Milk and Honey (20 page)

Lots of people were murdered by gunshot. But Decker wondered if Donaldson’s question had been more an educated than lucky guess. He replied, “Why do you ask?”

“Because our representative…the last time he went out to the Darcy honey farm…Pappy Darcy had come out of his house holding a gun, claiming he was going to blow off the head of the next Manfred representative who trespassed upon his property.” Donaldson slugged down the scotch. “He also mentioned something about blowing off Linda’s head as part of the bargain—two for the price of one. Our representative was quite shaken by the threat.”

“What kind of weapon was Pappy Darcy holding?” Decker asked.

“Just a big gun,” Donaldson said. “I don’t believe James, our representative, told us the make.”

“What kind of big gun?”

“I seem to recall James saying that Pappy was holding a shotgun.”

How convenient, thought Decker. He just happened to recall that bit of trivia. Decker said, “Can your representative tell a shotgun from a rifle?”

Donaldson drummed his finger. “Perhaps Pappy was holding a rifle. James said it was a
big
gun.”

“But you recall him saying it was a shotgun.”

“Maybe I’m mistaken.”

“Can I speak to James?” Decker asked.

“He’s away on business.”

“And?”

“And he is unavailable for your questions.”

Decker said, “You sent him to a place where there’s no phone lines?”

Donaldson fidgeted a moment. Then he said, “Ask my secretary for his number.”

“Great,” Decker said. “You know, Mr. Donaldson, we’re going to be investigating Linda thoroughly. Any illicit lunch dates, motel-room trysts…we’re going to find out about them.”

A slight blush rose behind Donaldson’s ear. “I told you, Sergeant, our relationship was purely business.”

“That’s good.” Decker handed him his card. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

“I will,” Donaldson said.

Decker turned to him before he crossed the threshold. “Would you mind if I took a look at the records concerning the property?”

Donaldson said, “I would very much.”

“Why?”

“We have a lot of secret and valuable information contained in the Darcy file.”

“What kind of information?”

“If I told you that, Sergeant, I wouldn’t be what I am today—a trusted officer of the corporation.”

“Fine,” Decker said. “Have it your way. I’ll get a court order.”

“For what?”

“Material evidence for a homicide murder.”

Donaldson looked aghast. “That’s ridiculous.”

Decker shrugged helplessly.

“Let me talk to Mr. Cartwright,” Donaldson said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Decker waited a beat, then thanked him again, telling him he’d been most helpful. Donaldson gave him a sour smile in return.

Marge spied Decker
parked across the street and gave him a wave. She pulled her Honda into Sophi Rawlings’s driveway and sneaked a sidelong glance at Sue Beth Litton. She’d been quiet in the morgue, completely mute on her ride over the hill—a woman shocked into silence.

But there were questions to be asked, and like it or not, Sue Beth needed to hear them.

Marge touched her hand, and Sue Beth jumped. The woman’s face was drawn as pale and tight as a drumskin. In a different situation, she might have been labeled cute, with her thick auburn hair, green eyes, a freckled nose—somewhere in her bloodline was the name O’something. She had very big ears, though. Carla had had big ears. Carla had also had a big nose and flat chest. Sue Beth’s nose was as small as a button; her chest, though not voluminous, was certainly not an ironing board.

Softly, Marge said, “I need to confer with my partner for a moment, Mrs. Litton. You can wait in the car.”

Sue Beth nodded, her eyes directed in her lap.

Marge stepped out of the car and met Decker by the trunk of her Honda. They spoke in hushed tones.

Marge said, “I don’t believe it. You beat us here.”

“Defense asked for a recess for the weekend,” Decker said.
“A new PD. Wants to familiarize himself with the case.”

“What happened to the old PD?”

“Damned if I know. I told our woman that I’d be back Monday, giving her moral support. Hopefully, she’ll return as well. One more delay, and I’m afraid she’ll crack.” Decker kicked the ground. “Enough of that. What did you find out?”

“Forensics first,” Marge said. “Blood on Katie’s PJs. Matches with her mother and Carla. The kid was obviously at the scene of the crime either during the shooting or after all the blood was spilled. My guess she wasn’t there too long, otherwise she would have had blood from the others as well.”

“Good.”

“Rolland Mason. His sheet is clear, but that doesn’t tell us the whole story. I found his ex-lady—a waitress in Saugus named Betty Bidel. Chip’s tip panned out.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, he was good for something. Anyway, from Betty I learned that Rolland was dealing in meth. She also told me that Rolland had left her and had plans to marry Linda.”

Decker said, “Was Linda aware of his plans?”

“That I don’t know. It might have been unrequited love.”

“You know, Marge, we keep sticking Rolland with Carla like the two of them were an item. Maybe it was Rolland and Linda who were the happy duo, and they were confronting Luke about it. Tempers got hot, bam-bam.”

“Then where does Carla fit in?”

“Funny you should ask,” Decker said. “She may have had her own agenda. I visited Manfred and Associates today. I spoke to an associate.”

Marge said, “Taking on the big guys again?”

Decker laughed. Last time he visited the head of a big corporation, he’d leaned too heavily on a well-connected CEO, and it almost lost him his job. Only his supportive captain had saved his neck….

Decker whipped his thoughts back to the present and gave Marge a quick rundown of the conversation, including Carla’s disinheritance. He said, “Suppose Linda thought she’d have an ally in Carla. Maybe Linda even offered Carla some money if she could get Luke to sell. So the two of them confronted Luke and were rebuffed. Then all hell broke loose.”

Marge said, “And Rolland was attached to one of the women. His old lady said he loved Linda. But maybe when he found out that Carla stood to gain some bread, he decided to pair off with her because she was convenient.”

“Sounds good to me,” Decker said.

“Except for a couple of minor details,” Marge said. “Even if Luke was willing to sell, he’d have to convince Pappy D and Sue Beth to sell before there was any money to be made. To me, Pappy chasing a Manfred representative off his property with a shotgun shows lack of interest.”

Decker laughed. “I finally did get ahold of the representative. His full name’s James Chatam, and his story jibes well with Donaldson’s account
except
that he said Pappy Darcy had been carrying a
rifle
. When I asked him if it could have been a shotgun, Chatam said yeah, it could have been, he doesn’t know the difference.”

“But Donaldson used the word
shotgun
specifically?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting that Donaldson would know the weapon and he wasn’t even there,” Marge said.

“Something to note,” Decker said. “Although a lot of people use the terms interchangeably.” He motioned his head toward the front of the car. “What about her?”

“She ID’d the bodies,” Marge said. “Including Rolland.”

“So Rolland wasn’t a stranger to her.”

“Apparently not.”

“Press her on it?”

Marge said, “No, the timing wasn’t right. But someone should before we give her Katie.”

“You do it,” Decker said. “She already knows you. And if you get into sensitive areas like who Linda or Carla was screwing, she might respond better to a woman.”

“Fine.” Marge checked her watch. “It’s four-fifteen. You’ve got enough time before your Sabbath starts?”

“About three hours,” Decker said. “After we get Katie squared away, I’m going to phone up Ozzie Crandal, get a feel for the parents and brother Earl.”

“Having worked with Crandal, I think we should talk to the Darcys ourselves,” Marge said.

“Agreed,” Decker said. “But unless Crandal thinks they’re going to bolt, it can wait until after the weekend.”

“I’ll set up something for next week then,” Marge said. “By the way, I talked to a local kiddy shrink. Nice guy, spent an hour talking to me. He said yes, indeed, the kid should be seen. A, for the kid’s sake—who knows what the hell she saw and how she has interpreted it? And B, things could come out that may be useful to us. But then he said since she was only twenty months, we shouldn’t count on anything verbal.”

“Then what kinds of things could come out?”

“Well, he said that if she saw the actual crime take place, a good shrink could get her to recreate her interpretation in something called play therapy—she’d play out the trauma with dolls or toys. If she didn’t play it out, chances are she didn’t witness anything. That in and of itself could be useful to us. Maybe she was sleeping in a crib when it happened. That could put the crime at night or during her nap time. Things like that. Like I said, we spoke for an hour. Anyway, I have his number if Sue Beth is so inclined.”

Decker said, “And where is the woman of the hour?”

Marge said she’d get her. A moment later, they were all standing in the driveway. Marge made all the necessary introductions.

Decker said, “I’m sorry for your tragedy, Mrs. Litton.”

Sue Beth didn’t respond. But Decker could see her eyes
fill with moisture. The woman had an “ain’t life a bitch” face. Weathered skin, green eyes as hard as jade. Her cheeks were high-boned, sharp and pale, her hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail. Only her lips gave her visage a hint of softness—full and blood red. Perhaps they were the only part of her face that had ever known any tenderness. Decker said, “We have all the papers necessary for Katie’s release—”

“When can I see her?” Sue Beth interrupted. Her voice was husky, strong.

“In a moment,” Marge said. “After we’ve asked you a couple of questions.”

“Here?” Sue Beth asked.

“Would you prefer to sit in the car?” Marge asked.

“Can’t this be done another time?” Sue Beth protested.

Decker shook his head, then said, “I’ll go check on Katie. Make sure everything is in order.” He patted Sue Beth on the back. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

After Decker left, Marge said, “Again, I’m very sorry, Mrs. Litton. You’ve suffered a terrible tragedy.”

Sue Beth said nothing, and Marge assayed the situation. Everyone had to be approached differently. Many grieving women reached out at a time like this. But this one was retreating, and Marge had to figure out how to reel her in. First, Marge tried empathy, how unreal this must feel. Then she expressed sympathy again, how sorry she was for the loss. But Sue Beth remained stoic and silent.

Then let’s get down to business, Marge thought.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Mrs. Litton,” she said. “Some of the questions might seem odd, some personal, some like I’m trying to insinuate something. Believe me, I’m not. I’m just trying to get a total picture so we can solve this as quickly as possible.”

“Go ahead,” Sue Beth said. “Quicker you ask, the quicker I can get Katie and go home…or what’s left of it…. Oh God, this is a real nightmare.”

Marge agreed with her. Slipping out her notebook, she asked Sue Beth to go over the trip to Fall Springs. The woman spoke in a monotone as she recounted the past week. Four days ago, she, her husband, B.B., and their kids left for the Annual Western Beekeepers Association Convention at about eleven in the morning. Luke wasn’t home when they left, but Carly and Linda were, and she said good-bye to them and everything seemed normal.

“Where were your parents?” Marge asked.

“Pappy and Granny were giving Carly and Linda last-minute instructions on how to take care of Earl. They were going to leave Earl at home for the first time in ages—Luke volunteered to watch after him. But at the last minute, they must have changed their minds and brought Earl along.”

“Why do you think they changed their minds?” Marge asked.

“Most likely, Earl put up a fuss. He don’t like being left out of things.” She paused. “Did anyone explain about Earl to you?”

Marge said yes, someone did. She asked Sue Beth what time did she see her parents at the convention.

“They were there when we arrived,” Sue Beth said.

“But you said you left before them,” Marge said.

“Oh, I forgot. We all stopped off at a restaurant to eat. Nice one in La Mesa called Montequilla’s. Sort of a family tradition when we go down to Fall Springs.”

Marge said, “So your parents and Earl were at Fall Springs when you arrived.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Sue Beth paused a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Marge didn’t know if the pause came from Sue Beth remembering something differently or an honest attempt to make sure she’d answered the question truthfully. Marge wrote down the reply and put in the word “pause” in the margin of her notes.

“What time did you arrive at Fall Springs?”

“’Round two, two-thirty.”

“How long does it take to get to there from your place?”

“’Bout two hours.”

“Okay,” Marge said. “And everything was normal when you left?”

“Yes.”

“And your parents seemed…just fine?”

Sue Beth frowned. “’Course, they were fine. What are you trying to say?”

“Just trying to get a total picture of everything, Sue Beth.”

Sue Beth still looked unhappy, but she didn’t say anything.

Marge asked, “Your parents get along with Luke?”

“They worshiped him,” Sue Beth said. “That man was the salt of the earth….” Her lower lip began to tremble, and tears spilled onto her cheeks.

Marge pulled a clean tissue from her pants pocket and gave it to her. “I’m so sorry, Sue Beth.”

She wiped her face, then nodded for Marge to continue. Casually, Marge asked, “Your parents get along well with Luke’s wife?”

“Huh?”

“Your parents like Linda?” Marge repeated.

Sue Beth looked up, her features hardened. “As a matter of fact, they didn’t. None of us did…’cept…well, Linda was nice to Earl. I’ll say that much for her.”

“So your parents didn’t like Linda.”

“So what?” Sue Beth countered. “Lots of parents don’t like their daughters-in-law.”

Marge agreed with her. Then, she asked her about her sister, Carla. How did her parents relate to her? Sue Beth seemed pained.

“They thought Linda was a bad influence on her. She was, you know.”

“What do you mean by bad influence?”

Sue Beth covered her mouth with her hands. “My sister was only fourteen when Luke married Linda. She was very—what’s the word, impressed-like….”

“Impressionable?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Sue Beth went on to explain. Baby sister Carla was never a looker, very shy, and the boys didn’t treat her too nice. Then Linda came along and showed Carla ways to attract the boys’ attention.

Sue Beth shook her head. “’Course, it made my ma mad. Carla acting so common. And Linda. It especially weren’t respectable for a married woman to act like.”

“Was Linda playing around, Mrs. Litton?” Marge asked.

Sue Beth reddened. “Well, she said she wasn’t, but my ma thought otherwise, I guess.”

“And what did you think?”

“What did I think?” Sue Beth repeated. “Keep my nose out of it, that’s what I thought.”

Marge paused a moment. Linda and Carly. The “bad” girls. Getting Granny’s dander up. Together in fun, together in death. She wondered if Sue Beth knew exactly where Rolland Mason fit in. At the mention of his name, Sue Beth stiffened. But Marge pressed her on it.

“What can you tell me about him?” she said.

“He was just a fellah that Carla knew.”

Just a fellah? Marge said, “Were he and your sister a steady twosome?”

Sue Beth shook her head, explaining that Carla didn’t have any steady fellahs, although she had lots of guys who liked her. Then Marge asked if Rolland had ever shown any interest in Linda.

Sue Beth stiffened again. “Lots of men showed interest in Linda.”

“Rolland in specific?”

“Maybe.”

“What did Carla think about that?”

“Like I said, Carla didn’t have a special fellah. I don’t think she cared who Rolland paid attention to. I barely knew Rolland myself.”

“Yet you easily identified Rolland at the morgue.”

Sue Beth blushed. After a pause, she admitted that maybe he’d been to the house once or twice. When Marge asked for what reason, Sue Beth slammed her hand down on the hood of Marge’s Honda.

“Just what are you trying to say, Miss Detective!”

Marge didn’t answer. Sue Beth began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“Don’t apologize,” Marge said. “You’re doing fine, Sue Beth. Great, under the circumstances. I know this is very hard for you.”