Killer Reunion (25 page)

Jesse gave a curt nod. “Right away, Sheriff,”

As the three policemen headed for their respective vehicles, Tom carrying the high heel in a brown paper evidence bag, Dirk turned to the Magnolians. “I hope you're all taking notes, because in the future, that's how I expect you all to address me.”

A moment later, he was sprayed with spit from his five comrades, their tongues fully extended in noisy, enthusiastic raspberries.

“All right! All right! It was just a thought.”

B
efore Lisa and Frank Riggs were brought into the sheriff's station, the Moonlight Magnolia team was sent home. Except for Savannah and Dirk. And they were allowed to observe the interrogation only after they swore an oath to, in Tom's words, “not even so much as twitch, let alone utter a word, upon pain of death.”

“I think he meant it, too,” Savannah whispered to Dirk from their seats right beside the air conditioner and well apart from the desk and the chairs set directly in front of it, where the suspects would be seated.

“I figure he did mean it,” Dirk replied as they watched Tom take his seat behind his desk. “I remember most clearly the moment he lost his sense of humor. It was when he slipped on that liver and went down, headfirst, in the muck.”

Tom shot them a look and cleared his throat.

They both shut up instantly. They didn't want to miss a moment of the upcoming proceedings.

Savannah only hoped that Tommy was half as good at “sweating” suspects as Dirk was. Without laying a hand on them, Dirk could have perps begging to be moved from the interrogation room to a jail cell in twenty-eight minutes.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall and made a mental note of the time to see who between the two would hold the record when all was said and done.

Tom ran his fingers through his hair, which was still wet from his shower, and told Martin, who was loitering near the bottom of the stairs, “Okay, haul 'em down here.”

A couple of minutes later, a miserable-looking Lisa and her equally dismal husband were brought down the stairs, Jesse leading them and Martin close behind.

The deputies herded them toward the chairs in front of the desk and directed them to sit down.

Savannah barely recognized Frank Riggs. The last time she'd seen him, he was a robust high school football player brimming with health. But now he looked pale, gaunt, and exhausted. He moved like he was made of brittle glass and could shatter into slivers at any moment.

Then Savannah reminded herself that the act of murder often destroyed the person who did the killing almost as effectively as it did their victim. Guilt and fear of that magnitude were heavy burdens for any human spirit to bear.

Once they were seated, Tom gave them both long evaluating looks. Then, with his poker face securely in place, he said, “Did y'all know that the left brake light on your pickup's out?”

Lisa and Frank looked at each other, astonished. Expressions of enormous relief flooded their faces.

“That's why you had brought us in, Sheriff?” Frank asked. “A busted brake light?”

“That's one of the reasons. I have others,” Tom said with a grim smile. He turned to Lisa as she sat stiffly on the chair across from him. “I'm not sure if my deputies read you two your rights yet or not, so here they are. Listen up.”

Tom carefully recited the Miranda warning and informed them they were under arrest for the murder of Jeanette Barnsworth. Then he asked Lisa if, knowing her rights, she was willing to talk to him.

“No!” she stated most emphatically, with an angry look in Savannah's direction. “You've already got one person under arrest for killing Jeanette. I can't imagine why you'd bring me and my husband in, too. And that's all I've got to say to you. I want an attorney.”

In a voice as cool as the air-conditioning, which was about to blow Savannah and Dirk into the next county, Tom said, “No problem. Jesse, please take Mrs. Riggs back upstairs and return her to her cell.”

Tom glanced over at Savannah, and she could swear she saw a bit of mischief in his eye. “On second thought,” he said, “put her in the cell directly across from Yukon Bill. It's been recently fumigated.”

As Jesse led Lisa back upstairs, Savannah whispered a silent prayer that Yukon would take a strong liking to Lisa. Lust at first sight and all that.

It was hardly a Granny-approved prayer, but the woman had been willing to let her take a murder rap for her, so Savannah wasn't exactly overwrought with guilt.

Once Lisa was taken from the room, Tom took a long, hard look at his second prisoner. “How about you, Frank?” he asked gently. “Are you willin' to talk to me?”

Frank nodded.

“I'm sorry. I need a spoken reply,” Tom told him.

“Yes. I'll talk.” With his head bent as he stared down at his hands, which were folded in his lap, and his shoulders stooped, Frank Riggs looked like a man who was utterly defeated, scarcely able to bear the crushing weight of his own soul.

“Good,” Tom said. “You'll feel a lot better if you do. I assure you.”

Tom reached into a drawer and pulled out a miniature tape recorder. After setting it on the desk between them, he switched it on. The sheriff identified himself and Frank Riggs for the tape and stated the time and place. Then, before he could even begin to question Frank, the suspect started to talk.

“I just want you to know, Sheriff—I want everybody to know—that this was one hundred percent my fault, not my wife's. I take full responsibility for it.”

Savannah reached over and slid her hand into Dirk's. He gave it a squeeze.

Nothing beat a confession in court. Absolutely nothing. And there it was.

“That's mighty honorable of you, Frank,” Tom said. “Why do you figure it was all your fault? Did you kill Jeanette Barnsworth?”

“No. Not directly. She died, accidental like, by my wife's hand. But I caused that to happen. And what happened afterward, that was also me. All me.”

Tom leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his desk. “Just start from the beginning, Frank. We need to hear it all.”

Frank shivered, as though he had just stepped, naked, into a snowstorm. Then he began, “I'd have to say it started when Miss Jeanette bought those ribs from me last Fourth of July. I talked to her a long time about how to cook them up nice and tender, and by the time we was done talkin', we were friends.”

“
Good
friends?” Tom asked.

“Not yet. We got to be
real
good friends on Labor Day weekend. Lisa went to see her folks in Mississippi, and Jeanette dropped by my house that night to make sure I wasn't too lonely.”

“Were you? Lonely, that is?”

Frank gave a shy, awkward smile. “Not after she got there.”

“And what happened then?”

“We got together off and on. After a time or two, I started feeling guilty about it, and I told her I'd rather not do it no more. But she was a bossy gal. Hard to turn down.”

“Yes, she certainly was the determined sort. Did your wife find out about it?”

“Not for the longest. Jeanette threatened to tell her a time or two, if I didn't wanna, you know, with her. And I couldn't have that happen, so I did what she wanted. Whenever she wanted it. And she had a big appetite, that gal.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“A couple of folks had suspicions. Word got around, like it does in a small town. But Lisa said she didn't believe it. She didn't know for sure until the night of the reunion. I guess during the party she overhead some people talking about it. And she got to thinkin' maybe it was true. Then she said in front of Jeanette that her and me had romantic plans for after the party. I felt guilty for not taking her to the reunion, but I had to work late getting some ribs on to smoke.”

He paused a moment to catch a breath, then continued. “Anyway, Jeanette was mad that I was doing something nice for Lisa. And she'd had a big fight with her boyfriend, so she wanted me to lie to Lisa and tell her I had to go back to work again.”

“That's a lot of overtime for a butcher shop,” Tom observed.

“Yeah. Lisa mentioned that in a text she wrote me when I told her our ‘date' was off.”

“I know.”

“You read our texts?” Savannah watched Frank turn, unbelievably, whiter still.

“Yes, sir. We found your wife's phone by the parking lot and read 'em all. There's some incriminating stuff there.”

“I know. We tried to find the phone Sunday morning, but we couldn't.”

“How did it happen, Frank? The actual killing, that is.”

“Lisa, she'd just had enough. There in the parking lot, she outright asked Jeanette if she was steppin' out with her husband. Jeanette laughed at her, and the two of them got in a scuffle. Lisa told me that Jeanette pushed her down on the ground and then kicked her. So Lisa pulled her down with her. And the two of them had a free-for-all.”

Savannah leaned over and whispered to Dirk, “That's one I would have paid big bucks to see.”

Frank crossed his arms over his chest. “Lisa said Jeanette was getting the best of her, and she was scared. So she grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on to defend herself and swung it at Jeanette's head. Turns out it was Lisa's own high heel, which came off her foot when she fell. She said she hit Jeanette with it—one good lick—and the gal just laid right down and died.”

Tommy sighed and sat back in his chair. “But she didn't die, Frank. Not then.”

Frank started to cry, his shoulders heaving with his sobs. “I know that now. Mr. Jameson says she drowned. But I swear to you on my momma's grave and the Holy Bible itself, we both thought that gal was dead when we put her in the car and pushed it off that cliff. She never moved a muscle or said a word. We weren't trying to kill her. We just wanted to make it look like she had a car wreck. That was my idea. All my idea. Lisa sent me that text saying to get over to the school right away. I did, and she was all tore up over what happened. She wanted to call you, but I was afraid you wouldn't believe her. So I told her how we'd handle it.”

“I wish you'd let her call me, Frank. As it is, I gotta arrest you both.”

“I know. But I swear, I did the dirty stuff myself. I drove her car up to Lookout Point, with Lisa following along behind in ours. I put Jeanette in the car. I rolled it off the cliff. All my wife did was defend herself with her shoe. You can't blame a woman for that, Sheriff.”

Tom sighed and looked over at Savannah. They exchanged a moment of sadness, both feeling for the man who sat, broken, before them. His life ruined by a set of terrible decisions, all made at a time of high stress.

Savannah looked up at the clock.

Sixteen minutes from the start of the interview to the end of the confession.

Tom had broken Dirk's record. But then she reminded herself, records were made to be broken. And she would still choose Dirk over Tom all day long and twice on Sunday.

Meanwhile, Frank had covered his face with his hands and was continuing to cry. “The worst thing is, I started it all by going for that silly piece of purple fluff, Jeanette. I've never been especially good lookin'. I've never had two nickels to rub together. Other than Lisa, no woman had ever given me a second look. Then that Jeanette starts wagglin' it under my nose, telling me how cute I am and how much I turn her on.”

“I understand,” Tom said, with another quick glance at Savannah. “You're not the first man that traded the heart of a good woman for a cheap piece o' tail. You're not the only guy to do something stupid that he regretted for the rest of his life.”

“But I'd never been unfaithful to my wife before,” Frank said. “Not in twenty years of marriage. But then I was, and look where it led. To hellfire and damnation.”

Tom handed him a wad of tissues and said, “I'm sure it doesn't make you feel any better, buddy, but you've got a lot of company there in purgatory. We'll all have to scooch over to make room for ya.”

T
he first time Savannah had visited the old cemetery on a hill outside McGill, she had thought it was a pretty good place for its residents to sleep away eternity. The peach and pecan trees that surrounded the little graveyard, the view of the farmland below, and the soft breeze that always seemed to blow, causing the grass and the trees to dance, lent the place a gentle charm.

Other than the seasonal workers who picked the nuts and peaches, and the caretaker who mowed once a week in the spring and summer months, nobody came up Randall Hill except to be buried, to lay someone to rest, or to visit somebody interred there.

Today, as Savannah parked the rental car and got out, carrying a handful of peonies cut from Gran's garden that morning, she was doing the latter. She had come to pay her final respects to Jeanette Barnsworth.

Or maybe she just needed to make sure that her old tormentor was truly dead and gone.

She hoped it was the first, but she knew herself a bit too well, and she figured her motivation was closer to the second.

The dirt was piled atop the grave, along with a plethora of purple flower arrangements, left after that morning's private service. Apparently, it had been very private. Word around town was that only the local minister, his wife, and Herb Jameson had attended.

Savannah wondered who in their little town thought so highly of Jeanette that they had forked over big bucks for those oversized bouquets and sprays decorating the grave. Then she started reading the notes on each one and found that nearly all of them were from organizations Jeanette had chaired or founded or both.

The largest was from the Park Beautification Committee. Jeanette had created the group to plant flowers in a tiny, seldom used park directly across the street from her house, clearly viewed from her living room window.

With city money, of course.

Meanwhile, the children's swings, slide, and teeter-totter in the main park were in ruin due to lack of town funds to fix them.

Most of the other organizations Jeanette had formed in her lifetime were equally self-serving. But then, Savannah decided, what else could you expect?

Standing at the grave, looking down on the flowers and the mound of dirt beneath them, Savannah tried to grasp the fact that her tormentor was gone forever.

But she couldn't.

Death was such a mystery. The complete disappearance of something as complex and miraculous as a living, breathing human being had always been beyond her comprehension.

She had never been able to accept the idea that people, like machines, could simply turn off. Leave their physical vessel and go elsewhere? Yes. She had held dying people in her arms and had felt their spirits leave their ruined bodies, which could no longer sustain life. But just quit? No.

Savannah wasn't sure where Jeanette was or if she could hear her, but she felt obliged to say something. Anything. If for no other reason than that she sensed that a uniquely important chapter of her own life was closing. And she felt her words would somehow mark and honor that transition.

“I'm sorry I hit you,” she began, speaking to the ornate gravestone, where cherubs held a banner bearing Jeanette's name in their chubby baby hands. “You may or may not have asked for it. But I shouldn't have done it. If it makes you feel any better, I paid for it. Big-time.”

Savannah paused, feeling the breeze stir her hair. It sent a slight chill down her neck and into her spine.

“I'm sorry for something else, too. I regret that I didn't do it sooner. Not smack you, but stand up to you. If I'd set you straight on the first day of kindergarten, who knows how different our lives would have been? Well, mine anyway.

“Also, I want you to know that I forgive you,” she said. “And by that, I don't mean that what you did was okay or that you couldn't help how cruel you were. I mean, I'm cutting you loose, Jeanette, from my mind and my heart. As far as I'm concerned, you don't owe me anything. Not anymore. I used to want your acceptance, your understanding. I used to hope that you'd realize how much you were hurting me and apologize. I thought I'd feel a lot better if you did.”

She paused a moment and steeled herself for the hardest part of her declaration. She wanted her words to sink all the way down into the soil at her feet and reach the soul of the woman buried there.

“But I stopped hoping for your compassion, Jeanette. I stopped needing that apology. I finally came to understand that you
did
realize how much you were hurting me. You intended to hurt me. You wanted to cause me pain. But that was about you. Who you were. What was inside you. It was never about me.”

Savannah was silent for a while as she tried to think of something good to say about Jeanette before leaving. Surely, everyone deserved to have some kind words spoken over their grave.

Finally, she came up with something. “As I recall, you were pretty good at geography. And you won that spelling bee that time.”

There. That was enough.

Savannah knelt to place the peonies on the grave. Then she thought better of it, stood, and dusted the dirt from her knees. “You wouldn't like them, anyway,” she said as she walked away. “They're pink.”

She passed grave after grave until she came to her grandfather's. “Hello again, Pa. It's me, Savannah,” she whispered as she laid the flowers lovingly at the base of his headstone. “Since I was here last, I got married. My husband's a good man. A
really
good man. But you're still the best one I ever knew.”

She readjusted the flowers a few times until she had them just right. “We all still miss you,” she continued. “And we're looking forward to being with you again in heaven one of these days. Oh, and Gran sends her love.”

She kissed the tips of her fingers, then pressed them to the top of his stone. Then she stood up straight and turned to walk back to her car.

That was when she saw him.

Tom Stafford was leaning against the passenger door of her rental, watching her, his burly arms crossed over his chest, a half grin on his handsome face.

The sight of him annoyed her and set her pulse to racing at the same time. What a lot of nerve he had, intruding on her privacy with his good looks and his easy smile. If she'd wanted company on this trip, she'd have brought her husband.

Warily, she approached the car, trying to round the back of it and avoid him as much as possible.

“Saying your good-byes?” he said when she reached the driver's door.

“Well, yeah. You think? Reckon you're a better detective than I gave you credit for.”

“That should be my line.” He gave her a look of sincere respect and affection that went straight to her heart and gave her a warm feeling all over.

She didn't like it.

Tom Stafford had given her a lot of warm feelings like that in the past. And with those and a quarter, she still couldn't buy a candy bar.

What was it worth?

It had taken her a lot of living to realize that flattery from a great-looking hunk was an overrated commodity.

“I gotta go, Tom,” she said. “We're having Gran's birthday party today, and tomorrow we're heading back to California. I'd say it's been nice seeing you, but . . .”

“I understand.”

“Don't get all sweet and easy to get along with now, boy,” she said, digging the car keys out of her purse. “Just don't bother. It won't work anymore.”

He looked genuinely distressed at her words. “Are you sore at me for arresting you? For locking you up? For putting you across from Yukon?”

“No. You were just doing your duty. I'd have done the same.”

“Then what's the matter? Is it still what I did . . . back then? You gonna hold that against me forever?”

She thought for a while, trying to come up with the most honest answer she could give him.

“No, Tom. I don't hold anything against you. I forgive you. Back then, you did, well, what you did, and our lives took a different turn. We took separate paths. I can't wish it hadn't happened, because that's the path that led me to where I am today.”

“Do you like where you are today?”

“I sure do.”

“Are you happily married, Savannah?” He blurted the question out, as though the words had been ready to erupt from inside him for some time.

“Yes. Very.”

He gulped and looked down. “Are you happier with him than you would've been with me, you think?”

Savannah considered being kind but quickly decided to be honest. The truth seemed to be the best choice today, all the way around.

“Definitely.”

“Why? What's he got that I . . .”

“He's loyal.”

“Loyalty?” He looked disappointed and a bit confused. “That's it? That's all?”

“That's everything.”

Tom wiped his hand across his face and took a deep breath. “When I came up here today, I was going to tell you that I'm really, really sorry for hurtin' you, for being the reason we broke up. I wanted you to know that I miss you somethin' fierce ever' single day. And I hate it that I lost you. I wanted to tell you that I've never loved any gal like I loved you and never will. I wanted to make sure you know that if you ever decide that guy ain't all he's cracked up to be, and you wanna move back home, I'll be waitin' here for you with open arms.”

He stopped to catch his breath. “But from what you just said, I reckon you don't wanna hear any of that.”

“No, Tommy,” she said softly. “I don't. I'm glad you didn't mention it.”

He sighed. “Me too.”

“I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I'd better run along back to Gran's. They're waiting on me to get back before they start the party.”

“Tell her I said, ‘Happy birthday.'”

Savannah paused. “I think I'll just let you tell her yourself the next time you run into her. I'm gonna keep this little conversation we had, and the fact that we ran into each other up here, all to myself.”

He nodded and walked around the car to where she stood. “That'd probably be best.”

After opening her door for her, he looked down into her eyes and held her gaze for a long time. Then he said with a husky voice, “You be well, darlin'. Be happy.”

To her own surprise, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You too, Tommy,” she told him.

Then she got into the car and drove away, leaving two of the heaviest burdens of her life behind.

 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Granny! Happy birthday toooo yooouuu!”

Savannah and her family were in full chorus as they belted out the celebratory little tune in honor of their grandmother, who had patiently waited for this joyful, unencumbered day to arrive.

No more thoughts of murder, arrests, or false accusations interfered with this jubilant affair, and Gran and her clan rejoiced in proper Reid style.

Rather than remain in the stuffy, little kitchen after their feast, they had decided to go out into Granny's flower garden to enjoy the birthday cake.

Sitting at the makeshift picnic table, her loved ones surrounding her, Gran blew out all eight of the candles on her birthday cake with no problem or hesitation whatsoever.

They had decided that adorning the cake with the accurate number of candles would, at the very least, cause the cream cheese frosting to melt, if not start a bonfire that might set the entire county ablaze.

“Bring out the ice cream, boys!” Butch called to Marietta's sons, who had just finished cranking the old-fashioned churn on the back porch.

Their faces were red from the exertion but glowing with smiles as they carted the heavy wooden machine over to the picnic table, slopping salty ice water all over their bare feet and legs in the process. Savannah rescued the churn from their clumsy hands, removed the inner cylinder, and transferred it to the table, where she began to scoop the precious contents into serving bowls.

She smiled at the large chunks of pineapple and strawberries among the creamy goodness. Granny hadn't been able to decide between her two favorite flavors, so they had combined both.

Nothing was too good for Gran.

Neither the ice cream nor the cake was long for the world. Both disappeared in record time.

As soon as the plates were cleared away, a stack of gifts was placed in front of Granny, and in moments, she was knee-deep in such treasures as handprints enshrined in clay, compliments of Vidalia's youngest twins; a wall hanging with beans and macaroni glued on in the shape of a sunflower from the older set; and a collection of chandelier earrings; a rose-spangled nightgown; a bottle of cologne; and a pretty dress of sea foam – green lace from Savannah and Dirk.

While Gran was examining her new goodies, Savannah pulled a white garbage bag out from under her chair and discreetly handed it to Marietta. “Here,” she said. “I would say this is to thank you for putting your shop on the line to bail me out of jail. But truth is, I owed it to you, anyway.”

Marietta opened the bag and pulled out the pink paper bag with the
NAUGHTY LADY'S NOOK
logo on it.

“Hey, don't let Gran and the kids see that!” Savannah grabbed the garbage bag and half covered the paper bag.

Tittering like a teenager, Marietta reached inside and pulled out a shoe box. Her eyes lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “You got me shoes?” she said. “From a sex shop! Ooh! Cool!”