Authors: Mollie Cox Bryan

Scrapbook of Secrets (19 page)

BOOK: Scrapbook of Secrets

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Chapter 37

The only time that Robert Dasher could meet with Annie was at night. He worked during the day. Now that Tina Sue was staying with his children a lot, he arranged to meet Annie at Patty’s Pie Palace, which sat at the edge of town, before the long trek to Lynchburg—the opposite side of town than the long trek to Jenkins Mountain.

“Good Lord,” Mike said. “These people love their pie.”

“I like it, too,” Annie said, and smiled as she reached for her keys. “I have no idea how long I’ll be. I’m glad the boys went down easy tonight. Maybe you can get some rest.”

“Nah, I think I’m going to look at some Internet porn,” he said, and grinned.

She smacked him playfully. “Good night,” she said.

“G’night,” he said as she was walking through the door.

Her stomach suddenly felt like a lead weight had landed in it. Leaving her home at eight-thirty at night, with both boys snug in their beds, and her husband alone with them, felt akin to abandoning them. A part of her would much rather be with them, in bed with Mike, or snuggled next to him on the couch watching a movie. But Robert Dasher—and the story—pulled at her.

It was a short drive on the mostly dark roads. Did these folks not believe in streetlights? Suddenly, a brightly lit, pie-wedge-shaped diner shone in the not too far-off distance. It looked out of place on the long, winding road against the mountainside. Goodness. Annie wasn’t sure if it was tacky or kitschy. Maybe it was both.

Patty’s Pie Palace was crowded. It was one of the few places around that was open until eleven at night, proving that there was a nightlife in the area. The rest of Cumberland Creek proper rolled up the sidewalks at seven. Annie was surprised to see so many people. She laughed at herself.
There is a life after eight-thirty; I remember it.

Robert was sitting in a corner booth. He lifted his head and nodded at her. He was alone—left his lawyer behind. Annie breathed a sigh of relief as she walked across the black-and-white tile floor, her sneakers squeaking against it. She paused momentarily to feast her eyes on the pies in the display case. Huge mounds of meringue, slightly browned, ignited her curiosity as to what was beneath them.

“That’s some pie, eh?” Robert called out to her.

She walked over. “What’s good?”

A grin spread across his face. Annie was slightly taken aback. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the man smile. “Anything,” he said. “I’ve eaten just about every kind they have, but I think the butterscotch is my favorite.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” she said, setting her bag on the cherry-red vinyl seat. She dug out her recorder and notebook and slid the bag over the seat, next to the wall. A strange, New Age, sort of jazzy music played more loudly than what Annie would like. She hoped that it wouldn’t interfere with her recording.

“How are you doing?” she asked, tucking a wayward piece of hair behind her ear.

He looked down at his hands, which were folded on the table, next to the upside down coffee cup waiting to be turned and filled. “I miss her every day.”

He seemed sincere.

“I’m sure you do,” Annie said, thinking it was probably true—even if he had killed her. “Can you tell me a little about Maggie Rae’s family?” She clicked on the tape recorder.

“Sure. What do you want to know?” He smiled at the waitress, who had just come to their table and set tall glasses of water in front of them. “I’ll have the butterscotch and a cup of decaf.”

“Me too,” Annie said, smiling at the waitress, and then watching her walk away. “I understand that it was a little controversial for her to marry someone who didn’t grow up on the mountain.”

Robert tapped his finger on the table.
Drum. Tap. Drum. Tap. Drum.
He looked out the window. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Maggie Rae had a bit of a rough time with her family over it. She used to say she wished her mom were still around. You see, her mom was a Baptist who married a Mennonite man. Even though he was from the area, it was still considered a strange thing to do. Maggie Rae used to say her mom would understand and would defend us
.
”

“You didn’t think twice about marrying her?”

“No,” he said, not quite looking Annie in the eye.

“Vera told me that you knew about Maggie Rae’s affairs.”

“Yes,” he said, looking off to the server, who was heading toward them with their pie. She set the plates down on the table, along with the carafe of coffee, turned over their cups, and poured the coffee

“Anything else I can get for you?” she said.

“No thanks. This is fine,” Annie said.

“I’m a married woman, Robert. I don’t think I’d go for my husband sleeping around,” Annie said in a lowered voice as the waitress walked away.

“So?” he said, picking up his fork and cutting a piece of his pie with it.

“So what’s that about? Why would you allow your woman to have lovers?” She looked directly at him. He looked at the pie, then scooped his forkful into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said, and shrugged. “You know, people can have different arrangements.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at her in a funny way—was that a flirtatious look? She wanted to laugh—or smack him.

“I mean Maggie Rae and I had an agreement—an open marriage. We could both have sex outside of our relationship, as long as we kept our relationship the priority.”

“C’mon, Robert, that kind of thing never works.”

“It worked for us, for years. Until now.”

“Are you suggesting ... that it was one of her lovers that killed her?”

“Look,” he said, putting his fork on his plate, making a clanking noise. “I don’t know who killed my wife. But I know it wasn’t me.”

“But what about one of your lovers?”

His face reddened; his already thin lips flattened with tension. “I, uh, didn’t have any lovers.”

“But you said—”

“Yeah. I know what I said, but I was just not interested in anybody else.” He scooted around in his seat. The vinyl squeaked.

Annie looked away and took a bite of her pie. The flavor exploded in her mouth. Sugar. Fat. Creamy butterscotch. What was there not to like?

She handed Robert the postcard that Tina Sue’s husband had sent Maggie Rae. “What do you make of that?”

“Zeb,” he said, and smiled. “What a nut. Thinks he’s some kind of prophet or something. I don’t know why he sent her this card. He must have known about her writing and thought she was an ‘evil’ woman.”

“What do you mean that he thinks he’s a prophet?”

“He claims to get messages from God, and he even has some followers,” he said. “Sad sorts, really. ‘Lost souls,’ Maggie used to call them. Homeless people. Drug addicts. Criminals on the run, maybe. All looking for God, and all thinking Zeb McClain has a direct line to him.”

“Whoa,” Annie said, her stomach sinking and the hair on the back of her neck prickling. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. So bizarre.”

“Speaking of bizarre. There’s Leo Shirley and he’s walking this way,” Robert said. “Looks like he’s on something.”

Leo Shirley? Who was that? Annie was filing through her brain. Oh, yes. One of Maggie Rae’s lovers—the one in the picture. She felt her face flame and looked out the window.

“Well, if it ain’t Robert Dasher,” the man said. “And look there, he’s sitting with a new broad. Maggie Rae’s grave ain’t even cold yet.”

“Excuse me?” Annie said, just as Robert started to say something.

Leo lurched back, as if he wasn’t expecting her to speak, and grabbed his chest. “Good God, Robert, this one is gorgeous.”

“Now, hold on there,” Robert said, his face reddening.

“Or what?” The man leaned on the table and sidled up to Robert in a clear challenge. He held himself almost like an ape, slightly hunched-over shoulders, long arms hanging down.

“Now, just calm down, both of you,” Annie said.
Were people looking at them—or did she just feel like they were?

“Honey, he ain’t got what it takes to satisfy a woman,” Leo said, tilting his head toward Robert.

Robert stood and reached for the man’s collar. “You best be getting out of here,” he said quietly, but forcefully.

“A woman like that ... needs a real man,” Leo said, his eye ablaze, pupils dilated. He grabbed his crotch. Annie looked away, momentarily, in embarrassment—both for herself and Robert. When she looked back, Robert was growling as he slugged Leo; then she watched him fall over.

“Robert!” Annie yelled, but the manager was coming over as Robert straddled the man and let him have it again. Robert’s face was contorted with anger and grief—she was struck by the complete sudden change of his mannerism—like Jekyll and Hyde. The aggression sent her heart racing.

Two men shoved Robert to the door; another two men picked Leo off the floor. He brushed himself off, and before turning back around in the direction he was heading, he looked at Annie with an approving leer.

Chapter 38

“I’m sorry to wake you up, Mike, but I’m going to be late,” Annie said. “I wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t completely awake. “Be safe, love.”

“I’m at the police station. Can’t get much safer than that,” Annie said as Detective Bryant walked into the interrogation room, where she was sitting. “Better go.”

“Checking in with the husband?” the detective said, sitting down across the table from her.

She nodded as a wave of weariness came over her. She really wanted to be in bed, asleep, next to Mike, but the police asked her to come to the station and answer a few questions.

“What were you doing with Robert Dasher?” Detective Bryant asked, lurching forward in his chair.

“I was interviewing him. You know I’m working on a series of articles,” she replied.

“Without his lawyer present?”

“I’m a reporter, not a cop. He can talk to me without his lawyer, even if his lawyer doesn’t want him to. You know that.”

“I’d have been more comfortable if someone else were there.”

“We were at the Pie Palace, not in a dark alley,” Annie said, trying to seem more lighthearted about his concern than what she actually was. She was downright angry.

“I don’t want to offend your modern sensibilities, Mrs. Chamovitz, but a beautiful woman has no business meeting with a murder suspect anywhere, alone, especially in this weird case. Understood?”

“Detective, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself,” she said. “But what do you mean by ‘weird’?”

He looked away from her, his hands rubbing his face. “You know. All the sex stuff.” He shifted in his seat, leaned back, and crossed his legs.

She held back laughter. Bryant was a big, tough guy, embarrassed about the kinky-sex issues brought up by this case. As she looked at him incredulously, his face began to redden and he looked away.

He finally met her eyes. “It’s just that a woman like you needs to be careful, reporter or not. I’m surprised your husband lets you go out to meet men like Robert Dasher.”

“I don’t need my husband’s permission, Detective, just his support. This is the twenty-first century,” Annie said.

“I’m s-sorry,” Bryant responded, stammering slightly. “I didn’t mean—oh, never mind. Back to Dasher and what happened tonight. What exactly did you see?”

Annie crossed her arms in front of her and sat back in the uncomfortable chair. “I was looking out the window when it first happened. When I glanced away from the window, Robert was already on top of Leo. I thought it was interesting. Scary, but interesting.”

“Why’s that?”

“We were just talking about their open marriage. Robert said he was okay with Maggie Rae having lovers. The next thing I knew, he was trying to beat one of them up.”

“Interesting observation,” the detective said. “But maybe Leo came after him.”

“Could be. Is that what Robert says?”

He nodded.

“What’s this Leo like? I mean, I’ve heard that he’s got a record and has been a problem for years,” Annie said.

“Correct. That’s a matter of public record.”

“Are you going to make me look it up, or are you just going to confirm that?”

“He has a troubled background. I can’t comment on family situations, but he does have a record. If you want details, you’ll have to look it up. Who’s questioning who here?” he countered, smiling weakly.

Annie smiled back.

“But, once again, I’m warning you to be careful if you go snooping around in his background. My impression is, he’s nobody to mess with.”

“Yet, Maggie Rae did. She was so smart and talented in every other way—except she slept with these creeps. I just don’t get it,” Annie said, almost to herself.

“Smart? Talented?”

“Sure. Her writing was remarkable.”

“Remarkably dirty,” he said, smirking.

A knock on the door interrupted.

“Detective?” A uniformed officer came into the harshly lit room and handed him a folder.

“Thanks,” he said as the officer left the room.

“Any breaks in Maggie Rae’s case?” Annie asked, thinking she might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

“Here’s what we know,” he said, leafing through his papers. “She did not kill herself. As we learn more about who she was and who she hung out with, we are questioning each and every person who came into contact with her, especially these men she slept with and her writing fans. Leo has been eliminated as a suspect in the case because he has a sound alibi. He was in a local bar and has about five witnesses who saw him . Bill says he was on an airplane at the time of her death. We’re waiting on confirmation on that. And we continue to sort through the others.”

“What exactly led you to believe she was murdered?” She’d read about it in the newspaper, but she wanted to be sure.

“I suspected it right away because the gun was still in her hand. Besides, it was in her right hand. Maggie Rae was left-handed. It really took very little investigating for us to see that this was not a suicide.”

“And so you suspected Robert right away?”

“Usually, in these cases, it’s the husband who murders his wife. A sad fact, but true,” said the detective. “There was nothing taken from the house. Nothing showed that it had been broken into. All clues lead to someone who knew Maggie Rae. Someone who knew her quite well. Whether that’s her husband or a lover, I can’t say.”

“What about a lover who happens to be her brother-in-law?” Annie asked.

“We’ve questioned Zeb,” the detective said, not missing a beat.

“I’d think he’s looking like your number one suspect, then,” Annie said, just to see his reaction. This was a viable interview technique.

“What?” Bryant said with a raised voice. “Zeb McClain might be half crazy, but he’s got a solid alibi. I think you should leave the detective work to us, Mrs. Chamovitz.”

“I wish I could, Detective, but there is a killer out there, who might have tried to kill Beatrice Matthews, and might kill someone again. And it doesn’t appear that you’ve made any progress at all in getting the killer off the streets.”

The detective stood.

“I think you should go,” he told her, and opened the door.

BOOK: Scrapbook of Secrets

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