Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (16 page)

She leaned closer, resting her arms on the table. “No. Don’t
laugh. I met him online.”

“Welfare Line! Welfare Line!”
Willie sang.

The two of them rolled their eyes and then Ridge said, “He
didn’t claim to be a French model, did he?”

Rita giggled. “No. I haven’t caught him in any lies, so I’m
safe there.” Rita peeled paper from her muffin. “My next birthday, I’ll be
forty. Truth is, I get lonely.”

“Lonely Street. Lonely little mansion. Damn! Damn! Damn!”

“Hush, Willie,” Rita scolded.

Ridge continued. “Well, don’t settle just because you don’t
want to be by yourself. I can tell you from experience, if you make the wrong
choice, you’ll be unhappy. I did that with my first wife. I married her knowing
we weren’t right for each other. As a result, we spent two miserable years
before we divorced. I thank my lucky stars we didn’t have kids. Talk about a
disaster.”

“At some point, I want to introduce you. His name is Paul…”

“Hello, walls! Hello, walls!”

“I said Paul, not walls, you crazy bird,” Rita shouted.

“Crazy. Crazy arms!”

Rita ignored the bird, spread jam on her muffin and brought
it to her lips. “This is yummy. I love blackberries. Oh,” she said, and checked
her watch. “Janie Sue Clifton will be here soon, and then I have Deborah
Hessler coming in at ten. Neely Simpson and Mary Jo Whittaker are scheduled
after lunch.”

“Thanks.” Ridge read over his notes and asked her to check
Justin Pruett’s DMV records. “Oh, and find a chart of the meanings of colors. I
need a reference guide. That should do it.”

“Lord, I could eat every one of these muffins, so you’d
better hide them,” Rita said and went back to the front.

Ridge unloaded his iPad from his briefcase.
I need
statistics on how many times a man has sex in his lifetime to compare with Jay
Roy’s record.
Thirty minutes later, with information in hand, he opened his
spiral to the notes dealing with the ribbons, and pulled out a calculator.
After entering the data, he compared the two.

According to the ABC News poll, he read, most men have an
average of twenty partners in a lifetime. He shook his head. Damn, he was way
behind.

The Kinsey Institute charted average intercourse per year,
divided by age groups. For comparison purposes, Ridge guessed Jay Roy became
sexually active at age sixteen. CSI Mitchell recorded a total of 3,764 ribbons.
The Kinsey Report’s average added up to 3,196 times for men age sixteen to
fifty-four. Well, if that’s right, Jay Roy was slightly above average in that
department. Ridge chuckled and wondered if Jay Roy had un-bow-tied sex, too?
That would make the guy spectacular!

Rita appeared in the doorway with a paper in her hand. “Good
news, bad news. Justin Pruett doesn’t have any vehicle registered in his name.”

“Damn! And the good news?”

Rita handed him the paper. “Here’s a hard copy of your color
chart. I also sent it to your email and downloaded the traffic video. I have
the warrant for the toll authority. And, your first interview is here. Sister
Cosmic Madonna herself.”

“Who?”

“Janie Sue Clifton.” Rita walked into the hall.

“Cosmic Madonna? Oh, I remember her from the luncheon. Bring
her on back,” he said, and stood in the doorway to wait for the woman.
Just
another day at the office, questioning women about their sex lives, and
Googling the average amount of partners.
This was not the kind of case he
imagined for a Texas Ranger.

Janie appeared at the end of the hallway. Dressed in white
and wearing a cross so big it could either be used to beam her up or get her
cast in a rap video. When she reached him, she brought the cross to her lips,
kissed it and then put her hands together as if praying. “God bless you, Ranger
Cooper. I’m Janie Sue Clifton—oh, but you know that. We met at Sweet Thangs the
other day. I’m sorry—I’m nervous. I’ve never been questioned by law
enforcement.”

“No reason to be nervous, Ms. Clifton. I only have a few
questions.”

“Hallelujah! Praise be.”

“Hallelujah I love her so!”

Janie stumbled and brought the cross to her mouth. “Lord
have mercy! What was that?”

“Sorry. I should have warned you. We have a talking parrot
in the next room and he can hear us. Every now and then, he picks up on a word
and squawks a Willie Nelson song.”

Janie turned her head toward the wall. “I LOVE Willie
Nelson.”

“I love you a thousand ways! I love you because! I love
you so much it hurts! I need to pee!”

“Did Willie write a song about peeing? I don’t remember that
one,” Janie said, completely serious.

Yeah, Whiskey River.
He motioned for her to take a
seat. “No, he didn’t. The bird throws in random stuff here and there. Try to
ignore him.” Ridge flipped open his notebook and placed the color chart next to
it on the table. “When did you arrive in town?”

“I drove in on Thursday morning. I live in Seagoville. We
have a women’s prison there and I minister to the inmates on Wednesday nights.
So I got up early to be here in time for the luncheon.”

“Did you keep in contact with Jay Roy over the years?”

“No. I’d not seen him since the last reunion.”

“Tell me, Ms. Clifton. Did you ever have sex with Jay Roy?”

Her hand flew to her chest and fingered the cross. “Dear
Lord, forgive me. Yes I did. But only twice.”

God, he wished she’d said no, because now he had to ask.
“What was your ribbon color?”

She raised her hands toward heaven. “Lamb of God! Precious
Savior!”

“Precious memories! Precious memories!”

She snapped her head toward the sound. “I’d heard through
the grapevine, he’d kept all those. This is embarrassing. It was purple. I wish
it had never happened.”

“Pretend I never happened! Damn! I need to pee!”

Ridge covered a laugh and stared at his notes. Two purple
ribbons. Among the meanings listed were, spirituality, enlightenment, ceremony.
Damn. Jay Roy got her right. He added her name next to it and checked the color
off his list. After a few more questions, Ridge dismissed her.

Janie stood, pushed away from the table and pulled flyers
from her purse. She offered one to Ridge. “Here’s an invitation for you and
Tizzy to attend my tent revival next week.”

“Revive us again! Revive us again!”

A thought flashed through Ridge’s mind. If he taught Willie
enough words, maybe the bird could interview the women and save him the grief.

Ridge followed Janie Clifton to the front door and watched
her leave. It occurred to him that Cosmic Madonna sounded more like an
alcoholic drink than a religious organization.

Rita broke his concentration. “That didn’t take long.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t do it.” Ridge rested an arm on
the counter and leaned over it to look at Rita’s cluttered desk. “The crazy
thing is the killer added the poison before the actual murder, and because of
that, pinning the suspects to a time frame is useless.”

Rita swung the mouthpiece of her headset to one side.
“Whataya mean?”

“Jay Roy died between nine and midnight on Wednesday. Pattiecake
delivered the whiskey earlier that day, and then Jay Roy drank it—alone. Not
much reason to even ask where everyone was at a certain time. Because of that,
alibis don’t matter.

“So what do you do?”

“Focus on motive and gut feeling. It’s understood the three
ex-wives have motives. Hell, every married couple in the world, under the right
conditions, has a reason to kill each other. I’ve seen fire coming out of
Tizzy’s eyes when I leave wet towels on the floor.”That made Rita laugh. “Well,
my example may be extreme,” he said, “but you get my point. Next in line is
Doyle Patton. If I find out he had an ulterior motive for lending Jay Roy money
in exchange for the land, he’ll move to the top of the list.” Ridge glanced at
his watch. “What time is my next appointment?”

“Ten-thirty. You have plenty of time to do something else.”

“Okay. I’ll go to the flower shop and talk to Jay Roy’s
sister. Do you think it’s open?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure she’ll be there. I understand the
funeral home will get the body tomorrow. It won’t be ready for family viewing
until Wednesday. The paper’s obituary said the service is pending, but I heard
it will be Friday.”

Ridge opened the door. “I’ll be back before wife number
three arrives.”

Bloomin’ Crazy was a short distance from the police station,
so he decided to walk. Before reaching the store, he thought about his notes on
Jay Roy’s sister, Charlotte Gandy. Fifty-three years old. The baby of the
family and eleven months younger than Jay Roy. Ridge smiled. Damn, Mr. Hobbs
practically got his wife pregnant in recovery. Like father, like son. Horn
dogs.

The shop occupied what used to be a hardware store in the
sixties. Two large plate glass windows on either side of the front door
displayed decorative garden pots of all shapes and sizes. Leafy ferns spilled
over the top of two copper urns flanking the entryway. When he pushed the door
open, a musical chime sounded and a freckled-face girl rose from behind the
counter. “May I help you?”

She looked to be around sixteen and undernourished, but her
wide smile and perky attitude contradicted that assessment.

“Is the owner here?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in the back. I’ll get her.”

Ridge introduced himself. The girl nodded, then went to find
her boss. Within a few seconds, Charlotte Gandy emerged from a back door,
making a bow as she approached. “Good morning, officer,” she said. “I suppose
you’re here to discuss my brother.” She laid the bow aside and pulled a tissue
from her pocket, then wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry for the tears, but Jay Roy
and I were close and it’s difficult to talk about him.”

“I understand and I’m sorry for your loss. I only have a few
questions.”

“Thank you. Let’s go to my office where we can talk in
private.” She dabbed her cheeks again and called out. “Jessica!”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl walked back to the counter.

“Watch the front. I’m going to the back to talk to this
gentleman.” She picked up the bow again and handed it to her helper. “Put this
on that vase of roses, and then spray the entire arrangement with glitter,
please. Mr. Jackson should be here in a few minutes to get them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ridge followed Charlotte past refrigerated cases filled with
colorful flowers, shelves stacked with containers and rolls of ribbon, into a
small office. She motioned for him to take a seat. After she settled behind her
desk, he started. “Did your brother confide in you?”

“You mean, about his women?”

Ridge shifted in his seat. This could be an uncomfortable
conversation if Jay Roy got the ribbons from his sister and she knew what he
did with them.

“It’s okay, officer. Jay Roy was Jay Roy. He was a lousy
husband, but a wonderful brother. Regardless of what they may say, he was a
good man with one fault, and that was not being able to be faithful.” She
glanced around as if searching for something, then stood and crossed to the
shelves behind Ridge and removed a picture.

“Here we are. I was eight and he was nine.”

Ridge studied the photo. Two children sat in a tree, wearing
strange bonnets. Charlotte looked prim and proper. Jay Roy had a goofy grin.

“He used to sit in that catalpa tree with me for hours
making hats from the leaves and blooms. I’d set up a make-believe millinery and
he’d pretend to be a rich customer shopping for his girlfriend.” She spoke in a
far-away voice and Ridge hated to interrupt her nostalgia, so he let her
continue.

“He played Barbie’s with me, too, and helped with my Easy
Bake Oven concoctions. He didn’t care what the other boys said.” She must have
sensed Ridge’s sentiment, because then she straightened and came back to
reality. “I’m sorry. I want to make sure you know a side of Jay Roy you won’t
hear from his exes.” She discarded the wet tissue and pulled another from the
box on her desk.

“Did he talk to you about his wives?” Ridge asked.

“Sometimes if they were having trouble. But he’d been single
for a long time, so we didn’t talk women much anymore. You figure one of them
is responsible?”

“I’m not sure. Right now, I’m not ruling out anyone. Did Jay
Roy mention having a problem with anybody?”

“No, and I can’t imagine Molly, Deborah, or Kassie killing
him. Molly still visits our mom in the nursing home. All three exes remained
friends with Jay Roy.”

Ridge fanned pages in his spiral. “According to Molly, she
and Jay Roy were getting back together. Did you know that?”

Charlotte’s mouth twisted. “She thought that, but Jay Roy
never intended to marry again. They were carrying on, but he had no plans to
take it beyond that.”

Before Ridge could speak again, a man appeared in the
doorway. “Excuse me, Sis. Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to go and pick
out the casket. How much longer will you be?”

Ridge stood and extended his hand. “Texas Ranger Ridge
Cooper. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Hobbs.”

The man clasped hands with Ridge, and glared at him. “Is
there a problem with my sister?”

“Oh, no sir,” Ridge said.

“He was asking if Jay Roy told me anything that might help
with the investigation.” She turned back to Ridge. “This is my brother, Clyde
Lee.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Ridge said. “If you have a minute,
I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

Charlotte stood and moved toward the door. “You go ahead. I
need to give Jessica some instructions before I leave. I’ll be a few minutes.”
She walked away.

Ridge lowered his voice. “I didn’t want to ask your sister,
but do . . .”