“What about Thompson?” Rick tossed his keys onto his desk.
“Haven’t located him yet.”
Rick grabbed a file to use as a prop. “Keep looking.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Rick hesitated. “Follow up on that search warrant. I need to know if Lacy’s father still owns that thirty-eight. I can’t get through to Mr. Oliver by phone. Looks like he and his wife won’t be getting back before tomorrow. I don’t want to have to execute a search warrant.”
“I’ll do that now,” Brewer assured.
Rick took the easiest door first. Nigel Canton, former partner of Charles Ashland, Junior.
“Good morning, Mr. Canton. Thank you for cooperating with our investigation.”
Canton did not look happy to be cooperating. In fact, he looked mad as hell.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Summers, but I’ve called my attorney and you will be hearing from him. I’ve had enough of this crap. You should be talking to Ashland’s wife and her friends if you want to know what happened to him.”
“Kira Jackson is dead.” Rick said this as he took a seat at the interview table directly across from Canton. That his mouth dropped open and his pupils flared indicated that he was surprised by the announcement. “I’m sure you’re already aware of Cassidy Collins’s murder.”
He shook his head, as confusion overtook the surprise. “I don’t…why would you call me in to question me about her? I don’t really even know her. Or the other one, for that matter. Only that they’re part of the group I’m certain killed Ashland.” He appeared to recover his composure then. “Not that I’m complaining. They did the world a favor in my opinion. That’s the only reason I bothered to pay my respects to the Collins woman.”
Rick studied Nigel Canton for a moment before he spoke again. Could this man have killed Charles? Possibly. Even the most civilized man could commit murder in a fit of rage. “How’s your wife, Mr. Canton?”
Fury whipped across the man’s thin face. “I know what you’re getting at, Summers, and I’m not taking the bait. What happened between Ashland and my wife was a long time ago.”
“So was his murder.”
“I read the papers, Chief. I know Pamela Carter’s remains were found. Doesn’t that clue you into who’s responsible for both murders? Ashland’s wife had more to gain than anyone else. Plus, she had the help of her loyal friends. That’s where you should be directing your energy. Not harassing innocent citizens.”
Rick opened the folder he’d brought with him. It actually had nothing to do with the case, but Canton didn’t know. “I know how he made you feel, Canton,” he said finally. “Ashland always made you the butt of his jokes. Hell, he fucked your wife. You had every right to hate him. And you gained yourself a sizable profit from his death as well.”
A new flood of anger darkened the man’s face. “I waited seven long years for that profit,” he snarled. “While Ashland’s estate got fifty percent of everything I made. So don’t try to make me feel guilty for getting what was rightfully mine in the end. I deserved every cent.”
Rick pinned him with a warning glare. “Don’t leave town, Canton. We’re not finished yet.”
With that said, Rick left interview room one and headed for door number two, Kyle Tidwell, Melinda’s protective older brother. He wanted the senator to sweat a little longer.
Kyle Tidwell was tall, six-three or -four, and solidly built. He’d played football through high school and he’d gone on to college on an athletic scholarship, which was good because that was about the time his folks lost most everything when their business went belly-up.
The Tidwells had been good folks. Rick had often wondered if the parents’ untimely deaths had been as a result of the extreme stress. The father had suffered a heart attack days before Melinda’s graduation. The mother had passed after a bout with cancer less than two years later.
The family had certainly suffered more than its fair share of tragedy.
Including Charles Ashland, Junior.
“What’s going on, Rick?”
Rick sat down at the table with Kyle. Though the two hadn’t graduated together, Kyle had been only two years ahead of him. They’d known each other.
“I need to ask you a few questions about the afternoon Charles disappeared, Kyle.”
Kyle made a sound of disbelief. “This is ridiculous. You know I have an alibi. I’ve been down this road before with your predecessor.”
“Things have changed, Kyle. We need to reassess that alibi based on the latest evidence.”
Kyle’s irritation turned to nervousness. “What new evidence?”
“I can’t give you the details just now, but I will need to speak to the woman who provided your alibi ten years ago.” Rick had followed up on the nurse’s statement that Melinda wasn’t in her room for a time that day. He’d taken that possibility and worked out a scenario. According to Kyle’s statement to Taylor ten years ago, he had left the hospital for about two hours with his girlfriend at the time, leaving his car in the hospital parking lot. If Melinda had gone anywhere, she would have had to have done so in Kyle’s car. Rick had no evidence to indicate she had, but he could bluff.
“But I don’t know where she is now.” Kyle swallowed hard. His mouth worked a moment before his next words came out. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
Rick ignored his mounting discomfort. “You’re aware that Kira Jackson was murdered last night?”
“I heard the news on the radio. I just got back into town, like an hour ago. I was on my way to see how Melinda is holding up when your man Brewer hustled me over here.”
“Where were you last night, Kyle?”
Survival instinct seemed to kick in. “What the hell are you trying to say, Rick? I didn’t hurt Kira. You know better than that.”
Rick stood. “Go home, Kyle. Try to locate that old girlfriend of yours and—” Rick paused before he turned to the door “—don’t leave town for anything.”
“I don’t understand this,” Kyle argued as he shot to his feet. “Why would you need to confirm my statement?”
Rick decided now was the moment to play his hunch. “I found a witness who saw your car at Ashland’s house the afternoon he disappeared. If you were with your girlfriend, then who was driving your car?”
He left the room, closed the door behind him. That should stir a reaction between Kyle and his sister, which was the whole point. Two down. He glanced toward his office, saw Brewer and walked that way. “Any word on Thompson yet?”
Brewer put his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. “Not yet.”
Rick nodded and moved on to room number three. The senator. This one wouldn’t be so easy.
Unlike the other two, Senator Charles Ashland, Senior, was not seated. He paced the room like a caged animal.
“What the hell is this about, Summers?” he demanded with all the pomp and confidence of a battlefield general.
With the senator he opted for a different approach. “We have reason to believe that Pamela Carter was carrying your son’s child. Do you suppose that’s why Charles killed her?”
The outrage Rick had expected didn’t come. Instead the senator smiled knowingly. “I know what you’re up to, Summers. You want to solve at least one of these many murders you have on your hands. Well, let me assure you, I won’t allow you to clear your slate by slandering my son’s name.” He strode to the door, but glanced back before opening it. “You’re finished in this town, Summers. I’ve tolerated all the incompetence I intend to. Melinda and her so-called friends killed my son and you haven’t done a damned thing about it. Personally, I’m glad someone is avenging his murder.”
Rick barely restrained himself from grabbing the man and slamming him into the nearest wall. But that would only get him arrested. Senator Ashland pretty much owned the town and Rick had just sealed the fate of his career. No Ashland ever made empty threats.
But he would take the chance if it meant he could stop these murders. Senator Ashland might not commit murder himself, but he had the means to hire anyone he wanted to do the job for him.
Rick exhaled heavily. Maybe he was grasping at straws here. He damned sure didn’t have anything to go on, despite the fact that the bodies just kept piling up.
“Chief.”
Brewer came barreling through the door before Rick had reclaimed his professional bearing.
“Yeah, Brewer. Did you find Thompson?”
“Sure did.”
Brewer’s resigned expression pushed Rick to a higher state of alert.
“He’s dead, Chief. One shot to the head. Found him over on Tupelo Pike in his car.”
Before Rick could ask anything else, Brewer went on, “That makes five, Chief. Three in the past week. We need to call in the big guns. I’m not sure we can handle this on our own.”
As much as Rick didn’t want to admit it, Brewer was right. “Call Agent Fowler over at ABI and let him know we could use his assistance.”
ABI was the Alabama Bureau of Investigations. They helped out local law enforcement when a case got too complicated.
This one had just gotten extremely complicated.
Francine, Rick’s secretary, stuck her head out of his office. “You’ve got a call, Chief.”
What now? “Take a message.” Hell, if it wasn’t a dead body he didn’t have time to take it.
“I don’t think you’re going to want to do that, Chief,” she returned. “It’s Mayor Hamilton.”
Perfect. The senator had gone to the mayor.
Just what Rick needed right now.
Pressure from above.
He’d known when he’d had the senator rousted from his mansion that there would be repercussions.
Might as well face the music.
With two of Lacy’s friends dead, and only one other besides herself remaining, the lyrics were quickly coming to a close on this song. If he didn’t nail the perp soon…
He had to make this happen.
Or die trying.
Chapter 17
T
he telephone had rung. Melinda had obviously answered it. Lacy stood outside her room and considered whether or not she should go in. But Melinda had told her to go away once already when she’d knocked. The silence on the other side of the door indicated that the call had ended.
What if it was
that caller?
Adrenaline rushed through her. She prayed it wasn’t. The numbness she’d felt earlier had faded somewhat for Lacy. She’d talked to Kira’s mom and then she’d cried. Brian, Kira’s fiancé, was there. He was devastated. She’d thought about trying to call her own parents, but she didn’t want to worry them. They were under enough stress trying to get home to her. She wished for that blessed numbness again.
But she wasn’t so lucky.
She’d just have to get through this the best she could. She knew what she had to do. All she needed now was Melinda’s cooperation.
The bedroom door unexpectedly opened. Melinda rushed out, her face even paler, her eyes wide with terror.
Lacy felt her heart sink lower. She couldn’t make herself ask what had happened. The call must have been more bad news.
“That was Kyle,” Melinda blurted. “Rick just questioned him. He’s pressing Kyle to confirm his alibi for that day.” She rubbed at her forehead, her eyes wild with panic now. “Rick has a witness who saw Kyle’s car at my house that afternoon. Kyle is panicking. He doesn’t know how to reach his old girlfriend. His wife is extremely upset.”
Lacy stilled. “Are you saying Kyle may have confronted Charles?” Oh, dear God…not Kyle. Surely he wouldn’t have killed Charles. As protective as he was of his sister, Lacy couldn’t believe he would kill someone.
“No.” Melinda covered her face in her hands a moment and shook with the emotions flooding her. “This is all my fault. All my fault,” she wailed.
Lacy took her into her arms and tried to soothe her. “I’ll call Kyle and talk to him, see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Melinda pulled away. “You don’t understand.” She shook her head adamantly. “It wasn’t Kyle. He’s telling the truth about where he was. It was me.” She slumped with defeat. “I left the hospital, took his car and went home to confront Charles.”
A tiny tremor of shock radiated through Lacy. The idea that Melinda had left the hospital had been mentioned, but she’d refused to really believe it.
“Was Charles there when you got home?” Could she finally, after all these years, be on the verge of the truth? Did she really want the truth? What if Melinda had killed Charles in a moment of emotional desperation?
Melinda nodded jerkily. “I think he’d been with someone. He…he was half-dressed and the covers on the bed were rumpled.”
Lacy could hear the hysteria building in her voice. “Just calm down and tell me what happened.”
Standing in the upstairs hall, outside the room where they’d discovered Charles’s body all those years ago, Melinda slowly told her story.
“I started screaming at him that I wanted a divorce. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Lacy didn’t ask any more questions, just let her talk.
“He laughed at me, Lace. Laughed and laughed.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I hit him and he still laughed. He said he didn’t care what I did, that he would leave me with nothing—no children, no money, nothing.”
Anticipation pounding in her chest, Lacy waited for the rest.
“He told me that he could have any woman he wanted, including my best friend.” She looked at Lacy. “He told me how much he wanted you and how much he hated me.” She blinked. “I don’t know what happened, but something inside me snapped.”
Lacy suddenly wished she had been the one to kill Charles. She hated him more now than she had ten years ago. How dare he taunt Melinda using her as leverage. She’d flat out turned him down and he’d known that she would never agree to be with him.
“There was a pistol on the table next to the bed,” Melinda said softly, her voice sounding as far away as her expression. “I don’t know where it came from.”
Realization turned to ice inside Lacy. Her father’s pistol. The one Charles had taken away from her.
“I shot him.” She flinched. “He stumbled back…fell to the floor. Hit his head on the bedside table.”
Lacy’s breath left her in a whoosh. Melinda had shot Charles. Dear God…what would she do now?
Melinda’s shoulders lifted in an attempt at a shrug. “I didn’t know what to do. I got sick to my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up.”
“What about the gun?” Lacy urged. She had to know how it had ended up back in her father’s desk.
Melinda frowned a moment as if uncertain of the answer. “I dropped it on the bathroom floor.”
That didn’t make sense.
“How did—”
“I just ran then,” she continued, cutting Lacy off. “I didn’t know what else to do. Charles was just lying there so still. This small hole right here.” She gestured to her left shoulder. “I didn’t even try to help him.”
“Wait.” Lacy went back over all that Melinda had just told her. “Are you saying you left Charles lying on the bedroom floor?”
Melinda nodded. “Next to the bed.”
“And you only shot him once?”
She nodded again. “Just once.”
Relief rushed over Lacy. “You didn’t kill him, Melinda.”
Tears crowded in her eyes. “Yes, I did. I just told you. This is all my fault. Cassidy and Kira would be alive if it weren’t for me.”
Lacy shook her head adamantly. “No, you don’t understand. We found Charles in the bathtub and he’d been shot twice. Not once, Melinda. Twice.”
Hope and confusion flickered in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m positive. He was shot two times. And he was nude in the tub, not on the bedroom floor. All the blood was in the tub. There wasn’t any on the bedroom floor.”
“But he had on his trousers,” Melinda argued.
Lacy shook her head again. “Not when we found him. You see, you didn’t kill him.”
Melinda’s expression cluttered with worry again. “Cassidy was convinced you were the one, and I let her believe it to protect myself.” She shook with emotion. “I was wrong, Lacy. But I was so afraid I’d lose my children.”
Lacy tensed. She’d known that was the case, except for the part about Melinda’s actions. “I didn’t do it, Melinda.”
Melinda looked away. “It was my fault. I let them believe all that time that it was you when I knew it was me.”
At least Lacy understood now why Melinda had responded the way she had at times. “But you didn’t kill him, Mel. Neither of us did.”
She nodded vaguely. “I still don’t understand why Cassidy and Kira were so convinced it was you.”
Time for her own confession. “The gun you used. The one you dropped on the bathroom floor.” Lacy realized then how the weapon had gotten back into her father’s desk drawer. Cassidy was the one to clean up in the bathroom. She’d recognized the gun and put it back where it belonged. Tears burned behind Lacy’s eyes. All that time she’d been protecting Lacy. She and Kira both had believed she was the one and they’d insisted on the vow of silence, even when Lacy argued, to protect her. “Oh, God.” She swiped at her eyes. “Cassidy found the gun and thought I was the one who’d used it.”
Melinda frowned. “I still don’t understand.”
“It was my father’s gun.”
Any remaining color drained from Melinda’s face. “How did it end up on the table by my bed?”
Lacy knew she didn’t mean the question the way it sounded. “Charles came to my house around ten that morning. He’d been drinking. He tried to…hit on me.”
Melinda’s eyes closed in agony.
“I told him to get lost. When he wouldn’t leave, I ran to my father’s desk and got his gun.” She shook her head at how foolish that move had been. “He just laughed at me. He took the gun away from me and left.”
“You think he brought it home with him and left it on the bedside table?”
“He must have. That was the last time I saw him alive.”
Melinda pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “So many lies. So much hurt.”
That was the truth. Charles Ashland, Junior, had damaged many lives.
A new realization crept into Lacy’s thoughts. If Melinda hadn’t killed Charles…and she hadn’t killed him. Clearly Cassidy or Kira hadn’t killed him, since both had been convinced that she had. Then who did?
A chill went through Lacy. “Mel, if none of us killed Charles…then who did?”
Melinda had obviously just come to the same conclusion. “Do you think the person who killed Cassidy and Kira could be the one?”
Lacy wasn’t sure it made complete sense, but she didn’t know what else to think. “It’s possible.” But why? “I don’t get why he or she would lie dormant all this time. Hell, he got away with it. Why resurface now and start killing again? Wouldn’t that risk everything?”
“It doesn’t make any sense at all,” Melinda agreed.
“Unless,” Lacy began, “the killer was still here when we moved Charles’s body.”
“You said you felt someone was watching you,” Melinda offered, jumping on the bandwagon.
Lacy walked past Melinda and into the master bedroom. “After we’d gotten Charles’s body wrapped in the shower curtain and into the trunk of the Mercedes, Cassidy sent me back up here to make sure we didn’t miss anything.” Lacy walked around the room, remembering the steps she’d taken that night. “I checked the bathroom again. It was clean. Cassidy had scrubbed the whole room with Clorox to make sure no trace of the blood would be found. I checked the carpet and the sheets in the bedroom. I didn’t find anything incriminating. No blood. Nothing. I can only assume, considering what you’ve told me, that he got up before any blood got on the carpet. He may have just been dazed from hitting his head. The gunshot wound may have been very minor.”
“I guess that’s possible. You packed the suitcase for him next, right?” Melinda asked, remembering what they had told her.
Lacy walked over to one of the two closets. She drew open the louvered doors on what used to be Charles’s closet. “I grabbed a suitcase—overnight bag—from here.” She pointed to the shelf overhead. “Then a couple of shirts and trousers from the hangers. I put them in the suitcase along with the shoes and socks he’d left on the floor.” She looked around the room again. “And I put the clothes he’d left on the floor in there, along with his wallet.”
“But if someone was watching,” Melinda wondered aloud, “where would they have been hiding?”
Lacy turned to the other closet. Melinda’s closet. “Maybe in there. You can see through the louvers if you get in just the right position. You’d hear everything.”
Melinda shuddered visibly. “So you didn’t see anything that could have been a clue in the stuff you picked up on the floor. You didn’t notice anything about his clothes.”
Lacy shook her head. “Nothing.” Then she remembered the one other item she’d picked up. “And his wedding ring. It was on the floor, too. I picked it up and put it in the suitcase.” She figured the bastard had taken it off while he screwed someone else’s wife. It had probably fallen out of his pocket when he took off his pants.
Melinda frowned. “You couldn’t have picked up his wedding band.” She crossed the room and opened a drawer on her jewelry chest. “Rick gave this to me after they recovered the body. It was in the trunk of the Mercedes.”
Lacy stared at the gold band. “Are you sure it’s his?”
“Of course.” She tilted the ring and pointed to the initials inside. “See. NCA, Jr.”
She was right. “Then whose wedding band did I find on the floor next to your bed.”
Melinda still wore hers, even after all this time.
“Maybe it belonged to the person who killed him.”
Lacy trembled with anticipation. “You’re right. It’s the one piece of evidence that connects the killer to the murder scene.” Lacy turned to Melinda’s closet once more. “She…it had to be a she considering what we know now…watched from her hiding place in that closet. When we got rid of Charles’s body, as well as the evidence, she thought she was home free. That’s why the person who knew our secret never tried to collect the reward. She couldn’t…she was the killer. And she was safe until the body was found and we came back. Then she got worried, had to figure out a way to get rid of us before we figured out the truth.” Lacy tried to remember exactly what the gold band had looked like. It hadn’t looked particularly feminine, but then she’d been terrified.
“It was one of his lovers,” Melinda said, disgust tingeing her voice.
Setting aside any lingering reservations, Lacy nodded. “Had to be. She knew her initials were inside that wedding band and we took it before she could get it back.”
“But Pam is dead and she wasn’t married,” Melinda said, apparently going through the list of names.
“What about Nigel’s wife?” It had to be her. “You know Charles and his partner were at each other’s throat then. What if she wanted Charles to leave you for her?”
“Maybe Nigel came in,” Melinda suggested, “caught them, killed Charles but couldn’t bring himself to kill his wife.”
“We have to talk to her.” Lacy suddenly found it strange that she hadn’t seen Nigel with his wife since she had returned to town.
“We can’t. She’s in Europe with two of her friends. They’re having some kind of spa treatments. I heard Gloria talking about having been to the same place.”
That was damned convenient. “When did she leave?”
Enlightenment claimed Melinda’s face. “The day after Charles’s body was found. I remember because that’s when I heard Gloria talking about it to one of the women at City Hall when we…were there to talk to Rick about what would happen next.”
“You mean to tell me Gloria was discussing spas on the day after her son’s body was found.”
Melinda scrubbed her hands over her face. “You have to know Gloria. She always does that, especially when she feels intimidated or nervous.”
Anticipation was prodding at Lacy again. “We need that ring. It’s the only evidence that exists. We need it to bring Cassidy and Kira’s killer to justice.”
“And to protect ourselves,” Melinda added. “But what happened to the suitcase? It wasn’t in the Mercedes with Charles. You think it’s still in the lake?”