He was basically right, since he didn’t have a signed contract. “Hold on,” I said. “Tinkie, show him more photos. Maybe he can pick her out of the crowd.” Tinkie had photos from all of the Christmas festivities. She’d taken pictures of almost everyone in town.
“Great idea.” Tinkie handed him the phone. “Just keep swiping until you recognize someone.”
He went through several photos he studied carefully. “I do a lot of work around the region, but I mostly deal with men. I’ve built some foundations for women in the area, brought in fill dirt for projects, mixed the concrete for some driveways.” He went through more of the party photos. “I mostly date women from out of town, and these women aren’t my social set. None of these women are her.” He inhaled and blew it out. “I’m not familiar with a lot of the leading ladies of Columbus.”
“And you’re lucky there in some instances,” I said under my breath.
He’d recovered his equilibrium and gave me a wry grin. “I’ll say. I do my best to stay out of the way of people with a wire loose and enough money to make really bad decisions. I messed up this time. The woman who hired me just walked in the door. She was a looker and she had an imp on her shoulder, all filled with this idea of making mischief. She seemed so confident, so sure of what she was doing. She sucked me right in. I never considered she was using me to commit a crime.”
“Didn’t you wonder why she wanted to destroy her car?” Tinkie asked, motioning him back into his seat.
“I’ve had clients who want to knock down beautiful houses or bulldoze incredible groves of trees. I don’t ask questions. I do the work. And this time I had the cash in hand.”
He had a valid point. People often did a lot of things that didn’t make sense and seemed to be against their self-interest. “Keep flipping through the photos. Maybe you’ll get lucky and we can find the woman who hired you.”
“Forgive me if I’m a bit wary of taking a second bite of that apple. Why would you want to help me?”
“Because that woman may hold the answers to a bunch of other stuff that’s been going on around Columbus.”
“What kind of stuff?” He was justifiably cautious.
“Cheating, cheating, home wrecking, and cheating,” Tinkie said.
“Got it.” He studied the phone screen. When he got to the end of the photos Tinkie had taken in Columbus, he handed the phone back. “I didn’t see her.”
“Can you describe her?” I asked.
“Average size. Brunette. She wore sunglasses.” He sighed. “That should have been a clue, I guess. She never took those sunglasses off.”
“Any characteristic you remember?” Tinkie asked.
He shook his head slowly and suddenly stopped. “She kept tucking her hair behind her ear. It was like an unconscious thing. And her hair was really glossy. Maybe too glossy. I think she was wearing a wig.”
“You think?” I asked, impressed that the female car-killer had possibly gone to such lengths to hide her identity. The wig observation might prove helpful in finding her.
“Maybe. She was fussing with that area right behind her ear.” He rubbed his eye. “Or maybe she had an itch or something else. I don’t know. I was in a hurry and she put cash on my desk.” He closed his eyes. “And the cash is yet another clue that something was off, right? I’ve been really stupid.”
I felt sorry enough for him not to rub salt in the wound. “It’s hard for honest people to perceive dishonesty sometimes. Cut yourself some slack.”
“You might want to call your insurance agent,” Tinkie said. “See how you’re covered for this kind of damage.”
He nodded. “I could lose my business because of this.”
I had a sudden thought. “Have you ever been caught cheating on your girlfriend or spouse?”
The instant he looked down, I had my answer.
“It could be you were targeted, Mr. Horn.”
He started to object. “No, my ex-girlfriend wouldn’t ruin me. She wouldn’t. She was upset with me when she found out, and she left me, but she isn’t vindictive like this. She knows I live with the reality that my cheating was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Stupider even than dumping cement in a car. She’s not the kind of woman to ruin my business. I told you, I don’t date crazy.”
“Maybe she didn’t start out crazy, but maybe you made her that way,” I said.
He sat back in his chair with a huff. “I don’t believe that.”
Tinkie put her phone away and snapped her purse shut. “It could be that your ex has nothing to do with this, but that someone you know was aware of your infidelity and decided to take action against you.”
He went white at that prospect.
“Now we need to head to the Supporting Arms Care Center. Do you know anything about that place or a healthcare service that offers extra care to those who need it?”
“Not a thing.”
His answer seemed sincere. I doubted he knew that the real Bricey Presley owned that very business. “Thanks for your help.” We walked to the door.
“If you find out anything, will you let me know?” he asked.
“Sure thing.”
12
Supporting Arms was a redbrick manor house set in a grove of oak trees. The outward appearance was serene. The whole idea of a facility where old people waited to die really jangled my nerves, though. Tinkie and I walked abreast down a sidewalk flanked by lit-up candy canes. The front porch was decorated with poinsettias, and when we entered, the foyer had a huge live Christmas tree that filled the area with the clean scent of spruce.
There was a dayroom to the left and the administrative offices were to the
