“Oh, absolutely. Ma’am, I am not looking at you that way at all. And you are free to go at any time. Matter of fact, that’s why I suggested we both drive, so you could do that.”
Her hackles went down a bit.
“Now, what can I get you?” I asked.
When I came back with my coffee and her diet Frappuccino, her jittery nerves had a new outlet: she was folding a napkin into tiny pleats.
“So, what I wanted to talk with you about,” I said, “was just some background on Karl. How well you knew him, if you knew of anybody he might’ve been in conflict with. That kind of thing.”
She stopped folding and thought for a second. “I don’t know when exactly we got talking. Last summer? It was at the Broke Spoke. He used to drink with this trucker, Pete something. He was a good tipper. I just talked to him every time he came in. He figured out what section was mine and always sat there.” From her smile, it was a bittersweet memory.
“And how’d you two end up getting together?”
“I don’t normally date customers,” she said. “I just—in a place like that, you see how men are.” She shook her head, looking at nothing in the middle distance, like she’d seen about all she ever wanted to. Then she tossed her hair and continued, “But he was always talking about his kid. Like, he was proud when he graduated from high school, because Karl hadn’t. So I thought he was a good guy.”
Something in her tone made me ask, “Thought? Do you still think so?”
She glanced at me with a flash of anger. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Nobody deserves to die like that. You wouldn’t do that to a rabid dog.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I said. I took a sip of my coffee to give her anger time to pass. When it had, I tried a different subject. “That other guy you mentioned, Pete? You know much about him? Any idea how well he knew Karl?”
She shrugged. “They were drinking buddies. They shot the shit, you know. ’Scuse me.”
I nodded to let her know that language was fine with me. “He from Basking Rock?”
“No. I don’t know where, but he was a trucker. You know how it’s set up: families stopping at the truck stop to eat would never see the strip club, but if you go back by the truckers’ showers, there’s a door. It takes you across this little alley and you’re at the back door of the Broke Spoke.”
I nodded like I knew. I didn’t. I’d never set foot in either place.
“If you remember his name,” I said, “I’d like to look him up. Just, you know, cover all the bases.”
She looked at me like she was trying to figure me out, and said, “Did that boy really not do it?”
“Uh, ma’am, no, I don’t think he did.”
“Wow,” she said. “I mean, everybody’s saying he did.”
“I’ve heard the gossip,” I said.
“Wow.”
“Oh,” I said, “speaking of gossip, I’m real sorry to bother you about this, but is it true you’ve still got Karl’s Mustang?”
She looked at the door. I thought she might bolt.
“You’re not in trouble,” I said. “I’m just trying to figure things out.”
She stirred her Frappuccino and look a long sip through the straw. I thought if she had wings, she would’ve hopped up like a sparrow to perch on the crown molding and dart out the door as soon as it opened.
“If I tell you,” she said, “do I get immunity? Or something?”
“Ma’am, I’m not trying to get you in trouble at all. Quite honestly, you could tell me you sold it for scrap, and I wouldn’t call the cops. I’d even put a good word in for you if anybody did get upset. I just want to understand what’s what.”
“He registered it at my house,” she said, defensively. “That’s where it, like, lives.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. Now, do you know why he did that?”
“To keep it away from his bitch ex. He owed a lot of back child support, and even though his boy was a legal adult by then, he thought she still might come after him for it. She’s not going to get it now, is she? He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Well, they were never married, so it certainly wouldn’t go to her automatically.”
“He would’ve wanted me to have it. He told me.” She looked like she might cry. “He wanted a lot of things for him and me.”
“Miss Ives,” I said, “I’m sure he did. But he was brought down before his time. Is there anyone you can think of that might’ve wanted to do that?”
“Yes. His ex. She called when he was at the Broke Spoke, two days before he died, and threatened him. She was screaming so loud I could hear it.”
“My goodness,” I said. “And do you recall what she was saying?”
“Just insults,” she said. “I heard a few when he held the phone away from his ear. The rest just all ran together.”
Driving home from Charleston, I wondered if what Kitty had said was true. By her own account she hadn’t heard any threats herself, so I figured Karl had told her that. It was hard to imagine Mazie having the energy or the time to harass Karl. She was already working two exhausting jobs at that point, but then again, exhaustion sometimes made people do crazy things. I made a mental note to check Karl’s cell phone records, once I got them from Ruiz, to see if Mazie had called him then.
At home, Noah was immersed in his video games. I took Squatter for a walk and then got down to prepping for Monday’s preliminary hearing. I knew we weren’t going to get the charges knocked down to manslaughter. This hearing was about nothing other than the evidence Ruiz had, and what he had pointed
