The Gingerbread Bump-Off (27 page)

Latimer nodded slowly as he looked across the desk at them. “Is that all?” he asked.

“That’s all,” Phyllis said. “Like I told you, you’ll have to dig into Margaret’s finances and Joe’s activities, and if you do, I’m sure you’ll find the proof you need.”

“Well, I might do that . . . if there was any reason to.”

Phyllis knew she probably looked confused. She certainly felt confused by Latimer’s reaction as he leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I just explained how Joe could have killed Georgia with the help of Laura Kearns and her husband.”

“And it all ties together very neatly,” Latimer admitted. “There’s only one thing that keeps me from believing that any of it ever happened.”

“What’s that?” Phyllis asked coldly. She was angry at Latimer for his attitude, but she also had a sinking feeling. He wouldn’t sound so confident unless he knew something she didn’t.

“Joe Henning couldn’t have killed Georgia Hallerbee. He was twenty miles away when she was attacked, getting a flat tire changed on his car.”

“But I told you—”

“Getting a flat tire changed on his car by Jimmy Strickland, the owner of the garage. Rusty Kearns didn’t answer that trouble call because he was already handling another one on the highway between here and Mineral Wells.”

For a moment, Phyllis was so stunned that all she could do was stare across the desk at Latimer’s grinning face. She felt Sam looking at her, but she didn’t turn her head to meet his gaze. When she could speak again, she asked, “Are you sure?”

Latimer nodded. “I interviewed Strickland twice. He’s a Baptist deacon, has owned his business here in town for forty years, and doesn’t have any connection at all with Ms. Hallerbee or anybody else involved with this case, other than the fact that Rusty Kearns works for him. At least, I couldn’t dig up any connection, and I promise you, I did plenty of digging. I shouldn’t admit this, but I don’t like Joe Henning very much. It wouldn’t have bothered me to shoot holes in his alibi. There just aren’t any.”

And if Joe’s alibi was sound, there was no reason to think that he was involved in any sort of plot with Laura and her husband, Phyllis realized. She could see the whole carefully constructed theory collapsing in her mind once the foundation of Joe Henning’s guilt was removed.

“Then . . . then the only real suspect is Chris Cochran,” Phyllis managed to say.

“Whose only real alibi is that squirrelly friend of his, who’s not what I’d call a reliable witness.” Latimer made a face. “I shouldn’t have said that much.”

“But you did,” Phyllis said. “Obviously you’ve checked into his whereabouts on the night Georgia was attacked.”

Latimer hesitated, then said, “Look, if I tell you what we’ve found out, will you promise me you’ll let it alone from now on?”

“Of course,” Phyllis said.

“The Cochran kid and his friend Nelson Blake claim they went to a strip joint on the west side of Fort Worth on the night of the Jingle Bell Tour. But they didn’t pay for anything with credit cards. They said they used cash.” Latimer rolled his eyes. “Big surprise there, right? Anyway, I talked to the dancers and the bartenders who work at the place and showed them pictures of both Cochran and Blake. Some of them said they thought the guys
might
have been in there that night, but they couldn’t be sure. The lighting in a place like that isn’t the best, and it’s not like there are clocks all over so people can keep track of the time, either. Even if Cochran was there later, there’s no reason to think he wasn’t on your front porch earlier that evening, busting that ceramic gingerbread man over Ms. Hallerbee’s head.”

A little shudder went through Phyllis. She wondered if she would ever get used to the idea that someone had been murdered on the very doorstep of her home.

Sam spoke up for the first time, pointing out, “We still don’t know how the kid would’ve known to look for Miz Hallerbee at Phyllis’s place.”

“No, but if he’s guilty—and my gut says he is—sooner or later he’ll tell us.”

Phyllis couldn’t stop thinking about that shattered gingerbread man . . . the way the shards and the larger pieces were scattered around Georgia’s limp, bloody form as she lay sprawled on the porch . . . and something stirred in the back of her brain as that horrific picture filled her mind’s eye. Whatever it was, though, it was also elusive, because it slipped away before she even had a chance to grasp it.

“Do you have Chris Cochran in custody?” she asked.

Latimer looked stubborn. “I’ve already said all I’m gonna say.”

“Does he still deny that he attacked Laura Kearns?”

“What’d I just tell you, Mrs. Newsom?”

Phyllis knew she wasn’t going to get anything else out of the detective. She nodded and said, “All right.”

“That was a good job of putting together a theory,” Latimer told her. She couldn’t help but hear the slight note of condescension in his voice. “For a second there, you almost had me convinced that Joe Henning was guilty, even though I knew he couldn’t be. The problem is, you didn’t have all the facts available to you when you put that theory together.”

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” Phyllis admitted. “That’s because I’m not a police detective.”

Latimer nodded. “Right.” He moved some papers around on his desk, a sure sign that the conversation was over. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No,” Phyllis said. “No, that’s all. I’ll leave you to your work now.”

Latimer got to his feet as Phyllis and Sam stood. “Thanks for trying to help. I’ll show you out—”

“That’s all right,” Phyllis said, her voice dull with defeat. “I know the way.”

Chapter 26

“ T
hat smug, insufferable son of a gun,” Sam said once they were back in his pickup. Phyllis could tell how angry he was by the way his hands clenched so tightly on the steering wheel for a moment. “Actin’ like you’re some ditzy old lady playin’ detective—”

“Maybe I am,” Phyllis said.

“You know that’s not true. You’ve solved murders and helped catch killers before. You’re the only one who’s come up with any real ideas in this case.”

“One of those ideas has just been proven completely wrong,” Phyllis pointed out, “and the other one is still pretty weak.”

Sam looked over at her. “But what if you weren’t wrong? What if there was some way Joe Henning managed to kill Ms. Hallerbee anyway, despite that alibi of his?”

“You mean some impossibly complicated plan that no one could ever pull off in real life?” Phyllis smiled and shook her head. “No, Sam, I don’t think that’s what we’re looking at here. As we’ve known all along, this was a crime of passion. Using one of the gingerbread men as a murder weapon proves that. It wasn’t all intricately planned out ahead of time.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be nice to shove the real solution right down that smug so-and-so’s throat?”

“I don’t care about that. I just want Georgia’s killer caught. Maybe Chris Cochran is guilty, despite the questions. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“You’re givin’ up?” Sam sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

“I don’t see what else I can do. I’ve considered everything I know about the crime. I’ve turned it all over in my head again and again. I can’t come up with anything else.”

Sam sighed. “And I guess you know more about it than anybody else. You were closer to it than anybody except Miz Hallerbee.”

“And whoever attacked her,” Phyllis said. “The killer knows what happened, too.” She brightened. “Well, at least now I can concentrate all my energy on Eve’s shower tomorrow and her wedding next week.”

Sam started the pickup. “Yeah,” he said, not sounding all that enthusiastic.

“Cheer up,” Phyllis told him. “It won’t be that bad. You and Roy don’t have to attend the shower. We’re all old-fashioned enough to believe that the groom doesn’t have to be there, so you and Roy can go do something else for those two hours. And the wedding will be fine. You’ve been a best man before, haven’t you?”

“I have,” Sam said with a nod. “As long as I don’t lose the ring, I suppose it’ll all be okay.”

“Of course it will,” Phyllis said.

She wished she could say the same about the way she felt right now.

“Where have you been?” Eve asked frantically when they came into the house a short time later.

“You knew we were going to be gone for a little while,” Phyllis said. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Yes, but this is an emergency. Roy’s gone!”

“Gone?” Phyllis repeated. “What do you mean, gone?”

“He’s run out on me! He’s leaving me at the altar!”

“The wedding’s still a week off,” Sam pointed out. “He can’t be leavin’ you at the altar, because you’re not there yet.”

Phyllis winced. As upset as Eve was, this wasn’t the time to be taking things literally. Eve was a little wild-eyed as she turned toward Sam, so Phyllis moved quickly to insinuate herself between them.

“I take it he’s not answering your phone calls,” she said.

“That’s right,” Eve said. “He was supposed to call me this morning. He told me he would. So when he didn’t, I called him, only he didn’t answer. I tried calling the motel and having them ring his room. No answer! I tried his cell phone, and it goes straight to voice mail. He’s ignoring me. For all I know, he’s already left town and is headed back to Houston!”

“Roy doesn’t strike me as the type to do something like that,” Phyllis argued. “He’s too much of a gentleman. If he was going to call off the wedding—”

Eve’s nostrils flared and her eyes widened even more. Phyllis hurried on, “If he was going to leave for any reason, he would tell you. I’m sure of it. There has to be an explanation.”

“There does? Well, what is it?”

“I . . . don’t know.” Phyllis looked helplessly at Sam. “You’re his friend. Has he said anything to you?”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve been bosom buddies for years,” Sam said. “But no, he hasn’t mentioned anything about bein’ worried or upset or havin’ cold feet. He seemed fine the last time I saw him. Seemed like he was anxious to be married to you, Eve.”

“Then why has he disappeared?”

Carolyn had been standing in the background during this conversation, her arms folded across her chest and a disapproving look on her face. Now she spoke up, saying, “I’m sorry, Phyllis. I knew she was going to pounce on you the moment you came in. I tried to convince her that she’s worried about nothing, but she won’t listen to me.”

“What do you care?” Eve shot back at her. “You don’t care if you
never
get married again!”

“That’s right,” Carolyn said calmly. “I don’t. In fact, I don’t intend to and can’t think of any circumstances where I would want to.”

“Not everybody feels the same way you do!”

“Let’s all just settle down,” Phyllis suggested. “Eve, I know you’re upset. But think about it. Roy’s been unaccounted for, for a few hours—that’s all. That’s nothing to get upset about, and it’s certainly no reason to think that he’s going to call off the wedding.”

“Then maybe something happened to him,” Eve said without missing a beat. “He’s not a young man. He . . . he could have had a heart attack or a stroke. That would explain why he didn’t call me and why he’s not answering the phone.”

Phyllis didn’t like to think about it, but she had to admit that Eve might be right about that. None of them were young anymore. The odds of one of them just keeling over dead one of these days were getting better all the time. And she didn’t really know anything about Roy’s medical condition, she reminded herself. He appeared to be healthy, but he could have high blood pressure or a weak heart or any number of things that wouldn’t be apparent just looking at him.

She turned to Sam. “Do you think you could drive out to the motel and check on him? I hate to ask you, but . . .”

He was already smiling and nodding as her voice trailed off. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“I’m coming with you,” Eve declared. “Let me get my coat.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Phyllis said.

Eve faced her. “Why not? Because Roy might be lying there dead on the floor of his room? Or because I’d see that he’s gone and abandoned me?”

“Because you’re upset, and when it turns out that everything is fine, you don’t want Roy to know how worried you were.”

“Won’t he know that anyway, what with Sam going out there to check up on him?”

Sam said, “I won’t tell him that’s why I’m there. I’ll come up with some other excuse for comin’ to see him. I can say that I wanted to find out what we’re doin’ tomorrow afternoon while you ladies are havin’ the shower. I was gonna suggest bowlin’.”

“That’s a good idea,” Phyllis said.

“I have ’em every now and then.”

Eve took a deep breath. “All right. Fine. Use that story. But as soon as you find out what’s going on, you let me know, Sam Fletcher.”

“Sure,” Sam said as he nodded. “But I’ll be discreet about it.”