Cover Story (10 page)

Bob stepped toward Ormes but Jackson put a hand out to stop him. “Thank you, Ms. Turner. We will probably need to be talking to you again and to Miz Coldicutt. Now, if you and Miz Mathews don't mind, we'd like to speak to Mr. Miller in private. You'll have to leave.” He smiled and it seemed nonthreatening to Lizzie.
But it could be deceiving.

She looped her arm around Molly's waist and pulled her gently toward the door. “Fine. We'll leave.”

Lizzie could feel the fury in Molly's body as she led her down the sidewalk. “They have to question him, Molly. It's their job. We'll just wait in the car until they're finished. They can't object to that.”

“It's not only that, honey. That Special Agent Ormes is a nasty fellow. I would have liked to have smacked his face when he was speaking to you.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Good way to get thrown in jail.”

Molly harrumphed. “You're probably right. I know they have to do it, Lizzie, and I know that Bob knows how to handle them. And I know that he's innocent. It's just that it worries me so.” She eased into the front seat as Lizzie held the car door open for her.

Lizzie slid in behind the steering wheel. “Don't worry. We'll figure out some way to help him.”

Molly reached out and squeezed Lizzie's hand. “I think I'll also have to keep an eye out for you, too. The way that Special Agent Jackson looked at you, he sure is sizing you up and not for handcuffs.”

Best to keep quiet about it and just hope that he never found out what they were up to, or the sparks would fly for sure.

MIND OVER MURDER
—ALLISON KINGSLEY

B
ob appeared at his front door as the two special agents drove off. Lizzie and Molly were halfway up the driveway when he joined them.

“Never did like working with the feds,” he grumbled as he motioned them to the back.

The women chose to sit in the Adirondack chairs while Bob settled himself on the top step. His light green checked sports shirt was open at the neckline and tucked into his usual jeans. His feet were bare and his gray hair stuck out at angles, as if he'd just gotten out of bed. Lizzie felt a jolt of shock to see how much more the fatigue lines aged him. He must have felt her eyes on him because he quickly smoothed his hair into place.

Molly leaned forward from the bench. “I don't like the Ormes fellow. I think he'd be very happy to cause you some trouble, Bob.”

“Now, don't you go worrying none. I can take care of myself. And besides, I've got nothing to hide. I didn't have a thing to do with that counterfeit money and that's a fact.”

“I know you didn't.” Molly reached over and put a hand on Bob's shoulder. “But innocent people are always finding themselves behind bars. There must be something you can do. Or Lizzie and me. What can we do?”

“You'd best stay out of this one, Molly. You, too, Lizzie. I expect Mark's told you that already and I'm adding my warning to his. There's too many bodies right now and what with that counterfeit money, this isn't some small-time crook we're dealing with.”

“I hear what you're saying, Bob. But there must be something we can do. I'll bet they've tapped your phone and your computer, if that's possible. That's what happens in the movies. Can I look something up for you on the Internet? Try to track down somebody or something? You must have some idea about who's behind this.”

Bob chuckled. “You've been reading too many mysteries, Lizzie. I don't have any ideas about any of this, except that Cabe Wilson is dead. His body being found out here may be a warning to me, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why. I'm not a threat to anyone these days.”

“But maybe someone thinks you know something that's tied in to Orwell Rivers's death and the counterfeiting and that it's just a matter of time before you realize what that is. They or he wants to stop you before that happens.”

Bob cocked his head to one side. “All right, I'll allow you that but it still doesn't get us anywhere. My brain's not clicking on anything as yet.”

Molly gave Lizzie a desperate look. Lizzie stood up and started pacing.

“Tell me about Cabe Wilson.”

“Why? What do you have in mind?” Bob asked, looking suspicious.

“Maybe I can track down some information about him on the Internet, something that might make sense or suggest something to you.”

Bob took a minute to think it over. He nodded. “Okay. I'll tell you as long as you promise to limit your inquiries to your computer, young lady. I know what kind of trouble you can get yourself into.”

Lizzie leaned against the porch railing, her left hand in the pocket of her green cargo pants, fingers crossed. “Of course.”

Bob grimaced. “I hope I don't regret this. Well, Cabe Wilson started his thieving when he was in his teens. Mostly petty stuff, lawn furniture that he'd then drive over to Holston County and sell from the back of his daddy's pickup truck. He was actually pretty inventive. Then he worked his way up to housebreaking, mostly electronics. Radios, TVs, cameras, items he could handle on his own.”

“He doesn't sound like a mastermind of anything.”

“Hardly. Although he was smart when it came to finding an angle. Last time I picked him up, he'd broken into the bank one night when workmen were in there doing repairs. No alarm to trip him up. Pretty smart, actually. He tried to get into the vault. His plans were to empty the safety-deposit boxes. But he couldn't find the right key to get him through the gate. So, he stole three small file drawers of customers' information. Thing was, the bank's surveillance cameras were still active. We caught him on tape and found the files in the basement at his mama's house.”

Lizzie was intrigued. “What was he planning to do with the files?”

Bob shrugged. “I don't know if he'd rightly worked that out yet. He did say he was checking them for names of folks who lived in ritzy areas. What that would have gotten him, I don't know. All he'd have to do is drive through Remington Heights with a phone book beside him. Fortunately for the rich citizens of Ashton Corners, I don't think he had a plan of any value. And of course, we did catch him and lock him up.”

Molly had been listening to all this. She asked, “Does this mean anything to you, Bob? Is there a reason in all that for him being at your place? Was he trying to implicate you in the money?”

Bob shook his head. “Not sure why he'd do that, Molly. None of this makes much sense to me.”

“Was he married?” Lizzie asked.

“Not the last I saw him. He lived with his mama over on Tallapoosa. Her name was Clementine, as I recall. I believe she died a couple of years back. If he'd stayed out of jail, the house was probably now his home.” Bob narrowed his eyes. “I'm certain Mark would know all this, Lizzie, and has searched his house, if that's what you're thinking.”

Lizzie just nodded. What could it hurt to search it again? She made sure to keep her actions slow with no sign of anticipation so that Bob wouldn't quiz her on her intentions. She didn't want to get bogged down trying to convince Bob that she needed to do this.

“I think I'd better get a move on. I have a few errands to do this afternoon. Unless I can be of help here?”

Bob raised his eyebrows but shook his head. Molly, almost as if she were reading Lizzie's mind, gave her a sly wink and said, “Why don't you go on ahead. I think I'll stay a bit. That is, if Bob offers me some lunch later.”

“Of course. My pleasure,” Bob said, with much pleasure in his voice.

Lizzie waved good-bye and strolled out to her car. Her plan was to go home, search the Internet for anything on Wilson, check the phone listings for his house, then take a drive over.

After an hour of what Lizzie considered to be wasted time, it appeared that Cabe Wilson wasn't very noteworthy, at least on the Internet. No hits except for newspaper accounts of his various jail sentences and his murder, of course. She did manage to find a listing for his mother's house, still in her name. Lizzie checked Google directions, grabbed her handbag and drove over to the place.

There was no sign of police tape or anything that might keep her out. She had worried about that all the way over. However, she didn't want to be caught for breaking and entering. She parked on the street and walked with assurance up to the front door, just in case any neighbors were watching.

The front walkway needed repair and the shrubs lining the front porch had intermingled so badly it was hard to tell what each plant was. The dark blue paint job appeared new, as did the white trim around the windows and door.

She tried ringing the doorbell and knocking. When after a couple of minutes there was no response, she jiggled the handle but the door was securely locked. The living room window had a tall, narrow side window on either side of it. She checked but they also looked closed tightly. Maybe she'd have better luck in the back.

Again, walking as if she were on legitimate business, she went along the driveway of cracked asphalt to the back chain-link fence. She closed the gate behind her and moved around a huge cedar bush to the back steps.

“Can I help you?”

Lizzie stopped in her tracks and looked at the woman sitting on a lounge chair on the small porch. She looked to be in her late forties, maybe even older. Stringy shoulder-length blonde hair that badly needed both a trim and a dye job was pushed off her face and held back with rhinestone clips. Brown-framed glasses did little to cover the dark circles under her eyes. Her cheeks were pink and puffy, and fuchsia gloss drew attention to pouty lips. She had on a sleeveless pink T-shirt that hugged a well-formed chest and faded cutoff shorts. Jeweled flip-flops dangled from her toes.

“Uh, my name is Lizzie Turner,” she said, trying to come up with a good line.
I was looking for a way to search your house?
“Is this the house of Cabe Wilson?”

The woman looked suddenly stricken. “What do you want? Are you some sort of vulture? Trying to steal something or maybe get a house listing or something? He's dead, you know.” She started sobbing.

Lizzie hurried to the top of the stairs. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just looking for some information hopefully, something that will help find who was responsible for his death.”

The woman drew in a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “You a cop or something?”

“No. But I am a friend of former police chief Bob Miller.”

“Him. It's because of him that my Cabey is dead.”

“I don't think so. Bob wouldn't hurt anyone.”

The woman stared at her a minute. “I don't know about that. But Cabey was on his way to talk to Chief Miller and that's the last I saw him.”

“Do you live with him?”

The woman nodded. “I'm his fiancée.”

“Did he tell you why he was going to Bob's house?”

She shrugged. “I know he was mixed up in something, even though he'd promised me he was going straight. I had told him, when you're straight, we'll get married. Anyway, he said that Chief Miller could help him get out of a bad situation. He'd know what to do.” She started sobbing again. “And what did it get him but killed?”

“I'm so sorry.” Lizzie gave her a moment to compose herself. “What is your name?”

“It's Urliss Langdorf. Cabe used to call me his baby-lips.” That started more tears.

“Can I make you some tea or something?” Lizzie asked.

“Huh? No. Nothing will help.”

“Do you know what Mr. Wilson was mixed up in?”

Urliss bit her bottom lip. “He wouldn't tell me. In fact he kept denying it but I heard him talking on the phone that last night, real hushed-like. He said something about wanting out.”

Lizzie gave that some thought. “Did you tell the police about this?”

“Not about the phone call. They didn't ask. They just wanted to know if I knew why Cabe went to see Miller. I said I didn't know.” She wouldn't look at Lizzie. “I didn't really know any of the details.”

Bad move, Lizzie thought. It might help Bob's case if the police knew he was being asked for help. On the other hand, she didn't really want the police, namely Mark, to know she'd been here.

“I think you should tell the police about this but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention my visit here today to the police. Unless they come right out and ask you, of course. I wouldn't expect you to lie to them.”

Urliss sniffed. “No problem.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

She shook her head then reconsidered. “Well, you could find Cabe's murderer. That's what you said you were doing, right?”

Uh-oh. “I'll do what I can. I'd better get going.” Lizzie touched her arm briefly. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

She walked away feeling lousy at not being able to offer any comfort but pleased that she knew Wilson had been going to Bob for help. Surely that cleared Bob of any wrongdoing. But the question was, how to tell Mark without letting him know how she knew, just in case Urliss didn't.

She unlocked her car door and slid in behind the wheel just as a big black Ford sedan pulled up to the curb. She cringed and wondered if it was too late to duck. Both special agents got out of the car and focused on her. Too late.

They walked over to her driver's window, which was open. “Ms. Turner,” Ormes growled, “just what do you think you're doing here? You'd better not be interfering in a police investigation.”

“I was just scoping out the neighborhood, looking for a new route for my run in the morning.” She tried for an innocent smile.

Ormes scowled.

Jackson tried to hide a grin. “Hope you found what you were looking for.”

He pulled Ormes toward the curb and they walked up the driveway Lizzie had just pulled out of. She breathed a sigh of relief and gunned it out of there.