Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (5 page)

“I’ll need his name?”

“Brody’s a good boy. Comes from a good family. He liked Jay
Roy.”

“Yes, sir. Just gathering information, Mr. Hobbs. I
understand your son was single. Was he seeing anyone?”

“Not to my knowledge. But I guess the way you found him
indicates he was.”

No kidding.
“What about ex-wives? Any past trouble
with them?”

“If there was, I didn’t know. Jay Roy didn’t discuss his
personal life with me.”

Ridge started to say more, but Ted opened the screen door
and spoke. “Could you come in a second?”

Ridge nodded and gave his attention back to Mr. Hobbs. He
didn’t want to dismiss the grieving man abruptly. “Does Jay Roy have children?”

“No. Couldn’t have any. Mumps dropped on him when he was a
teenager.”

“Any siblings?”

“Two brothers and a sister.”

“I’ll need their names and contact information.”

Mr. Hobbs stiffened and his faced reddened. “They love—loved
Jay Roy.”

“Yes sir, but it’s important I speak with each of them.
Maybe he talked to them concerning personal issues.”

Merlin relaxed against the chair. “Oh, sure. I’m sorry.”

“Would your son confide in your wife?”

“She’s in the nursing home with the early stages of
Alzheimer’s. Even if Jay Roy shared with her, chances are she won’t remember
it.”

“I see.” Ridge tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and
handed it to the old man along with a pen. “Please list everyone we discussed.
I’ll be back in a minute.” Once inside the house, Ted handed Ridge a pair of
gloves and motioned for him to follow.

They entered a small office. “Take a look at this,” Ted said
and opened an antique wardrobe. Colored ribbons hung on rows of twine stretched
across the inside of each door.

Ridge pulled the gloves on and ran one of the ribbons
through his fingers. “What are these?”

“I’m not sure, but they’re the same type and length as the
bow I removed from his penis.”

“Damn, there are a lot of them.”

“Yeah? Check this out.” Ted lifted a shoe box from a bedside
table. “One of my guys found this in that file cabinet,” he said, pointing to
the corner.

Ridge removed the lid and his mouth fell open. “Narrow,
satin. Aren’t these the kind you find tied to those small flower arrangements?”

“Bud vases?”

“Yeah. But you think at some point these were around his…”
Ridge’s voice trailed off.

“Yep.”

“My God. There must be thousands here.”

Ted shrugged. “The guy’s fifty-four, so he’s had years to
collect them.”

Ridge rubbed his neck and thought of his wife.
Hell, if I
kept a ribbon each time, I’d have three today.
“I guess spread out over
that much time, there would be a big number. Find anything else of interest?”

“Quite a few empty whiskey bottles, but no sign of drugs or
paraphernalia. I bagged his prescription meds. Other than a current script for
Viagra, everything else was older. Sinus, pain, antibiotic. We’ll test them to
make sure the bottle matches the contents, but first impression tells me, he
was in decent health.”

“Thanks Ted. I’m going to head back into town and check with
Pattiecake about the strawberries. If she can give me a name, I may wrap this
case up in a hurry.”

Ted snorted a laugh. “As long as you’ve been in this
business, you still manage to be optimistic.”

“Hey, I can always dream.”

“Good luck with that.”

Ridge rejoined Merlin on the porch and accepted the paper
and pen from the man. “Did you come up with more?”

“I added the people we deal with in the chicken trade. I
don’t imagine any of them will be able to help you, but that’s all I could
think of. We have suitable working relationships. Except for one bad year,
we’ve always met our deadlines.”

“Um… Mr. Hobbs, in Jay Roy’s office, there’s a wardrobe with
colored ribbons hanging inside the doors. Do you know what they mean?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t have any idea, but my
daughter owns the local flower shop. She might be able to answer that. If we’re
done with the questions, I need to go. It takes forty-five days to get the
chickens ready for shipping and we’re at day thirty-nine, so I’ve got things to
do.”

“Yes sir, I understand. Thank you for your time. I’ll be in
touch.”

The old man stepped off the porch, put his fingers to his
mouth, whistled, then shouted. “J-LO. JAY-Z. COME ON NOW!” He turned back to
Ridge. “Jay Roy’s dogs. I best put them up before I head to the chicken
houses.”

Ridge stifled a laugh.
Tizzy will love those dog names.
What she won’t love is the fact the first person I need to question is her
mother.

Tizzy knew it was silly but curiosity got the best of her.
What kind of woman comes on to a married man? A skank. A slutty, skanky,
white-trash, morals of a dog, lower-than-low, floozy. Sitting in front of her
monitor, she jerked the mouse across the desk and logged in to her Facebook
account. She bounced her leg and grimaced. Caller ID provided Vienna’s last
name and Tizzy wanted to get a peek at the sausage slut that wanted Ridge’s
sausage.

There she is! Vienna Daniels. V.D. Tizzy couldn’t help but
laugh. Even the woman’s initials were morally unfit. With one little click, her
picture popped onto the screen. Hmmm, average at best. Early thirties. Big
hair. Makeup too heavy. A little on the plump side.

Tizzy leaned back in the chair, folded her arms and studied
the image. This is stupid. Why be jealous of a woman who posed no threat? But
at the same time, she understood the tramp’s strategy: Call Ridge’s wife; get
her mad enough to accuse him, which in turn leads to an argument. He gets angry
and runs into her waiting arms for comfort. Oh, Vienna, you have a lot to
learn. Tizzy smiled. She was truthful when she told Ridge she wasn’t mad at
him. But she was sure as hell mad at the potted slut. She forced the thought
from her mind. Anger management therapy could come later. Right now, the bakery
needed her.

~~*~~

At one-thirty, Ridge strode into Sweet Thangs and made a
beeline for Tizzy. He gave her a peck on the cheek and slid onto a stool. “Hey
Darlin’, I see y’all are closed for a party, but can I get something to eat?”

She swirled a rag across the counter and the corners of her
mouth curled into a grin. “Sure. Vienna on a stick okay?”

He cocked his head and arched his brows. “Funny. Very
funny.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She kissed him back. “You want
chicken salad and lemonade tea?”

“Perfect.” He leaned his head toward the kitchen where the
sisters were busy with preparation. “Pattiecake, can we talk a minute?”

She wiped her hands on her apron and joined him at the counter,
sliding onto the stool next to him. “This about Jay Roy?”

“Yeah. They found a Sweet Thangs box at the crime scene,
filled with strawberries, so I’m guessing Jay Roy paid a visit to the bakery.”

“No. A guy I’d never seen before made the purchase and asked
me to deliver them to Jay Roy.”

Ridge pulled his brows together. “Not the answer I
expected.”

“It was strange.” Pattiecake began to straighten all the
condiments within her reach. She placed the salt and pepper shakers together,
then adjusted the packages of artificial sweeteners. “He brought in a bottle of
R&R Whiskey to go with the order. I stated our delivery fee and asked if he
wanted to include a card.” She aligned the napkins in their holder. “He
declined, added a hefty tip and paid in cash.”

“What time did you take them?”

She picked up a menu, located a smudge, and rubbed it off
with her finger. “I ran out there just before five.”

Ridge made a notation in his spiral and looked around to
locate Tizzy. She eyed him from the other side of the kitchen pass-through. He
shifted on his stool. “Was Jay Roy home?”

“Yes, but he didn’t say a word about the delivery. He
offered a tip, but I told him it was taken care of, so he thanked me and sent
me on my way.”

“Didn’t even make small talk? Didn’t comment about your old
classmates coming into town for the girl’s reunion?”

Tizzy set the plate in front of her husband so hard the
china clinked against the counter. “She said he didn’t say anything. Stop
badgering her.”

“Marjorie Louise!” Pattiecake scolded. “It’s fine if he asks
me questions.”

Ridge winced. Anytime a mother used a kid’s full name, they
meant business.

Tizzy glared at him, then shrank back and placed the tea
next to his sandwich. “I’m sorry, Momma, but you do realize you’re a suspect.”

Pattiecake eyed her son-in-law. “Am I?”

“No, but the bakery box at the scene, and the fact you’re a
classmate dictates I question you. It’s not my choice.” He removed the fancy
pick from his sandwich and used it to retrieve the strawberry seed that’d been
bugging him all morning.

Pattiecake looked at her daughter. “He’s right. I have
nothing to hide.”

She looked at Ridge. “So question away.”

Ridge reached for Tizzy’s hand and held it. “Darlin’, I
don’t believe for one single minute your momma is involved with Jay Roy’s
death, but I’ve learned something from her. The suspect may be a guy and not a
woman.” He let go of her hand and spoke to his mother-in-law again. “Back to
the last question. Did he comment about any of the women attending the
reunion?”

“Just that he was excited to see everyone. He was gonna say
more, but his phone rang, so I left.”

Ridge bit into his sandwich, flipped another page in his
spiral and wrote. “Describe the customer who bought the strawberries.”

“Late twenties, early thirties.” She stared into blank space
for a moment, as if conjuring the image, then continued. “He was near six feet,
a hundred eighty pounds. Light brown hair and brown eyes. At first, I thought
he might be here to rob us. His jeans and tee shirt were old and ragged, which
I found strange.”

Ridge made notes as fast as he could. Pattiecake was more
observant than most. Her husband had been sheriff for a long time, so she knew
how important details were. “Why was that?”

“He didn’t look like he had two nickels to rub together, but
tipped me twenty bucks. Oh, there was one thing. The numbers one and three were
tattooed on two of his fingers, on both hands.”

Ridge swallowed another bite with a gulp of tea. “Did you
see his car?”

“No. He didn’t park in front. Must have been in the side lot,
because when he left, he went in that direction.”

As Pattiecake talked, the entry bell jingled and Nana
McAlister rushed through the door. “Yoo-hoo, everybody.” She focused on Ridge.
“Were y’all talking about that raggedy boy who came in yesterday?”

Backlit by the sun streaming through the doorway, Nana’s
animated movements looked like a silent movie reel. She smoothed her gray hair,
already so cemented in place it’d take an F-5 tornado to disturb a single
strand. She ran her hand down the side of her yellow and orange chiffon skirt,
pulling it away from her body to release the static cling.

“Did you see him, Nana?” Ridge asked.

“Yep, I was standing at the front window of my shop.” She
put a finger to her chin. “What was I saying? Oh, the scraggly boy. I thought
it was that Slaton kid, but then realized he was a stranger, so I watched him.
You can’t be too careful these days. You’ve got to pay attention to your
surroundings and if you see someone strange, you should make note of it. I
heard just yesterday on the TV how there’s some guys going around cheating old
people out their money saying they’ll resurface their driveways for fifty
percent deposit and the balance when the job’s finished. Only they never come
back after they get that first half.”

Ridge nodded and held up his hand. He needed to get her back
to the right subject. “What about the boy?”

“Oh, the boy. Sorry. My train of thought took a dirt road
there for a minute. I saw the kid drive away. He got in an old rusty pickup
truck and headed toward Tyler.”

Ridge walked to the front window and stared toward Nana’s
dog grooming business, Peaceful Pooch. “If you were standing at your front
window, you would have an unobstructed view of the parking lot. Did you notice
what model truck it was?”

“A Ford. No, a Chevy. No. I can’t be sure. I had so much on
my mind, dealing with Countess Mirabella’s depression.”

Tizzy rolled her eyes at Ridge and he stiffened. Countess
Mirabella, the poodle, was the love of Nana’s life, but Tizzy thought Nana
treated her too much like a human.

“Don’t give me that look,” Nana said to Tizzy. “Depression
is common in dogs.”

Tizzy propped her hands on her hips. “I’m not disagreeing
because I know what’s causing it.”

Ridge reclaimed his stool, swallowed another sip of tea, and
braced himself. Here it comes. Another discussion concerning Nana’s live in
boyfriend.

Nana’s face brightened. “You do?”

“Yes. Mirabella feels abandoned because you’ve brought a man
into your life. In her little doggy brain, you’ve replaced her,” Tizzy said.

Nana flapped her hands. “Don’t be ridiculous. Om is just as
worried about her as I am. He’s working on an herb mixture to treat her
symptoms.”

Tizzy glared at Ridge clearly wanting reinforcement. He
turned away. He didn’t want to get in the middle of the McAlister women. He
could barely handle the one he had. When he didn’t jump to her rescue, Tizzy
frowned at him.

“I’m just saying, get rid of him and things will be they
were before, and I’ll bet she’ll be cured,” Tizzy said.

Nana tilted her head, as if considering it and Tizzy
grinned.

Ridge winked at her. His small way of declaring her the
winner of the battle. He finished off his last bite, laid down the pen, and
then issued a reminder to his wife hoping to avoid another of her outbursts.
“Don’t fly off the handle because we discussed this.” He directed his attention
back to Pattiecake. “Just one more question. Can Saint confirm you were at home
last night?”