Marcie's Murder (38 page)

Selena Dillon was a waitress working at Mary’s Donuts who recognized Karen and was delighted to learn that she was a
detective
from out of state
,
but had nothing more useful to tell them about Marcie Askew’s interactions at the college than Allen had been able to supply. They sat in Karen’s usual booth at the front, looking out onto Bluefield Street, drinking coffee
for which
Hank had paid.

“She was a beautiful woman,” Selena
remarked
in a
light
Appalachian accent
, “and it was a darned shame, her
getting killed
like that.
Everybody in class liked her.”

“Any of the men in the class seem to like her more than normal?” Karen sipped her coffee casually, eyes moving from the street to Selena’s face as though by accident.

“No, not really.” Selena
said
. “It was kind of a disappointing bunch, if you know what I mean. Not a real good looker there at all.”

“At least you learned a whole bunch about photography
.”

“Sure, I guess. Leastwise I took better pictures
of my kids
last Christmas than the year before.”

Jim McCarty sold cars at the General Motors dealership on the highway just outside of town. He was a thirty-something who’d been given the responsibility of setting up a website for the dealership and had convinced the owner he needed the photography course in order to take
attractive
photos of the cars they would be listing online. He remembered Marcie Askew as having been beautiful, sexy, vivacious
,
and completely
disinterested in his advances.

“Kin
d of a stuck-up bitch that way
.
”
H
e lean
ed
against the fender of a four-year-old lease-return
,
low-mileage
Impala
that was loaded with
options. “Beautiful but haughty.”

“Haughty.” Karen tried to force her face into a neutral expression and failed.

“
Did s
he show interest in any other males in the class?” Hank asked.

McCarty shook his head. “I thought at first maybe she’d be
looking for a little fun
, but that wasn’t the case. She pretty much ignored every
one of us
guy
s
.”

“What about other men on campus?”

“I only saw her during our classes. Once she blew me off, I dropped it. When a woman says no, I move on. No sense beating a dead horse.
No pun intended.”

Hank noticed Karen’s right hand moving involuntarily toward her hip
. He
thanked McCarty for his help before Karen
could draw her
firearm
and shoot
him.
T
hey drove back into
town
to look up Jean Smith, a real estate agent with the Colonial Real Estate
Company
on Spring Street, right next door to the Dairy Queen.

“If this one’s dry,” Karen said to him, slamming the door and walking around the front of the
Fire
bird to join him on the sidewalk, “you’re buying me a banana split.
Comprende
?”

“I’ll buy us both one,” Hank promised.

Jean Smith was a
square-faced woman in her late forties who examined their credentials with a severe expression before allowing them to sit down in her tiny office. “You don’t have any jurisdiction that I can see,” she pronounced. “I don’t know why I should answer any of your questions at all.”

“We’ve been asked by the Harmony Police Department to assist in their investigation,” Hank replied, not untruthfully.

“Not by Chief Askew, I hope,” Smith retorted, “since I heard on the news this morning
he was
arrest
ed in Bluefield
and transported to Tazewell
yesterday
. They say he may be charged with his wife’s murder.”

“We’ve been working directly with Deputy Chief Branham and Detective Hall,” Hank said. “If you’d feel more comfortable calling them before you talk to us, we
’ll wait
.”

She glared at him, chewing on her lower lip. Hank thought she’d probably make a better prison matron than a real estate agent, but
there were
several award plaques on her wall that suggested
otherwise
.
S
he
probably
threatened prospective clients with a severe
pounding
unless they bought one of her listings.

“I suppose it won’t do any harm,” she said finally.
“Mrs.
 
Askew
was the center of attention, needless to say. A beautiful woman like her can’t help but attract notice, and she certainly didn’t do anything to discourage it.” Smith stopped herself and held up a hand. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying her behavior was ever
in
appropriate. She was quite aware of her local status and did nothing improper. All I’m saying is that the men’s eyes never strayed very far from her
,
and she remained the focus of their attention throughout.”

“Well, okay,” Hank said. “Did she seem particularly interested in any of them? Did she spend time talking to any
one
of them more than the others?”

“I understand where you’re going,” Smith replied coyly, “and I don’t think you’ll have much luck there. The men in the class–there were five of them, altogether–were a collection of pitiful losers who couldn’t hope to buy her a cup of coffee, let alone get into her panties. If she had a relationship with any of them, I think I’d fall over dead from a heart attack.”

“All right.” Hank didn’t dare look at Karen, even peripherally. “What about anyone else on campus? Do you know if she had any friends that she might have spent time with on campus, male or female?”

Smith leaned back in her chair and eyed him speculatively. “Mmm. Interestingly put. Was she bi?”

“Excuse me?” Karen popped, shifting her weight suddenly.

“Well, the way he asked it, the inference was that she had a lover who might have been female. Is that what you’re saying?”

Hank took a deep breath. “No, I’m just asking questions, Ms.
 
Smith. If you can’t answer them, that’s quite all right.”

“
Miss
Smith. I’m not ashamed of my singularity.
And to answer your question, yes, I saw her on several occasions lingering after class with men. But never women. If you’re suggesting she was bi, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. We women seemed to be pretty much beneath her notice
altogether
.”

“Which men in particular?”

Smith pursed her lips. “There was
Sam Hanshaw,
d
irector of
the college’s
f
inance
d
epartment or something. He’s also on the town council and a friend of the
Askews
. She’d sometimes meet him in the cafeteria after class for coffee. I know him well because I sold him the house he’s in right now, a beautiful four-bedroom up on Ridge Road. Then there was that other fellow,
the former
chief
, David Morris. I saw her leaving with him a few times. Getting a ride home, no doubt.” She rolled her eyes. “And as well I saw her a few times with George Rudy, who’s head of the
college’s
f
ine
a
rts
d
epartment.” She shrugged. “That’s pretty much it, I suppose.”

Back in the
Fire
bird, Hank and Karen discussed strategy.
Jean Smith was correct;
Askew had been transported from Bluefield to Tazewell in the custody of the
s
heriff
.
Branham
had told
Karen
he
would be charged with his wife’s murder within
a day
.

Meanwhile,
Richmond police had
found
the two bikers and
questioned them
, but Branham
wasn’t
very enthusiastic about the outcome. Sheriff Steele had sent one of his deputies to Richmond to interrogate them again, but no one felt very strongly about where it might go.
Everyone had high hopes that the test results on the tissue recovered from beneath Marcie’s fingernails would point
directly
to the killer, and neither biker had as much as a shaving cut on him. Still, DNA samples had been collected
,
and the bikers would be kept as long as possible. Originally the lab tests on the tissue had been scheduled to be completed next Monday, but Steele was making a lot of noise to have them bumped up in the queue, given the nature of the crime.

They didn’t know at this point
if
Billy Askew had scratches on him that could reasonably
be
dated to last Saturday night.

“Steele’s
probably
gonna hold on to him as long as he can,
anyway
,”
Karen said, “since he’s already got the assault charges pending. It’s a toss-up if a judge will grant bail right now with the murder investigation ongoing like this
,
and Askew looking real good for it. Hatfield should be able to convince a judge to keep him indoors for a while.”

“Meanwhile,” Hank
said
, “I don’t think t
he
s
heriff’s bothering to find out who
’s responsible for
Marcie’s
pregnancy
.”

“
Yeah, h
e really has a hate on for Askew. He’s probably trying to whup a confession out of him even as we speak.”
They were parked at the curb outside the real estate office just above the railroad tracks on Bluefield. “We’ve got three names. We should check these guys
out;
see if one of them likes to use his hands as much as Billy Askew does.”

“The
s
heriff should
be doing it
,” Hank
complained
.

“Sure enough. You just call him right up and tell him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the input.”

Hank looked at her in
mock
amusement.

“Three guys, Lou. One of them is probably
gonna
ring the bell. We’re talking about hanging around this one-hole outhouse until the weekend anyway. I say we look them up and
see if they’ll
trade possum soup recipes
or something
. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

H
e shook his head. “Let’s talk to Branham
and
run
it
by him. He can call your new friend Detective Muncy
and pass along the names, get a sense of their level of interest in that angle.”

“Deputy Dawg. I’m sure he’ll bark real loud when Branham tosses him that biscuit.”

“You’re probably
right;
he probably won’t give a damn. We can play it by ear, but we’ve got to make sure we don’t step on toes here. It’s the Golden Rule, right? Don’t
screw
with another cop’s investigation if you wouldn’t want them to
screw
with yours
.
”

“Yeah, yeah. All right.”
Karen threw the
Fire
bird into
gear
and twisted around to watch for a break in traffic. “Here’s the thing, though. To get to the station we have to drive by that army surplus store. I’m not going by there again without looking at that SIG you were talking about. If you don’t buy it, I might.”

2
8

Neil
Branham looked at his watch. It was 4:27 p.m.
He’d just hung up the phone
after
talking to Detective Muncy in Tazewell, who
had
show
n
tepid interest in the three potential boyfriends of Marcie Askew that Hank and Karen had turned up. When Branham offered to interview them as a favor, Muncy made the expected noises about jurisdiction and
reaso
nable grounds before relenting.

“I appreciate the help,” he grumbled.

Branham
pulled the phone book out of the bottom drawer of his desk, looked up a number
,
and dialed it. When the main switchboard at Lewis Collins College answered, he asked for the extension of Sam Hanshaw. He was put through and spoke briefly with Hanshaw, who was still at his desk. He’d be there for another hour
.
Bran
ham explained that he was with Hank and Karen
,
and
they’d
stop by before he left. Then he got Hanshaw to pass him back to the switchboard and asked for David Morris. Morris’s line went to voice mail
.
Branham hung up.
After dialing Morris’s home phone number with the same result, h
e redialed the
college
and asked for George Rudy. Rudy’s phone also rang and went to voice mail, but Rudy’s message included a cell phone number, so Branham hung up and called the cell phone number. Rudy answered immediately and told Branham he was coaching the volleyball team and would be in the gymnasium until
six o’clock
.