Killerfind (31 page)

andolph
was up and
about and
had completed his morning ablutions by the time Rhetta’s eyes sprang open the
next morning. She’d wrestled the sheets through another fitful night, waking
several times from bizarre dreams. She craved more sleep. Reluctantly, she
threw her legs over the side of the bed, and felt around with her foot in
search of her slippers. Finding only one, she climbed out, knelt on the floor
and located the other far under the king-sized bed. She crawled all the way
under to retrieve it. She never realized how many dust bunnies made their home
under there. She came out sneezing, resolving to clean them out before bed
tonight.

Classical Beethoven by the Boston Pops drifted from
the living room stereo. Rhetta found her robe, and padded down the hall.

“How about brunch today at The Venue?” Randolph
asked as he met her in the kitchen and poured coffee into her favorite glass
mug.

“Sounds wonderful.” She could almost taste their
famous blueberry pancakes. She glanced at the large round kitchen clock and was
shocked to see it was nearly nine.

“I didn’t think I had slept much, but apparently I
got more sleep than I realized.” No wonder her stomach grumbled.

“Shall we go for a run this morning first? She
realized he had on his running shorts, and was ready to go. No wonder she
hadn’t heard the shower. He hadn’t been in there yet.

“Be ready in a few.” She swallowed the last of the
coffee and headed for the bedroom to change.

*
* *

Rhetta
was glad that Randolph had persuaded her to run. Although she initially wanted
to give in and be lazy, she was exhilarated after four miles along the park
trails.

She finished dressing, picking yellow Capris and a
white embroidered tee, and fed the cats while waiting for Randolph to shower.
He emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel, and headed into the
dressing room. He came out wearing crisp chinos and a white golf shirt. He left
his hair to air dry, and picked up his phone and keys.

“How about I drive Ricky’s truck and you follow me
to The Venue? That way, I can run it over to her on the way back, and you can
follow me to her house,” Rhetta said, swinging her purse over her shoulder and
grabbing a pair of sunglasses on her way to the driveway. She chose a practical
pair of white leather sandals since she’d be driving a stick shift, and didn’t
want her heels to get stuck on the floor mat.

“I need to swing by the gallery for a few hours
today, so why don’t I go there after brunch, then I’ll pick you up later at
Ricky’s? You two ladies can gab for a bit, can’t you?”

*
* *

“Something’s
been bothering me about the shooting at the Griffith cabin,” Rhetta said,
returning to their table with plates from the food bar.

“You mean besides someone trying to take your life?”
Randolph set his fork down, and reached for his coffee.

“That’s just it, I’m trying to figure out who and
why.”

“Not sure about either, but perhaps Frizz was
partially right in that it may have been someone local whose shot went wide.”
He resumed working on his pancakes.

“You think someone may have been upstairs in the
cabin and just wanted to run us off? Wouldn’t shouting ‘get off my property’
accomplish the same thing without the possibility of bloodshed?” She said that
a bit too loudly. A young couple at the next table stopped eating and gawked at
Rhetta. “No, I think whoever shot at us meant to hurt us. But I can’t figure
out who the person with the .38 was. The more I think about it, I think it was
Mylene Allard. After all, we did see her car. I think she’s a killer out to get
me.” The young couple stood, looked around and then left.

Randolph chewed a large mouthful of pancakes and
swallowed. Before he responded, he gulped down his coffee. “No.
You
saw
a red car. I didn’t see anything. I was too busy hanging on for my life when
you took off.” When she started to protest, he held up his hand, which clutched
a fork dripping with pancake syrup. “You saw a red sports car, that’s it. You
also saw someone carrying a .38. We don’t know if these two things are
connected. It’s a big leap to accuse Mylene Allard. Besides, why would she be
skulking around the shed? And why was she carrying a .38 and what happened to
the rifle?” He displayed two fingers. “I don’t think Mylene Allard was the one
who shot at you with a rifle. I think there were two people out there.”

“Two? Who else could there be? That’s the worst
part. I can’t rationalize any of this, or put any pieces together.” Rhetta
worked her brain, trying to complete the puzzle. There had to be some missing
pieces. “Does this have anything to do with Jeremy’s death or is it all a bad
coincidence?”

Randolph dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “When
did you start believing in coincidences?”

“Exactly.”

andolph
climbed into the
Artmobile, which had the trailer hooked to it. Before he could leave the
parking lot, a man approached him and he climbed out of the truck to chat.
Rhetta waved at him as she steered Ricky’s truck around them to the exit.
Traffic was light on William Street, so she made it to Gordonville in less than
ten minutes. She slowed diligently as she passed the firehouse, spotting the
constable’s car in the driveway. As she did, a red sports car rocketed past
her. Rhetta cringed, knowing the constable would pull out and give chase.

That didn’t happen. The constable must have taken
the day off. The sports car continued racing through town. She realized with a
jolt who went flying past. Mylene Allard. Again. This time, Rhetta wanted to
make sure she wouldn’t get away. Feeling safe from the cops, she floored
Ricky’s truck and fell in way behind the car.

As before, she chased the Viper, but again, with no
luck. By the time Ricky’s clunker truck made it to the top of the hill, there
was no Viper to be seen anywhere. Rhetta couldn’t spot any dust clouds on
either of the two gravel roads. Mylene must’ve continued along the paved road,
but was too far ahead to catch.

Crap
. Rhetta thumped the steering
wheel in frustration. Instead of chasing Mylene, she turned left down Ricky’s
gravel road. In a minute she pulled into the driveway.

Ricky was in the shop, so Rhetta parked the truck
near the house and jogged over to see her. Sure enough, Ricky wasn’t wearing a
sling. She did, however, still have the arm wrapped.

Ricky limped toward Rhetta, holding up her injured
arm. “Good thing it’s not broken.”

Rhetta frowned at Ricky and looked pointedly at the
arm. “Shouldn’t that be in a sling?’

“No, it’s gonna be fine,” Ricky said and wiggled the
fingers on the injured arm. “See? No pain.”

“Right. And how many painkillers did you take this
morning?’

“None, I swear. Cross my heart.” She followed that
with a heart-crossing gesture that landed closer to her stomach than her heart.

“That’s not your heart, but that’s all right. I’m
just glad you’re doing good. What about the ankle?”

Ricky held out her bandaged ankle for Rhetta’s
inspection. “It’s not even sprained. Just bruised.” She glanced behind Rhetta.
“Where’s Randolph? Is he coming to get you? I’m not supposed to drive for a
couple of days.”

“He wanted to go by the gallery for a bit. He’ll
come by later and pick me up.” Rhetta strolled around the bright red two-seater
on the lift. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was. She peered under it. “Did
you find anything suspicious in this car?”

“No, thank God. Once in a lifetime is all anyone
needs.” Ricky joined Rhetta and they both inspected it. “This jewel belongs to
a man in Jackson, by the name of P. Body Shuttleworth. He collects muscle cars,
but doesn’t show them. This one’s a ’69 Shelby Cobra 427. It’s worth a ton of
money. He wants me to make sure it’s road sound. He just bought it at Mecum’s
Auction, and he actually wants to drive it. This is one hot little beast.” They
burst into a duet of
Hey Little Cobra
and soon both were doubled over
laughing.

When Rhetta composed herself, she said, “Did you say
Peabody Shuttleworth? That’s his real name?” Rhetta dabbed her eyes, and began
snickering again. His unusual name started another fit of giggles.

Ricky nodded, and wrestled a tissue around to wipe
her eyes. “He spells it
P
period,
Body
then
Shuttleworth
.”

“Whew, there’s a man oughta hate his momma.” They
laughed again. When their snickering finally subsided, Rhetta asked, “Speaking
about mothers, that reminds me. Have you heard any news from Anjanette Spears
about the funeral service for Jeremy?”

Ricky went from laughter to anger. “No, I haven’t
heard a word from her. I read his obituary in the paper. It said visitation
will be tomorrow, and the funeral will be Tuesday at the First Christian Church
on Broadway.” Ricky held her chin up, and took a deep breath. “I’m not going.”

Rhetta patted Ricky’s good hand. “I totally
understand, and I don’t blame you. I’m definitely not going either.”

Rhetta could sense that Ricky was beginning to fade.
“Hey, girlfriend, how about let’s take Monster for a ride? I’m missing Cami so
much. I need to feel the wind in my hair in a real muscle car.”

Ricky brightened. “Sure, but you have to drive. I
have an injured wing, so I won’t be able to shift very well.”

Rhetta rubbed her hands together gleefully.
“Woo-hoo, let’s go!”

Ricky led Rhetta around her shop to the side garage
where she kept her Trans Am, instead of cutting through the third bay area.

“How come we have to go the long way around?” Rhetta
grumbled, as she stopped to wipe dust off her sandals. Somehow, a smudge of
something dark found its way to her pant leg. She fervently hoped it wasn’t
grease. She swiped at it with her hand and was relieved to see that it brushed
it off so she smiled and followed Ricky.
It
w
asn’t grease.

“Come on Rhetta. Monster is waiting,” Ricky said and
laughed as Rhetta worked on getting rid of whatever was on her pant leg.
“You’re just too dressy for a garage. You need to wear coveralls if you’re
going to hang around here very much.”

“I still have the ones you gave me when we were
working on Cami a few years ago,” Rhetta said. “I don’t wear them for anything,
so they’re almost new.” She wrinkled her nose. “They aren’t exactly a fashion
statement. Besides, it’s Sunday, and Randolph and I had brunch at The Venue
before I came over here.” She slapped at another spot on her thigh.

“That may be so, but overalls sure save wear and
tear on decent clothes.”

“I wouldn’t need them if we’d have just cut across
that bay,” Rhetta said, pointing toward a bay containing a car concealed under
a car cover.

Rhetta stopped, remembering what Woody had told her
about a Camaro being in Ricky’s shop. She couldn’t be sure what this car was under
the tarp. She began to veer off toward the bay. Was this the mystery Camaro
that Woody saw? Maybe she’d peek under the cover.

The familiar roar of the LS1 engine in Monster
called to her. Ricky had continued ahead of her and fired up the Trans Am. The throaty
rumble settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t conceal her excitement.
She left the hidden car for another time.

Ricky was standing by the overhead door while
Monster throbbed in the garage. “I’ll close the door,” Ricky said. “You get in
and back her out.”

Rhetta slid behind the wheel and grasped the
T-shaped shifter. It vibrated gently, previewing the power about to unleash
when Monster slid into gear. Rhetta grinned in satisfaction. She loved these
cars. It made her miss Cami even more. Her Camaro had the same LS1 and four
speed transmission as Monster, although Ricky had tinkered with her own car to
deliver a few more horsepower than Cami. Rhetta decided she wanted her Z28 to
feel like this. Gas prices be damned.

Rhetta guided the glossy black car out of the garage
and waited as Ricky locked up the shop. Rhetta caressed the top of the dash.
Surely Ricky didn’t really want to sell this beauty? Maybe she should try to
buy it instead of waiting on the Z28 that she might never get back from the
sheriff’s department. However, she didn’t like black cars, and the interior,
although of a beautiful tan leather, wasn’t her taste, either. This was tomboy
Ricky’s car, through and through. She decided she’d wait for her Z28.

“All right, sister, let’s hit it,” Ricky proclaimed
as she buckled into the passenger seat. “Let’s see if you remember how to drive
a real car!”

Rhetta gave her two thumbs up, then eased the
shifter into first and spit gravel against the metal shed as she roared away.

The T-tops were still on, so Rhetta reached for the
controls to turn on the air.

“Sorry, no A/C today,” Ricky said. “Remember? I took
it all out, so the car would run better. Ditched all that anti-pollution junk,
too, so the car can breathe and run faster.” Ricky reached to the console and
pressed the switch to slide down the electric windows. “Let’s do the 270 air
thing today. Two windows down and seventy miles an hour.” She grinned at
Rhetta.

When Ricky said it, Rhetta remembered. Neither
speed, efficiency nor the promise of better gas mileage would convince her not
to have AC in her Z28. No negotiating there.

“Let’s go into town and get an Andy’s frozen
custard,” Ricky suggested when they stopped at the four way stop sign where
Ricky’s county road met the highway. “My treat.” A right turn and they’d be on
their way to town. Rhetta turned left.

“No ice cream?” Ricky asked, sounding a little
disappointed.

“Can we do that on the way home?” Rhetta shifted
effortlessly. Monster responded obediently as Rhetta aimed it down the highway
away from town, and toward Whispering Oaks.

And the barn from hell.