Killerfind (7 page)

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Tuesday after Labor
Day proved to be as rainy as the three-day weekend had been. Rhetta had eagerly
looked forward to enjoying some down time with Randolph at their cabin at
Land-Between-the-Lakes, Kentucky, and maybe get in some quality fishing.
Instead, when thunder boomed through the house and lightning split the skies
and jarred Rhetta and Randolph awake before dawn Saturday morning, they decided
to stay home. In the middle of Rhetta’s shower Saturday morning, the power went
off and the whole-house backup generator kicked on. The outage lasted until
Sunday afternoon.

She felt like they hadn’t had any down time at all.
Tuesday made the third straight day of the heavens splitting open with storms
and torrential rains.

Rhetta had forgotten her umbrella, so she sprinted
across the parking lot. Woody was already parked in the slot closest to the
door. “The reward for getting here early,” he’d probably chirp, if she groused
that she wanted that spot for herself. They’d had that discussion before. He
didn’t think her position as manager earned her the spot unless she got there
before him.

He held the door for her. “You went looking for
trouble, didn’t you? Bank and post office, my broken foot.” He pointed to his
foot that had, until a few weeks ago, sported a walking cast.

Rhetta ignored him and carried her triple espresso
mocha light to her desk, setting it down gingerly. Some splashed over the top
of the cup and on to her desk. She snatched the napkin and blotted quickly. The
coffee smelled heavenly. She shook her soaked hair, tossing rain droplets
across her desk, then reached for her cup to savor the first sip.

“Where’s LuEllen?” she said, glancing at the empty
reception desk. Beyond LuEllen’s desk, Rhetta had a clear view out the window
at the solid sheet of rain pelting the building.

Woody ignored her question and instead, shook the newspaper
at her. “It’s all here in gory detail on the front page.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t read
the local paper?” She tossed the St. Louis Post-Dispatch down on her desk.
“Mercifully, no one in St. Louis cares about this, so I don’t have to read
about it.” She riffled through her desk calendar, changing the month, and
tapping the date. “Is LuEllen off? There’s nothing on the calendar about her
being off today.”

Woody dropped into the guest chair in front of her
desk and laid the newspaper beside her coffee. “She called and said she’ll be
in late. Something about a dentist appointment. Meanwhile, I’m waiting. Spill
it.” He rubbed his head.

“Are you upset? You sound as though you’re
disappointed that you weren’t there when we found the body.” She rearranged her
desk, set her purse down on the corner and picked up the local paper. She
scanned it, then handed it back to Woody. Her arm knocked her purse over,
dumping everything on the floor. “Crap.” She bent over to retrieve the spilled
contents.

“I’m not upset.”

“Yes, you are.” She stuffed her phone, wallet,
notebook and an envelope of papers back into her purse. A small sheet floated
to the desk. “There’s the receipt for the vacuum sweeper I took to be repaired.
I knew it had it.” She crammed the paperwork back in her purse.

Woody tapped the newspaper. “I’m not upset, but yes,
I did want to go out there with you. After all, I’m the one who suspected that
wrench had dried blood on it.” He held the paper up for her. “It appears I may
be right.”

Rhetta peered at the headlines. Front page coverage.

Cape
Girardeau County Sheriff Talbot Reasoner issued a statement today about the
body found in a barn last week in Gordonville. Reasoner confirmed that the
remains were that of a male, but positive identification won’t be made until
test results are available. Preliminary lab results performed over the weekend
indicated there was blood found on various items discovered by Ms. Victoria
Lane inside a vintage Camaro that she was restoring. Ms. Lane had located the
car inside the barn, which sits on property now being developed by Mr. Jeremy
Spears. Spears is the son of the late Willard Spears, who had been partners
with Malcom Griffith in G & S Development, a well-known developer in the
area. Griffith disappeared fifteen years ago. Sheriff Reasoner confirmed that
he did not expect test results for several days
.

Before she could comment, the phone rang. Woody
answered, switching to his professional voice. “MCB Mortgage and Insurance.”

When the phone rang again, she answered the other
line. The caller identified himself as a deputy sheriff. It seems they had a
report that needed filling out. When she explained to him that she needed to be
at work, instead of admitting that she’d forgotten her promise to stop by first
thing this morning, the words “warrant for your arrest” made the decision easy.
“I’ll be right over.”

fter all
the reports
were
signed, Sheriff Reasoner personally escorted Rhetta to the parking lot. The
rain had stopped, allowing the late summer sun to peek through the parting
clouds. The asphalt smelled of wet dust and sulphur.

“Give Judge McCarter my best regards, won’t you?”
Reasoner beamed a megawatt smile down at Rhetta, showing off bright white
teeth. She decided he must’ve had them recently whitened. No one over
thirty-five could have natural teeth that looked like Chiclets gum—perfect
little squares. He removed a wide brimmed Stetson that perched squarely on his
head, and then finger-combed his thick black hair. He replaced the hat
carefully, and smoothed the brim. “You know we wouldn’t have arrested you, of
all people, Mrs. McCarter. The deputy got just a little more, shall I say,
enthusiastic, than he should have.”

The deputy’s “enthusiasm” involved a two-hour
questioning followed by a thirty-minute wait for the report to be typed. Rhetta
had to call Woody to have him cover her appointment with a prospective customer.

“Oh, you can be sure I’ll be telling my husband all
about our little visit today,” Rhetta said, beaming her best phony smile back
at him, and aiming her key fob toward her ride. The headlights flashed,
signaling the door was unlocked. Reasoner was up for re-election this year. In
the past, Randolph had always been one of his biggest supporters. After today,
she decided she didn’t like the slippery-smooth politician and would convey her
opinion of him to Randolph. She slammed the door shut and started the ignition.

She and Randolph usually didn’t argue about
politics, even though they were politically opposite. She was liberal while her
husband always had an “R” after his name when he ran for judge. However, she
found the sheriff way too smarmy for her liking and would tell Randolph so. It
had nothing to do with any party affiliation. No party had the market on slime
balls cornered.

 Reasoner had acted as if he was her newest best
friend, assuring her that he would do everything he could to try to get her Z28
back to her as soon as possible. He didn’t realize she overheard him tell the
clerk that “she’d be lucky to get that car back in time for her retirement
party, right after she signs up for Medicare.” Then he belly-laughed. She
wanted so badly to tell Reasoner she’d heard him, just to hear what he’d say,
but she decided to hold that information for Randolph to deal with. Rhetta was
pleased to see that the clerk had shot the sheriff an unpleasant look, and
didn’t join him in his mirth.

After Randolph’s accident a few months back, all of
the law enforcement officers she had talked to were convinced he had been
driving drunk, especially Reasoner. When she proved that Randolph wasn’t drunk,
Reasoner hadn’t bothered to call Randolph and extend his good wishes. Now he
was sucking up looking for political support. The creep.

She tried her best to squeal the tires as she left
the parking lot, but Trailblazers were not Camaros. She couldn’t even make the
tires whimper. All she managed to do successfully was to fish-tail on the
still-wet pavement. She pounded out her frustration on the steering wheel. “I
want Cami back.”

*
* *

LuEllen
was on the phone, and Woody was interviewing a young couple when she finally
made it back to the office. Rhetta’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d
missed lunch.

LuEllen hung up and turned to Rhetta. “There’s pizza
in the kitchen if you haven’t eaten yet,” she said, then swiveled back to face
her computer screen.

Rhetta groaned. Although she loved pizza, she’d have
to run an extra mile if she gave in and ate it. She shook her head. “Thanks,
but I think I’ll wait and eat an early dinner instead.” Her stomach loudly
protested her mouth’s decision.

Plopping down at her desk, she fished out her cell
phone. The deputy had asked her to turn it off when he was interviewing her.
She powered it back up and three missed calls flashed on her screen. Two of
them had left messages. She didn’t recognize the third number.

“Call me,” Ricky said in the first message, sounding
out of breath. Rhetta figured that she’d probably called while sanding a
car—Ricky’s version of multi-tasking.

The second message was from Randolph. “Call me when
you get a chance. The sheriff’s office has been looking for you.” His deep
voice sounded serious.

She called him first and explained where she had
been. “I don’t like Talbot Reasoner. Don’t support him in this election.” She
told him what happened.

“I was going to call him about getting the Z28
released,” Randolph said, and she heard him sigh. “I guess that isn’t going to
happen.”

Just then her phone beeped and she recognized
Ricky’s number. “I’ll call you back, Sweets. Ricky is trying to reach me.”

“No need, just wanted to be sure you didn’t get
hauled to jail.” He chuckled. “Love you,” he added, then disconnected. Rhetta
smiled.

“What’s up?” Rhetta said, answering Ricky’s call.

“I listed my Trans-Am on eBay auction with a fifteen
thousand dollar reserve, and I just got an email from a guy who says he wants
it.”

“That’s great!”

“I’m pretty happy, too. I’m so excited I had to call
you. I guess I’ll pull down the eBay auction. He’s overnighting me a cashier’s
check.”

“So, when do you get the Mustang?”

Ricky laughed. “You know me so well. I called the
guy selling it, and I’m going to go out there this afternoon and give him a
deposit.”

“Why don’t you wait until you get the check and it
clears, just in case. Your buyer might change his mind, not send out the check,
and you’ll be stuck having to buy the Mustang.”

“You’re right. I guess I’m just so excited. This is
the first car I’ve ever listed on eBay. I didn’t realize it would sell so fast.
There’s still five days left on the auction.”

“I’m sure happy for you, although I’ll miss Monster.
It’s an awesome car.” Rhetta chuckled. “Are you sure you want to get a Ford?”
They both laughed. Ricky had always protested Fords. However, she’d confessed
to Rhetta in what she admitted was a moment of weakness that she’d always
yearned for a first year Mustang. She vowed to paint it bright red.

That reminded Rhetta. “By the way, who do you know
out your way who drives a brand new red Mustang convertible?”

“No one out my way, but Jeremy has one. Why do you
ask?”

“I saw it on your road when I went out to your place
the other day. I meant to ask you then, but forgot.” Rhetta vividly remembered
the one-finger salute, but didn’t mention it to Ricky. Another reason to
dislike Jeremy.