Laid Out and Candle Lit (14 page)

BOOK: Laid Out and Candle Lit
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Tizzy took a quick breath and waved her hands in the air. “How silly of me, naturally being a horrible mother goes hand in hand with being a murderer. Give me a break!”

Ridge tried to soften his tone. “Look, I’m just saying it doesn’t look good that you chose not to tell me.”

Her body flushed and her face burned red-hot spreading anger through her body like wildfire. “I can’t believe this. You think I did it. This conversation is over. Anything you want to discuss with me concerning this case from now on will need to go through my lawyer.”

Ridge took offense. “So, now you need a lawyer?”

“I think I do. I didn’t kill her and I know you can’t prove I did due to lack of evidence and you won’t find any.” She winced as her voice came out, shrill and amplified. “You won’t find one fiber . . . one hair . . . one fingerprint from me on anything! Not on her . . . not in her car . . . not at the lake house . . . not anywhere!”

He clasped her arm. “What did you say?”
She jerked her arm free. “I said you won’t find any. . .”
“He quickly interrupted. “What did you say about a lake house?”
She clasped her hands over her ears and plopped back down on the porch.
Ridge placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tizzy, are you all right?”

“My head, it’s roaring. Oh my God! That’s one of the things they were trying to tell me at the cemetery. They wanted me to tell you about the lake house.”

He took her hands from her head and held them. “One of the things? What else were they telling you?”
Quickly she pulled free and spat the words out. “Get your hands off me and I would like for you to leave now.”
“Please, Tizzy. . .”

She jumped to her feet and went inside with Ridge following. She spun around and faced him. “I am such an idiot. That’s what all the holding and touching has been about. That’s why you’ve been so sweet to me . . . to Gracie.”

“Tizzy, no. That’s not why.”

“What did you think?” She stomped her foot. “Did you think the poor lonely widow would be so taken with your charm she’d get lost in the heat of the moment and confess?
Oh yes, I did it. Put me in jail. Lock me up and throw away the key.
You are really something. It’s one thing to play me for a fool, but to bring Gracie into it is just unforgivable. You should be ashamed of yourself. Get out of my house. Get out of my life. Mine and Gracie’s.”

He reached out for her. “Tizzy, that’s not how it is. Give me a chance to explain.”
She took a step back. “Tell me, why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m telling the truth,” he said.

“That’s funny, because I’ve been telling you the truth from the beginning and you don’t believe me.” She walked to the door and flung it open. “I would like for you to leave,” she said, regaining some composure. “Leave, and don’t come back.”

 

* * * * *

 

Ridge sat in the overstuffed chair reading over the reports he’d picked up at the police station. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Tizzy’s reaction to his questions had not been what he’d expected. But then again he’d handled the meeting poorly. With her, his “A” game was always off. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her. He should have told her he believed her whether he did or not. The truth was…he did believe her. He had to.

He crossed the hall to the kitchen, opened the fridge, took out a beer and popped the top. Strolling out to the front porch, he sat down on the swing. He could hear both of them next door in the back yard. The squeak of the swing going back and forth as Tizzy pushed, and the sweet voice of Gracie singing, “
If you’re happy in your nose, clap your hands, If you’re happy in your nose, clap your hands”
Ridge smiled.

Just about the time he thought of making another attempt to talk to her, Bubba’s patrol car pulled into the drive. He got out and ambled up to the porch. “You’re not gonna believe this, but the perp from the bar just died.”

Ridge stood up. “Not possible,” he said. “The gunshot wound wasn’t life threatening. I thought he was going to be transported to jail tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Well, he didn’t die from the gunshot. Apparently, he died from a heart attack. I guess twenty-plus years of drug use will put you into an early grave. I’m going to the hospital to take care of some paperwork, thought you might wanna come.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute to get my badge and gun.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

I
t was early afternoon by the time Ridge got the forensic team and Bubba to accompany him to the lake house. Secluded among tall trees, the long and narrow road provided only one way in and one way out.

A covered porch spanned the length of the log cabin. Everyone pulled on rubber gloves and with search warrant in hand, Ridge tried the door and discovered it unlocked. When they stepped inside, the strong stench of bleach caused their breath to catch in the back of their throats and their eyes to burn. Someone definitely had been expecting the cabin to be checked out.

The front door opened into one large room with a kitchen and eating area on one end and a bathroom on the other. In the middle of the room, sectioned off by flowing white drapes hanging from a ceiling track, were a king-sized bed and a small seating area. Ridge walked to the drapes and slid them to the end of the track. The bed was stripped to the mattress and there were no pillows.

Ridge shook his head and glanced back at CSI Ted Mitchell, tall, lean, and all business. He’d requested Ted because he was the best the department had to offer. “Go over everything with a fine tooth comb. Work your magic and find me something . . . a hair, a fiber, residue, anything,” Ridge said.

Bubba cleared his throat and wiped his nose. “Somebody did some serious cleaning. Whattaya bet we aren’t gonna find much evidence?”

The forensic team started at the entry, dusting for prints, while Ridge walked to the small refrigerator and pulled the door open . . . empty. He moved to the sink and removed the trash receptacle, then found the can also empty. He lowered his head into the can and sniffed. “I think I can smell a hint of marijuana.”

Bubba squinted his eyes. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my brain around the forensic report. Damn! Alcohol
and
weed in Marlene’s system. Man, Miss Nose-in-the-air . . . I’m-better-than-you Marlene Weston using drugs. This just keeps gettin’ better and better.” He cocked his head to one side. “Did you ever do ’em? You know, when you were young?”

“Nope. You?”

“No way, man.” My biological mama was an addict . . . gave me away because of drugs. The Tatum’s were too old to adopt, but they pulled some strings and got me. I was always afraid they might change their minds and not want me anymore, so that kept me on the straight and narrow. I didn’t even drink. How about you?”

“Never was my scene. My dad was a cop and from an early age I wanted to be like him, so I was a good kid.”

They continued to move through the room, opening drawers and cabinets as they talked. “I wasn’t as pure as you. I did my share of drinking,” Ridge said.

“You think Marlene and Carl came out here to smoke some dope and spice up their love life a little?” Bubba asked.

“Are you kidding? According to their housekeeper, they hadn’t slept together in years. I’ll bet if Marlene was using this place to spice things up, Carl wasn’t involved.”

“Well, if she was having an affair and Carl found out, that would give ’em motive.”

Ridge shrugged. “Hard to say. Maybe he knew and didn’t care.”

Bubba stretched his lips tight. “I heard a rumor a few years back that Carl was carrying on with Leah. If that was true, Marlene might have been doing payback.”

Ridge did a head jerk. “Carl and Leah Trammell? Isn’t she older than Carl?”

“Yeah, by about ten years. But hell, she’s not a bad looking woman. And besides, if I had a choice between Marlene and Leah, which one you think I’d choose?”

“Good point,” Ridge said.

Bubba walked to the bathroom door and opened the medicine cabinet. “Well, nothing in here. I guess she could have met someone out here for sex and then they went their separate ways. Not a bad arrangement, I guess.”

“But not the way you like it, right?”

“Hell no. Not anymore. I’ve had my share of one night stands, but those days are over. I’m in love with Rayann and I want her beside me all night,
every
night. After she leaves in the morning, I don’t sleep so good. I’m already used to her little body.”

“Speaking of Rayann, has she told you anything Tizzy said about me? Yesterday, we had a misunderstanding.”
“You like Tizzy, don’t you?” Bubba asked.
Ridge took a deep breath. “Yeah, a little too much.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”

 

Hours later, along with Bubba, Ridge stood on the porch and stared across the lake. The smell of honeysuckle and wild privet caused his nose to twitch.

Ted Mitchell opened the door and joined them. “We didn’t get much, but maybe it’ll be enough,” he said.

Ridge smiled. “I knew if anybody could find something, you could. Whattaya got?”

Ted grinned with pride. “We found several hairs. One in a spider web, two on the air filter and one stuck in a crevice behind the door to the bathroom. We also took some hairs from both drains, but I’m guessing the bleach probably ruined any DNA on them. Hopefully, the random hairs will be helpful. We also found a couple of partial prints on one of the doors and a good one under the lip of the kitchen counter. I’ll put a rush on the testing and try to have results in a few days. If we’re lucky, something will match one of your suspects.”

Ridge’s heart pumped double time. “You’re the man, Ted.”

 

* * * * *

 

Ridge propped a dry erase board up on an easel, drew columns and headed each one with a name and copied information from his notes. Tizzy Donovan
—long history with Marlene—part owner of the bank—Gained controlling interest—argued with Marlene day of murder—inside bank night of murder/same time as Marlene—found body—no alibi.

He frowned. That was a lot.

Now for Carl Weston—
husband of victim—unhappy marriage—beneficiary of substantial life insurance—no alibi—affair?

He smirked, moving on to the next one. The woman was a trip. Leah Trammell
—Bank secretary—didn’t like Marlene—affair with Carl?—no alibi.

Norma Harkey
—Marlene’s only friend—Telephone call night of murder.

Finally, Kyle Richmond
—old boyfriend.

He sat down, leaned back in one of the dining chairs, and studied the board. Plenty of suspects, but not one he could connect to the crime. So far, not a shred of physical evidence. No hair. No fibers. No skin. No fingerprints.

The report from the car turned up a single denim fiber
matching the jeans Marlene had been wearing. Also dirt on the floor below the driver’s seat matched soil from the cemetery
and
from downtown area. The dirt on the floor behind the driver’s seat matched soil from the downtown area only.
This led Ridge to believe he was right about the crime. She was taken at the bank, then to the cemetery, killed there, and her murderer drove her car back to the bank. With so little physical evidence, the crime was premeditated. Ridge was convinced more than ever that this was not a spur-of-the-moment robbery.

He laced his fingers together behind his head, leaned back and stretched his long legs out in front of him while he stared at the board. He read over each item again and shook his head. Unless he caught a break from the cabin search, he didn’t have anything.

Ridge had DNA samples from Carl Weston, Leah Trammell, Marlene’s two children, every man and woman at the bank, Norma Harkey and Tizzy. He contemplated his next move in the case. Tomorrow, he’d return to Dallas to question employees of the hotel where Marlene stayed according to her credit card charges. And after that, old boyfriend Kyle Richmond.

 

* * * * *

 

The next morning, Ridge woke early. He gathered the papers concerning the murder and stuffed them into his briefcase. He only packed an overnight bag. If he needed to stay longer, he had plenty of clothes at his apartment.
Looking around the room, the old house felt more like home than his place in Dallas.
What was it with this house . . . this town . . . this woman?

He walked to the window and stared toward her house. A light was on in the kitchen, and her shadow moved at the sink. Then the light went off, and the one in the living room came on. Suddenly, she appeared at the window. When she saw him, she stepped away. He gave a short whispered laugh.
Yeah, you’re thinking about me. You may not be ready to talk to me, but you’re thinking about me.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed the last blueberry muffin, spread on butter, and nuked it for a few seconds. The muffin came out hot and oozing. He took a bite and leaned against the door to the dining room staring at the crime board. Something didn’t feel right. Marlene’s drug use was a surprise. Maybe a connection could be made once he interviewed the hotel employees. Something new would come to light. Then there was Kyle Richmond. He attended the funeral. As an old friend and former classmate, or as a lover?

Ridge decided to swing by Sweet Thangs on his way out of town and pick up some baked items to take with him. He would at least get a chance to see Tizzy and find out if she’d cooled off any.

Sweet Thangs had a quaint store front with two big glass windows framed with lace curtains. Ridge parked in front, went in and took a seat at the counter, positioning himself as close to the kitchen as possible with access to Tizzy as she came in and out from behind the counter.

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