sparkled. He decided to pass on the coffee and walked over to the water cooler, where he filled a flimsy cup with water and gulped it down. He carried a cup back to his client, who shook her head when he offered it to her. He drank the water himself before he crushed the paper cup in his hand. He hit the wastebasket on his first try.

The detective was a tall man with a receding hairline and a face full of freckles. “Joe Sullivan,” he said, extending his hand. “Come with me, Mr. Littletree. You, too, Miss . . . Mrs. . . . What is your name these days?”

“The name I was born with is Willow Bishop,” Willow said quietly.

A second detective joined them the moment they were seated at a scarred table that was totally bare. The room smelled of sweat, insect repellent, and Pine-Sol. Detective Sullivan introduced Noah Wately.

Hatch took the initiative, and said, “I want it on the record that my client has come here voluntarily today. Until a few days ago she didn't know she was wanted for questioning. She used those few days to seek out legal counsel. Are you filing charges against my client or is this a Q&A interview?”

“We just want to ask your client a few questions. For now. We'll see how it goes, Mr. Littletree.”

If Willow was frightened, she didn't show it, Hatch thought. She appeared cool, almost nonchalant.

Detective Sullivan leaned his arms on the table. “Why don't you tell us your side of things, Miss Bishop. Were you married to Carlo Belez, also known as Junior Belez? Can you account for your whereabouts on the night of October fourteenth? And can anyone verify your whereabouts on the night in question?” His emotionless voice sounded like it had come out of a can.

Willow tilted her head so she could peep out from under the brim of her straw hat.

“I went through a wedding ceremony with Carlo Belez. We lived together at his ranch.

“The fourteenth of October was supposed to be my day off but I still had to make an appearance at the Emperor Room to make sure my sous chefs were doing what they were supposed to do. I left about nine-thirty that evening. I played the slots for about an hour, then I hit a few other casinos. I had a few drinks, listened to the music in one of the bars before I headed home. It was close to midnight. It was a clear night, a lot of stars in the sky. It was actually kind of cold. I remember because I had to turn on the car heater.

“I parked the car, entered the house through the kitchen, and poured myself a drink. I smoked a cigarette at the kitchen counter and nibbled on some cheese and crackers. I remember taking my shoes off. I was tired, but I did remember to fix the coffeepot for the morning. Junior's car was parked in the driveway. I assumed he was upstairs watching videos. When he didn't go into town, he watched videos all night long. He was a very boring man.”

“Did anyone see you? Did you speak to anyone?”

“A lot of people saw me, and I spoke to a lot of people that evening. I didn't exchange names with anyone if that's what you mean. If I had known I was going to need an alibi, I would have done so. That's all I can tell you.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then I turned out the lights and locked up. I walked upstairs in my bare feet and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. I heard the television. I called out to Junior to tell him I was home, but he didn't answer me. He doesn't like to talk if he's in the middle of a movie. It didn't bother me that he didn't answer. I took a shower, washed my hair, and put on a nightgown. I was just about to tell Junior I was going to sleep in the guest room if he was going to finish watching the movie when I saw all the blood on his white shirt. I think I froze in my tracks and just stared at him. I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, but even from there I knew he was dead. When I got my wits together, I walked over to check for a pulse. His body was still warm if that's important for you to know.”

Hatch watched a cockroach walk across the floor. He was about to get up to step on it when Joe Sullivan beat him to it. Two more appeared and were squashed. The detective made no move to pick them up. Instead he used the edge of his shoe to slide them back under the makeshift coffee table.

“Why didn't you call the police? What did you do next?”

Willow looked at Hatch. He nodded. “I did what anyone would do in a situation like that. I panicked. I thought I would be blamed, so I packed my things, cleaned out the safe, and left. I drove up to Reno and slept in my car the first night. I don't know why I went to Reno, I just did. It was that panic thing in me.

“I bought the papers, watched newscasts, but my name wasn't mentioned at all. They did give a lot of play to Junior's lifestyle, his gambling habits, and his friends. After a couple of weeks of living out of my car, I drove to New York. I got a job working in a small, out-of-the-way restaurant. I have a laptop, so I checked the Vegas papers daily. There was still no mention of me, so I relaxed a little and then a short while ago I saw, for the first time, that I was wanted for questioning. I drove from New York to Kentucky and hired Mr. Littletree. That's all I can tell you because there isn't anything else to tell.”

Hatch doodled on the yellow pad in his lap and waited.

“Can anyone vouch for your presence in Reno?”

“I don't think so. I ate at fast-food places and paid cash. I pumped my own gas and paid with cash. I cleaned up at gas station bathrooms. I told you, I was panicky. I didn't know what to do.”

“We'll need the name of the restaurant in New York and where you stayed. It would help if you could come up with the names of the gas stations you stopped at on the way to Reno.”

“I didn't buy any on the way. I bought it after I got there. One place had a Taco Bell on one side and a Burger King on the other side. I remember because I ate at both places. The name of the restaurant in New York was La Grotto.”

“Where are you staying here in Vegas, Miss Bishop?”

“Babylon.”

“And you, Mr. Littletree, where are you staying?”

“Babylon. Is my client free to go?”

“For now. We need a signed statement before you leave. We also want a list of all the men you married along with names and addresses. Don't leave town, Miss Bishop.” Detective Wately slid a yellow pad across the scarred table along with a pen.

Willow grimaced as she risked a glance at Hatch. He nodded. She started to write.

An hour later Willow and Hatch walked out into the warm, summer night.

“I think I'll walk back to the casino,” Willow said.

Hatch stopped in midstride. “That isn't a good idea. Those two detectives in there are not stupid. They are going to have a tail on you. From here on in, don't even think about leaving. They're probably getting a warrant right now to seize your car back in Kentucky. You are a suspect, Willow. You admitted to finding the body, to touching it, to stealing Belez's belongings from the safe. And you didn't call the police. That's what's going to do you in.”

“Are they going to arrest me?”

She's too damn calm,
Hatch thought. A chill washed up his spine. “My guess would be yes. I just don't know when. You must realize, if you skip out, they'll find you. You need to cooperate.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Hatch. I think I'd like to be alone for a little while. I'll walk back to the hotel and get a little dinner and head for bed. Do you want me to check in with you before I go nite-nite?”

And she's cocky, too,
Hatch thought. “If you're serious about clearing your name, you'll do the right thing and not make waves. I'll check with you in the morning after I come back from police headquarters.”

Willow nodded. “Good night, Hatch.”

Hatch's eyes narrowed as Willow walked away. She blended in with the crowd of vacationers, and within minutes he lost sight of her. He realized how hungry he was a moment later. And he had to call Nealy. He was glad now that he'd called Sunny earlier. Nealy had warned him to call early so as not to upset Sunny and Harry's nightly routine.

Hatch hailed a cab and returned to Babylon. He headed for the Harem Bar, where he ordered dinner and a bottle of Foster's beer. He kept glancing at his watch while he waited for his dinner. Even if Willow was a slow walker, she'd make the casino in under an hour. If she didn't bolt and run. His gut told him that was exactly what she was going to do. He was on his third beer when his salmon primavera was set in front of him. He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful. The moment he finished, his cell phone was in his hand. He rang the hotel and gave Willow's room number. He listened to the phone ring. He broke the connection on the thirteenth ring.

Conceivably, Willow could have stopped to eat somewhere just as he did. She said she was going to get some dinner. She might have decided to do a little gambling on the way back. Or, she could have cut and run.

A moment later the palm of his hand slapped the tabletop. The beer bottle moved three inches with the force of the blow. Willow had traveled lightâjust her backpack and purse. She'd had both with her at the police station. There would be no need for her to go back to the hotel. She could have hitched a ride somewhere, picked up some high roller and coaxed him into taking her somewhere. Obviously she was very good at enticing men into her life. He rang her room again. There was still no answer.

Where would she go? He realized he didn't have a clue. The detectives had warned her not to leave town. He reminded himself that he was her lawyer, not her keeper.

A waiter appeared at his elbow with his dinner check. He scrawled his name and room number across the bottom and left the bar.

Life was going to get complicated. He could feel it in his bones.

Willow hailed a cab and asked to be taken downtown. She'd been there many times and knew the area well. She headed for the bar at Sassy Sally's and looked around. Her experienced eyes raked the long bar until she saw what she was looking for.

His name was Lute Granger, and he was a hair away from being cut off at the bar. He was a pretend Texan with pretend cowboy boots and a real Stetson. He lived off a trust fund, or so the scuttlebutt said. “Hey, Lute, how's it going?” Willow asked, sitting down on a stool next to him.

“Do I know you?”

“Not really. We played pool once down the street. I beat you. It's pretty smoky in here. Let's go for a walk. They're going to cut you off any minute anyway. I can get a bottle, and we can sit in the car. Unless you have other plans. You up for a little fun? The night's still young.”

“Well, sure. What'd you say your name was?”

“I didn't say, but it's Bertha. Whoops, watch it, you almost fell there. Hold on to my arm, okay. Where's your car?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So we can sit in the car and drink. They won't serve you any more liquor here. If you don't want to go with me, that's okay.”

Willow linked her arm with Lute's to steady him. “You ever been to Mexico, Lute?”

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise

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