Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) (30 page)

“No, she said it was Cookie who mentioned it.”

“Hmm. I’m surprised she talks to Cookie. They don’t seem cut out to be friends. Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge. For the first time in a long time I don’t have to wonder who Gary is sleeping with. Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

“There is one more thing. Did Gary ever talk business with you, like mentioning loans he made or business deals?”

She grows still, suddenly wary. “Sometimes.”

“Did he tell you he had a business venture going with Slate and Angel?”

“Only the water park, but that was a while back.”

“So Gary never mentioned that he and McClusky had a scheme to get Gabe LoPresto to buy McClusky’s resort?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about that. As far as I’m concerned LoPresto is no better than my husband. If somebody is scheming against him, he deserves it.” Her eyes go to the kitchen cabinets, and I can see that she’s impatient to get back to work. “What does that have to do with Gary’s death?”

“I’m trying to figure that out. But if he didn’t confide in you, there’s nothing more I need to ask.”

I’m satisfied with what Barbara Dellmore told me, and yet when I get back to the station, I’m itchy. Something she said is echoing at the back of my brain, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I have a feeling it was something about the bank. Did it have to do with Darla Rodriguez?

“The way I figure it, somebody broke into Camille Overton’s house to get the key to the McClusky house. And they stole the gun to kill Dellmore and then afterward put the gun back.”

“How did they know the McCluskys had a gun in the first place?” Rodell says.

“Even if they didn’t know for sure that McClusky kept a gun, they’d know it was likely—after all he owns a hunting resort. McClusky told me himself that he kept the gun for times when Angel was by herself. I imagine it wasn’t a secret.”

Rodell rubs the side of his jaw. “I don’t know if my brain has been addled by alcohol, but I’m having a hard time puzzling this out. How would the killer know that anybody would check McClusky’s gun to find out it had been used to kill Dellmore?”

We sit lost in thought for a minute. “Here’s a possibility,” I say. “I wondered why somebody broke the window when they went to put the gun back, instead of using the key again. Maybe they meant to call attention to the fact that McClusky had a gun.”

Rodell snickers. “Or maybe the killer lost the key.” Rodell is more alert than I’ve seen him in years, although his skin still looks like bread dough. “Or,” he points a finger at me. “Maybe McClusky broke the window himself to make it look like somebody stole the gun.”

“I’ve pretty much ruled out McClusky as a suspect. He had a lot to lose with Gary Dellmore dead.”

“Maybe McClusky thought Dellmore couldn’t be trusted to keep quiet about his part in the water park deal. Dellmore was killed after that meeting you all had. Maybe McClusky thought people were getting too close to figuring out that the water park deal was what sent the town’s finances into a tailspin, and he was afraid Dellmore would blow the whistle on him for fraud.”

“I thought of that, but I only got interested in the water deal
after
Dellmore was killed. If he hadn’t been killed, people would have put the blame on Alton Coldwater and moved on. Also, Dellmore was the key to getting Gabe LoPresto interested in buying McClusky’s resort to get out from under some of his debts. Without Dellmore, LoPresto is a lost cause. It doesn’t make sense for McClusky to kill him.”

“I hate to say it,” Rodell says, “but the only person you’re leaving open is Barbara Dellmore. She had motive and opportunity. Unless you think Alan or Clara killed him, which is going way too far out on a limb.”

I describe my last interview with Barbara, hoping that telling him might trigger the elusive thought I had at the time. But when I finish, the idea seems farther away than ever.

Rodell moves restlessly. He seems a little stronger, but he’s still on the sofa. At least he is sober. “By God, I wish I could get up and go help you out.”

“If you did, what would you do first?”

He screws his face up. “I don’t know. Go talk to everybody again, I guess.” He sighs. “This is the kind of situation that makes me want to have a beer.”

I get up from my seat. “I appreciate getting your input on this.”

“I don’t know that I was much good to you.”

“As matter of fact, you did rattle one thing loose when you said I should talk to everybody again. There is one person I haven’t questioned yet. Darla Rodriguez.”

He makes a gun out of his hand and shoots. “Good place to start.”

So it’s back to the bank. I park in the lot and as I’ve taken to doing lately, I scan the cars parked there to see if there’s one that could be taken for Dellmore’s Crown Victoria. For once I score and spot a car in the lot that could be mistaken for a Crown Vic in the dark.

I ask several people before I’m directed to a bookkeeper. She’s startled when I ask to speak to her privately. In her forties, she’s plump, with a pleasant, round face. “How well did you know Gary Dellmore?” I ask.

She shakes her head and looks blank. “I can’t say I knew him at all.” She gets a look of distaste on her face. “I’m not exactly his type. He was more chatty with the younger girls.”

“The Buick belongs to you?”

“Actually, no. I’m driving it today. It’s my brother’s car.”

“How long have you been borrowing it?”

She’s increasingly puzzled. “Today was the only day. He’s visiting from Dallas and he wanted to go fishing, so I lent him my little pickup.”

“When did he get here?”

“Why are you asking? Has he done something?”

“I’m not sure. If I know when he got here, I’ll be able to judge a little better.”

“He got here Sunday. He’s taking a week off.” Now she’s distinctly annoyed.

“I appreciate your help. That’s all I needed to know. Your brother’s in the clear.”

“Wait a minute. It’s not right for you to ask me questions and not tell me what’s going on. Did somebody complain about my brother? He can get rowdy sometimes.”

“No, nothing like that. There was a car like your brother’s involved in a little dust-up last week, but if he didn’t get here until Sunday, it has nothing to do with him.”

Darla’s a pretty girl, wearing a curvy black business suit that manages to look professional and sexy at the same time. A little white lace something peeks out from the cleavage of the jacket. She’s wearing a necklace with a single diamond that nestles in the hollow of her throat. That’s cold, wearing Gabe’s birthday gift after declaring the gift wasn’t good enough and insisting he take her off for an expensive weekend and then dumping him.

“How can I help you?” Her eyes sparkle as if I’m the very person she was hoping would come to see her.

I introduce myself.

“I know who you are.” She says it like she admires me, which I doubt.

“I need to ask you a few questions about Gary Dellmore.”

“Like what?”

“Why don’t we find a spare office, or I can take you down to the station.”

She looks startled. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I think we can find someplace private.” She looks out over the lobby. “Let’s go over there.” She points to an isolated desk over by the wall. Nobody is sitting nearby. The desks are arranged so that customers can consult with bankers about their finances without being overheard.

We sit down, and she turns her whole attention to me. “Now what can I help you with?” By now Slate McClusky has had plenty of time to alert her, so I expect she knows exactly why I’m here. She’s a good bluffer; I’ll give her that.

“What was your relationship with Gary like ?”

The light in her eyes snuffs out. “I loved Gary. He was such a wonderful man. A great boss.”

“Did you have any problems with him at all?”

“Problems?”

“Like him being too friendly, harassing you, anything like that?”

She looks like she’d like to laugh. “Absolutely not. He was always professional.” Light dawns in her eyes. “Oh, you’re thinking about Jessica Reinhardt. That poor girl had such a crush on him. He knew it too, and he was really sweet to her.”

“Sweet, like going to her house and trying to seduce her?”

“Did she tell you that? He went over there to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For getting her in trouble with the Dragon Lady—Cookie Travers was on her case.”

“Gary’s death hit Jessica hard. She seemed to think Gary came by her place because he was interested in her.”

She shrugs. “When somebody has a crush like that, anything a guy does can be misunderstood.”

“How often did you see Dellmore outside of work?”

She allows herself a tinkly little laugh and cuts me a knowing look. “Oh, I see. Are you a friend of Gabe’s? He was so jealous of Gary.”

“Just answer the question.”

She examines her manicured nails. “We had dinner together sometimes, but it was always to discuss bank business. It was never about sex between us.”

“You had a lot of business with him, didn’t you? Including a scheme to persuade Gabe LoPresto to invest in Slate McClusky’s failing resort.”

“Gabe is a grown man. If he doesn’t want to take on an investment, he won’t. But I think he’s missing a great opportunity.” Her voice has grown cold.

“How great can the opportunity be to open a big game resort when you can’t have big game there?”

Her eyes grow big. “You mean that problem Slate had with the animals? He told me the quarantine was going to be lifted soon. I hope he wasn’t fudging.”

“You’re a pretty ambitious girl, aren’t you?”

She giggles. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It can be. You’ve made yourself a few enemies.”

“Who? Barbara Dellmore? What can she do to me? Her buddy-buddy Cookie Travers? Cookie has absolutely no power over me. Alan thinks I’m great and he won’t let Cookie fire me.”

“What is your relationship with Slate McClusky?”

“Slate and I have an understanding. Strictly business.”

“Not the same kind of ‘understanding’ that Gary and Angel Bright had?”

She grins. “So you know about that? These women and their crushes on Gary!”

“You weren’t attracted to him?”

“Not the way other women were. Gary and I were too much alike.”

“Angel seemed to think Gary was going to leave his wife and marry her.”

“God, no.” She leans across the desk, eyes glittering. “But I told him he’d better be careful. Angel might be more dangerous than he thought she was if she found out he had no intention of leaving his wife for her.”

“Do you think she killed Gary?”

She sits back, staring at me while she thinks about my question. “I can’t imagine that she would. She hadn’t gotten to that point yet where she thought there was no hope. That’s when you have to worry.”

Her words echo with me as I drive away from the bank. I keep going over them. When I get to the station, I sit outside and go over my conversation with her again. Something she said triggered the same kind of mental nudge I got when I last talked to Barbara Dellmore. And then it comes to me, what both Darla and Barbara said that snagged my interest. I hope I’m wrong, but I think I know who killed Gary Dellmore.

I hurry into the station and start looking through the reports I’ve jotted down the last couple of days and finally come to the one I’m looking for. This time I won’t be telephoning Mrs. Witz about her missing car, I’ll be going out to see her in person.