Dead Girl Moon (20 page)

“I get it, but it’s such a huge guess. It’s not even fair.”

“We need to ask Dovey, find out exactly which people have those rings. That’s what we know that other people don’t, the connection between the ring and the murder. That’s our edge.”

“But that’s another huge guess. We don’t really know the ring and Evelyn are connected. Not for sure.”

Mick heard her. That was true, but he had a feeling about this. The rage, the ring, he was getting closer to the answer.

*   *   *

JJ needed a break, fresh air. She walked out of the garage into the summer afternoon. Into the tree-lined street and the quiet neighborhood. This town had become her home. It used to feel safe. Larry, Tim, Cunneen? She didn’t like any of them, but that didn’t make them killers. She sat on the curb, looked at the sky. Where was the ghost moon when she needed it? A soft breeze off the water and the warm sun made her sleepy. Figuring out who killed Evelyn was impossible.

*   *   *

At closing time, Mick and JJ waited for Grace in the parking lot behind the café. Fifteen minutes, twenty, she didn’t show. Both were angry at themselves. Fooled again. JJ went inside to ask what time Grace had left work. She got puzzled looks. Grace? Grace was gone. Left town a couple of days ago as far as Cookie knew.

59

M
ICK AND
JJ
RETURNED TO THE GARAGE
, parked the Bonnie beside it, and sneaked along the river a few blocks toward town and Dovey’s trailer. Duckwalked low behind her deck rails and tapped on her door. It was late for a surprise visit but it couldn’t be helped.

Dovey’s eyebrows rose when she opened her door, but she let them in without a word.

Mick started before they even sat down. “I didn’t do anything, Ms. Crabtree. Except run. That was stupid. JJ and Grace didn’t do anything at all except come with me. I can prove I’m innocent. I was just hoping you’d be willing to call Sheriff Paint and ask him to come here and talk to me.”

JJ stepped to Mick’s side as if her solidarity would support that Mick was telling the truth. “We shouldn’t have run,” JJ said. “We were scared that Tim or his father would hurt us.”

Mick wanted to argue, embarrassed that JJ would think he was scared. Noticed that worrying about how JJ thought of him was a new phenomenon.

Dovey had retreated a few steps into her living room as they came in. Now she looked from one to the other. No smile, no welcome.

Mick knew something wasn’t right. Did she disapprove of his taking the girls out of town? Or his running out on Paint? He swallowed away his discomfort. It had never occurred to him that Dovey wouldn’t be in his corner. He wanted to apologize but had no idea what to say. Noticed JJ at his side, inching even closer, as if she’d also noticed Dovey’s chilly reception.

“You did the right thing to come back,” Dovey said, pensive, looking away as if that helped her recalibrate her thinking. “I don’t know that running was a bad idea at the time. Tim and his punks were loose. Nobody knew who was going to do what.” She moved a couple of steps farther away from them, close enough to pick up the phone if she needed. “A lot’s happened since you left.” She addressed Mick. “You know your dad was brought in for the girl’s murder?”

Mick’s chest got hollow.

“Cassel had him in lockup by Saturday. He was talking to one of the public defenders this morning, so he may be home tonight. If they let him go it’ll be a very short leash. Your father won’t be able to leave the county. I don’t know if he still has his job.”

Mick didn’t know what to say. In a terrible way, he’d felt glad to hear his dad had been nailed for something. A long time coming. But killing the girl? He couldn’t imagine it.

“Cardwell’s been asking a lot of questions. Asked Tim and his buddy Cunneen about why they’d harassed you. Talked to Hammond and the restaurant manager about the Edmonds girl. He’s got motel records, tracked down tourists and truckers through here that Monday. He and Cassel don’t exactly cooperate, so I don’t know what Highway Patrol has besides your dad.” Dovey gestured to her couch but no one sat.

She picked up the phone, pushed the buttons, and waited. Her eyes shifted like somebody answered. “The Fitzhugh boy’s with me” was all she said before hanging up and returning to the sitting area, to her rocker by the window.

Mick and JJ were frozen, uneasy, but uncertain what they should do. First Grace, now this, so different than they’d planned.

Dovey pulled the cord on the blinds, opening them to a view of the dirt lot and the trailer across. “The night you left, Jon got loose. People saw him stealing a soda at Skinny’s but couldn’t catch him. Next morning their breakfast cook found him asleep in the pantry, probably snuck in and hid before closing. Anyway, the woman noticed the cuts and bruises on his wrist. Phoned Cardwell. Cardwell went straight to Protective in Helena. Kept our local politics out of the mix.”

JJ moaned.

Mick didn’t think she realized it, didn’t seem to notice the water in the edges of her eyes.

Dovey pointed to the Stovalls’ trailer. “Did you know about this?” she asked. They stepped forward and looked. Mick saw a different car in front of the studio. A primer-spotted Chevelle with mag rims. His dad’s kind of vehicle. It wasn’t till JJ gasped that he noticed the yellow crime-scene tape across the Stovalls’ trailer door, visible even fifty yards away at night.

JJ tore out of Dovey’s and sprinted toward the trailer.

Mick chased her but couldn’t catch her.

On her porch in a few seconds, JJ grabbed the doorknob and pushed through the tape, but the door was locked. When she yelled, no one answered.

Mick waited for her by the steps until she gave up.

60

O
N THE WAY
BACK
to Dovey’s they were cut off by a Highway Patrol car sliding to a stop in front of them. Scott Cassel got out, came around the front of the car. “Over here, hands on the hood,” he said, his voice as hard as Mick remembered.

JJ complied, moving like a zombie.

Mick wanted to argue but was cut short by Cassel’s speed as the man grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him onto the front of the cruiser.

“Right now, I want to hear why you fingered my son for Edmonds.”

Neither Mick nor JJ could find their voice.

“Can I help you, Officer?” Dovey was standing on her porch, holding her cell phone like she might be taking a picture.

“Not your business, Mrs. Crabtree.”

“Ms.,” Dovey corrected. “I wasn’t aware this was MHP procedure with unarmed citizens.”

“I’m investigating a murder. Sheriff’s got a warrant.”

“I have no idea what you’re doing, Officer, but I haven’t seen paperwork on this young woman cross my desk, no bulletins on my scanner. I believe her civil rights remain intact. And since when did you begin serving Cardwell’s warrants?”

“Butt out, Crabtree. This is way out of your jurisdiction.”

“Sheriff Paint’ll be here in a minute or so, and he’ll be grateful you’ve decided to do some county work. Course there’s all the forms and whatnot. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable in his office.”

Mick could feel the heat coming off the man standing behind him. A couple more barbs from Dovey and Cassel was going to spontaneously combust.

Dovey went on. “If you proceed in this manner, I’ll advise these children to remain absolutely silent until their attorney arrives to speak for them. You’ll have to charge Mick to keep him and he’ll be lawyered up from that point on. Neither you nor Paint will get one speck of usable information.”

Dovey came down off her porch and walked closer. “The evidence behind that warrant is circumstantial, the result of a highly suspicious phone call. Do you think Bolton is so flameproof he’ll keep an adolescent locked up for that flimsy drivel?”

“He signed the goddamn warrant. He’ll stand.”

“Mick’s lawyer will have this case thrown out so fast you’ll be a laughing stock and you’ll have soiled your main witness. Wonder how Helena will view that conduct?”

“SHUT UP!”

“I already called him. Paint is coming for the boy right now. He’ll be pleased to see you working for him. Would you like him to review your interrogations of other suspects, like Larry and Tim?”

Dovey reached JJ’s side and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let Cardwell make his arrest and we’ll have these young people in your office by nine-thirty tomorrow morning, ready to cooperate.”

Cassel looked like he wanted to shoot her. Checked the parking area to see if there was anybody watching. Rolled his neck around his shoulders. “All right,” he said, taking a step back. “As you were.”

That language had no meaning to Mick or JJ. They didn’t move.

“You can stand up,” Dovey said.

“These two and the Herick girl are coming in for questioning,” Cassel said.

“Haven’t seen the Herick girl,” Dovey said.

“You?” Cassel nodded first to Mick, then to JJ.

They shook their heads.

Mick didn’t trust his voice.

“No idea,” JJ said.

“I’m holding you and your office responsible,” Cassel said. “They don’t show, I’ll bring obstruction charges.”

Dovey didn’t respond and no one moved until the cruiser rolled away.

*   *   *

Inside, Mick and JJ sat this time, tired now, struggling to understand these developments. Within seconds Mick bolted up, strode to the window, squinting to examine his studio apartment more carefully. A light was on inside. He hadn’t noticed that before.

They’d only been in view, over to Stovalls’, for a few minutes. How could Cassel have known they were at Dovey’s? The answer? His dad told. Saw JJ and Mick in the parking area and called Cassel. Used some phone! No one else could have seen them. Nothing else made sense. His father had made some kind of agreement to get out of jail. Informing was part of it.

Mick didn’t share his thoughts, but he didn’t have to. The others watching his face made the connection. “What evidence? What warrant?” he asked.

Dovey didn’t answer. Went to the kitchen for a tray of corn muffins, put them on the coffee table in front of Mick and JJ. Closed the blinds and sat in her rocker. Looked at the carpet as if its color and texture interested her. Within seconds a knock brought her back to her feet. “Cardwell,” she said. “Must have been close by.”

But it wasn’t Cardwell. Hammond stood at the door in a tweed sportcoat carrying a briefcase like it was too valuable to leave in his car.

Mick realized he’d never given what people wore much of a thought. Girls in skimpy clothes, sure, but men? Nope. He and his dad and Gary were jeans and T-shirt guys. Hammond’s gold neck chain caught Mick’s eye. The rest, a close-fitting white shirt, pressed slacks, and fancy shoes. Spiffy.

“Good evening, Mrs. Crabtree,” he said, “may I come in?” He looked past her to the couch.

“I already have company, Mr. Hammond,” Dovey said. “If you have business, please bring it to the courthouse in the morning.”

“Not exactly with you, ma’am,” Hammond said, taking a step forward toward the threshold and offering his free hand as if to shake.

Dovey didn’t retreat.

During this exchange Mick remained seated, but JJ stood and walked closer to the door.

Hammond glanced at her but continued speaking to Dovey. “Don’t be paranoid, Crabtree. I wanted to welcome Ms. Herick back to town and meet her friends.”

Dovey closed her door slowly but firmly. Locked it.

From the sound of it, Hammond stood facing the door for another minute. Left as headlights swung into the dirt lot.

Sheriff Paint.

While they waited, Dovey asked the obvious question. “Where’s Grace?”

Mick was distracted, having trouble thinking, strung tight by this talk of evidence and warrants and arrest.

JJ filled in. “We let her off at the west end of town about noon. She was supposed to go straight to work and we were supposed to pick her up at the café at closing time and bring her here with us, but she no-showed, skipped. She’d told us she’d called them but she hadn’t. She’s in the wind. Maybe gone for good.”

“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that,” Dovey said.

Mick and JJ looked at each other. They’d thought she fled. They hadn’t considered the other possibility.

61

M
ICK HEARD THE CAR DOOR SLAM
. Paint was seconds away from the front door. Warrant. “Sheriff’s got a warrant” was what Lieutenant Cassel said. That meant arrest. Much bigger than questioning. Something happened. Did his dad point the killing Mick’s way? He’d already told Cassel that Mick was back. He wouldn’t rat out his own son on a warrant … unless his own neck depended on it.

So Paint was arresting Mick for fleeing? Was that all? What if Paint had decided Mick killed the girl? If he ran, Dovey would think he was a liar and Paint would be sure he was a murderer. Did a double-wide have a back door? Mick thought so. Backside in the middle was the best bet. He grabbed JJ’s leg and squeezed, launched himself off the couch and ran for the kitchen already imagining the lock it would have.

Dovey’s backyard was small, bordered by thick bushes, room for two lawn chairs and a gas barbecue. Mick crashed through the thinnest patch in the foliage and ran for the river to retrace his and JJ’s earlier route. Gary’s garage. Nobody would look for him there and JJ wouldn’t tell, but he had to get there quickly and switch out the Bonneville and the Bronco. Couldn’t leave the Bonnie visible when cops would be combing this area.

In less than a minute he was at the side door, jerked it but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. The rolling door in front would need one of those push-button electric remotes. He couldn’t remember, was there a window? Made a circuit. A three-by-four locked shutter on each side. Gary wouldn’t want anybody looking in and deciding the place had valuable equipment. At the back, though, a two-foot-square double window, frosted, for the bathroom. Also locked.

The window was old-fashioned, wood-framed, like Mick had seen in some of the places he and his dad stayed. Those older double windows usually had a clasp atop the bottom frame that slid into a lip on the bottom of the top frame. To open them from the outside you needed something strong and thin to slide into the seam and trip the clasp where the two frames met. A screwdriver probably wouldn’t work. Too thick, create too much pressure. A knife or a metal ruler or a shim like his dad had used to steal that pickup. What were the odds he’d find something like that lying around. Zero.