because she was working so hard and I got left with day care or babysitters, but once I hit ten or twelve and didn’t need a sitter any more, she’d take me along on some of the jobs, especially after she and Dad split. We’d go shopping and eat out a lot. I was proud of her and in her way, I think she was proud of me. Little things. Like, she took me to one of those Chamber of Commerce banquets one year when I was eleven and it totally cracked her up that I knew which was the salad fork and which was my bread-and-butter plate. She told me later that she’d never even seen a salad fork till after she married Dad.
“And that thing about guns? She wouldn’t talk about her parents very often except to say that they were trailer trash and that she used to pretend they had stolen her away from her real parents. But she did let slip once that her father used to get drunk and shoot up the trailer they lived in. Scared the hell out of her.”
She looked up at Dwight in sudden wonder. “I guess I never thought about it before, but she really did come a long way, didn’t she?”
“Sounds like it,” Dwight said.
“I mean, no money, no family connections, no education except a GED. Yeah, marrying Dad helped, but she took advantage of all her opportunities, didn’t she? Making enough of a name for herself to run for the board of commissioners? She was always saying she wanted to be somebody, but it was like nothing was ever enough. Important people could praise her to the skies, but if the
“You want to know what was probably on her flash drive? I guarantee you it had everybody who ever said something ugly about her. She had the memory of an elephant. I’m not saying she used her position to hurt that person, but she certainly wouldn’t have gone out of her way to do him any favors.”
“So who did she do favors for, Dee?”
The girl looked back at him and Dwight saw her jaw tighten.
“You said you weren’t close to her when she died. What happened?”
But the time of confidences seemed to be over. It was as if suddenly realizing why her mother had been so driven to succeed had made her no longer willing to speak of any failings Candace might have had.
“You do know that whoever killed her might have been one of those she did favors for?” he said gently.
“I’d better go help Dad bring in the coffee,” she said, unfolding herself up from the floor just as Bradshaw and Wilson returned.
The coffee was every bit as delicious as promised and Bradshaw seemed as willing as ever to help, but a distinct chill radiated from his daughter.
“When can we have the house back?” she asked as she handed Dwight a cup of fragrant brew.
“My deputies are finishing up there now.” He looked at his watch. “I guess they’re probably done. But if you come across that flash drive, I hope you’ll call us right away.”
She gave an indifferent shrug that promised nothing.
“Of course she will,” said Bradshaw. “Cream or sugar, Bryant?”
“No, thank you. Just a couple of further questions. Can you suggest anyone at all that might want your wife out of the way?”
The older man shook his head. Dee sat motionless, as if her mind were elsewhere and she wished they were gone so that she could go wherever that was.
“Would you tell us, sir, where were you Tuesday evening between four-thirty and six?”
“Is that when it happened?” The man shook his head sadly. “I realize you must ask that question, Bryant, but I could never hurt my wife. I was here at home then.”
“Alone?”
Bradshaw nodded. “Dee dropped her things off earlier, but she was gone by then.”
“There’s no one to corroborate that?”
He placed his spoon precisely on the saucer and set them back on the tray. “Sorry. I sat on my patio with a drink and a dictionary of quotations until dark, but I saw no one until a neighbor came out to walk his dog on the commons. That would have been around seven or seven-thirty.”
“Dee?”
“I was at a friend’s house till four.” She gave the friend’s name and address. “Then I drove back into Dobbs for a five o’clock job interview. After that I went out to supper with more friends and didn’t get back to Dad’s till almost ten.”
“Job interview?” asked Dwight.
“I believe he’s your brother-in-law,” she said with a mocking smile. “Mr. Will Knott?”
CHAPTER 13
Shortly before the Friday afternoon break, my clerk leaned over between cases and whispered, “Someone down in the office says Danny Creedmore told his secretary that Candace Bradshaw was murdered.”
“Really?” It had been difficult to think of Candace killing herself, but somehow less surprising to hear that she’d
