Proof of Innocence Read online

  More ash went over the railing. “So, back to what I was saying. Eugene was gettin’ tired of the tart, when along comes Miss Laurel Blankenship, displaying her wares. No more subtle than the tart, but Eugene had learned a thing or two. Tried to get her into bed without marriage, but Laurel held out. ’Bout the only time she did from what I hear,” she added without heat. “The girl knew what she wanted and how to get it. In that way, she reminded me of myself. Maybe not as smart—”

  “And without the ethics,” Carson said.

  “Why, thank you, J.D.” Renee smiled at him from under her lashes. “How sweet.”

  “I do hate to rush you, Renee,” Dallas said. “Maybe it’s my poor old brain, but how’s this building up to your certainty that Eugene didn’t kill Laurel?”

  Maybe his poor old brain, her ass, Maggie thought. He wanted to divert attention from Carson’s indictment of Laurel as being devoid of ethics.

  If they’d been having an affair and he’d been disillusioned…

  “Because it doesn’t fit Eugene’s pattern. Sorry, Dallas. Sorry, J.D., but Ms. Frye here and I know men follow a pattern in affairs of the heart. More’n likely it starts with their mamas like those old Greek plays say. But whatever it is, unless they’re smart enough to heed a strong woman, they keep repeatin’ it. That’s Eugene. What does he do when he decides he wants a woman? He marries her. If he’s already married, he divorces the previous one. Killing? That’s not Eugene’s pattern.”

  “But Eugene wasn’t going to divorce Laurel. They’d reconciled,” Maggie said. “And this time he didn’t have another woman he wanted to marry.”

  With bland certainty, Renee said, “Yes, he did. He does.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  A long beat of silence was broken by Dallas’ amused and impressed hoot. “Renee, you are a one. Yes, you are.”

  Maggie frowned at him. Had he known all along?

  She leaned toward Renee. “You’re saying Eugene was going to divorce Laurel?”

  “Yep.”

  “But Eugene told us they were reconciling.”

  Renee sighed. “Yes, he did. Told you and the sheriff. Poor baby. I’d instructed him early on to let everyone believe that. When Laurel got murdered, he froze up and did exactly what I’d told him, and wouldn’t you know I was in Atlanta, and he was so worried about ya’ll tracing calls, he didn’t even call me. My assistant told me about the murder, and I cut my trip short, but it wasn’t ’til I got back Tuesday night I heard what all had been happenin’ and what Eugene told you.”

  “You maintain they weren’t reconciling?” Maggie said.

  “Oh, no, they were reconciling. Temporarily. It was what you might call a strategic move. See, early on, and under the influence of the tax accountant cousin of one of his poker buddies — no longer Eugene’s accountant, I can guarantee you — my poor baby had Laurel sign some papers, thinking he was smart to not have his name on them. They were reconciling long enough to get that squared away, and then there’d be a permanent break.”

  “You approved of that?”

  “Honey, like I said, it’s all a matter of long-term payoff versus short-term inconvenience.” A slight tuck appeared between her brows. “Course, I wasn’t counting on Laurel getting murdered. Now, I’ll be taking Eugene to that new sheriff and explaining it all. Dallas, I do hope you’ll vouch for me and how Eugene is, since Sheriff Gardner doesn’t hardly know us more’n to say hello.”

  “I would be happy to give you a character reference, and to describe Eugene as the fool he is, if Sheriff Gardner’s willing to hear it,” he said.

  “Can’t ask better. Thank you kindly, Dallas.”

  Maggie interrupted the Virginia courtesy fest. “But you, Renee, you’re not part of Eugene’s pattern as you described it.”

  “Recall what I said about how heeding a strong woman could break the pattern. Eugene finally got his brain around knowin’ I’m the exception to his pattern. Because there’s more than sex. He can talk to me. He can trust me. And he can relax. That’s why he keeps coming back to me, one way or another.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  They left Renee still smoking on the porch.

  “Well, that was right interesting.” Dallas’ chuckle came along with a creak as he settled himself. “Renee and Eugene back together. What do you know.”

  “If she was telling the truth,” Maggie said.

  “She’s too smart to lie about it.” Carson raised a hand in acknowledgment of Renee’s wave from the porch as Maggie steered toward the entrance to the highway.

  “She could have killed Laurel to be sure she was out of the way. Atlanta’s not that far. We — The sheriff should check her alibi closely. Maybe Eugene was wavering. Maybe the papers he had Laurel sign were a bigger deal than Renee let on.”

  Carson objected, “She’s also too smart to need to kill Laurel to get her out of the way — for love or money.”

  “Eugene could have done the killing, and she’s trying to clean up after him.” She stared straight ahead, not pulling onto the highway.

  It wasn’t significant she was tossing out scenarios that featured someone other than Carson as murderer. She was doing what Bel said — checking all angles.

  “Possible. But I don’t think so.”

  “Wouldn’t put the business at risk,” Dallas agreed. “This does shine a light on what power Laurel wielded to force changes in the agreement. Another call on Eugene is in order.”

  Maggie snorted. “He’ll have his orders long before we could get there. Don’t you think she was overselling how ineffectual he is, trying to make out like he couldn’t possibly have killed Laurel? Though it was interesting what she said about Barry’s new trucks.”

  “From Wade,” Carson said. “He needs to provide some answers.”

  “On less than a rumor?” she scoffed. “She fed us that tidbit at least partly to steer us away from Eugene. Maybe we could go back to Shenny’s, but—”

  “But,” Dallas picked up, “same issue as with Rick Wade. We need more information before we tackle Barry again.”

  “Leverage,” she agreed.

  “Exactly. Let’s head to the office. See what we can find out, pick up some lunch. Oh, yes, and Scott said he might have materials for us.”

  “The transcript?” Maggie turned toward town. “Does this mean you’re finally looking at what the sheriff actually wants from us?”

  Apparently unaffected by her sarcasm, Dallas murmured, “Could be, could be.”

  * * * *

  Dallas settled behind his desk with satisfaction.

  J.D. had gone to his office. Maggie sat at the table and pulled out her gadget.

  Scott came in. “The phone is leaving me no time to do any real work at all, Dallas.”

  “The transcript?” Maggie didn’t look up.

  “That’s what I’m saying. I’ll never finish at this rate. If you’d get me an assistant. Evelyn could come in and answer—”

  “Evelyn DuPree is not your assistant.” He stopped himself. Dina had not done right by the boy, spoiling, then ignoring him. But when it came to thinking Evelyn … No. “Set the recording to answer, check every hour, and call back as needed. Now, what’s this material from the sheriff you mentioned on the phone?”

  “I heard from a contact that a number of reports were available. I knew Maggie would want to see—”

  Maggie stopped tapping on her gadget. “What reports?”

  “—fool Abner thought he wouldn’t give them to me, but I set him straight. I—”

  “Why don’t you bring us those reports, and tell J.D. to join us. Thank you, Scott. Good job.”

  The boy came back with an armload of papers, which he took to Maggie. Dallas didn’t blame him — she was decidedly more attractive than Scott’s old cousin.

  Maggie frowned. “Aren’t these available digitally?”

  “Dallas still prefers paper,” Scott said. “There’s preliminary forensics and initial in
terviews. But the one you’ll find most interesting, Maggie—” Scott placed a stapled set of papers in front of her, the rest stacked to the side. “—has interviews with staff at Rambler Farm.”

  Maggie gave Scott a sharp look, but didn’t voice her apparent objection to his reading the material.

  J.D. came in, took two sections from the bottom of the stack, handed one to Dallas and sat on the sofa with the other.

  Dallas began reading the report on the sheriff’s interview with Eugene. Nothing there beyond what he’d told them.

  Maggie, having finished reading, tossed that set of stapled pages onto his desk. He started reading. When he finished, he held the papers out. J.D. came from the sofa and collected them. And around they went.

  Not that Dallas couldn’t have done the fetching and toting himself. A spell of days running here to there wouldn’t do him in, for all that Evelyn kept at him. No, it was the worrisome that dragged on a man of his years.

  The worrisome. One of Dina’s pet phrases. He probably hadn’t used it since she’d passed on. Strange how things like that went through a family.

  He contemplated Maggie for a minute. Now, her family was interesting. Real interesting.

  As soon as the last report left her hands, she started typing away at her little gadget.

  Dallas handed the last report to J.D., and considered what he’d read.

  The full-time cook-housekeeper said little. But a place like Rambler Farm required a lot of upkeep. Landscapers, carpet cleaners, window washers, furniture experts, appliance repairmen. Folks who counted Rambler Farm as one client among many, and thus talked freely.

  None had provided a full picture, but, together, their observations painted one.

  In varying tones of pleasure (youngster on the landscaping crew), approval (appliance repairman), discomfort (carpet cleaner), and everything in between (six more accounts) it was revealed Laurel appeared in unexpected areas of the house in her underwear. She showed no discomfort at encountering strangers in this attire. She was hot (youngster on the landscaping crew), flirty (appliance repairman), shameless (carpet cleaner) in these encounters.

  What they all agreed on was she put on a special show when it came to her brother-in-law, including rubbing against him “every which way there is” (youngster on the landscaping crew) until he “had a woody you could hang a flag on” (appliance repairman), and was “sweating and red-faced” (carpet cleaner.)

  Since they were at the house at different times, it was not an isolated incident.

  They were divided about Ed’s reaction, but all cast him in a passive role. The judge was never on hand, but two reported Charlotte arriving on the scene.

  The appliance repairman had been the appreciative recipient of Laurel’s flirting while she wore a nightie that showed more than it concealed. Until her brother-in-law walked into the breakfast room and she’d immediately gone to Ed Smith. With the laundry room door open, the repairman watched. She kept advancing, Ed kept retreating with worried glances in the direction of the front door.

  Ed grabbed his briefcase, and had almost reached the entryway when Charlotte appeared.

  The repairman said Charlotte took in the situation, including Ed’s physical state. Having had other encounters with Charlotte, the repairman mostly closed the door. He couldn’t see what happened next, but he heard.

  Charlotte sounded calm when she said Ed would be late if he didn’t leave for the office. Ed hightailed it out.

  Charlotte then told Laurel to go to her room and put on clothes.

  Laurel laughed, saying she had on just the right amount of clothes.

  Less calmly, Charlotte hissed something about not airing dirty laundry in front of the help.

  Laurel laughed again and said she’d take off her dirty laundry right then and there.

  He’d heard Charlotte heading down the hallway, her angry voice growing more distant, and Laurel laughing and laughing, apparently pursuing her sister.

  The youngster from the landscaping crew said Charlotte stopped cold at the doorway to the sunroom where Laurel appeared to be trying to give Ed a lap dance, while he remained stiff — in more ways than one — in his chair. Then she strode in, slapped Laurel hard enough to send her to the floor, called her whore, and walked out. Ed scrambled out of his seat and followed. There’d been raised voices, a distant door closed, and the youngster heard no more from them.

  Laurel got off the floor, her face red and her eyes “looking crazy.” Then she’d spotted him beyond the window, where he was cleaning out a flower bed.

  It took a bit for the deputy to get the boy to say what happened next, but since he’d bragged about it and they had statements from several of his friends on what he’d told them, he finally came out with it: Laurel unhooked her bra, let it drop. Then she beckoned him inside, and they had sex on a chaise.

  He was fourteen.

  “No phone records,” Maggie said as J.D. flipped over the last page of the last report.

  “Sheriff might be holding those close to his chest.”

  She grunted. “Maybe. One thing’s clear. We have to go back to Rambler Farm.”

  “You think this time will be the charm with Charlotte?”

  Sometimes that tone of J.D.’s riled Maggie. This time she rolled right past it.

  “Not Charlotte. The cook.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Did you see her answer to whether she knew any connection between Laurel’s death and Pan Wade’s? I don’t see how there could be. There’s something there,” Maggie said.

  “It’s an expression,” J.D. objected.

  “That’s the response of someone who doesn’t want to give the real answer, but isn’t willing to outright lie.”

  “You’re accusing her of obstructu—”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she doesn’t know what she knows. Either way, I’m going to talk to her.”

  Dallas spoke for the first time. “We’ll all go.” Wouldn’t do to have Maggie running around by herself. “But not now. The meetin’ at the high school’s about on top of us. Then we go back to Shenny’s.”

  “Shenny’s? But this—”

  “Renee’s hint about the trucks gives us a bit to pry Barry open more. But we need to be there before business picks up for the evenin’. We’ll go there from the meetin’, then to Monroe House for supper.”

  “To keep Evelyn from getting after you for missing the careful supper she fixes,” J.D. added with a deadpan glint.

  Dallas chuckled. “Yes, there is that, keeping in good with Miz Evelyn.”

  “Forget supper,” Maggie snapped. “After Shenny’s, Rambler Farm to talk to this cook—”

  “We can’t go banging on people’s doors at suppertime. It’s not polite.” He saw she was about to say she’d go banging on people’s doors at any time. He pulled air from his gut to lend power to his voice. “It makes folks ’round here unsettled. Show up at their door and they feel obliged to invite you in to share their supper. Say yes, and now you’re their guest, and asking questions rubs wrong all-round. Say no and you’re saying you think you’re too good to sit at their table — or they’re too bad, because you’re suspectin’ them of things.” He raised his hands, palms up. “See? Better all-round to leave people be at suppertime. As for talkin’ to Allarene at Rambler Farm, absolutely not.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, but let him finish. He did believe the girl was improving.

  “It will require care to keep from flushin’ Allarene full out of reach. At the farm, with her employers right there? No, no. we’d be done-for at the get-go. I’ll see she knows we’d like a word — in private. But first, like I said, the meeting, back to Shenny’s, then Evelyn’s nice supper at Monroe House. Though I could be talked into ice cream and pie at the café after, because it’s certain Evelyn won’t serve them.”

  He sobered.

  “But Maggie, you’re clear right about one thing. We will need to talk to Charlotte again. And keep talking at her until we he
ar the truth.”

  Because these reports showed a change from how it had always been between Charlotte and Laurel.

  Charlotte had fought back.

  Definitely worrisome.

  * * * *

  4:52 p.m.

  The sheriff concluded the update with a vague recap of the crime scene scientists’ progress, basically amounting to none, but said they were still sifting through the collected soil.

  “Hail Mary pass,” Wade grumbled from the far side of the group.

  Gardner ignored him.

  “For those who haven’t heard, there’s a memorial gathering tomorrow afternoon at Rambler Farm. Open to all.”

  Before the briefing, Dallas had said they’d like a word with the sheriff. After, he was stopped twice, but eventually reached them.

  “Wanted to tell you what we’ve learned of Laurel’s legal machinations, as well as a whiff of the unsavory that’s wafted our way,” Dallas started. More succinctly than she would have expected, he recapped Laurel’s efforts with the Lynchburg lawyer and the hint Renee had fed them about Barry.

  Gardner noted the names. “There’s nothing I recall from the files. We can run a basic background check. But it’ll have to get in line for anything deeper. I don’t have the manpower.”

  “What about Eugene?” Maggie asked.

  “His financials are solid. His alibi—” The sheriff waggled his hand.

  “His story about reconciling with Laurel might not be any better.” She nodded to Dallas, who told what he’d seen and Eugene’s reaction.

  “I’ll talk to Henry, in light of his client’s murder—”

  “No. If I need you to talk to him, we’ll arrange something down the road. Do not approach him. Right now it’s enough to know it’s not solid.”

  “Suspect you’ll want to talk to Wade, too, but with all you’ve got to do, we could have a word with Barry,” Dallas said, watching the sheriff closely.

  No doubt, he saw what she saw. Gardner wanted to do the questioning himself and was practical enough to know he couldn’t. He didn’t have half the time to do half of what he needed to do.