Jerry Goode was on call and in the station. We’d lucked out, though he didn’t appear all that happy to see us.
“We need to talk to you about Bricey Presley,” I said.
“I’d help you if I could, but I can’t. My lawyer told me to keep my lip zipped.”
“Good advice, but it isn’t about your granny. And I’m sorry to hear about your loss.”
“Not nearly as sorry as Bricey Presley is going to be.”
“You should know making threats isn’t smart.”
He signaled us into an interview room. “Look, she took my money and failed to provide the service I was paying for. My grandmother died because she wasn’t being watched.”
“I am sorry,” Tinkie said. “That’s unforgivable. But we’re here to talk about the Cadillac now pretending to be a giant cement block.”
He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help himself. “Sometimes good things happen to bad people.”
“You know anything about the woman who ordered that cement?”
He shook his head. “Colton said Bricey ordered it herself. He thought she was nuts, but he did what he was paid to do. I hope you’re not trying to make trouble for him.”
“No, I’m not, but there’s a big complication. It wasn’t Bricey who ordered the job.”
Goode whistled softly. “Wow. Bad news for Colton. Do you know who put the order in?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“And you were wondering if the woman who showed up with cash to pay for a load of cement was somehow tied to me?”
He’d put it together pretty quickly. “The death of a grandmother is a pretty good motive for revenge,” I said.
“Nope, not involved in this. I’m a lawman and I settle my disputes in the courtroom, not in a parking lot.”
“What have you discovered about Tulla Tarbutton’s shock at the karaoke event?” Tinkie asked.
“There’s no proof that it was deliberate,” he said. “That musician fellow, Jaytee, talked with me. He’s pretty certain it wasn’t an accident, but we both went over the equipment and the events, and we couldn’t find a way to prove it was deliberate.”
“And what about Bart Crenshaw’s tumble down the stairs?” I asked.
“He insists that he stumbled and fell. We have to take him at his word.”
“And what about the convertible?” Tinkie pressed. “Someone ordered that done, and it was someone who meant to inflict damage.”
“That’s still under investigation.” He didn’t flinch. “I had nothing to do with it, but we’ll find out who ordered it.”
I gave him a business card. “Would you call us when you figure it out?”
He took the card and put it in the pocket of his shirt. “Sure.”
“By the way, I think there’s something hinky about the way Bart Crenshaw ‘lost his balance.’”
The faintest grin touched his lips. “I tend to agree with you, but there’s little we can do if he doesn’t say who pushed him.” He shrugged. “Some men love the danger. They’re as bad as the local drama queens who stir up trouble because they have to be center stage. But I’m aware of this, and I’m investigating. Now I have work to do.”
It was clear we’d been dismissed, and I, for one, was eager to move on down the list of things we needed to check.
Lunchtime arrived, and the motto of Delaney Detective Agency was “never miss a meal.” To that end, we called Cece and Millie to see if they’d finished their newspaper work and could join us at the Green Parrot. The karaoke machine was back up and the locals were belting out the words to every Christmas song ever written. I wasn’t there to sing, but to ask questions.
Cece and Millie joined us, and we found a table in the corner where we could watch the room. I didn’t recognize any of the patrons, but we kept our voices low anyway. As we hashed over the case, I realized we had too many suspects and too many weak motives.
But the one fact Tinkie and I had discovered made a big hit. Cece and Millie were all over the news about an impostor posing as Bricey Presley.
“That’s … genius,” Cece said. “I mean if you really hated Bricey, that would be a masterful play.”
“She’s not exactly beloved,” Millie threw in. “From the gossip at Rook’s Nest, it seemed pretty clear that Bricey has dipped her toe in way too many people’s monkey business.”
“True. Destroying the car is one thing. But nearly electrocuting a woman and pushing a man down a flight of stairs? Both of those could have ended in a fatality.”
“Which makes me think there’s more to all of this than just jealousy or revenge for cheating.” I had nothing more than a gut feeling—no evidence.
“What are you thinking?” Millie asked.
“We have a man whose grandmother died because Bricey didn’t uphold a contract for professional care. We have a cheating man with a lot of business entanglements who almost died falling downstairs. And we have a known homewrecker who could have gotten a fatal shock. Add this to what we discovered about Clarissa in Oxford.”
“Do you think she really killed that Bresland man?” Tinkie asked.
“I think she’s capable. Don’t you?”
All around the table my friends nodded.
“She’s a shark,” Millie said.
“I think I need to go to this Hell Creek Wildlife Management Area and check out the location where Johnny Bresland died.” Somewhere we had to find some physical evidence that would support my theory or crash it. I honestly didn’t care which. But if we were to make headway with this case, we needed more than hunches.
“I’m game,” Tinkie said. “We can get Rex to drive us.”
“Let’s just rent a car,” Cece suggested. “We’ll have more flexibility and Rex can keep an eye on the guys for us.”
I wondered if Tinkie had finally co-opted Rex
