Fortunes of the Dead (20 page)

“Can he do that? Just take me off without my permission?”

“Yes. That's why I always send a letter, just to make sure the other party knows. Sometimes, usually when there is a divorce or a separation involved, the spouse doesn't realize they were taken off the policy.”

“I didn't get a letter.”

“He had me send it to a P.O. box, instead of the home address.”

He has a post office box?
Kate thought.

“I can get you a quote first thing in the morning, or you're welcome to stop in. You should get a pretty good rate. As I remember, it's Cory who has the accidents on his driving record.”

Kate wondered how to explain a situation she did not understand herself, but evidently Rebecca did not require an explanation. It was clear she had seen this sort of thing before.

“If you haven't ordered yet, the meatloaf is good tonight,” Rebecca told her.

Kate put a hand out. “Thanks, by the way.”

“I'm just relieved we got it sorted.” Rebecca stood up. “Let's talk tomorrow, Kate. I can spin you off on your own policy, if that's what you want. I'll call you with a quote.”

She went back to her booth, picked up the small blue-and-white ticket left on her table, rummaged through a wallet and left a generous tip. “'Night, Lennie.”

“'Night,” Leo said, pouring salt into his hand.

A small part of Kate's mind registered a shocked pleasure that Leo had responded, especially when called by the wrong name, but for the most part she was thinking about what Rebecca had just said. That one, Cory had taken her off the auto policy; two, he'd taken a life insurance policy out on her; and three, he had mentioned neither. No doubt, if she brought it up, she would find that he had put her on another auto policy with another company, and that the life insurance was some kind of joint policy, that left her well-provided for, and covered funeral expenses for them both. Cory was high-handed with the finances, though Kate did most of the day-to-day bill-paying and budgeting.

Money embarrassed Kate. She had that ingrained Southerner's reticence about finances, and had always understood from childhood that one does not ask for things.

But she knew she'd paid the auto insurance premium, six months in full, and wondered if a refund had been issued. Maybe it had. Issued and mailed to Cory's post office box. What other things had he directed to his private address? When was the last time she'd received a statement on their joint mutual fund?

Kate was no longer hungry. She wanted to go straight home and look through the bankbooks and check statements and see what else Cory had been up to. It would be easier and more immediate to keep track of the finances online, but Cory had always been adamant to the point of paranoia that they not access or put out any financial information over the Internet. It occurred to Kate that by preventing her instant access to their accounts, it would be easy for Cory to initiate transactions that would take her weeks to discover.

The dinner crowd was beginning to stream in for an early supper, and the empty tables were filling up. Kate's waitress, Renée, came by with Kate's tea and Leo's milk and took their orders for the daily specials. The woman was slender, with short hair, salt-and-pepper gray, and she brought Leo a package of saltine crackers.

“You having chicken again tonight, Leo?” Renée wore easy-fit jeans and a Tennessee Vols T-shirt.

Leo wrapped his fingers around the package of crackers, crumbling them in his fist.

“Leo,” Kate said.

Renée laughed. “So long as they keep him busy, it doesn't really matter if he eats them.” She patted Kate's shoulder. “I'll put your order in.”

It was the sudden drop in noise level that made Kate look up. Two men in suits stood in the doorway of the dining room. One was young, with a blond crew cut and dark roots. Not local. The other was nearing sixty and had a relaxed self-assurance. Both of them looked at her. Kate turned away, but was aware that they were crossing the room toward her. Her hands began to tremble and she looked up and watched them. Everyone in the dining room stared.

“Mrs. Edgers?” The blond opened a leather ID. Kate took the time to look it over. Agent Wilson McCoy of the ATF. The other, Alexander Rugger, Assistant Special Agent of the Nashville office.

Kate stood so abruptly her water glass toppled sideways. Water flowed across the table and dripped to the floor.

Cory had told her to expect this, and she'd already talked to that police captain, Mendez. Maybe it was the surprise that was rattling her. Being approached in a public place with no warning.

Kate took a deep breath. Her knees felt rubbery and she sat back down. She picked up the water glass, looked at Leo, who was still smashing crackers. The cellophane had split and beige crumbs accumulated on the plastic tablecloth.

Kate was aware that the men asked permission to sit, that Renée came by with a thick cloth to clean up the water, that the men refused any offer of food. She felt disconnected, like she'd taken a double dose of antihistamines.

The men took up space, their knees under the table too close to hers, their polished black shoes taking more than their share of room. Kate tucked her feet under her chair, and watched Leo closely. If he started swinging his feet, he'd hit both of the men in the knees.

Kate shut her eyes just for a moment. For some stupid reason she was thinking about the chalkboard on the wall next to the TV listing the dessert menu. There was butterscotch pie tonight, which she'd been looking forward to, but she couldn't order dessert with those men staring at her, she couldn't eat with the men staring at her, and when they left, she wouldn't be able to eat knowing everybody in the dining room was staring at her.

She had a terrible hostesslike compulsion to offer to buy the men dinner. Did she have enough money? She was pretty sure Golden Girls took debit cards, but what if Cory had taken money out of the account and she didn't have enough?

The two agents exchanged looks, and Kate wondered if they'd asked her a question. The blond, McCoy, shrugged. “Mrs. Edgers, we're investigating the disappearance of Cheryl Dunkirk, who as you know—”

“I'm aware of the situation.” Kate looked over her shoulder. No one was out-and-out staring, but people were aware.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, realized Renée was beside her, balancing a round tray of food in her free hand.

“I'm sorry, Renée. Can we … can we wait on the food just for a few minutes?”

“Everything okay here?” Renée asked, keeping a hand on Kate's shoulder.

Kate felt steadier. She realized that everyone in the restaurant who was a regular had taken her side, whatever side that was. Two men in suits against a woman and a four-year-old child. She had mysteriously become part of the community.

Rugger looked at Renée. “I don't think we need anything just now.”

“You want me to go get the owner?” Renée asked Kate.

“No, Renée, thanks. Everything is okay.”

“You sure, honey?”

“I'm sure.”

“Just wave if you need me. I'll be watching.”

“Thanks,” Kate said. She waited until the woman was out of earshot. “I would have appreciated a phone call from you setting up an interview, and I'd also have preferred to talk to you somewhere other than a public restaurant.”

“We were on the way to your house, and stopped across the highway to ask directions. Guy at the Git and Go said you'd just filled up your Wrangler, and had stopped in here. He suggested we could catch up with you a lot easier here. He said we didn't have a chance in hell of finding your house.”

Kate wasn't surprised how aware people were of her every move. The good and bad of small towns.

“I've talked to Detective Mendez from Lexington. I've talked to Agent Benden of the Knoxville ATF. I don't have anything new to tell you. And you are, after all, talking about my husband. I don't have to make a statement or testify against him.”

McCoy ran a hand over his close-clipped hair. “If you think your husband is innocent, Mrs. Edgers, why are you worried about testifying in court?”

“Don't patronize me.” Kate had endured the humiliation of hearing about Cheryl Dunkirk from her mother, though Cory swore he'd been on his way home to tell her in person. He'd dismissed the hints of suspicion about his part in the disappearance as ludicrous, something the Lexington police department was using to hide their own inability to come up with Cheryl's whereabouts. He'd reassured Kate that he was still working with the Lexington ATF office, and hinted that there was a deeper investigation going on, involving something Cheryl had been tangled up in—and that he himself was a major player in the ATF investigation, as he'd mentored the girl quite a bit. It wasn't anything he could talk about; Kate would have to trust him. And he'd told her, with unmistakable smugness, that it would not be long before he was in the clear … even a hero, though he hoped the publicity wouldn't come to that. Some things needed to be kept out of the public eye, just for the sake of professionalism.

Cory had been livid when he found out she'd talked to Detective Mendez. She had told Cory she'd left the detective standing on the porch, but in truth she had invited the detective in and given him a cup of coffee and a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

Detective Mendez had called first, arrived on time, and been oddly reassuring—quiet, comfortable to be around. He seemed to understand a lot without being told and had gone out of his way to make it clear that he would not mention their conversation to her husband unless it was necessary. She hadn't had any information for the detective. He'd had a long drive for nothing. She had wondered, afterward, why he had assumed she wouldn't tell Cory about it. Later, she wished she hadn't. Maybe he'd been giving her advice.

Kate looked at the two men sitting at her table and did not think that her husband was on his way to becoming an ATF hero.

“Mrs. Edgers?” Ruggers said. “Would you like us to come back some other time? When we're not disturbing your dinner?”

Smart
, Kate thought.
Good police work. Make the witness feel like she has control
.

“Ask your questions,” she said. “I'll cooperate as much as I can. I didn't know Cheryl Dunkirk, but I hope you find her, I hope she's okay. Anything I can do to help.”

“How is your marriage, Mrs. Edgers?” McCoy said.

“Just ducky,” Kate said. She knew they had to ask, but she didn't have to like it.

McCoy flipped open a notebook and wrote. “Just ducky. Thank you for your candor.”

Kate covered her mouth with her hand. The urge to laugh was nerves, she knew.

McCoy cleared his throat. “When was the last time you and your husband had—”

Rugger put a hand on McCoy's arm, shook his head, glanced at Leo.

“Sorry,” McCoy said.

Rugger leaned across the table toward Kate. “Mrs. Edgers, obviously, if your husband is innocent of any involvement in Cheryl's disappearance, whatever you say can clear him and get the investigation focused elsewhere. But if he was involved … and you know something about it? Do you really think you're safe?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Kate thought about the insurance policy.

“We have no doubt that Cheryl Dunkirk is dead, and that she was attacked, brutally.”

“How do you know that if you don't know where she is?”

Rugger's eyes were kind. “You know I can't answer that. But hypothetically speaking, Mrs. Edgers, a man who would attack a woman that way doesn't have limits. And it isn't usually his first … moment of brutality. I'm serious about what I said concerning your safety. I have a wife, and kids of my own.”

“Would your wife talk about you to the police?”
On the other hand
, Kate thought,
would Rugger take out a secret life insurance policy on his wife?
She thought about bringing it up, to see what they said. But they would likely just stare at her. She would feel stupid.

McCoy tapped a finger on his notebook. His tone was clipped and bored. “Let's just get through this, okay? Your husband ever hit you?”

Kate glanced over her shoulder, wondering if anyone in the restaurant could hear. “No.”

“You ever been afraid he might?”

“No. I don't let men hit me.”

“Good for you. Was he home the night Cheryl Dunkirk disappeared?”

Kate tilted her head. “That week, Cory was in Lexington. He wasn't home with me.”

“So you can't give him an alibi?”

“No.”

“He always away from home that much?” Wilson cocked his head sideways, voice suddenly conversational.

“Yes. How often are you home? Or aren't you married?”

“I'm not married, ma'am.”

“No love life at all?”

Wilson smiled at her. He wasn't the least bit offended. “My girlfriend has been known to complain. About the hours.”

Rugger laid a picture on the table, avoiding the beads of water Renée had missed. “Have you ever seen this woman?”

Kate picked up the photo. Her first thought was how pretty the girl was. Intelligent-looking, fresh. The only pictures she'd seen before were grainy newspaper reproductions of Cheryl's driver's license photo. Her second was that Cheryl was just the kind of leggy brunette that Cory looked at when he thought Kate didn't notice.

“I don't know her,” Kate said.

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

No woman could ask for a more amusing ex-husband than mine. Being unconventional is like oxygen to Rick, which is why I am sitting behind the desk in his office downtown. Paul Ellis Brady finally returned my phone calls, and landed at Bluegrass Field late last night. He wanted to meet me at my office. I don't have one. And I do not want Brady and Joel to cross paths, which is likely, since Brady could not be available until seven
P.M.
tonight. Meeting at the house was out. And besides, neither Joel nor I had backed down, which meant there had been no packing, no movers, and no delivery of furniture. I knew I could hold out longer than Joel. He didn't have a chance at waiting me out—the man who craves order against the woman of chaos?