Killerfind

  * * *

  As Rhetta pulled out of the parking lot, she dropped her visor down to temper the glare from the setting sun. She paused at the exit and groped through her console for a pair of sunglasses. The daylight, although waning, was still bright enough that she had to squint. Glasses in place, radio blasting, she began singing along with the Beach Boys as she cruised to the hamburger stand. McDonald’s sat just a hop across the interstate on the Gordonville Road.

  Although nearing eight, the drive-thru lines were slow going, filled to capacity with university students crowded into vehicles snaking around the restaurant. She glanced at her watch. If she could get her food quickly enough, she might have time to drive by the barn, just to see if someone showed up there. She was pretty sure that this Mylene Allard, whoever she was, couldn’t know what kind of vehicle she drove. Decision made, she’d drive past the barn and scope it out.

  Chapter 19

  Ten minutes later, after suffering through two teenage girls working at the window, followed by a pimply-faced boy with a nose ring, and finally the assistant manager, they finally got her complicated order straight—two double cheeseburgers, ketchup only, no pickles or onions. She tossed the bag of food on to the passenger seat. She eased into the last parking space available and unwrapped the food.

  She hadn’t eaten all day, so she’d ordered two. No fries, although she dearly loved the famous sweet-salty skinny fries. She sighed. Two cheeseburgers means I’ll have to run an extra mile or two tomorrow. She inhaled the distinct aroma of the McDonald’s temptation and took a gigantic bite. It was heaven. While she chewed and dabbed at the grease dripping from her chin, she tried to remember the last McDonald’s burger she’d eaten. It had to be over a year ago. She’d been working hard not to eat fast foods and ran to stay in shape. She sipped her diet Coke, and folded up the first wrapper. Appetite partially sated, she set the second burger aside and backed out of the parking slot. She decided to wait until she finished the soda to see if she was still hungry enough to eat the second one. Maybe her eyes had been bigger than her stomach, as her mother would have said.

  Recalling her mother’s expression made her heart ache, as it did whenever she remembered how an aneurysm resulting from cancer claimed her nearly ten years before. When that happened, her father was nowhere to be found, and hadn’t attended the funeral. He’d abandoned them when Rhetta was only two, only to show up mysteriously a few months ago, giving her a locket that had belonged to her mother. She lost the treasure when she lost Cami. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She rewrapped the second burger, placed it back in the sack, and tossed it all into the trash container as she left.

  The sun was nearly down, its orange dome mere minutes away from sliding over the horizon. Behind her, to the east, the inky night sky was too cloudy to see the stars. She pointed Streak straight for Oak Forest Subdivision. The crime scene tape that had earlier barricaded the entry was gone. Stopping at the gate, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure about going in. Then she reasoned that the Allard woman not only didn’t know what she drove, she undoubtedly wouldn’t know what Rhetta looked like, either. She pulled in.

  Winding her way slowly along the lane to the barn she reflected again on the strange phone call. Who was Mylene Allard, and why did she want to meet at this barn? How did she get her cell phone number? Then Rhetta realized her name had been in all the news reports about the gruesome discovery, so it would’ve been easy for someone to find her. Especially since her cell number was on all her business cards and in some of the advertising, too. However, that didn’t explain why she wanted Rhetta there.

  Rhetta stared ahead through the near dark. The barn stood like a sinister custodian guarding deathly secrets. This wasn’t a good idea. She would turn around as soon as possible and leave. She didn’t see any other lights or vehicles along the driveway. When she reached the barn, she was alone. She pulled up alongside and turned her radio down. She listened carefully, but heard nothing. The call from Mylene Allard, or whoever she was, was probably a hoax. She eased forward past the barn to turn around. As she did, she spotted a vehicle behind the barn—a maroon dually bearing a green oval logo on the door. She recognized Jeremy’s work truck.

  That settled it. She didn’t relish bumping into Jeremy. Just the thought of another encounter with him made the burger in her stomach flip and her reflux kick in. She swallowed bile and quickly made a Y-turn, and headed back down the lane, grateful that Jeremy didn’t come out and catch her cruising around his barn. His truck was the only vehicle there, so Mylene, whoever she was, hadn’t shown up. Rhetta zipped back to the county road wondering now what Jeremy was doing out here at this time of evening. Did this Mylene know Jeremy would be at the barn? She puzzled again at the call.

  Back on a paved road, Rhetta slowed, grappled through her purse for her cell phone and called Ricky.

  This time, her friend answered. “Where are you, Rhetta? Why did you leave so early?”

  “I, uh, am on my way home, again.” That part was the truth. “I tried calling you when I left, but I guess your phone was off.”

  “I turned it off when I put my purse in the closet at Anjanette’s house. I didn’t turn it on until just a few minutes ago, after I got home. Jeremy and I had a terrible fight before I left. I thought maybe he’d call, but, no, he hasn’t.” She sighed. As though just realizing what Rhetta said, she answered, “What do you mean, on your way home, again?”

  After Rhetta told her about Randolph, Ricky asked, “Is he all right?”

  “He’s just staying the night because he conked his head. Doctor Marinthe felt it would be best, considering his past head injury.”

  “Sure, that would be best. By the way, guess what I got today from Fed Ex? It was at my door when I got home.” Ricky could change topics with lightning speed. Sometimes, it caused Rhetta mental whiplash trying to keep up.

  “I give up. What?”

  “I got a check for my Trans Am. But, it’s kinda weird.”

  “What’s weird about it?” Tiny alarm bells began tinkling in Rhetta’s brain.

  “It’s for a thousand dollars more than the price of the car, with instructions for me to immediately send the extra thousand dollars by Western Union to their shipper, a man by the name of Trevor Brinkman in Paducah, Kentucky. The instructions say that Brinkman is waiting for me to send the funds. Why would I have to send money to the shipper?”

  “Ricky, don’t deposit the check, and especially don’t send out any money. I think you’ve been scammed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For one thing, eBay cautions against dealing with anyone who pays you outside of eBay channels, and especially, not to send anyone any funds via Western Union. Didn’t you read all the selling instructions eBay provides?”

  “I guess not. But this Brinkman sent me a business check. It looks legit. Except there are a couple of discrepancies.”

  “How so?”

  “The guy who was emailing me said his name was Herman Epson, but this check is drawn on a commercial farm account in Corinth, Mississippi—Valley View Farms, Inc. with a different signature, which looks like Rita Wilson, while the Fed Ex envelope was sent from an address in Paducah. Isn’t that strange?”

  “You should turn this over to the FBI. This smells like an interstate scam. Shippers don’t get paid in advance, and especially not by the seller. Let’s look at this tomorrow, and see if we can figure it out.”

  * * *

  After disconnecting with Ricky, Rhetta decided to check in on Randolph before going home. Even though Dr. Marinthe assured her that keeping Randolph was strictly for observation, she was worried, especially since Randolph had suffered a serious head injury earlier in the year.

  When she reached his floor, a nurse rose from the station and greeted her. “Sorry, ma’am, but visiting hours are over.”

  “I wanted to check on my husband, Randolph McCarter before I go home.”

&nb
sp; The nurse, a statuesque woman of perhaps thirty, brushed an errant strand of mahogany colored hair from her eyes. “He’s right in here,” she said, pointing to a room across the hall. “He was resting when we checked on him a few minutes ago.” She left the desk and led Rhetta across the hall. She pushed open the door and Rhetta leaned in. Randolph was sleeping peacefully, so she stepped back without going in.

  “Thanks, I won’t bother him. Dr. Marinthe said he should be able to leave in the morning, so I’ll be back then.”

  The nurse nodded, and returned to her desk.

  Rhetta skipped the elevator and bounded down the stairs. She’d also jogged up the two floors on her way in, hoping to get a head start on burning up the hamburger calories.

  Chapter 20

  Monday morning, Rhetta flew through the drive-through at Subway, and grabbed an egg-white-only sandwich on a wheat wrap, and a large cup of coffee. Traffic was especially light and she made it to work an hour early. This time, she noted with satisfaction, she beat Woody there, so she snagged the parking spot closest to the door. Grinning, she unlocked the office. The coffee aroma wafted tantalizingly. She set the steaming cup down carefully and unwrapped the sandwich. While waiting for the computer to boot up, she turned on the radio, then sat back, savoring her coffee and enjoying her breakfast.

  This was going to be a great week, she just knew it. There were several loans that would be closing soon, plus this morning the fresh air smelled sweet with low humidity for the first time in weeks. With the clear sky and the songbirds chattering, the morning couldn’t have been better.

  When she had picked up Randolph from the hospital yesterday morning, Dr. Marinthe cautioned him to take it easy for a few days. Rhetta had hovered over him most of the day, much to his annoyance. Finally, she relented and didn’t follow him out to his studio, where he said he just wanted to paint and unwind. She smiled as she watched the cats follow him to the studio. He tossed them treats along the way. He was acting like his old self.

  Humming a song she’d just heard on the radio, she headed straight to the kitchen area to start a pot of coffee. One morning cup wouldn’t suffice. The Subway coffee was only a tide over.

  Returning to her desk, she caught the tail end of a local radio news report.

  . . . Police were called to Oak Forest Subdivision after a report that the body of a man was found in a barn scheduled to be torn down. The identity of the dead man hasn’t been revealed pending notification of next-of-kin. This is the same barn where unidentified remains were found earlier this month. Stay tuned for updates on this developing story.

  Rhetta sat down hard and stared at the radio.

  The coffee turned to acid while the egg wrap curdled in her stomach. She scanned the computer for the local television station’s website and stared at the scrolling headline. It said the same thing.

  Woody came in just then, waving a newspaper at her. “Did you see this?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Woody stopped at her desk. “Rhetta, are you all right? You look like you’re sick.”

  With that, Rhetta tuned and bolted for the restroom. Woody’s assessment proved correct. She flushed the breakfast down the commode and splashed water on her face.

  When she returned, still drying her face with a paper towel, Woody was seated in front of her desk. “Woody, I was at that barn Saturday night, and saw Jeremy’s truck there. That body—it has to be Jeremy. Maybe he was already dead when I was there. What could’ve happened? Did he have a heart attack? Oh, God, was he murdered?” She whispered this and buried her face in her hands.

  “What do you mean, you were out there Saturday night? Why were you there?’

  She filled him in on what had happened to Randolph and the phone call from Mylene Allard.

  “I have to call Randolph,” she said and grabbed her purse. “I think Mylene Allard may have had something to do with this.” Frustrated and shaking, she couldn’t find her phone. She snatched the desk phone and punched in his number. It rang until his voice mail kicked on.

  “Please call me as soon as you can.” She disconnected.

  Her phone buzzed from the depths of her purse just as she set the receiver down.

  “Rhetta, oh my God, did you hear?” Evidently, Ricky had heard. Her voice caught in a choking sob. “I can’t reach Jeremy on his cell phone. There’s no answer at his house or at Anjanette’s. I think that it might be Jeremy they found out at the barn. Oh, God, Rhetta, I’m scared.”

  Rhetta didn’t know what she could say to comfort Ricky. Her head swirled with the memory of driving past the barn and seeing Jeremy’s truck. And of not wanting to stop because she wanted to avoid Jeremy. “I’m sure you are, honey. Please, stay strong. Let me try to reach Randolph again. He knows the coroner. I’ll try to find out something.”

  As she disconnected, Woody, who had left her desk to answer the ringing phone at his own desk, waved frantically at her. “Hold on, Randolph, she’s coming.” He gestured for Rhetta to pick up.

  She punched the hold light. “Randolph? Did you hear?”

  “I did, Rhetta. Are you all right? How’s Ricky?”

  Rhetta paused. “Ricky is frantic. Is it Jeremy? The radio didn’t say.”

  This time it was Randolph who paused. “Yes, Rhetta, it’s Jeremy. He’s dead.”

  Chapter 21

  Rhetta recoiled as though kicked by a mule. “Dear God.” She ran her hands through her hair. “How did he die? Was it from natural causes?” Although she asked, and prayed it was so, deep in her gut she knew it wouldn’t be.

  “Matt said it appears to be from a blow to the head, although he couldn’t confirm until after the autopsy.”

  “When will that be?” Rhetta began to swallow, hoping to keep the nausea at bay.

  “Matt isn’t a physician, so the autopsy will be done in St. Louis, by the medical examiner there.” Matthew Clippard, the Cape Girardeau County Coroner, was an undertaker, not a doctor. In second-class counties like Cape, no medical license was required to run for coroner. Typically, the post was held by funeral directors.

  “Isn’t that where the other body was taken, too?”

  “It was. By the way, Matt said they have a cause of death on the first remains, but are waiting for testing to confirm the identity. The first victim also died from a blow to the head.”

  Rhetta shuddered. “Two people killed in that barn each by a blow to the head? Do we have a serial killer on the loose?”

  Randolph grunted. “I think it’s a little premature to suspect a serial killer. There’s been a great deal of time between the two deaths. But since there’ve been two men killed in that same barn, I’m sure the police will be looking at all angles.”

  “I was there Saturday night, Randolph,” Rhetta whispered. Her eyes welled. Why in the heck had she gone out there? She could kick herself.

  “There? You mean at the barn? When did you go there? And why?”

  She told him about the strange phone call, and her decision to drive by out of curiosity, then what she saw when she drove past the barn.

  “I’m coming to get you, and we’re going straight to the Sheriff’s office. You may be a witness. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m on my way.” He disconnected.

  She nodded, although she knew he couldn’t see her. She stared at the phone.

  Woody appeared by her desk. “You’re in it up to your eyeballs, aren’t you?” he said, shaking his head. He lowered himself into her guest chair and began massaging his slick head.

  “I didn’t see anything, Woody, only Jeremy’s truck.” She pushed a file away from her. She couldn’t concentrate on work, now. “Maybe I should have stopped at the barn when I was out there.”

  Woody shook his head, stood and began to pace. “If you would’ve stopped, how do you know you wouldn’t have been hit over the head, and be dead now, too?”

  That thought made whatever was left in her stomach churn, and she bolted again for the bathroom.

  * * *
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  She came out of the restroom just as Randolph walked through the front door. With him was LuEllen, reporting for work, her expression somber. Her grey hair was pulled back into a knot at her neck and her normally dancing blue eyes were huge and questioning.

  “I heard the news on the way in here,” LuEllen began, dropping her purse on the table and continuing to Rhetta’s desk. “What in heaven’s name is going on?” She stared from Woody to Rhetta.

  Rhetta patted her arm. “LuEllen, I’ll be out of the office for a while. I’m going with Randolph to make a statement at the Sheriff’s office.”

  They nodded. Rhetta grabbed her purse. Randolph held the door.

  “Let me drive, Randolph, I don’t think you should be driving today. Dr. Marinthe said not to for a few days, remember?” He ignored her and held the truck’s passenger door open. She climbed in.

  He hurried to the driver’s side, and slid in behind the wheel. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I may have a knock on my noggin, but I think you may be too upset to drive. Let me be the pilot, okay?”

  Rhetta fastened her seat belt. “I’m not as upset as I am shocked. I’m worried about Ricky. Does she know about Jeremy?”

  Randolph maneuvered into the northbound lane on Kingshighway before answering. “She knows. I called Talbot Reasoner on my way here, and told him you would be coming in for a statement. He told me they had Ricky there and a detective was questioning her.”

  “Questioning her? What do you mean?”

  Randolph reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand. “They found her metal detector by the body. It had fresh blood and other DNA evidence on it. They suspect it may be the murder weapon. ”

  “The metal detector?” Rhetta flashed on her last memory of the thing. She couldn’t remember whether or not Ricky had taken it with her when they left the barn the day they found the body.

  “They’ve pulled prints off it, and are waiting for the results,” Randolph continued, turning right into the Cape Girardeau County offices.

  “I had to be fingerprinted to work for the bank,” Rhetta said, squeezing Randolph’s hand. “They’re going to find my prints on that metal detector, too.”