There were still a lot of unanswered questions, and Charley, for all his new-found honesty, probably wouldn't answer them.
But perhaps she could
verify the crime Charley claimed started all this mess.
"Was there a murder just before Charley left town, Dianne somebody?"
Irene nodded. "Why, yes. Dianne
Carter
. Charley told you about that? It was awful. They found her body in her car out by the lake.
Shot and killed, her purse missing.
Young mother, left
a husband and
two kids. Pecan pie?"
"Yes, please." Amanda accepted a piece,
taking a bite
before she continued. "They ever catch the killer?"
"
No.
Had to be somebody passing through. The
y
never found the
gun
. She was the sweetest thing. Taught Sunday school at our church. Her and
Greg
—that's her husband—
were always helping people, working with kids to keep them off drugs, deliverin
g Christmas baskets
to
poor people.
Greg
's the coach at the high school. Penny and Paula have him for track, and they think he's wonderful.
"
"Sounds like
Dianne was
a re
gular
saint."
Too good to be true?
"She was a saint. Nobody ever had a bad word to say about her. Everybody loved her."
"Everybody? How about Mayor Kimball?"
Irene sat quietly for a few seconds, her blue gaze narrowed, assessing Amanda as if trying to figure out why she would ask that question. Perhaps her mother-in-law wasn't quite as naïve as she seemed. "Funny you ask that. Dianne and Roland were sweethearts in high school. Everybody assumed they'd get married after they got out of college."
"But they didn't."
Irene wadded her paper napkin and put it
o
n her empty plate. "People change. Nobody knows why they broke up, but they both came back and married different people."
"Did they stay friends? Or did they hate each other?"
"Dianne didn't hate anybody. But whatever happened with her and Roland, they kept their distance after that. Acted like strangers. Too bad. I think his mama and daddy were disappointed."
"They liked Dianne?"
"Everybody liked Dianne.
Her
family wasn't wealthy
like the Kimballs
.
Her folks
own a farm, raise soybeans, run a few head of cattle. But she was a good influence on Roland. He was pretty wild in high school. Son of the richest man in town. Privileged. Arrogant even then. Samuel Kimball, his daddy, doesn't want any taint on the family name. Mind you, that old man's not perfect, but he's always kept his sins under the table. He expected his only son to do the same. So when Roland started dating Dianne, and settled down, Samuel was happy about it." She shrugged and grinned a little sheepishly. "In a small town, we mind each other's business. It's better than daytime television."
"Did the police question anybody in particular about Dianne's death?"
Irene stood and began tidying the kitchen. "For a while, they thought it might be Claude Dobyns. Leastwise, they acted like they suspected him. I think they just did it to
look
like they were doing something. Claude's different, so he gets picked on a lot."
"What do you mean,
different
?"
"He never was quite right in the head. His mama died when he was born. His daddy was too stingy to pay a doctor, had a neighbor woman come over, so Miz Dobyns died, and they say the baby didn't come out right." Irene ran water into one side of the sink and squirted in dishwashing liquid.
Amanda stood and looked around the room. "Where are your dishtowels?"
"Second drawer, over there."
Amanda pulled a snowy white dishtowel from the designated drawer. "That's sad," she said, "what happened to Claude."
"And it just got worse. His daddy raised him on their little farm a few miles from town, kept him out of school and made him work. Some say he beat him. I'd believe that of old man Dobyns."
The summer breezes coming through the window over the kitchen sink brought scents of magnolia blossoms to mingle with the lemon scent of the dishwashing liquid. Irene
set the glasses in the water and selected the first to wash.
"Anyway,"
she
continued, "his daddy died a few years ago. Claude still stays at the farm, but I hear the place is bad run down. Claude drinks some, but that's not really his problem. Mostly he's just not right. Thinks everybody's out to hurt him. Dianne used to take him food
,
and he tolerated her pretty good But then one day she brought out a doctor who wanted to put Claude on some medicine."
She rinsed the glass, set it on the rack and began washing the next glass.
"Schizophrenia
meds
? Bi-polar?"
Amanda picked up the glass and wiped the moisture from it, then set it in the cabinet.
"Don't know. But whatever
that medicine
was, Claude didn't take kindly to it. He threw an awful fit and run them both off his land. Threatened them with a shotgun."
"Does Claude live close to the lake where Dianne was killed?" she asked.
"Nope. Not close to the grocery store she went to, either. The police couldn't find anything to say Claude did it. No trace of
her purse or
the money
in it
. Claude doesn't
own
a handgun. They said he cried when he found out she was dead."
Amanda dried the final plate, a little
disappointed the ritual was ended
.
It had been relaxing, soothing and established a connection between her and her mother-in-law, as if the two of them were bonded in some important activity. She'd never dried dishes with her own mother. She doubted her mother had ever washed a dish in her pampered life. Too bad.
"Did the police question Mayor Kimball about her death? I mean, since they used to date and broke up and…"
Irene pulled a plug, and the soapy water gurgled as it rushed down the drain. "You mean just because he seems like a bad person?"
Irene's response surprised her. Amanda had expected her to think the question was totally out of line. "Something like that."
Because your son claims he was blackmailing Kimball for Dianne's murder.
"No, the mayor was never a suspect."
As she watched Irene wipe off the counter and table top, Amanda
reflected that the evidence was
building
to support
Charley's
claims.
It was possible Kimball had killed his former girlfriend. She had no idea why, and didn't suppose that really mattered. All that mattered was that she somehow get her gun back from
the psycho mayor
and prove she hadn't shot Charley.
A terrible thought hit her. What if he'd
thrown
her
gun away like Charley said he did with t
he gun he used to murder Dianne?
In that case, she had no choice but to forget about Kimball, go back to Dallas and trust in the legal system.
Her heart sank. After all her years of watching judges and lawyers in action, she knew she'd be better off trusting Charley than the legal system, and she'd be better off trusting the hangman than trusting Charley.
The jury might even deem it premeditated murder since she and Charley had been fighting so much, and, by her own admission, she'd had the gun in her possession before his murder.
Twenty-five to life.
The more she learned about this mess, the worse it got.
When she got out of prison—if she got out of prison—would she still be able to ride a motorcycle? Would they still be making motorcycles or would everything be hovercraft?
Suddenly she wasn't feeling so good.
Maybe she'd better call her dad and see if they could work out some kind of a deal.
"Amanda, are you okay?" Irene asked. "You look kinda pale. Did that food not set well?"
"I'm fine. No, I'm not fine. I probably shouldn't have eaten that second piece of pie."
"You only had one piece of pie."
"I should have had two. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go lie down for a few minutes."
Irene looked worried. "Holler if you need anything."
Amanda fled upstairs to Charley's old room. But before she could call her father, she saw Charley sitting on the window sill.
"Now do you believe me?" he
asked
.
"Were you eavesdropping?"
He shrugged
. "I was listening."
"I didn't see you."
"I'm always there for you, whether you see me or not."
She moved toward him, pointing a threatening finger. "If I find out you've been spying on me in the shower or when I'm changing clothes, I'll—" She stopped. It was hard to threaten somebody who was
already
dead.
"Amanda! I'm shocked! I'm dead. I've risen above all that sort of thing."
"Ha!"
"So what are you going to do now? I've got
an
idea. If you just get me inside Kimball's house, I can look around and see if I can find that gun."
"Get you inside? Why don't you just zap yourself over there the way you do
everywhere else
?"
"Can't. I seem
to be
attached to you. I can only
go
where you
go
."
"Oh, so you need me to get inside Kimball's house? Hey, no problem. I'll knock on the door and he'll invite me in for a glass of wine or maybe to stay for dinner because I'm his new best friend. Anyway, what makes you think he's even still got the gun? You said he threw away the one he used to kill Dianne. The one you think he used to kill Dianne.
If
he killed her. Why would he kill her? They broke up years ago."