“Colton is a good man, a truly decent guy. He doesn’t deserve what’s happening.” The receptionist sat us down at a computer in a small room. “Knock yourself out. I hope you can prove who hired him. Otherwise we all know he’s in a pickle.” She was at the door before she turned around. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Best offer we’ve had this morning,” I said. Watching grainy, boring videotape was going to require some caffeine if I wanted to stay awake. “I take mine black and so does Tinkie.”
We were already going through the footage when she returned with two steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee. She was about to leave when I stopped her. “Do you remember the woman who hired Colton to fill up the car with cement?”
She shook her head. “She must have come at lunchtime when I wasn’t here. I never saw her, and I haven’t missed a day of work.”
Interesting. “Do you go to lunch at the same time?”
She nodded. “Twelve-fifteen to one-fifteen. I meet my sister.”
“Thanks so much.” She’d just helped us more than she knew. We could skip a lot of footage and just explore the times she was away from the office at lunch. That would cut our search time by hours, and lucky for us the security footage was time stamped.
“This woman who hired Colton had to know he was here alone at lunchtime,” Tinkie said.
“You’re right. This was a setup from the get-go.”
“It has to be someone who either knows his schedule or was told.” Tinkie was biting her lower lip, which was a sign of either concentration or male manipulation. In this instance, the former.
“A friend? You think a friend would set him up like this?”
She tilted her head. “Someone in his circle of business acquaintances or friends.”
We kept going through the video, slowing considerably as we reached the hours between eleven and two. We both pointed to the screen at the same time. “There she is.”
It was a woman with sunglasses in what looked like an expensive wool coat and muffler. She wore fashion boots. Very little of her face could be seen between the sunglasses, the coat collar, and the longish dark hair that framed her face.
“Who is that?” Tinkie asked as she froze the images so we could study a still. “She looks familiar.”
“Let her walk.” I wanted to see if I could place her gait. There was something very familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Tinkie turned the video back and the figure walked up to the door and reached to grab the knob.
“Stop!” I didn’t want to believe what I saw.
“Do you know who it is?” Tinkie asked. She was staring at the grainy figure as if she could squint and see more clearly.
I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. “I think it’s Kathleen Beesley.”
“What?” Tinkie leaned closer to the screen. “Are you sure?”
“Look at the curve of her jaw, the way she reaches for the door, the tilt of her chin.” The more I talked, the more certain I became. “It’s Kathleen. Her red hair is covered by a wig, just as Colton thought.”
“I see it now. That’s her. Petite, a little slump to her shoulders,” Tinkie said. She rewound the tape and played it all the way through, then rewound and played it again. “It’s her. I see it.” She leaned back and sighed. “Why? Why would Kathleen do something like this?”
“Those women were bullies to her. Even Jerry Goode knew they were awful to her. And you saw how Clarissa treated her on the boat, like she was a servant or paid help instead of a guest. They even threatened each other. Maybe she got fed up and decided to make them pay.”
“But she trapped Colton Horn and he may lose his business if Bricey really sues him.”
I didn’t have any answers. Kathleen was literally the last person I would have suspected. “We’ll have to talk to Darla about this.” I didn’t relish that thought. Darla was very protective of Kathleen. “The good news is that if Kathleen is dead, she won’t suffer any punishment for this.” It was kind of a bleak way to find a silver lining, but nonetheless I tried.
“Well, aren’t you a bundle of joy,” Tinkie said. “Sheesh, Sarah Booth. Are you going to call the law?”
I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Kathleen wasn’t there to defend herself. What if we were wrong? I mean really, I was basing my identification on a minuscule amount of flesh. Most of her was totally covered up. And the wig—if it was a wig—hid her real hair. Could I be certain enough to ruin a reputation? A reputation of a woman who was likely dead and couldn’t fight back?
“Let’s search her place. If we can find the wig, we’ll have to tell the police.”
“Good idea.” Tinkie was ready to move along. “Let’s get out of here before Colton comes back and asks questions.”
We replaced the video and cleaned up the room, taking our coffee cups back to the receptionist.
“Did you find something to help Colton?” she asked.
“Maybe. We need to do more checking, and please don’t mention this. I don’t want to get his hopes up if we fall flat.”
“Colton’s a good man. If you can help him, please do. I don’t know why someone would use him that way—for pure devilment and to destroy property.” She looked down at her computer keyboard. “He never thinks that people can be cruel.”
“We’ll do what we can,” I promised.
“We’ll be in touch,” Tinkie said as she led the way to the door.
Kathleen lived in an older home with a wraparound front porch and heritage camellias and azaleas that covered the foundation of the house. It wasn’t a
