“But in the end the new judge let in the testimony. And your stepmother was real good on the stand, though it was clear she didn’t want to be there. I watched her. Looked like she was goin’ to be sick. The jury believed her, though. And since the police said that Janet Chisum died around two o’clock in the mornin’, they found Clancy not guilty.” She paused. “And I think some of the jury felt good ’bout givin’ it to your daddy like that. His wife? And Clancy? Holy hell!”
“Why would they want to give it to him? Didn’t he help families here get compensation from the oil company for what they did?”
“Yes sir. And that very same oil company shut down their platform and upped and left the area. Two hundred men lost their jobs, over half of them from Cantrell. And they were good-payin’ jobs, too. Nothin’ to replace ’em. Hell, over half those boys are still on the government handout. So you see, your daddy is none too popular in Cantrell, at least with certain folks.”
“And so the motivation for his killing Clancy was—”
She finished the sentence for him. “He thought his wife was sleepin’ with the man, o’course.”
“And was she?”
Taggert shrugged. “Who the hell knows? Sherm is a bigger a-hole than his son. Drunk, sloppy, fat, and crude. All the things your daddy ain’t. Why would Victoria want to sleep with hamburger when she’s got filet at home? But then again, no tellin’ what’s in a woman’s mind when it comes to men. We women all got that stupid gene from time to time ’round the boys. Maybe that night was hers.”
“How did my father react when she came forward?”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly happy ’bout it, was he?”
“Did he become violent towards her?”
Taggert studied him. “You mean like he did with you when you was livin’ here?”
Robie had never told anyone about the beatings. No one. He looked away.
Taggert said, “Small town, Robie. Folks see stuff. Even if a man hits where it don’t show.” She paused. “All I can say, and I’m not defendin’ or excusin’ him for what he did, but it seems to me that the man has changed.”
“Good for him. So he didn’t become violent? And she’s still living at the Willows. And she told me she’s been visiting him in jail.”
“No, he didn’t kick her out. And she has been visitin’ him. I don’t know how your daddy feels ’bout all this. He don’t show his emotions. Sort’a like you. But the fact is Clancy’s dead and your daddy has a damn good motive for doin’ it.”
“Where was he when Victoria was spending the night with Clancy?”
“At a judges’ seminar in Jackson.”
“What did she do with Tyler?”
“Priscilla lives with ’em. She takes good care’a that boy.”
“I understand that Clancy was found in his car with a slit throat? Maybe from a Ka-Bar knife?”
“You heard right. Found in his damn Bentley down near the Pearl River. Not that far from where they pulled Janet Chisum’s body out.”
“And my father presumably had no alibi?”
“Home alone. Victoria was in Biloxi with Priscilla and Tyler.”
“Why where they there?”
“Some medical treatment for the boy.”
“Any forensics tying my father to the crime?”
“I can’t get into that. Ongoin’ case. Shouldn’t ’a told you what I did, but I figured you needed to know how things stand. Only fair.”
“I appreciate that, but I still don’t know why you’re helping me. And it’s not just because I got out of Cantrell.”
“You busted up my eye and I close to broke your nose. I figure that makes us blood somethin’s.”
“Is that really why?”
“Works for me. So now you in the loop. What you gonna do?”
What am I going to do? thought Robie. “I’m going to hang around a few days, see what happens.”
“Well, the boys you beat up won’t let that lie. They might come back with more boys.”
“So do I call the police when they do?”
“You call me.” She handed him a card. “Got my personal cell on it. You call 911, I’m not sure you’ll get a speedy response.”
“Is that how it works here?”
“That’s how it works in a lot of places, Robie. Now look, I ain’t tellin’ you to go out and shoot nobody, but do you know how to use a gun?”
He looked out toward the Gulf. On the horizon all he could see were storm clouds, though the sky was clear.
“I know how to use a gun,” said Robie.
Chapter
15
ROBIE TURNED BACK from the Gulf and said, “Can you show me where Clancy’s and Chisum’s bodies were found?”
Taggert looked at him sharply. “Why?”
“Just curious. Is that a problem?”
“Not if you don’t intend on insertin’ yourself into an ongoin’ criminal investigation.”
“Investigation? Or investigations?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“I’m not talkin’ ’bout a connection between the two. There might be. I’m talkin’ ’bout you insertin’ yourself.”
“I do not intend to do that.”
She looked at him skeptically. “That’s about the most half-ass statement I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got, Sheila.”
She studied him for one long moment, her gaze like his long-range optics scope, missing nothing. “C’mon then.”
* * *
She drove them to the end of a gravel road, where they got out of the car.
“Clancy’s place is over that way,” she said, pointing to her right. “Big-ass place. Behind gates.”
“Who lives there now?”
“Just Pete and whatever stupid, drunk gal he’s shacking up with for the night.”
“But you said the other kids might come calling over Sherm’s assets.”
“Yep. And I wouldn’t be surprised if his second wife didn’t show back up, too. They’ll be lookin’ to suck every last penny they can outta dead Clancy, like buzzards over roadkill.”
“So he was found in his Bentley?”
She nodded and led him down a dirt road that twisted and turned deeper into the trees that lined the river.
“Watch where you step,” she said. “Snakes out hot’n heavy this time of year.”
Robie saw one rattler skirt away through some underbrush and then spotted a puffy moccasin gliding on the smooth, brackish surface of the Pearl as they drew close to the water.
Taggert stopped in a clearing and pointed. “Right over there. Bentley was parked next to that tree. He was inside. Front seat, driver’s side. Dead.”
“Do you have pictures of the wounds on his neck?”
She put her hands on her hips. “What the hell part’a not insertin’ yourself did you not understand, son?”
“What, because I want to look at crime scene photos?” he said back.
She gazed at him shrewdly. “Your daddy was in the Marines.”
“I know he was.”
“Purple Heart and Bronze Star in Vietnam. War hero.”
“My father never talked about his time over there.”
“Sayin’ goes, those who did the most talk the least and vice versa. I find that holds true ’bout ninety-nine percent’a the time.” She paused. “Point is, Marines teach you how to kill. They teach you how to slit necks clean.”
“Is that what the police think?”
She looked away. “You want to see where they pulled out Janet Chisum? Not too far from here.”
They got back in her car and drove about a quarter mile farther down a road paralleling the Pearl.
A few minutes’ walk through some woods brought them to the spot. Taggert showed him where the body had snagged on the branch of a downed tree.
Robie gazed at the spot and then looked up and down the length of the river, which was fairly narrow at this point.
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“The body was probably put in the water upriver, then came down here and hooked on the tree.”
“Way we see it, yeah. Forensics showed she’d been dead about twelve hours when her body was discovered. Gator had taken a nibble on her.”
“Have you run a river current analysis to see where she might have gone in the water?”
“How do you know about things like that?” she snapped.
“I watch a lot of crime shows on TV.”
“Uh-huh. Matter of fact, we have. With the currents, time she was in the water and so on appears she was put in close to where we found Clancy’s body.”
“I heard she was killed by a gunshot wound to the head.”
“That’s right.”
“You find the gun?”
“No, but our folks said it was a forty-caliber fired from a Smith & Wesson. And Clancy had one of those, only he said he lost it when we came to collect it for ballistics.”
“What was the time period between their deaths?”
“Well, Chisum’s was much earlier. Had to be, o’course. Clancy was arrested and went to trial. That don’t happen overnight. I’d say ’bout three months, all told.”
“How long between his acquittal and his murder?”
“Only five days.”
“So it was probably connected.”
“One reason your daddy’s sittin’ in jail for the crime.”
“If Clancy didn’t kill Chisum, who did?”
“We’re followin’ that up, Robie, never you mind ’bout that.”
“What has my father said to the police?”
She sighed and shook her head. “You lose all your manners when you moved from Cantrell?”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying, Sheila. Who’s the prosecutor on the case?”
“I guess there’s no harm in tellin’ you that. Aubrey Davis.”
“Aubrey Davis? The one we went to high school with?”
“The same,” she said resignedly.
“He was the most arrogant son of a bitch around here mainly because his parents had money and his father was a state legislator.”
“I would say he ain’t changed a bit. And he’s got a thin’ for your daddy, let me tell you. Mor’n once he got his nuts handed to him in a courtroom by Judge Robie.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say the good prosecutor ain’t above cuttin’ corners gettin’ a conviction. He’s got ambition, see. He’s a prosecutor now with a run for Congress in his future. All he’s got to do is get the nomination and he’s as good as punched his ticket to Dee-Cee. Takin’ down what some folks see as a judge soft on crime would be a right good sellin’ point for his campaign.”
“And with that sort of personal animus against my father he’s allowed to prosecute him?”
“Hell, there’s only two prosecutors in Cantrell and the other one just had a stroke. Leaves Aubrey.”
“And my father’s lawyer?”
“He don’t have one yet.”
“But you said his arraignment was tomorrow?”
“At ten o’clock.”
“He’s been in custody awhile. Why so long before his arraignment?”
“Well, they had to find another judge to preside over it. And they don’t grow ’em on trees down here. They’re bringin’ in a judge from Biloxi to do it. Her schedule just got freed up.”
“I intend to be there.”
“Along with just about everybody else in Cantrell.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“Told you too much already. And you forget the insertin’ part, Will Robie, you’ll find yourself sittin’ in a jail cell like your daddy. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” replied Robie.
Chapter
16
PETE CLANCY AND his buddy had woken up and were gone when Robie returned to Danby’s Tavern.
The girl behind the bar wouldn’t meet his eye when he walked in. The tavern area was pretty full, and all eyes turned to him when he came through the door. Robie was sure that every person in the room knew exactly what had happened here.
He reached his room and unlocked the door, bracing for what he might find. But his room had been untouched. For now. He didn’t intend to give anyone a second shot.
The manager at Danby’s had followed him up the stairs.
“I think you need to leave here. Don’t want no trouble.”
He handed Robie back the cash he had paid for the room.
Robie gave him no argument, because he had already decided to go. He carried his duffel out to the car. He would find another place to stay, preferably outside of town.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and slipped his hand under the dashboard. Using Velcro he had brought with him, he had attached a pair of Glock nine-millimeters there. He patted each weapon to make sure it was secured in place and then set off.
The ride to the Willows took about a half hour as he drove along winding macadam, gravel, and sometimes dirt roads to get there.
He reached the house and turned down the pebbled drive, passing under the mingled canopies of the longleaf pines. The sun was heading down now but its glare was still intense, and the tree canopies provided welcome relief. After his fight with Pete Clancy and his walk through the woods with Taggert, his shirt was sticking to his skin. He felt like he was sitting inside a steam shower.
Good old Mississippi.
The Volvo was parked in front of the house. As Robie pulled to a stop next to it and got out, he could see that a table and chairs had been arranged on the porch. Set on the table was a pitcher full of reddish liquid and some glasses. The overhead fans that were aligned along the wraparound porch were whirling away. When Robie stepped up on the planks he could feel the breeze; it wicked away some of the sweat on his face.
The front door opened before he could knock. He expected to see Priscilla there, but it was Victoria. She was wearing a long, colorful sundress and low-heeled sandals that showed off red toenail polish. A bandana matching her dress was around her head.
“Are you all right?” she asked, looking over his face and body apparently for injuries.
“Who told you about it?”
“Priscilla. Pete Clancy is a bully, just like his father.”
“So you know Sherman Clancy?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away, but led him over to the table and poured them out two glasses from the pitcher.
“Sangria,” she said. “A wonderful antidote to the heat and humidity.