Stalking Ground (14 page)

Mattie steered around the last curve above Hightower and headed down into the valley where the small town nestled. She’d turned up the heater at the top of the pass, and Robo appeared to be cozy and warm, curled up asleep in his compartment. She’d once thought Stella’s silence meant she was dozing too, but a quick check revealed her to be deep in thought. Stella was like that—a thinker.

Armed with Velda Howard’s address programmed into her GPS, Mattie drove right to her destination. She parked in front of the small clapboard house, gray boards exposed beneath peeling white paint, yard turned to weeds overgrown to midcalf. Robo stood up, yawned, and stretched, shoulders down and haunches raised.

“You’re going to stay here,” she told him.

His expectant expression turned to one of resignation as he plopped down into a sit.

“You ruined his day,” Stella observed, picking up her briefcase from the floorboard.

Mattie reached through the heavy steel mesh at the front of his cage to give him a pat. She picked up her notebook, and the two of them headed up the cracked sidewalk that led to the front door.

Ringing the bell, Mattie heard an obnoxious buzz on the other side rather than the pleasant dingdong she’d expected. They waited.

The door caught, screeched, and then burst open as the woman behind it tugged. Average height, she wore a thin flannel robe wrapped around her skinny frame. She had mousy blonde hair turned mostly gray, worn loose and frizzy around her face. Wrinkles lined her mouth and her red-rimmed eyes; smoke wafted from the cigarette she held between two fingers, the nails painted with chipped red polish. “Who are you?”

Mattie introduced herself and then Stella. “Are you Velda Howard, ma’am?”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re here about Adrienne.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re sorry for your loss,” Mattie said. “Could we come in and have a word with you?”

Velda looked past her to where Robo sat in the patrol vehicle.

“You’re not going to bring that dog in, are you?”

“No, ma’am. He’ll wait in the car.”

The woman gave a heavy sigh and turned away, leaving the door open for them to enter. “That dog looks like a monster with those great big teeth,” she muttered, her back turned.

And here Robo was giving you his best smile
.

Mattie tried to reserve judgment and stifled her instant dislike. After last summer’s murder case, she’d promised herself to not jump to conclusions, especially about families. She struggled to close the sticky door after Stella entered the room, but she had to settle on leaving it slightly cracked open.

She took in her surroundings. Shabby avocado-green carpet, brown recliner and sofa with worn upholstery, cheap-looking end table by the recliner, and coffee table in front of the sofa, everything covered in a layer of grime. The place and the woman both shouted “run-down.”

Sinking into the recliner, Velda raised a jelly jar half-filled with amber liquid as if offering a toast while she eyed them both. “Care for a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Stella said.

“I didn’t suppose you would,” Velda said, taking a sip that ended with another long sigh, this one sounding satisfied rather than put out. “What can I do ya for?”

Mattie caught the whiff of whiskey that rode on the sigh. She wondered if it was the alcohol that left the mother so detached about her daughter’s death or something else.

“We’re working your daughter’s homicide,” Stella said. “We hope we can get some information from you that can help us solve her case.”

“I told that fella that called me, I don’t know anything about Adrienne these days.”

“When was the last time you heard from her?”

“You make it sound so . . . homey. Like she might think of her mother once in a while. Like she might actually pick up the phone and call.” She sniffed, and with a cigarette posed between two fingers, she used the back of her wrist to wipe an indiscernible tear from her eye. Smoke settled around her head.

Mattie followed Stella’s lead and waited.

Velda peered at them, adjusted the flap of robe at her neck. “Adrienne left the summer after she graduated from high school. Five, six years ago. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“We’ve found her high school boyfriend, Kevin Conrad. Do you know him?” Stella asked.

Velda gave a derisive snort. “That’s why she left. The no good SOB made her go.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He poisoned her against us.”

“Who is ‘us’? You and . . .”

“Me and her father. Her family.”

“Is her father available for us to talk to?”

“He died a few years ago. Adrienne broke his heart.”

“Does Adrienne have siblings?”

Velda narrowed her eyes, looked at her dwindling cigarette, took a puff. “One brother.”

“I’d like to contact him,” Stella said.

“Good luck. If you find him, tell him his poor old mother says hello.” Velda stubbed out her cigarette with a vengeance in an overfilled ashtray, took out another, and lit up. “He left home before Adrienne.”

“What’s his name?” Mattie asked.

“Roger.”

“Same last name . . . Howard?”

“Um-hum.” Velda lifted her glass, swirled the whiskey, and took a sip.

“Why do you say Kevin Conrad poisoned Adrienne against you?” Mattie asked.

“He made her turn her back on us when we needed her most.”

Another pause. “What do you mean?”

Velda brushed at the nap on her robe. “She graduated high school. Had a good job. We could have used some help.”

“Financial help?” Mattie asked.

“Help around the house, help paying the bills.”

“Were you and your husband unemployed at that time?”

A trace of belligerence came into the woman’s face. “What? You think we didn’t work hard? David hurt his back, couldn’t work for a while. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“We’re trying to get a picture of the circumstances surrounding Adrienne’s departure, see if it ties into anything involving her death,” Mattie said. “We need to know more about her.”

Velda’s lips puckered and turned downward. “She ran. She ran away when things didn’t go her way. She was a spoiled brat. That’s what she was.”

The venom behind her words shocked Mattie. She looked at Stella, turning the lead back over to her.

“We found a photo album in Adrienne’s room,” Stella said, taking it out of her briefcase. “Could you look at these pictures and see if you recognize anyone?”

Velda perked up, looking like she actually might take an interest. Stella rose from the sofa and moved over to stand beside Velda’s chair, offering her the album. Taking it readily, she flipped open the front cover. Mattie had looked through the photos several times and knew that many of them were snapshots of tourist spots and landscapes, but several of them also contained people. She watched as Velda flipped through pages, stopping here and there to search faces.

“Here’s Kevin, right here,” she said, using the pinkie on the hand that held her cigarette to tap the page. “Smug son of a bitch.”

Mattie decided to move over beside Velda’s chair where she could see which person the woman was tapping. Posing by the mound of mineral deposit beside the Pagosa Springs, Colorado, sign, Kevin grimaced, pinching his nose with thumb and index finger. Mattie had been there before, and she knew the odiferous water from the hot springs tainted the air throughout the town. He looked young, probably in his late teens at the time of the photo. Sandy hair, ruddy complexion, good-looking. He wore that devil-may-care, bad-boy persona that mothers dread.

Velda turned the page and tapped the photo that showed Adrienne posing with the mystery man. “This looks like Bubba.”

“Bubba?” Mattie asked.

Velda’s eyes turned bleary as she peered up at Mattie. “Roger.”

Adrienne’s brother? From the way the twosome cuddled together in the photo, she’d thought they were lovers. “Can you tell where that picture was taken?”

“How the hell should I know? You’ve seen one forest, you’ve seen them all.”

Pine trees surrounded the couple as they posed with arms around each other and smiles on their faces. Adrienne and the handsome man with the dark features both looked happy.
She reunited with her brother
. Mattie grew uneasy as she studied the photo. Had the happy reunion turned into a bad thing? Something that ended in Adrienne’s death?

“It looks like the two of them were reunited recently. Do you have any idea where Roger might be?” Mattie asked.

Velda shook her head slowly, looking down at the photos. She turned the last page and reached the end. “Like I told you, that horse done left the barn.” She handed the album to Stella, her face taking on a wistful expression. “Looks like the two of them couldn’t be more pleased with themselves.”

“They do look happy,” Mattie said, going back to sit on the couch where she could observe Velda more easily.

“They have no right.”

“No right?”

“To be happy. The two of them, leaving me here alone. Adrienne, right over there in Timber Creek, and she didn’t come check on her mama.”

Mattie wondered about that, too. “Why do you think Adrienne didn’t come see you?”

Anger flared in Velda’s bloodshot eyes. “She always blamed me.”

“For what?”

“For everything. She was a very unhappy child.”

From what Mattie knew of her, she’d turned into a happy woman. From all appearances, she seemed like a person who’d built a satisfying life and career. “Why do you say she was unhappy?”

Velda stared at Mattie for a moment, as if sensing a trap. She glanced furtively toward the front door. “Who knows? Some children are just born unhappy. I’m getting tired now. I need to ask you to leave so I can rest.”

Mattie sensed the interview was almost over.

“We appreciate your time, Mrs. Howard. I have only a couple more questions,” Stella said, settling back into the couch.

Velda heaved another sigh.

“We have evidence that Adrienne was a victim of childhood abuse.”

Velda’s eyes opened wide. “Are you accusing me of that?”

“What do you know about it?” Stella asked.

Tight lipped, Velda rubbed out the ember on her cigarette until she ground it down to the filter. “You need to leave.”

Stella remained seated. “I think you know something.”

Velda anchored her hands on the arms of her chair and tried to push herself to her feet. It took a couple tries, but she rose, swaying slightly. Mattie feared she might fall, so she stood and reached to steady her. Velda brushed her hand away. “Get out.”

“Mrs. Howard, we need to determine if Adrienne’s abuser could be the one who killed her,” Mattie said, trying to reason with the woman.

“I’ve said all I’m going to say.” Velda walked toward the door, drifting sideways like a ship with a broken sail.

Mattie hurried to assist her, relieved when the woman allowed her to take her arm. “We’ll leave here in a minute, Mrs. Howard. Let me help you back to your chair.”

Stella stood and hovered near to help if needed. “I suspect some things happened in the past that were out of your control—not your fault,” she said in a soothing voice.

“You might show some respect.” Velda settled back in her recliner, wrapping her robe tightly, gathering her dignity. “For your information, Adrienne was a difficult child. She demanded a great deal of guidance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mattie murmured, picking up a ragged crocheted afghan from a chair and tucking it around the woman.

Her temper appeased, Velda’s eyes drooped, looking as if a nap was imminent. “Spare the rod and spoil the child, her daddy used to say.”

A chilly finger traced down Mattie’s spine as she stepped back. “Did your husband use the rod on Adrienne?”

Velda’s eyes popped open, and she stared hard at Mattie. “None of your damn business.”

Stella came forward. “We’ll leave now, Mrs. Howard. Thank you for your time.”

Velda looked at Stella as if trying to remember who she was. “You come back and see me sometime, dear.”

“Thank you,” Stella said. “Our condolences for your loss.”

They stepped outside onto the porch. Mattie twisted the lock on the knob and tugged the door tight, despite its screech of protest.

“I don’t think she gives a rat’s ass about her daughter’s death,” Stella muttered as they walked to the SUV.

Robo’s head popped up inside the window. He looked sleepy but gave Mattie one of his toothy grins, soothing her uneasiness. She climbed inside, settled into the bucket seat, and turned to stroke Robo’s silky fur. He nosed her hand, encouraging her to stroke his face.

Stella settled into the passenger seat beside her. “If Daddy was the abuser, he’s not around to be a suspect anymore.”

“And if Mom was, she doesn’t look like she’s in any condition to be a threat to anyone but herself.”

“Unless she took out a hit, but that theory has some holes in it. She might have the motive, but she lacks money and the brainpower for planning. That leads us to Roger Howard, the star discovery of our interview,” Stella said while she fastened her seat belt. “Brothers as perpetrators of abuse aren’t unheard of.”

Mattie nodded and stared out the windshield, thinking while she left a hand on Robo’s back. Her mind had darted to her own brother, but she quickly brought it back to Adrienne’s case. “It appears that both Roger and Adrienne left home and never looked back,” she mused. “I think they were raised in an abusive environment with at least one alcoholic parent, maybe two.”

Her uneasy stomach testified as to how much this type of childhood resonated with her. She could write a chapter in the book about alcoholic parents. She thought Adrienne could have, too.

“Let’s see if we can find Roger Howard here in Colorado,” Mattie said as she started plugging Roger Howard’s name into her mobile data terminal. “I’ll see if he has a current driver’s license.”

“Search for criminal records, too,” Stella said. She pulled a notebook from her briefcase and began writing in it. Presumably notes from the interview.

A quick search through the Colorado DMV revealed four Roger Howards. The Colorado and National Crime Information Center databases revealed nothing.