whom are putting on an act for my benefit.”
Flint’s chuckle was forced. “Real artists usually blow off steam before a live gig.” His expression was now little-boy earnest. “Everyone knows it’s just nerves and we don’t mean anything by it.”
“Really?” Skye persisted, not swayed by Flint’s attempt to charm her. “Does that include Mrs. Taylor? She seemed to share your opinion of Suzette.”
“Kallista is a singer, too. As soon as her throat is better, she’ll be back onstage.”
“Maybe sooner rather than later, now that Suzette’s gone,” Skye suggested, testing to see if Flint would offer up Kallista as an alternative suspect.
He seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds, but straightened his shoulders and said, “You’re not even close.” His charisma slipping, he sneered, “Suzette was far from the sweet young thing she pretended to be. As my grandpa used to say, she had honey on the lips, but vinegar in the heart.”
“Yet only you and Kallista have spoken badly of her,” Wally said, the Texas twang now gone from his voice.
“No one who wants to make it in show business is as nice as she pretended to be.” Flint gave a hard, bitter laugh. “And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who had a problem with her.”
“Fair enough.” Wally moved into Flint’s personal space. “But when I asked you that the first time we spoke, you said Suzette kept to herself. Were you lying then or are you lying now?”
“Neither. She kept to herself, but she was ambitious, so she had to have made enemies.”
“Right.” Wally flicked the singer a scornful glance. “You need to wipe the corner of your mouth. Some BS is stuck there.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Name someone.”
“Figure it out for yourself.” Abruptly Flint’s manner changed from cajoling to confrontational and he thrust his face close to Wally’s. “I’m looking out for number one, and that doesn’t include doing your job for you.”
“My job requires the public’s assistance.” Wally held his ground. “We’re asking all the men connected with the Country Roads tour and the construction crew to give us DNA samples. Can we count on your cooperation?”
“Will it get you out of here?”
“You bet.”
“Then, sure.” Flint shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I’m shocked Flint is willing to give us his DNA,” Skye whispered as they left the cabin. “Have the others agreed so easily?”
“He’s the first one I asked. And I’m contacting the county tech to come get it now before he changes his mind.” Wally grinned. “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can parlay James’s cooperation into making the other men look bad if they aren’t prepared to follow his lead.”
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t try to get everyone’s specimens after the semen was discovered,” Skye commented as they reached the car.
“I wish I could just check them all, but there’s a huge backlog at the lab. I have to pick and choose whose DNA I request expedited, and I’ve been saving one spot for Owen’s.” Wally’s expression was frustrated. “On the other hand, now that I have a good pretext for requesting the samples, I’d rather get them while the getting is good, even if they never get tested.”
After Wally finished phoning the techs, Skye asked, “What do you think he meant when he said that Suzette wasn’t the innocent she seemed to be and that other people had problems with her?”
“It’s hard to say.”
“Was that his way of pointing the finger at Kallista without getting in trouble with her husband?” Skye slid into the T-bird. Earlier, she’d asked Simon to keep Toby overnight, and now she was glad she had. It was a mighty tight fit when both she and the dog had to share the passenger seat of the tiny sports car.
“Maybe.” Wally started the Ford’s engine and put it into reverse. “I’ve got Anthony keeping an eye on Kallista’s RV. As soon as she gets home, he’ll call me. Then we can go talk to her and find out.”
“What will we do until then?” Skye asked. Wally hadn’t mentioned interviewing another suspect.
“Until then, we’ll have some supper.” Wally trailed a caressing finger from her shoulder down her side and onto her thigh. “I feel like a jerk for starving you yesterday, so tonight I’m prepared.”
A couple of minutes later, Wally stopped the car next to the riverbank. He popped the trunk and lifted out a gingham-covered basket. Walking with one arm around Skye, he guided her toward a picnic table. From there they could see the cerulean blue water and the tiny waves lapping the rocky shore.
Wally spread the cloth on the table, arranged the food, and waved his hand toward the meal. “Your feast awaits, my love.”
“Thank you.” Skye took a bite of her sandwich—both the bread and the roast beef were obviously homemade—and mumbled, “Dorothy?”
Dorothy Snyder was Wally’s part-time housekeeper and a fantastic cook.
“Of course.” Wally scooped a mound of creamy yellow potato salad onto his paper plate. “I asked her to drop the chow off at the PD.”
“Yum.” Skye gestured at the surrounding trees whose leaves were beginning to change to the gold and red colors that were the very essence of autumn. “This is perfect.”
“Yep.” Wally took her hand. “When I heard the temperature was going to be in the sixties today, I realized this might be our last chance for a picnic.”
“You are so thoughtful.” Skye squeezed his fingers. “Even in the middle of an investigation you think of us.”
“You’re always on my mind,” Wally said.
“But if Anthony calls, we can pack up and leave immediately.” Skye’s gaze was shrewd. She knew Wally was too good a cop to let even her interfere with a case.
“Yes, but in the meantime”—Wally opened a can of caffeine-free Diet Coke for Skye and a Dr Pepper for himself—“we can have a nice dinner in a romantic setting. Maybe we can even pretend we’re on a regular date rather than hunting down a stone-cold killer.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll try my best.” Skye managed to forget the murder and everything else for the next half hour as they ate and talked, but when Anthony’s call came in alerting them to Kallista’s presence at the trailer, Skye knew the fun was over—at least for a while.
While they were repacking the basket, throwing away their trash, and loading the T-bird, Skye asked, “Did you get any info today from the Nashville police or on Owen’s Red Cross blood or about the victim’s DNA or the fingerprints from the self-storage?”
“No, no, no, and no.” Wally started the sports car and headed toward Kallista’s RV, which was still at the park. “The ME promised me the victim’s DNA results tomorrow. The city attorney is still looking into the legality of your suggestion about Owen’s donated blood. There have been no hits on the fingerprints. And the Nashville police haven’t found anybody who knows anything about Suzette’s past.”
“Darn.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Wally agreed. “Except for reinterviewing the Country Roads and construction employees, which yielded zilch, the only thing I accomplished today was talking to Owen and rechecking where he was during the murder.”
“Is he aware yet that he’s a suspect?” Skye asked.
“I don’t think so. I told him that a black pickup had been involved in another accident during that time period, but this time someone got a partial plate and it fit his license number.”
“Did Owen believe you? Did he come up with an alibi?”
“Maybe and no. Since he was alone working at the farm that Monday afternoon, he couldn’t think of anyone who’d seen him.” Wally turned onto the gravel road leading to the Country Roads Tour Airstream. “Too bad the animals can’t talk.”
“That’s for sure. Toby could solve the case for us.” Skye chuckled. “I take it Owen continues to refuse to say who he was with last Saturday.”
“Yep. He’s maintaining that we have no right to ask him for that information.”
