“Blossom needs a boyfriend to fatten up.” The last thing Tony needed was a groupie.
On the way back to the shop from the almost-funeral, Theo stopped at Ruby’s Café for a cup of coffee and a chat with Ruby herself. She knew Ruby hadn’t been at the church and guessed now would be a quiet time in the café. Theo had been assigned to learn something about the bride-to-be’s color preferences for the wedding quilt the bowlers planned to make. Theo wasn’t much of a spy or a diplomat and hoped she wouldn’t give the whole thing away.
After greeting her friend, she went into the ladies’ restroom. The changes in the little room were startling. The last time she was in there a pretty wreath of dried flowers hung on the wall next to the sink. It was gone; only the pitifully bare brass hook remained. The same thing with a striking watercolor painting of flowers, once hanging over the toilet, now vanished. Both items were part of Ruby’s campaign to make the restroom more pleasant and inviting. Clearly her notions had taken a drastic change of direction. Not that Theo thought either item would supply any clues about Ruby’s personal color preferences, since a public powder room rarely resembled the decorations in a master bedroom.
Poor Mike had spent so much time getting Ruby to the point of accepting his proposal, Theo would bet he’d agree to sleep in a pink and lavender boudoir with swags of tulle and lace. Her lips twitched. Dammit the bloodhound would look charming with his huge head and droopy skin falling over a delicate, heart shaped pink satin pillow.
She assumed a more dignified expression before returning to her table. Ruby sat waiting for her.
“Why did you decide to change your decorating scheme? I thought it was pretty.” Theo poured cream into her mug. She almost had the fragrant brew to her lips when she heard Ruby growl.
Startled, she looked up into her friend’s face. Ruby looked as angry as she’d ever seen her.
“I didn’t take anything out of there. Nellie Pearl took the decorations.” Her dark eyes flashed and her hand tightened on the coffeepot’s handle.
“No way.” Theo’s response was strictly ceremonial. In truth, she wasn’t surprised the crotchety old lady was a thief. Still, ripping the decorations off restroom walls was extreme, even for her.
“I know. It surprised me, too.” Ruby poured herself a cup of coffee and sat the pot on the table. “I saw her go in there, carrying that nasty canvas bag of hers. You know the one.”
Theo nodded. The bag in question was faded and stained, in addition to being huge. “She could smuggle a small car in it and still have room for groceries.”
A twinkle crept into Ruby’s dark eyes. “That’s no joke.”
“So, you went in after she came out and the decorations were gone?”
“Exactly.” Ruby took a sip of coffee. “I told Mike, and he said he would write up a report even though he seriously doubted Nellie Pearl would admit to any wrongdoing. If we found them, my name wasn’t on anything.”
“No fair.” Theo’s protest was partially fueled by her frustration with shoplifters herself. Since the beginning of tourist season, several times she had found empty cardboard centers hidden behind a row of fabric filled bolts.
“You don’t suppose she carries around one of Blossom’s yard ornaments in there, do you?” Ruby’s mischievous smile put the twinkle back in her eyes. “Imagine if we solved the case.”
“Well . . .” Theo paused. “The bag is certainly big enough to hold one. Still, didn’t she have one snatched as well?”
“Details, details.” Ruby waved the statement away. “She probably hid hers in order to throw everyone off the scent.”
Theo considered their proposed scenario. It seemed unlikely but certainly not improbable. Would the old lady work that hard for a prank? Maybe. If not a prank, what could the motive be? “Do you think she could lift it?”
“I’m a morally weak man, Sheriff.” Sonny sat on an elegant brocade wing chair in Doreen’s immaculate parlor, his face shaded by his fingers buried in his thick silver hair.
There seemed to be no immediate response to such a statement so Tony let it hang in the air between them while he studied the room. Most houses these days didn’t really have a parlor, at least not the ones Tony spent much time in. The closest thing his aging house had to a parlor was the small room in the front. A combination of home office and dog house. Their old worn love seat by the window was Daisy’s favorite spot when the family was away. Since Tony thought of a parlor as a room no one enjoyed, it didn’t qualify.
No one used this room, Tony thought as he glanced around. There were no impressions on the chair seats to show where someone had been sitting. The three men, Tony, Wade and Sonny, were likely the only people ever to sit in here. He doubted if either Doreen or Calvin knew how to play the harpsichord occupying the place of honor by the window. A fringed scarf of red silk covered the top. An arrangement of fresh flowers sat on the scarf.
Tony felt somewhat surprised Sonny was allowed back in the same house with his daughter, Queen Doreen and his wife, the Queen Mother. Those were not women he would expect to deal well with humiliation and embarrassment, and there had been plenty of both at the funeral.
Sonny finally looked up. Tony saw nothing but raw pain in his tear-reddened eyes. Whatever his weaknesses, Sonny Cochran was a grieving father and deserved compassion and any answers his office could supply.
Tony held his notebook up. “I’m sorry to have to ask you these same questions about another daughter. Is there anything special you can tell me about Patti’s life? Any detail that might help me?”
“I’m ashamed to say this, Patti was my favorite.” Sonny wiped his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at the empty doorway. He spoke softly, “I know it’s wrong to have a favorite, but I can’t help it. She was always a happy, laughing child. When I’d come to visit, she’d run to me and throw her arms around me.”
“And as she grew up?” Tony sensed she had changed.
Sonny’s face reflected his unease. “It was only natural she would feel slighted. I tried to visit as much as possible and had her out to the farm when the wife was away. It’s not the same as living in the same house, is it?” He shrugged. “When she was a teenager, she would beg to see pictures of Doreen. She copied her hairstyle and the clothes she wore.”
“Did that bother you?” Tony thought it sounded like an unhealthy business, but he was not an expert.
“Oh, yes.” Sonny scrubbed the tears from his cheeks with the heels of his hands. “I thought it was, well, kind of sick. I was thankful when she outgrew the phase and turned into an independent, sweet woman. Her late husband was a good man and she was happy with him. Unlike myself, he was faithful and kind. They liked to go to the NASCAR races and every summer they drove over to Myrtle Beach for a week.”
“When did he die?” Wade looked up from his notes.
“About six months ago. It was tragic. One of those freak things, you know. He was headed home when the car in front of him just stopped cold. Had some kind of malfunction. His car plowed into the back of it and a tanker truck behind him turned him into a seat belt statistic.” Sonny jumped to his feet and began pacing, leaving footprints in the thick pile of the carpet. “The insurance money she received was pretty good so Patti was okay financially. Her husband’s death just took the heart right out of her.” He paused, breathing hard, as if he’d been running, his chest heaving.
Watching carefully, Tony saw something shift in Sonny’s face. He knew it was important. “What changed?”
“She met a new man.” Sonny stopped right in front of Tony, his hands spread. “I don’t know where she met him or anything about him. She said he made her feel alive. She said he was wonderful. It bothered me.”
“Why?”
“It was too soon. It had only been a short time since her husband’s passing.” He looked at Tony and laughed in a quiet, self-deprecating way. “I am not a moral person. She was.”
Tony hated his next question. “Did she tell you she was pregnant? And she miscarried?”
“No.” The word seemed to suck the air from his lungs and Sonny stopped pacing and collapsed back into his chair. “How bittersweet for her. To have a baby at long last, you know. She and her husband tried for years to have one.” He stared sightlessly out the window. A tear traced unnoticed down his cheek. “Whose baby was it? Her husband’s or the boyfriend’s?”
“Most likely her boyfriend’s.” Tony felt truly sorry for the pain this man suffered. In only hours, he had lost a beloved daughter and now a grandchild. The pain had to be unimaginable. Theo had miscarried, a little girl, when Jamie was two, and the sorrow lingered. The loss of any child was every parent’s worst nightmare. Tony cleared his throat, wondering the best way to phrase his next statement. “The autopsy showed it was a recent loss.”
“Poor Patti.” Tears overflowed Sonny’s eyes and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. Too overcome to continue, he cried quietly for a time. At length, he blew his nose and sat up straighter. “What can I do to help?”
“Just tell us what you can. Do you know why she was here when she died?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea when she last came to Silersville?”
“Not really.” Sonny frowned. “I know she came sometimes to spy on Doreen. Her marriage was the only thing she preferred to Doreen’s life.”
“What kind of car did she drive?” The image of this lost and grieving woman stalking her half sister, copying her clothes and hair, was disturbing and tragic.
“It’s a dark green Chevy. It’s not new and it’s not falling apart, either.”
“Do you have keys to her house?”
Sonny nodded. A half second later, he looked stricken. The reality of what had happened to his daughter couldn’t be pushed away any longer. He understood. “You want to go through her house?”
“Yes.”
With shaking hands, Sonny pulled an overloaded keychain from his pocket as he dictated her address to Wade. He flipped through the keys, finally removing one and handing it to Tony. “When you’re done, I’d like it back.”
“Of course.” Holding the key in his fist, Tony rose. “I just need to ask you one more question for now. Where did she work?”
“Some insurance company in downtown Chattanooga. I can’t remember the name of it just now. I can give you the phone number.” Sonny scribbled the number on the back of a gasoline receipt and shoved it into Tony’s hand.
Tony looked at Wade. His deputy’s expression reflected his own concern. Sonny was on the verge of collapse. The grieving father needed some time and space.
“Thank you, sir,” said Tony as he rose to his feet. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us.”
Sonny started to stand but his legs did not support him and he fell back, threatening to tip the chair over backwards. Wade pressed a hand onto the older man’s shoulder, stabilizing him. “We’ll let ourselves out.”
Tony paused at the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. From there he could see Sonny, his face buried in his handkerchief. His entire body shuddered, his visitors already forgotten.
Somewhere in that house, Tony guessed, the less-well-loved daughter must be busy unpacking her possessions.
He felt sorry for Doreen.
Carrying the receipt with Patti’s work number written on it, Tony went back to his office, thinking maybe he was in the wrong line of work. Maybe he’d be happier building something, like Gus, rather than cleaning up the messes others made. His contemplation lasted until he remembered that his skill with a hammer made carpentry an impractical solution at best.
Plus, he loved the thrill of catching the bad guy. It always gave him a rush. Well, almost always. Sometimes his sympathies lay with the person who did the wrong thing for the right reason, yet he couldn’t twist the law to suit himself.
Theo often teased him, saying he was a vigilante at heart. Maybe she was right. He did feel like hanging someone. But who?
He settled into his chair and sat quietly, staring at the cluttered surface of his desk without really seeing it. Notes and printouts from his own and other law enforcement agencies littered the surface. A baby had been abducted from a mall in Charlotte, Virginia. A suspected arsonist was running amok in the Johnson City area. The U.S. Marshals Service moved another escaped felon onto their list.
Tony found it all depressing to consider. Surely there was good somewhere. Maybe inspiration would strike.
He waited for a long time letting random bits of information run through his mind. No clear pattern emerged.
Without thinking about what he was doing, he rubbed his head with both hands as if stimulation would organize his thoughts. An idea did occur to him, although it had nothing to do with this case. If he had hair, he would have massaged it away by now. The notion made him smile, though, easing the tension coiling his gut.
He reached for the jar of antacids on his desk. Maybe if he ate more of them and kept his hands off his scalp he’d have a thick, glossy head of hair like Wade’s.
Finally, he picked up his phone and punched in the number for the Chattanooga police department.
Only a minute later his call was forwarded, and he found himself chatting with a Detective Zeller. Tony thought that Zeller sounded interested, helpful and about sixteen years old.
“I guess it would take me about two hours to drive down there and find the place,” said Tony. He hoped that Zeller would offer to do all the leg work and send a report. “Maybe, you could . . .”
He didn’t get to finish his suggestion before Zeller interrupted. “Sounds good, I’ll meet you at your victim’s house about ten-thirty in the morning. We can poke around there for a bit and then head down to her office.”
“Sure, that’s fine.” With a marked lack of enthusiasm, Tony wrote himself a note. He felt as if he had too much on his plate already and didn’t want to make another trip out of town. Oh well, at least he’d be traveling around in air-conditioning.