I briefly considered sitting in the big recliner, but decided that wouldn’t be wise; it was obviously Wade’s chair, and though we’d taken some valuable baby steps toward securing Marilyn’s cooperation, that fragile truce would be broken in an instant if she thought we were being disrespectful of her husband or home. I went into the kitchen and returned carrying a wooden chair, which I set opposite the sofa.
Tina came into the living room a moment later and gave us an inquiring look that clearly said,
Has she been behaving?
Ash nodded.
“All right, Mrs. Tice, stand up and let me take those handcuffs off.” Tina pulled her key ring from her gun belt. Once she’d removed the restraints, she said, “Now, while Mr. Lyon listens to your new and improved statement, his wife and I are going to search your house for evidence. Here’s your copy of the search warrant. Do you have any problems with that?”
“No, ma’am.” Marilyn didn’t bother to look at the papers as she sat back down on the sofa.
“Glad to hear it. Brad, she’s all yours.”
As Tina and Ash went upstairs, Marilyn grumbled, “Who died and crowned her queen?”
“She’s the sheriff. Cut her some slack,” I said, while sitting down on the kitchen chair. “She’s basically been working around the clock since Thursday morning. Besides, you probably could have avoided all of this if you and Wade had told me the truth in the first place.”
“I suppose.”
“And as long as we’re discussing really bad decisions, I’ve got to ask. What in the name of God were you thinking about, charging a bunch of armed cops with a pitchfork?”
“I didn’t know it was the law until I came around the side of the barn and you stopped me.”
“Still, you were armed and ready for a fight. Who did you think was there?”
“Some of Rawlins’s friends. Lots of folks around here have already decided that Wade killed him, and they’re mad. I found that out this morning when I went to the Food Lion.”
“What happened?”
“I was treated like a damn leper while I was shopping—people scurrying away from me and muttering under their breath. Then, when I came out, I saw that some coward had slashed one of my car’s tires.” Marilyn’s lips compressed with rage. “So when I heard that big crash, I thought someone was smashing up our house.”
“I’m not defending that sort of vile behavior, but there
is
a reason why people suspect your husband.”
“Because of the feud. But people only heard one side of it—Rawlins’s side.”
I leaned forward in the chair. “Then tell me your side. What happened at the lodge?”
Marilyn sighed and slumped into the corner of the couch. “You were right about me being sent up to help the housekeeping team on the third floor. I do good work and I’m fast, so I get sent up there a lot, which is a pain.”
“More work.”
“For the same pay and no tips. By the time I get up there, the third-floor housekeepers have already collected all the tips from the rooms.”
“Even though you’re doing their jobs? That isn’t exactly fair.”
“As Wade says: Welcome to Planet Earth. Anyway, I got sent up there on Thursday at around eleven-thirty and started vacuuming and cleaning rooms.”
“And you saw something in one of the rooms that attracted your attention?”
“Yeah, Room Three-Thirty-One. I want to make something real clear.” Marilyn sat up straight. “I didn’t go up there to snoop around—why would I? I didn’t know anything about the people in that room. I didn’t touch anything either.”
“I understand.”
“Well, I sure hope my boss at the lodge does, because she fires housekeepers who mess with a guest’s stuff. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
“If what you saw was in plain sight, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“It
was
in plain sight. Right there on the table.”
I nodded. “Okay, before we cover that, let’s back up a little. When you arrived in front of the door to Room Three-Thirty-One, what did you do?”
“I knocked and said, ‘Housekeeping,’ like always. I didn’t hear anything, so I used my key card and went right on in. There was nobody in the living room part of the suite, but . . .” Marilyn’s cheeks began to turn pink.
“Was there someone in the bedroom?”
“The bedroom door was shut, but from the sound of it, there was a man and a woman in there and they weren’t playing Scrabble, if you know what I mean.”
“Actually, I do. I just missed their matinee performance yesterday.”
Marilyn recoiled with surprise. “You were in that room? But why—”
“That isn’t important. Please continue. You’re in the living room, they’re . . . preoccupied in the bedroom, and . . . ?”
“I decided I’d come back later. But I thought I’d grab their breakfast dishes before I left. I was just trying to make less work for myself later.”
“Makes sense.”
“Well, there was a coffee cup on the desk along with a bunch of papers and what looked like a land survey map. When I picked up the cup, I just happened to look down at the map.” As Marilyn spoke, she placed her hand in front of her eyes, ostensibly to rub the bridge of her nose.
The gesture would have appeared meaningless to someone who hadn’t studied body language or interviewed thousands of liars. Yet I recognized its true significance: What she’d actually done was subconsciously block my view of her eyes, which told me that she was probably lying about the supposedly accidental circumstances of the discovery. More than likely, Marilyn routinely snooped on guests to relieve the boredom of a dead-end job cleaning up after rich folks.
Ordinarily, I’d have braced her over the falsehood, but there was no point. Looking at someone else’s possessions wasn’t a crime, so I really didn’t care how she’d ended up noticing the map. I just wanted to know what she’d seen.
“What drew your attention to the map?” I asked.
“It had an information box at the top that read, KOBLER HOLLOW AGRICULTURAL DISTRICT.”
“Which you recognized as being where you live. That would have made me curious.” I deliberately phrased the statement to subtly suggest to Marilyn that, given the circumstances, her decision to inspect the paperwork more closely was perfectly understandable.
Marilyn nodded. “I didn’t figure there was any harm in taking a closer look. Then I saw a stack of official-looking papers next to the map. They were escrow papers that said Rawlins was selling his farm to some company.”
“For six million dollars?”
“It was a little more than six million, but I don’t remember the exact number.”
“Was there anything on the paperwork that said who was handling the transaction?”
She thought for a second. “Yes. Swift Run Gap Realty.”
The penny dropped. “Swift Run Gap Realty,” I muttered, “owned and operated by Roger Prufrock.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now, was it the fact that Rawlins was selling that made you angry?”
“Not at first. There was always the chance he was selling out to an agribusiness combine that would continue to farm the land. Things wouldn’t have really changed much. But then I found the other map.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly. “Found?”
Marilyn gave me a challenging look. “So what if I moved some papers? If you were worried about your home, you would have, too.”
“You’re right. What was on this other map?”
“A drawing of the amusement park they were going to put on Rawlins’s land. The Blue Ridge Mountain Bear Fair, they called it. It about made me sick. We work hard and it doesn’t always pay, but Wade and me love our life out here in the country. It’s quiet and we live close to nature. All we want is to be left alone.”
“And that was all going to change if they built a carnival next door. Noise, trash, people using your driveway for a turnaround, and probably fireworks every Friday and Saturday night in the summer.” I sighed. “I understand why you felt sick.”
Marilyn glanced out the window, and I had the impression she was viewing a dismal future. In a bleak voice, she said, “It’s going to be worse than that. It’s going to destroy us.”
“How so?”
She looked back at me. “Some of the rides they planned to put in were on that map. One of them is a big log flume ride with a waterfall.”
Suddenly, I understood. “Which means they’ll have to drill more and bigger water wells to fill up the fake river, and your well will go dry again. And, of course, a big company like that has high-priced lawyers, so it won’t be the amusement park’s fault.”
“Of course not,” Marilyn agreed. “So there I was. I’m looking down at those papers, the headboard is banging against the wall, and I realized that Wade and me was about to get the same treatment as the folks in the other room.”
“Screwed?”
“Without so much as a kiss. That’s when I got mad and poured the cold coffee from that cup all over the escrow paperwork,” she said warily.
“As an official representative of the sheriff’s office, I’m obligated to tell you that what you did was wrong.” I paused for a second and then continued, “But as someone who loves the Shenandoah Valley and doesn’t want to see it turned into more urban sprawl, I’ve got to say: Bravo. What happened then?”
My reply drew a cautious smile from her. “From the sound of it, that couple in the bedroom still didn’t know I was there. So I left the dishes behind and got out. When I came back later to clean the room, they were gone, along with all the paperwork.”
We were interrupted by the sound of Tina and Ash coming back downstairs. Tina paused at the front door and said, “We couldn’t find any archery gear upstairs, so we’re going out to check the barn. How are things going here?”
“We’re getting a lot of our questions answered. Marilyn has been very cooperative,” I replied.
“Good. We’ll be outside if you need us.”
Ash gave me a smile and then followed Tina outside.
Once the women were gone, I resumed my line of questioning. “When did you tell your husband about what you’d found in the hotel room? Did you call him?”
Marilyn said, “No. We don’t have a cell phone and he’s usually out in the fields or in the barn. I told him when I got home that night.”
“And having seen your husband melt down like the Chernobyl reactor, I can guess how he took the news.”
She suddenly looked despondent. “Wade isn’t a bad man. He just has a temper and wants to be treated with some respect.”
“Maybe. But it’s hard to respect someone who’s constantly looking to be the victim of an insult, even if none is intended.”
“I know. He’s got a thin skin.”
“So, what happened when you told him about Mr. Rawlins and the amusement park company?”
“He got blistering mad and . . .” She shrugged and looked down, obviously reluctant to say anything more.
I said in what I hoped was an empathetic tone, “I understand this is hard. But we know for a fact that Mr. Tice wasn’t much more than thirty or forty yards from Mr. Rawlins’s house on the night of the murder. We also know that he was armed with a bow and arrow. So, if you really want to convince me that your husband didn’t kill your neighbor, you have to tell the entire story.”
She looked up at me with eyes that were feverish with fear and said in a hushed tone, “Look, mister, if I didn’t know what was going to happen when Wade went out on Thursday night, and all he ever told me was that he didn’t kill Rawlins, can I be arrested for murder if . . . ?”
“If it turns out he did it? No. The only way you could be looking at charges is if he tries to claim that you helped him.”
“He’d never do that. Never.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I asked gently.
Marilyn lowered her head and began to softly cry. I suddenly felt very sad for her. It was clear that she loved her husband and wanted to be loyal to him. But Wade’s volcanic temper, propensity for violence, and uncanny skill at making bad decisions had placed her in an untenable position.
After a moment, I said, “Did your husband go out on Thursday night with his bow and arrow?”
She wiped some tears from her cheek. “Yes.”
“Did he say what he was going to do?”
“Just that he was going to pay Crawlin’ Rawlins a visit.”
“How long was he gone?”
“Maybe forty-five minutes.”
“When he came home, did he tell you what had happened?”
“What you mean is, did Wade tell me that he’d killed Rawlins?” Marilyn snuffled and then glowered at me. “No, he just put the bow away and said that if the sheriff came asking about any stray arrows, that we don’t know nothing about nothing.”
“And the next day he went out to ditch his bow and arrows.” I leaned over in her direction and asked in a stage whisper, “Mrs. Tice, just between you and me, are you still certain your husband didn’t kill Ev Rawlins?”
She looked down again. “I . . . I don’t—”
Before she could answer, we both heard the throaty whine of the quad-runner as it rolled into the yard. Then Ash and Tina began shouting at Wade to stop the ATV. As I pushed myself clumsily from the chair, I heard the ATV’s engine roar as Wade gave it the gas, more shouts to stop, and then the crack of a gun being fired.
Twenty-three
I yelled at Marilyn to remain where she was, but I don’t think she even heard me. Wailing with terror, she almost knocked me down as she barreled past on her way to the front door. I hurried to catch up.
However, Marilyn came to a sudden halt on the front porch and screeched, “Wade! You pull your head out of your butt
right now
and turn that damn quad-runner off!”
I joined her on the porch and saw Wade seated on the stationary quad-runner while Tina and Ash pointed their guns at him. The women had good reason to be cautious, as Wade had a hunting rifle slung over his right shoulder. The ATV was facing away from the house, and it was obvious what had happened. Wade had driven into the yard, seen the patrol car, and tried to flee. However, I could also see why Wade had elected to stop: The front wheel of the quad-runner closest to Tina was flat, which told me that she’d put a bullet into the tire.