I thanked Darla and Kathleen for breakfast, grabbed my purse, and we were out the door. “Let’s walk,” I suggested. I noticed Tinkie had on sensible flats, and we’d both eaten enough food for a football team. Some exercise—the vertical kind—would be good for us.
The day was overcast and gray, a little foreboding. But we had three solid leads to pursue, and I discussed them with Tinkie as we walked down the sidewalk.
“We need to check into the heavy equipment angle. Someone had to hire that cement mixer. The driver had to be paid. That shouldn’t be hard to track down.” Even as I said it, I realized that few drivers were going to admit to destroying an expensive car. It was going to be harder than I thought.
“And we have the nursing home angle to check out,” Tinkie said. “Killing a person’s granny is a lot more serious than a car.”
“To you,” I pointed out. “I’m not so sure Bricey feels the same way. She’s a bit on the shallow side. I think the car may be more important than one old lady.”
Tinkie laughed out loud and I was rewarded for my snark.
“And don’t forget we need to look into our client’s background. Bart all but called Clarissa a murderer.”
“He did indeed. We should have brought our laptops to Columbus,” Tinkie said.
“We didn’t plan on working,” I reminded her. “We can always borrow Cece’s. Darla has one in her office. Or we can stop in at the public library and do some online research.”
“The library is just up the street, right?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s hit that coffee shop and get two cups to go. Then look up what we can find on Clarissa Olson’s past.”
“It’s a plan.”
10
Twenty minutes later, we were at the library door when they opened. We stepped inside, and I inhaled the odor of books. It was a smell that made me feel smart. We found the computers, and while we didn’t have some of the apps we used for research, we were able to do some basic background checks on Clarissa Olson.
What we discovered was eye-opening. Clarissa was a real estate mogul. She held property in downtown Columbus, and there were a dozen local newspaper stories about her “kingdom” and her influence on the city zoning board. One of the members of the board was none other than Bart Crenshaw.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit conflicted that a real estate developer is on the zoning board?” Tinkie asked.
“More than a bit. And check this out.” I’d found another story where Clarissa had developed a row of high-end condos in Oxford, Mississippi. They were luxury condos within walking distance of the stadium where the Ole Miss Rebels played. “The owner of the land says he was cheated out of his money by Clarissa.”
“And no charges against her were filed, right?”
I kept checking. “It doesn’t appear charges were filed.”
“Then it could just be sour grapes. Someone sold land and then realized they could have asked more for it.” Tinkie was more pragmatic about land deals than I was.
“Or it could be a reason for mischief.”
Tinkie considered. “How would the things happening in Columbus reflect back on Clarissa?”
“Why is she so interested in stopping them?” I countered. “It’s possible she knows who is doing this and wants it stopped before something about her is revealed.”
“Good point. See if you can dig anything else up. Bart said something about murder in her past.”
I kept going back through the months and the last few years before I finally hit pay dirt: “Realtor Questioned in Hunting Death of Oxford Businessman.” The story made me think of Jitty’s appearance as Alex Forrest back in Sunflower County.
“I can’t read the story. You’re hogging the screen,” Tinkie said. “What does it say?”
She was sitting across from me and wasn’t even attempting to read the story. She just wanted to complain. “It says Clarissa was picked up, questioned, and then released. It involved an Oxford man, Johnny Bresland, who died in a hunting accident.”
I did a search on Bresland and found his obituary. “Bresland died on a hunting trip at Hell Creek Wildlife Management Area. He was accidentally shot—or that was the ruling.” I kept scanning the story and reporting to Tinkie. “He was out by himself at dawn, and when he didn’t come back in at dusk, the other hunters went looking for him. Found him shot in the back. The assumption was that it was accidental and the person who shot him probably wasn’t even aware they had killed anyone.”
“Right.” Tinkie was as skeptical as I was. “That sounds like a really plausible story.”
“The local sheriff bought it. No charges were brought against anyone.”
“Do you think Clarissa shot a man in the back?”
I had to think about that. “I honestly don’t know. What about you?”
“It could happen.” She stretched. We’d been sitting doing research for almost an hour. “Clarissa is focused on what she wants. I think she views everything between where she is and where she wants to go as just an obstacle to overcome. And she strikes me as the kind of person who would use the most expedient path to get there.”
“Ambition, I agree. She has that in spades. And she loves money and nice things. That’s clear by her house. But this would be a revenge killing. That’s kind of a distraction from true ambition.”
“Not if she gained in the settlement.” Tinkie picked up her cell phone and dialed Harold. When he answered, she put the question to him. “Do you know anyone in the Lafayette County Chancery Clerk’s office who might look up a will for me?”
I couldn’t tell what Harold said, but I watched Tinkie’s expression shift. “I
