Murder in the Courthouse (11 page)

“Here? In the
suburbs
? Oh no . . . no, no, no, no.” The woman let out a short, gentle, but derisive laugh. “I'm more of an in-town girl. I just come out here to the sticks to get in my workout! Less exhaust fumes out here. Oh, no. I don't live here. Have you ever heard of Johnny Mercer? ‘Moon River'? I live over on East Gordon in the historical district . . . beside the Johnny Mercer house. It's been in loads of movies . . . the Johnny Mercer house?” She repeated it as if she suspected Hailey was hard of hearing. “One of them even caught the corner of my condo building in it!”

“In what?” Hailey didn't get it.

“
The movie!
A corner of my condo building was actually in a movie!
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
! It won lots of awards!”

“It must be lovely.”

Hailey was rewarded for her interest with a broad smile from Kacynthia. Hailey went for it.

“Did you know Alton Turner?” Hailey kept her gaze directly on Kacynthia's face.

One of the woman's carefully drawn eyebrows, the left one, rose just a twitch as her eyes widened. She drew her right palm and fingertips to the center of her chest, seemingly without thinking, and sidestepped Hailey's question.

“
Oh, it was awful!
The blood! I was just minding my own business when I saw them.”

“Them?” Hailey continued gazing directly into the woman's eyes.

“The legs. Alton Turner's legs. And the blood.” Her voice had taken on a theatrical whisper and she mouthed the words dramatically, her red, glossed lips enunciating perfectly.

This woman was meant for the stage.

“I was the one who found him. I'll never forget it as long as I live. It
haunts
me. It absolutely haunts me.” Now, she closed her eyes right there in the driveway as if she were entering a nightmare about Alton Turner's body at that very moment.

“And the press was relentless . . . they wouldn't let me go! I had to tell my story over and over!” It was easy to see the woman was thrilled and, watching her, Hailey finally placed her face. This was the woman Hailey spotted at the edge of Alton's lawn speaking to the press. Hailey had only seen her from behind, but now that she thought about it, the woman was wearing the same, or a very similar, workout ensemble with long red hair down her back.

This had to be her.

“Did you see anyone else around that day? Any cars parked at the house?”

“No. Actually, I had just parked my car around the corner. It's the baby blue BMW over on Magnolia, about three blocks from here.” She clearly enjoyed dropping the fact she drove an expensive, luxury import.

“Oh, those are beautiful cars! And expensive!”

The shameless fawning paid off. The woman went on without any prodding at all.

“But even if I hadn't just gotten here, I can tell you, nobody else was here. Nobody was ever here. Ever since this guy's mom died, I heard he never had a single car in the driveway other than his own. And that was when he'd bring it out of the garage to wash it in the driveway.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hailey remained silent. As she'd surmised fairly easily, Kacynthia was the type that couldn't stand silence in a conversation and immediately filled it.

“Oh, yes. I think the mom visited so much, she finally moved in. Or else spent a lot of time here. They'd sit out there in the yard on that swing in the evenings. That's what the neighbors said. She drove
an old silver Buick, I think. She'd park it on the street so's not to get oil on his driveway.”

“Wow. You really know a lot about Alton.”

“Well, I've come here to walk several hours a day lately.”

“You sure are dedicated . . .”

“And it pays off!” Kacynthia turned to the side and patted a completely flat, taut tummy. “This isn't Spanx, if you know what I mean. As I've always said . . . beauty has a price.”

“Well, you're in incredible shape!”

“Thank you! I guess I'm what you'd call a fitness enthusiast!” Kacynthia positively beamed.

“So, it was just Alton and his mom, then?”

“Yes. And that day, I didn't see another soul. Just them . . . the legs.”

“What kind of guy was he?”

The woman clearly wanted to talk. No qualms about spilling the beans whatsoever.

“Well, I've talked to a
lot of neighbors
, let me tell you.” The redhead looked both ways as if someone could possibly be listening. She paused before going on. “He was overly quiet, worked on his car in the garage with the door up a lot. After work. Always working in his yard. Grilled out with his mom a good bit before she passed. Since then, not so much.”

“Poor guy. Well, it's nice to meet you.” Hailey gave her another smile.

“Oh, here's my contact card if you need an interview, I mean information.” In one fluid motion, she reached down into her workout bra and produced a pale pink business card. Glancing down at it, Hailey saw it had her name, Miss Kacynthia Sikes, her address, and home and cell numbers.

“Well, thank you. I'll certainly keep it!” Hailey slipped the card into her pocket along with the trash from Alton's yard.

“Lovely to meet you! Lovely! And I'll see you on the airwaves, Miss
20/20
!” Obviously still under the impression Hailey was with the media, Kacynthia Sikes gave a brilliant smile. Dazzling, actually,
again displaying a mouth full of expensive dentistry that could not be acquired in just one sitting.

Turning on her white-heeled Pumas, Kacynthia's red hair swung around behind her. Chest out, tummy in, back straight, she started pumping her fists furiously before she even got out of the driveway and turned onto the paved asphalt street.

Taking a last glance back at the house, Hailey headed back to her rental car. She opened the door and got into the driver's seat. Cranking up the ignition, she reversed down the driveway and put it in drive.

Just ahead of her, she saw Kacynthia Sikes's bobbing head dip below a rise in the street and disappear from sight. The woman had never even asked her name, not anything else. She'd been perfectly contented babbling on practically solo.

Hailey glanced to both sides and in the rearview, taking a last glimpse in search of the ponytailed crime-scene tech. Maybe they could compare notes. But there was no sign of him. But wait . . . since when did a CSI have a ponytail? Not in these parts, anyway.

At that moment, a tingle went across Hailey's face and her mouth went dry. The central air hadn't cranked up outside the first time. When the curtain had dropped abruptly back to the window. She was sure of it. When the curtains began fluttering a few moments later, there had been a loud click, a catch of sorts, when the motor kicked in.
Then
the curtains had fluttered . . . not before. She didn't hear a click the first time . . . or the hum of the motor.

She was sure.

Or was she? Maybe she didn't recall it the first time because she was focused more on the Victorian birdhouse mini-mansion. And the black mark on the pole. And picking up the litter. Maybe she hadn't been focusing on anything else.

Hailey looked back in her rearview mirror at Alton Turner's house getting smaller and smaller as she pulled away from it.

If only those walls could talk.

CHAPTER NINE

A
thick mist was rising up off the Savannah River the next morning as Hailey drove by. She had a fitful night's sleep, largely because of her return to the scene of Alton Turner's death. It even got into her dreams.

In the dream, she was hovering outside Alton's window looking in at the photo of Alton and his mom. The old one in black and white where Alton was still just a little boy. And then, the curtains at the window would begin fluttering and obstruct her view. In the dream, Hailey kept reaching out, trying to pull them to the side to see who, if anyone, was standing there.

In the end, a hotel wake-up call snatched her out of a dream she couldn't seem to get out of on her own.

Crossing over the river, she caught sight of the gray water churning on, giving no thought to those passing over it. The sky was early-morning gray as well, still cool before the Savannah sun came out to blister everything beneath it. She pulled the car into McDonald's.

“Still on McDonald's coffee? Still won't give in and go to Starbucks?” She looked over at Finch in the front passenger seat.

“Costs too much. And it tastes
bitter
. Actually, I don't see how you stand the stuff. I really wanted my Irish breakfast tea before morning session, but the hotel doesn't have it. So, McDonald's it is.”

The two drove through, ordered, and headed downtown on the narrow surface roads leading to the Chatham County Courthouse and the Julie Love Adams trial. But Hailey's head was still at Alton's place.

Alton's cul-de-sac. She didn't know why, but thought it was better if she kept it to herself.

She knew he'd be irate that she went out sleuthing on her own. When they were a trial team, he'd bailed her out often, including
one time when she went to see a hostile witness and was met with a shotgun barrel right in her face.

He'd grabbed her and together, they dove straight off the porch into the dirt, the ringing of the shotgun blast in their ears.

Yep. He'd definitely be ticked off that she went out on her own. Better keep that quiet. She gulped down her coffee as Finch wolfed down a huge breakfast sandwich. Glancing over, Hailey could only identify some sort of meat, likely sausage, topped with egg and cheese, all in a biscuit.

It did smell pretty good. She had to admit that. The two kept driving in silence. She wasn't in the mood for music interrupted by tons of local advertisements.

After several minutes, Finch broke the silence. “You heard about the parole hearing, right?”

“What?” Hailey continued looking out at the traffic.

“The parole hearing. It's on the schedule, I heard. You haven't mentioned it.”

Hailey flicked on the car's blinker and, looking both ways, deliberately steered the car right. She seemed especially focused on traffic.

“You know he's up for parole, right?”

“Who?”

“Hailey. You know who. Will's killer. They're having a hearing on it. Word is, that because of you, it's turned into a political football. They're saying he's gonna get out because of it. They don't want to look like they're being unfair. You know, holding him behind bars just because you and Will were engaged. No preferential treatment . . . that kind of thing.”

Hailey didn't turn or budge, didn't bat an eye. She kept staring out toward cars slowly passing by. But her foot had lifted a tiny bit and the car had slowed considerably.

Still. She held it steady in the road.

“I heard.” She said flatly. At that moment, if she had given in to what she was feeling, she was in danger of going into a depression so deep, she wouldn't be able to crawl out of it for months. She couldn't give in to it. She couldn't.

Hailey took a deep breath and shrugged Fincher's hand off her shoulder. It wasn't that she wanted to get rid of him, she just couldn't be close.

She couldn't let go. If she let go, she might just howl at the sky out of pure pain left over from a long time ago, when she was still a fresh-faced girl. Before Will was gunned down. When she thought she would still be walking down the aisle in her beautiful dress. When she still thought one day she would have a family, a home, a life.

Fincher knew enough not to push it. He'd been through a lot with Hailey and he understood her. He sat beside her quietly, waiting, as he had done thousands of times, in court and out.

In a few moments, the dark cloud passed over her. She could almost feel it fade away.

Hailey abruptly turned back to face him.

“Let's just get into the courtroom. OK?”

“OK. Let's go.” Finch knew that was always her solution. Don't think about it. Don't feel it. Don't feel anything . . . it might hurt. Just get in the courtroom. Where it's safe. This had been her MO since he first met her. But he also knew not to point that out to her.

Hailey was smarter, sharper, and quicker than anyone he'd ever met. He was pretty sure that Hailey Dean knew what she was doing.

So instead, he went along with her. “Yeah. Let's see what BS DelVecchio is up to this morning. Probably an encore performance of yesterday.”

Hailey looked him in the face and smiled big. “Yeah. Let's do that.”

Slamming the doors and heading in, they climbed the courthouse steps and went through the metal detector fairly quickly by flashing their badges, allowing them to bypass a long line of people waiting to get through. Heading toward the bank of elevators in the center of the lobby, Hailey went on, talking about anything but the parole hearing.

“You want dinner after court?”

“Yeah. I think I want Cuban. A big, fat Cuban sandwich . . . or maybe some jerk chicken.”

“I want sushi. I wonder if they have decent sushi in Savannah.”

“OK, fine. If you want to eat some raw fish out of the Savannah River, you go right ahead. It's about three miles from the Savannah nuclear reactor plant, but if you don't mind sushi that glows . . . have at it. I will be having the very
well-done
chicken teriyaki.”

“Good. Have a piece of leather. Well-done tastes just like a shoe . . . but if that's what you want . . . eat a shoe.”

“Hailey, I've known you over ten years and I can't think of a single time—not even one time—you ever wanted the same thing I wanted for dinner.”

“Hey. I was just going to say that myself. Why do you have to be so contrary all the time? But that's because
I
am a foodie and
you
. . . are a garbage disposal.”

“I've heard that before . . .”

“But Fincher, forget what you're going to eat for once. I'm worried about this jury. Did you see the way they were looking over at Adams's mom?”