Marcie's Murder (29 page)

Karen looked up as someone tried to open the front door of the station. Hatfield frowned in irritation. Grimes stirred, but Branham shook his head.

“Did she
show up at
the appointment?” Hall asked.

Brother Charles nodded. “She saw Dr. Huntley twice at our clinic.”

“Were you involved with these meetings?”

“You mean, did I sit in? No, of course not.”

“But by this time you’d become friends with Mrs. Askew, is that it?”

“No. We knew each other. We’d spoken several times.”

Karen’s cell phone purred. She took it out
and
looked at the call display
.
“Stainer.”

She listened for a moment and then laughed. “Yeah, we’re here. Invitation only.” She listened again, still grinning. “Okay, if you insist.” She ended the call and looked at Branham.

“It’s Lieutenant Donaghue at the front door. He wants to know if he can come in.”

Branham sighed and gestured to Grimes, who got up
with a big show of annoyance
to unlock the door for Hank.
As he headed back, Grimes noticed Mollie Roberts staring at him and scowled. She showed him her teeth in a sardonic grin.

“Howdy,” Karen said
to Hank
. “Come join the party.”

“What’s going on?”

Karen
brought
him
up to speed
a
s Hall continued to question Brother Charles about how well he
’
d known Marcie Askew
.
Hatfield grew
irritated
and shushed her.

“So what you’re telling me,” Hall was saying, “is that you
knew about
Mrs. Askew’s case, you knew she was pregnant and
was being
abuse
d
, but you don’t know who was hitting her and you don’t know who the father of the child was. Have I got that right?”

“I’m sorry,” Brother Charles replied, “I know how frustrating it must be, but that’s the truth. I have no idea if she
told
Dr. Huntley
who it was
, you’d have to ask her, but Mrs. Askew didn’t tell me, and according to Dr. Long and Dr. Orlov she didn’t tell them, either
.
I have no reason to doubt their word. I just don’t know who it was.”

“Sounds like you’re assuming the person beating her and the person who fathered the child were the same guy.”

Brother Charles spread his hands helplessly. “I just don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Hall said. “Back to Saturday night. When did you arrange to meet her at Gerry’s?”

“She called me about seven o’clock. She said she was
going to be meeting someone at
eleven-thirty
and wanted me to be there.”

“As a witness? Because she was scared of the guy?”

“I guess
so
.”

“So you said you’d be there.”

“Yes.”

“So walk me through the evening.”

“After her call I had a meeting to chair. We’ve been doing a budget review
,
and Brother David and I had a number of details to iron out.”

“A meeting? On a Saturday night?”

“It’s what we do, Detective Hall. We don’t punch a time clock and put in for overtime. Our work is our lives.”

“Okay, all right. So you had this meeting. What time did it end?”

“It went late. Brother David and I disagree on a few things
,
and we debated it back and forth for quite a while. When I looked at my watch
,
it was already past eleven o’clock, which was when I said I’d meet her.
She was supposed to meet this person there at
eleven
-
thirty
or something and wanted me there. She wanted to explain to me first what was going on.”

“
So you’re saying she wanted you there
when she met the guy
because she was afraid of him
?”

“I suppose
so
.”

“Looks like she had good reason to be, doesn’t it? So okay, you left your meeting at eleven. Then what?”

“I got in the truck and drove to town.”

“Did you go straight
to Gerry’s
or did you go somewhere else?”

“I went straight there
.
I was already late.” Brother Charles
frowned
at Hall. “No, wait. I had to stop for gas along the way. The last person to use the truck is supposed to gas up, but they didn’t. I was running on empty. I stopped at the all-night Getty along the highway.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t know. I was late, that’s all I remember.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“I drove to Gerry’s and parked in the front lot. She said she’d be out front, but she wasn’t there.”

“What’d you do?”

“I looked inside, just opened the door and looked around, but she wasn’t there.”

“She could have been in the washroom.”

“I suppose, but it didn’t occur to me at the time. I went around the back to see if she was there, but she wasn’t. So I gave up and left. I didn’t feel very comfortable
and wanted to get out of there
. I thought she’d probably changed her mind and left, or she’d had her conversation with the man and they’d left together. Either way, there was nothing for me to do, so I left.”

“Go back for a second. Tell me in detail about going back to the back of the bar.”

“In detail?”

“Walk me through it.”

“Uh, I came outside again, she still wasn’t out front, so I thought I’d better look around, so I walked along the side of the building. There’s a pen for garbage back there, a security light up on a pole, it’s all paved. I got to the corner of the building and looked around the corner and saw no one there. So I came back up and got in my truck and drove away.”

“Did you go all the way back behind the bar?”

“No, I just kind of peeked around the corner and left again. I felt extremely uncomfortable being there. I just wanted to get out of there and go home.”

Hatfield turned to Branham. “This guy didn’t do it.”

“I don’t know,” Branham said.

“He wouldn’t hurt a goddamned flea, Neil. Look at him.”

“His feet are too big,” Hank said.

Hatfield
frowned
. “What?”

“His feet are too big. The prints at the crime scene
that the
s
heriff’s criminalists
have
connected to the killer are from a size eleven shoe. Mine are thirteen, and I’d say that his are probably the same. He didn’t drag Marcie Askew across the parking lot and
carry her
down the path into the ravine. The footprints don’t match. He’s not your guy.”

Hatfield looked at Branham.

“Go ask him
to show you his shoe
,” Hank said to Branha
m.

Branham looked at Hatfield.

“Do it,” Hatfield said.

Branham went into the interview room.
Everyone leaned closer to the monitor to watch.

“Gordon,” Branham said, “what size shoe does your client wear?”

“What? Shoe?”

“Thirteen,” Brother Charles said.

Branham held out a hand. “Can I see?”

Brother Charles looked at Garrett, who shrugged. “Give him one of your shoes.”

Brother Charles bent down, removed his right shoe, and handed it to Branham, who
looked it over. Hall squirmed in his chair on the other side of the table.

“I’ll be right back,” Branham said. He walked out of the interview room with the shoe in his hand.

“Grimes,” he said, coming toward them, “where’s a measuring tape
?
Have you got a tape?”

Grimes went to his desk
,
pawed through a drawer
,
and
produc
ed
a small measur
ing tape
. Branham held up the shoe. It was a well-worn, slightly warped black oxford wingtip shoe with a smoot
h thin sole.

“There’s a bunch of stuff that was stamped inside but it’s worn off
,
”
Branham said.
He turned the shoe over and Grimes measured the sole. “Thirteen
and a quarter
inches.”

“Cut him loose,” Hatfield said. “Give him back his goddamned shoe and get him the hell out of here.”

Hank and Karen drifted back to the far corner of the office to watch as Brother Charles was brought out of the interview room and seated at Hall’s desk. Grimes processed the paperwork and gave Brother Charles the envelope containing his personal effects.

Karen glanced at the messenger bag on Hank’s hip. “Shopping went well, I see.”

Hank nodded. “Got some clothes.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll go take a look at that SIG.”

“My pleasure
.
”

“Talked to Betty Gibson, a friend of
Mrs. Askew
. No luck on who Marcie was having the fling with, but there seems to be a sense that Askew could be violent if provoked enough.”

Karen snorted. “News bulletin, Lou. He’s sitting in jail in Bluefield as we speak for beating on somebody
’s ass
up there.”

Hank looked at her. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Hatfield just got the call not ten minutes ago. I think he’s starting to like
Billy Askew
for this.”

They watched Brother Charles and Gordon Garrett leave the station.
Then Hatfield turned
to
Branham.

“Do you know where Chief Askew was on Saturday night before the call came in?”

Branham
looked uncomfortable
. “His cell phone was turned off. We had problems getting hold of him.”

“So we don’t know yet if he has an alibi.” Hatfield bit his lip. “Alibi or not, I don’t like the looks of it. This arrest for assault is just the frosting on the cake.” He put his hands in his pocket. “I’m not going to put you in the position of investigating your own chief. As of
right
now, this investigation is transferred to County. Have all your case material transferred to Tazewell first thing in the morning and make arrangements for you and Hall to brief Sheriff Steele and his investigators on everything you’ve covered to date.”

“Now wait a minute, Mr. Hatfield,” Branham started.

“No.” Hatfield held up his hand like a traffic cop. “That’s it. You’re done. You’ve got a promising future, Neil. Step back and let Steele take it from here. That way nothing’ll get splashed on you.” He looked over at Hank. “You folks are free to
leave
. Thanks very much on behalf of Tazewell
County
for your cooperation.”

“But they’ve been providing invaluable help,” Branham said.

“I’m sure they have.” Hatfield walked over to Hank and put out his hand. “Thanks again.”

Hank shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”

“Please accept my verbal apology for your treatment on Saturday night. Under the circumstances, as we now understand them, Chief Askew had no rig
ht to handle you the way he did
.” Hatfield patted Hank’s elbow. “We have your address on file and will be sending a written apology to you right away, and
I
understand the
t
own will be doing the same. I hope that
’
ll be sufficient.”

“To avoid a lawsuit?” Hank asked.

“
T
o avoid
any
further trouble
,” Hatfield said. “If we can do anything else to set things right, just let me know.”

“You could start by having Steele courier my stuff back to me immediately. Including my firearm.”

“Everything will be delivered to this office by mid-morning tomorrow. Will that be soon enough, or will you be leaving
now
?”

Hank shrugged. “I thought I’d stay on through the weekend. I’d like to go to the fall festival on Saturday at Burkes Garden.” He looked at Karen. “What do you think? Sound like fun?”

“A fall festival with a buncha monks?” Karen rolled her eyes. “Can’t wait.”

“I see. Well.” Hatfield shrugged and stuck out his hand to Karen. “I appreciate your assistance, Detective. Lieutenant.
But please remember, this case now belongs to Sheriff Steele, and he has all the expertise he needs. Just stay out of his way and let him do
his
job. All right?”