Murder of a Beauty Shop Queen (15 page)

Lynn Ashton's purse.

Chapter 14

Rhodes called Ivy to say he'd be home even later than he'd thought.

“You're all right?” she asked. “Not calling from the hospital?”

He said he was fine and told her about the purse. “I'll have to question a couple of prisoners about it. That might take a while.”

“I'll wait up for you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know, but maybe you'll want to talk about it. Or something.”

Rhodes grinned. “We'll see.”

“See what?” Hack asked when Rhodes hung up.

“You wouldn't understand,” Rhodes said.

“Ha. That's where you're wrong. I might be old, but…”

“I don't want to hear it,” Rhodes said. “I'm going to question our new guests. I'll be in the interview room. Have Lawton bring in Guillermo.”

“That the one with the broken nose?”

“That's the one.”

“They patched him up nice,” Hack said.

“Good.” Rhodes headed for the interview room. “Go tell Lawton.”

“You know what that Benton fella said about you bein' impatient?”

Rhodes didn't answer.

“Well,” Hack said, “he sure knew what he was talking about.”

*   *   *

The interview room was bare except for a table, a digital recorder, and a couple of folding chairs. When Guillermo came in and took a seat, Rhodes pointed out the recorder and asked if Guillermo would waive his right to have an attorney present.

Guillermo shrugged. He was young, probably not yet thirty, with black hair and black eyes. He needed a haircut, and his nose was stuffed with cotton and covered by a bandage.

“Sure,” he said in a nasal voice that made him sound as if he had a cold. “Why not? I don't need no lawyer. I didn't do nothing.”

“You hit me in the head with a bucket,” Rhodes said.

Guillermo tried not to smile, but he didn't quite succeed.

“Well,” he said, “it was just a plastic one. Not heavy or nothing.” He put up a finger, almost touching his nose. “Look what you did to me. Now I'm not so pretty.”

“It'll give you a lot of romantic appeal after it heals,” Rhodes said.

“Yeah, I bet it will. Plenty of romance in my future.”

“Let's forget that for a while,” Rhodes said. “A broken nose isn't the bad part.”

Guillermo leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “The bad part?”

“The purse we found in your pickup,” Rhodes said.

“That's not my ride,” Guillermo said. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “That belongs to Frankie.”

“Frankie?”

“Francisco. He's our friend. He takes us to the Dairy Queen now and then.”

“Does Frankie have a last name?”

“Rey. Means ‘king.' He works for a man named Womack. It's really Womack's truck. Frankie, he just borrows it sometimes.”

Rhodes knew Wallace Womack. He had a little place just outside of the little town of Obert where he raised a few cattle and had a sizable vegetable garden every year.

“Does Mr. Womack know Frankie borrows his truck?”

Guillermo shrugged again. “I don't know. I never asked him. Not any of my business, you know?”

“Right. Now about that purse.”

“I don't know nothing about a purse. I never saw no purse.”

Rhodes wished he could believe Guillermo, but the way the young man's eyes kept looking away from Rhodes and the way he held himself with his arms crossed made Rhodes think that he was lying.

“We'll check the purse for fingerprints,” Rhodes said. “I think yours might be on it.”

Guillermo looked over Rhodes's head at the opposite wall. “Maybe I moved it around or something.”

“Maybe you just told me you never saw it.”

“I might've moved it without thinking about it, you know? Just shoved it out of the way.”

“Sure. What about Lynn Ashton? How well did you know her?”

Guillermo looked genuinely puzzled. “Who?”

“Lynn Ashton. It's her purse. She worked across the street from where you and your friend Jorge were crashing. Very pretty young woman. You must have noticed her.”

“Maybe. We didn't look around much.”

“She's dead,” Rhodes said. “Somebody killed her. Somebody took her purse. You have it. I'd say that doesn't look good.”

Guillermo sat up, and for the first time he looked a bit scared. “I don't know nothing about that. I don't know what you're even saying.”

Rhodes almost believed him. “All right. I'll take you back to your cell.”

“That's it?” Guillermo asked.

“That's it,” Rhodes told him. “Let's go.”

Guillermo stood up, blinking as if he still couldn't believe the questioning was over. Rhodes took him back to his cell, along with Lawton, who opened the door and let Guillermo back inside.

When the door was locked, Rhodes said to Lawton, “Let's get Jorge.”

“Aw, man,” Guillermo said from his cell, “you can't believe nothing Jorge tells you. Everybody knows he's a liar.”

“We'll see,” Rhodes said.

*   *   *

Rhodes stopped at Hack's desk while Lawton took Jorge on to the interview room.

“Get Pearson on the radio and tell him to check out Wallace Womack's place. That's where the driver of the truck is staying. Name's Francisco Rey.”

“Sure thing,” Hack said, and Rhodes went on to talk to Jorge.

Jorge was about Guillermo's age. Like Guillermo, he needed a haircut, but his nose was in better condition. He was considerably more nervous than Guillermo, and he sat rigidly in the chair, twisting his hands while Rhodes watched him. He had a slight tic under his left eye.

Rhodes let him twitch for a while and then said, “Guillermo told me that you were the one who took the purse.”

Jorge's voice was shaky. “Then he is a liar. I don't know about a purse.”

“We found one in Mr. Womack's pickup. The pickup you stole.”

“I didn't steal it! Frankie borrows the truck all the time. Mr. Womack, he don't care.”

“You use the truck when you're out stealing batteries?”

“Stealing? We weren't stealing.”

“The man who chased you will testify that you were trying to steal his car battery. If you didn't steal the purse, who did? Did Frankie kill Lynn Ashton?”

The tic under Jorge's eye had gotten worse, and Rhodes thought the young man might twist all his fingers off if he kept at it much longer.

“I don't know what you're saying. Who is this Lynn? We didn't kill nobody. We were just out for a ride.”

“Lynn Ashton worked in the Beauty Shack across the street from where you were staying. She was pretty, and now she's dead. Her purse was in your pickup.”

Jorge looked as if he might cry. “I told you, man. We were just out for a ride. We didn't kill nobody. We didn't steal any purse.”

“Where'd you get it, then?”

“We found it, that's where. Just found it. That's all.”

Rhodes wondered how many times he'd heard the old “we found it” story. Probably hundreds by now.

“Have you already used the credit cards and spent the money?”

“If you got the purse, you know better. We didn't have it long enough to spend the money or use the cards.”

Another likely story. “You sure about that?”

Jorge looked away. “Maybe we bought a couple beers and some sandwiches.”

“Did you hit her with a baseball bat?”

“Hit? I told you, man, we found that purse.”

“You didn't tell me where.”

“In the alley.”

“Lots of alleys in this town.”

“The one behind that antique store, where the
maricón
stays.”

“Now that's too bad,” Rhodes said.

“Why is it too bad? We found it, like I said. In the trash right there.”

“It's too bad that you used that word.”

“It's a bad word, but it's the one I know.”

“The man who owned the store was Jeff Tyler,” Rhodes said.

“Okay, if you say so. Why is that so bad?”

“Because somebody killed him, too,” Rhodes said.

Chapter 15

Jorge didn't break down and confess. He was too shocked. He didn't say much of anything until Rhodes pressed him to explain how they'd supposedly found the purse.

Jorge's story was that after Rhodes had chased him and Guillermo that morning, they'd gone out to the Womack place. Frankie lived in a little three-room house out there and did whatever needed doing, mowing the lawn, feeding the few cows, riding a tractor to run the weed shredder, but there wasn't much pay, so Frankie sometimes toured the alleys of Clearview and checked out the trash to see what people were throwing away. Sometimes he'd find something he could sell. After they'd helped him do some yard work and feed the cattle, they drove to town in the old pickup to see what they could find. Today they'd found the purse.

“I swear it,” Jorge said. “We found it in the trash. We did take some of the money and buy some beers, but that was all. We didn't kill nobody. I swear it.”

Rhodes took him back to the cell, and Lawton locked him in. When Rhodes returned to the outer office, Pearson was there with the purse.

“I went out by the Womack place,” he said. “No sign of Francisco.”

Rhodes hadn't thought there would be. Frankie was most likely long gone by now, halfway to Houston or San Antonio or Mexico. Especially if he'd killed Lynn Ashton and Jeff Tyler. Rhodes gave Pearson an abridged version of what he'd learned from Guillermo and Jorge.

“Womack see him today?”

“Sure. Him and his friends, but not since this afternoon.”

No help there, Rhodes thought.

“What if they're telling the truth?” Pearson said.

Hack snorted. “Who tells the truth these days? Aside from me and Lawton, I mean.”

Rhodes ignored him and told Pearson that he could get back to his regular patrol and Rhodes would take a look at the purse. Pearson said so long to Hack and left Rhodes to his purse inspection.

Rhodes was careful not to touch the outside of the purse. It was smooth gray leather, and he knew there would be fingerprints all over it. They'd mostly belong to Francisco and his pals, though.

Lynn's cell phone wasn't in the purse. Her wallet was, but it didn't hold anything of interest. Her credit cards were still inside it, which didn't mean that Frankie and his friends were honest, just that they hadn't had time to use them yet. The phone, however, had been irresistible.

Rhodes sighed, put the purse in the evidence room, and went to see Guillermo, who was lying on his bunk.

“It's uncomfortable in here,” Guillermo said by way of greeting. “It's too hot, and there's no TV.”

“It's a jail,” Rhodes said.

“Yeah, but even us prisoners have some rights.”

“You do, and one of them is not to talk to me if you don't want to.”

“I don't mind talking, man, but I could use a better mattress.”

“What about a cell phone?” Rhodes asked.

“Yeah, that, too. Would be nice to talk to somebody. Besides you, I mean. No offense.”

“None taken,” Rhodes said. “You didn't have a phone when you were booked.”

“Can't afford one. Frankie, he has one.”

“I think he has two,” Rhodes said.

“My nose hurts,” Guillermo said. “It's hard to breathe when it's so hot in here.”

“We're talking about Frankie's cell phones, not your nose. Two cell phones.”

“I don't think there's two.” Guillermo squirmed on the bunk. “Just the one he bought at Walmart.”

“You're forgetting the one in the purse,” Rhodes said.

Guillermo turned his head away. “I don't know about that one.”

“It'll be easy to trace. Those things all have a built-in GPS.” That wasn't true, but Rhodes thought Guillermo might not know it. “We'll track it down tomorrow. You might as well tell me.”

Guillermo turned back to face Rhodes. “Okay, if there was a phone in the purse, Frankie's the one that took it. Jorge and me, we don't have it.”

“How many calls did he make?”

“I didn't say he made no calls.”

“Free calls,” Rhodes said. “How could he not make calls?”

“He might have called his mother. She lives in Matamoros.”

Rhodes had been almost certain that Frankie had the phone. Now he knew for sure. He also knew he was unlikely to see Frankie again.

“His mother's a nice lady,” Guillermo said. He glanced at Rhodes's belt line. “She's a really good cook, man. You'd like her.”

“I'm sure I would,” Rhodes said. “Good night, Guillermo.”

*   *   *

Rhodes drove home and thought over all that had happened that day. It had been a long one, and two people wouldn't be seeing the next one come along. Lynn Ashton and Jeff Tyler. The two deaths had to be connected, but Rhodes couldn't see how. Rhodes wondered about Lonnie, who Rhodes thought wasn't telling everything he knew. Why would he hold back if he didn't have anything to do with Tyler's death, or Lynn's? He should be the first to want the murders solved.

Lynn's purse worried Rhodes, too. Maybe it had been in the trash, maybe not. What if Guillermo and his friends had found it inside Tyler's store and killed him for it? As unlikely as that seemed, it could've happened. Tyler, jealous of Lynn's relationship with Lonnie, might have killed her and taken the purse. The possibilities multiplied when Rhodes thought of things that way. Lonnie might have found out what Tyler had done and killed him, then thrown the purse away. Or … Rhodes was too tired to go on with that train of thought. It was time he went home and got some rest.