Darla flushed as I handed over the journal and note. It was clear this was an assignation of some type that I’d stumbled onto. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
“It’s embarrassing, this communicating by written notes in such poetic language. It’s so … old-world.”
“And rather lovely,” I said. “So genteel.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “You can take the gal out of romance, but you can’t take the romance out of the gal, I suppose. Please don’t mention this to anyone. It’s just that since Kathleen … I’m so very lonely. I lost my best friend, perhaps my only friend in Columbus. It’s probably jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but I renewed an old relationship.” She flushed and looked away.
I was happy she had someone else in her life, but she’d opened the door, mentioning Kathleen. And I had to walk through it, even if I knew it would upset her.
“Darla, is there anyone who would want to hurt you by leaving something of Kathleen’s on your property?”
“Something like what?”
“An article of her clothing.”
“What?” She put a hand to her throat and I could almost see the pulse jumping there. I’d really caught her unprepared. “Why would you even say anything like that?”
“When I was hunting for Gumbo, I found something under the hedge. A cap.”
“Kathleen’s cap?” Her eyes were wild and her voice was rising. She sank onto the sofa.
“Please calm down. Yes, I believe it was Kathleen’s snowman stocking cap. She was wearing it on the boat the night she … fell overboard.”
“That bitch Clarissa!” She was off the sofa like a cork flying from a champagne bottle. “She was scuba diving, pretending to be so concerned she was searching for Kathleen. She found the cap, brought it up, and left it in the hedge for me to find so I would get upset.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“Because she’s a terrible person. She loves to inflict pain on people she doesn’t like. Even on people she does like. There’s something very wrong with her. Surely you’ve seen it.”
My opinion of Clarissa wasn’t far off from Darla’s, but my opinion wasn’t the point. The cap was physical evidence. It was true Clarissa had been diving in the river, saying she was helping with the search. It was possible she could have found the cap, brought it up, dried it, and put it under the hedge. But I wouldn’t have found it unless Gumbo had gone there. And how would Clarissa think that Kathleen’s cat would escape and find the hat? Still, maybe Clarissa was spying on the inn and accidentally dropped it.
“Can you think of any reason Kathleen would pretend to be dead?” I asked her.
She scoffed. “Not one single reason. She wouldn’t do that. She’d never have people searching for her just to play a prank. You don’t understand. Kathleen and I were close. Like sisters. She’d never do any of this.”
“And would she throw in with Tulla Tarbutton to get even with some of the swingers in town?”
Darla shook her head vehemently. “If someone is saying that, they’re lying. Who said that?”
I was spared from coming up with a response when Tinkie came down. “Darla,” she said. “You don’t have to get up and cook for us. We can fend for ourselves. You’ve been the perfect hostess, but just take a rest.”
“I love cooking for my guests. And tonight is the final Christmas event, the big parade downtown. You’ll want to get there early to find a spot on the street if you want to catch the treats that Santa and his elves will be throwing. I’ll get you started off with a hearty breakfast. How about a grits soufflé? Filled with cheese and eggs and other yummy stuff.”
Darla found solace in her cooking. I wasn’t about to take that away from her. “Sounds delicious.”
“I know you and your partner are always rushing out the door, so I’ll get busy in the kitchen.” She turned away, the journal forgotten in her hand. Tinkie jerked her head toward the door.
I followed her out the front into the still-dark morning. Dawn was just peeking over the eastern horizon. “Darla doesn’t believe Kathleen was involved with Tulla,” Tinkie said.
“I know,” I said. “She also doesn’t believe there’s a chance Kathleen is alive. She was adamant that Kathleen would never pretend to be drowned.”
“So where does that leave us?” Tinkie asked.
“Tracking down Jerry Goode.”
“Coleman isn’t going to like this.”
That was an understatement. “We need to return before Darla makes breakfast. Let’s just make it quick.” I called Dallas. She sounded like she’d been up for hours. And she knew where Jerry Goode lived. “Remind me next case we work to hire an Uber driver who knows everything,” I told Tinkie as we walked to the curb to wait for our ride.
30
Dallas did know where Goode lived, but she wasn’t magic. She couldn’t make him be at home when we knocked on his door.
“His car isn’t here,” Tinkie said.
“You know his car?”
“When he was leaving Clarissa’s, if that was him, he was driving a silver sportscar. There’s no vehicle here at all.”
“Good, let’s break in.”
Tinkie grabbed my arm. “Bullying Tulla is one thing. Goode is a member of law enforcement. He could really put us in jail.”
“Only if he catches us.” The first pink glow of dawn was moving up the horizon. Soon it would be daylight. It was now or never if we intended to break into the small brick house. Soon the neighbors would be up and poking around.
“What are we even looking for?” Tinkie asked.
“Goode has investigated every single incident. If he’s part of the cheaters
