Authors: Beverly Barton

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary romance, #Fiction

What She Doesn't Know (17 page)

BOOK: What She Doesn't Know

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Jolie knew for a fact that Max came by the hospital twice a day and called to check on Theron several times between visits. But since her confrontation with Max, he had avoided her like the plague. Aunt Clarice said that Max slept at home each night but timed his arrival after Jolie left for the hospital at ten-thirty each night and then made sure he was up and gone before Jolie returned to Belle Rose around eight-thirty each morning. The time she spent at the house involved little more than taking a nap, eating lunch and dinner, and checking in with Cheryl Randall to keep tabs on her Atlanta-based design firm. Since Theron’s accident, Georgette had started taking her meals in her room, which kept the substitute housekeeper running up and down the stairs. Jolie had the pleasure of dining with Parry and Mallory, both totally sympathetic to Theron, and each blaming her for his condition. She tried to ignore them, but that was easier said than done.

“If you hadn’t joined forces with Yvonne’s boy, I doubt anything would have ever come of his plans to get the old Belle Rose case reopened,” Parry had said. “You could have saved everybody around here a lot of trouble if you’d just gone back to Atlanta after Louis’s funeral.”

“I wish you’d been the one they attacked!” Mallory had told Jolie. “Nobody wants you at Belle Rose. You have no right to be here. We all hate you!”

Mallory was a brat. God, had she been that much of a smart-mouthed know-it-all at eighteen? And Parry Clifton puzzled Jolie. He vacillated between vaguely disguised hostility and some sort of weird flirting, apparently unable to decide whether he despised Jolie or desired her. She supposed she could write off his unnerving flirtation to the fact that she resembled her aunt Lisette. Perhaps sometimes Parry looked at her and saw Lisette. That was the only explanation for his odd behavior.

Five days had passed since the brutal attack on Theron. Although his prognosis had improved—the doctors now believed he would live—he hadn’t come out of the coma.

When the elevator doors swung open, Jolie stepped out and headed straight for the ICU waiting room. She’d brought a thermos of decaf coffee and a half-read paperback with her. Often she found it difficult to sleep at the hospital and needed something to pass the long hours while Yvonne rested.

She stopped dead in the doorway. The waiting room was empty. She checked her watch. Ten-fifty. The last visiting time for ICU was at ten o’clock. Where were Yvonne and Amy? Where was Ike?
No need to keep wondering
, she told herself. After placing her thermos and book on the sofa in the waiting room, she headed straight for the closed ICU door. She lifted her hand to knock, then through the glass pane in the center of the door, she saw a nurse coming toward her.

The door opened and the nurse—Connie Markham, a plump, petite brunette with a Moon Pie face—smiled at Jolie. “Ms. Royale, please come with me. Mrs. Carter said to bring you right on back the minute you arrived.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Connie replied. “Mr. Carter is responding. When his mother went in to see him at ten, he squeezed her hand.”

“Then he’s conscious?” Jolie asked. “Has he said anything?”

Connie shook her head. “His eyes are open and he’s squeezing his mother’s hand and Dr. Jardien’s hand. But he hasn’t moved or spoken. We put in a call to Dr. Bainbridge about thirty minutes ago and he’s on his way here.”

The minute Jolie reached Theron’s ICU cubicle, Ike Denton stepped out to greet her, a wide smile on his face.

“You go on in, Ms. Royale. Mrs. Carter won’t leave his side and the nurses are being very considerate, but I don’t think they’ll allow four of us in there at the same time.”

“Thank you.” Jolie patted the sheriff’s arm as she passed him and went over to where Yvonne stood by Theron’s bed. She draped her arm around Yvonne’s shoulder.

Even though he looked better than he had right after surgery, Theron still looked as if he’d been run over by a transfer truck. His nose, several ribs, both arms, and both legs were broken. His face and other areas of his body were bruised and discolored. He had suffered a severe concussion and extensive internal bleeding. Dear God, he was lucky to be alive. Just the sight of him filled Jolie with rage. She wanted the men who had done this to him caught and punished. Hell, what she really wanted was each of those men to be beaten within an inch of his life.

Yvonne eased her arm around Jolie’s waist. “He’s getting better. He can hear what we say to him and he can respond. He squeezes my hand once for yes and twice for no.” Yvonne nudged Jolie closer to the bed. “Say something to him. Ask him a question.”

Jolie reached down and took Theron’s limp hand. “Hey, there. It’s about time you quit sleeping and let us know you’re okay.” He lay there, seemingly lifeless, his eyes open, but he appeared not to see anything. “Are you in pain?”

He squeezed her hand once.

“Can’t they give him anything?” Jolie asked Yvonne.

“He’s on the medication prescribed by Dr. Bainbridge,” Amy Jardien, who stood on the other side of the bed, explained. “As soon as his doctor examines him and concludes that Theron is conscious and responsive, then he’ll alter the medication.”

Theron’s grip on Jolie’s hand tightened. “What is it?” she asked. “Is there something you want me to do for you?”

He squeezed once.

How would she ever know what he wanted? Was there any point in playing twenty-questions. Probably not, but what choice did she have?

“Do you need something from your apartment?”

Two squeezes.

“Does it have anything to do with Yvonne?”

Two squeezes.

“Is it about the night you were attacked.”

No response.

“Is it about why you were attacked?”

One squeeze.

“The Belle Rose massacre case?”

One squeeze.

Yvonne and Amy both leaned in closer, their eyes glazed with tears.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go any further,” Yvonne suggested. “We don’t want to upset him.”

Theron squeezed Jolie’s hand twice, paused, and then squeezed twice again. He repeated the two negative squeezes over and over again.

“I think he’s trying to tell me not to stop questioning him,” Jolie said.

He squeezed once. Jolie smiled. Yvonne gulped a gasping sob.

“You want me to do something for you about the Belle Rose massacre case?” Jolie asked.

One squeeze.

“You want me to go ahead without you and try to get the case reopened.”

One squeeze.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Jolie glanced up at Yvonne. With tears streaming down her face, Yvonne nodded. Jolie lifted Theron’s hand and rubbed it against her cheek.

“I promise you that I’ll get the case reopened. Just as soon as you’re better, I’ll—”

He squeezed twice.

“You don’t want me to wait, do you?”

Two squeezes.

“Okay. I’ll start first thing tomorrow. I promise.”

One squeeze, then he uncurled his fingers, showing his apparent exhaustion. Jolie released her hold on his hand, turned and walked out of Theron’s unit and straight to Sheriff Denton who still waited outside the cubicle.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you willing to help me?”

“In any way I can,” Ike said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want to start by talking to all of the deputies who worked in the sheriff’s department twenty years ago. And I’d like to find out if Sheriff Bendall is still alive and if so, where he lives now.”

“I can get you a list of the people who worked for the sheriff’s department in the early Eighties, and if Bendall receives a pension from the state, it should be easy enough to find out where those checks are sent.”

“Great.” She held out her hand to Ike. “Tomorrow we move forward with the investigation.”

She and Ike shook hands.

Connie Markham took a bathroom break fifteen minutes later. When she entered the nurse’s lounge, she checked it out thoroughly, making sure she was alone before using the telephone. Situated where she could keep an eye on the door, she lifted the receiver and dialed the number.

A growling voice answered the phone. “Who the hell is calling so late?”

“It’s me, Connie. Connie Markham over at Desmond County General.”

“Ah. Have you got news on Theron Carter?”

“Yes, sir. He’s conscious. He can’t move or speak, but he’s able to respond by squeezing someone’s hand.”

“Damn! He was supposed to die.”

“He’s recovering. And…and tonight he was able to relay his wishes to Ms. Royale. He wants her to continue trying to get the Belle Rose massacre case reopened.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Connie heard footsteps out in the corridor. Her heart ceased beating for a millisecond.

“I want her stopped and I want Carter out of the way.”

“But Mr. Wells, I’ve already told you that I won’t kill Theron Carter. I’ll do anything else you ask, but I will not commit murder for you.”

“Calm down, Connie. I’m not suggesting you take care of it yourself. Although I could make you do it, couldn’t I? You know what will happen if you don’t cooperate. One word from me and your brother will never get out of the pen alive.”

“Please, Mr. Wells…”

“You just do what you’ve been doing—keep me informed. If Carter continues to improve, I’ll send someone to take care of him. But for now, Jolie Royale is my immediate problem.”

Chapter 16

Ike Denton handed Jolie a cup of iced tea. Looking up at him from where she sat behind his desk, she smiled. “Thanks.”

“Now, don’t get discouraged,” he told her. “We’ve still got Linden Singleton to question. He’ll be here any minute now. And we know Willie Norville moved to Oklahoma to live with his daughter, so we can call him later, as soon as Nellie gets us his number.”

Jolie rubbed the perspiring cardboard cup against her warm cheek. “Two deputies have died, one lives in Oklahoma, and the two we’ve questioned didn’t give us any information that could help us.”

Standing outside the open door, Nellie Keenum cleared her throat, then stuck her head in and said, “Got an address for where Aaron Bendall’s retirement checks are sent.”

“Oh, Nellie, that’s wonderful.” Jolie set the tea on a Post-it notepad atop Ike’s desk.

“Not so wonderful.” Nellie grimaced. “They go to a post office box in Dothan.”

“Shit!” Ike mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t see the problem. If his checks go to Dothan, then that must mean he lives there, right?” Jolie glanced from Nellie to Ike.

“Wrong.” Ike looked at Nellie. “Have you already—”

“Yep. I ran a check. No Aaron Bendall in Dothan. No phone. No utilities. No paper trail of any kind.”

“What does that mean?” Jolie asked.

“That means somebody picks up Bendall’s check every month and forwards it to him,” Ike explained. “Could be a relative or could be somebody he pays to do it. Whichever doesn’t matter. What’s important is that apparently Bendall doesn’t want anybody to know where he’s living. Now, why would he care, unless he doesn’t want to be found?”

“And why doesn’t he want to be found?” Jolie smiled. Finding out the secretive nature of Aaron Bendall’s whereabouts was the first break they’d gotten today. She’d known finding information that would clear Lemar in the twenty-year-old double homicide case wouldn’t be easy, but without the case files it might be impossible.

Nellie hovered in the doorway. “Anything else y’all want me to do?”

“Yeah,” Ike replied. “See if you can get a phone number for Willie Norville. He lives in Oklahoma with his daughter. I think her name is Merry Watkins. First name spelled like Merry Christmas.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Nellie left, but was back in five seconds, a small thin man at her side. “Linden Singleton is here.”

Ike met the wiry old man before he entered the office, shook his hand and projected a friendly demeanor. “Come on in, Lin. Have a seat. Nellie, get Lin some coffee. How do you take your coffee?”

“Cream, no sugar.” While eying Jolie, Linden sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Ike’s desk. “You’re Louis Royale’s gal, ain’t you?”

Ike shooed Nellie with a swish of his hand. She closed the door before scurrying off.

“Yes, I’m Jolie Royale.”

“Good man, your daddy.” Lin studied Jolie intently. “You look like your aunt. Like Lisette Desmond.”

“Yes, sir, so I’ve been told.”

“Prettiest woman I ever saw in my life.” Lin looked at Ike. “What’s this all about? When Nellie called, she said you needed some information about an old case I worked on back when Aaron Bendall was sheriff.”

“That’s right.” Ike took the seat beside Lin. “The Belle Rose massacre case.”

“Damn, what a bad time that was. They named that case right—it was a massacre. You know, I was one of the deputies who took the call. Me and Earl Farris.” Lin looked point-blank at Jolie. “Miss Jolie, are you sure you want to hear about this?”

“Yes, Mr. Singleton, I want to hear.”

Lin nodded. “If Earl was alive he could tell you just what we found. I’ll never forget. Not as long as I live.”

“Mr. Singleton?” Jolie interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember who made the call to report the murders?” She’d been told that Aunt Clarice had come home from work and found the bodies, but she was curious to see if Linden Singleton remembered that day any differently.

“Thought you knew that Miss Clarice found ’em. She’s been touched in the noggin ever since, poor soul.” Lin tapped his head. “Don’t know how she was able to make that phone call. But she did, somehow. She told the dispatcher to send an ambulance. When we found her, she couldn’t even talk. Totally zonked out. Her eyes were all funny looking and she was just staring off into space.

“Anyhow, we went in through the back door—the front door was locked—and walked straight into the kitchen. That’s when we saw Miss Audrey—Mrs. Royale—lying by the table and Miss Clarice sitting on the floor on the other side of the table. She was holding you up, Miss Jolie, your head against her chest, and she was stroking your face. Poor thing had blood all over her dress and on her hands.”

Jolie swallowed hard. No one had ever told her any of the actual details about that day, about the events that occurred after Aunt Clarice had found the bodies.

“Once we saw that Miss Jolie was still alive, just barely”—Lin’s gaze met hers and she saw the pity in his eyes—“we got on the horn and told them to rush that ambulance. Earl, he stayed with Miss Clarice and Miss Jolie and called for backup while I started searching the rest of the house. I gotta admit that I was mighty scared that the killer was still in the house.”

“But you didn’t see anyone else? Anyone alive?” Ike asked.

“Nobody.” Lin shook his head. “I found Miss Lisette lying on the landing. Even dead she was beautiful.” Lin sighed loudly. “And then I found
him
, in her bedroom, in the doorway. He was lying there, facedown, with the gun in his hand. If the son of a bitch hadn’t already been dead, I’d have probably killed him with my bare hands.”

“Tell us something, Lin, have you ever doubted that Lemar Fuqua murdered the Desmond sisters and then committed suicide?” Ike Denton asked.

“Wasn’t no reason to doubt it. All the evidence pointed directly to him.” Lin glanced at Jolie. “Meaning no disrespect to Miss Lisette, but she shouldn’t been fooling around with—” Lin looked up at Ike, then looked away quickly. “Well, folks said that if she hadn’t been messing around with Lemar Fuqua, she’d still be alive. Her and her sister.”

“Why do you think he killed my mother, too?” Jolie asked.

“Ain’t it obvious? Because she was there at the house and knew he was there, upstairs with Miss Lisette. She probably heard the shot and—” Lin scratched his chin. “You know there was something I always thought odd. He didn’t kill Mrs. Royale in the kitchen. He killed her outside and carried her body inside. Her blood was on his hands and all over his shirt. He must have killed Miss Lisette, then tried to run away and ran into Mrs. Royale on his way out.”

“Then why take my mother’s body into the kitchen before going back upstairs and killing himself in Aunt Lisette’s bedroom?”

“Don’t know,” Lin admitted. “Like I said, I always thought it was odd.”

“What did Sheriff Bendall think about this information?” Ike asked.

“Aaron? I don’t recall him ever saying anything about it one way or the other.”

Nellie knocked, opened the door and brought Lin a cup of coffee. “Cream, no sugar.” She glanced at Ike. “I got that phone number you wanted.”

“Thanks. I’ll take care of that matter later.” Ike dismissed her, then turned back to Lin. “Is there anything else odd you remember about the case?”

“Nothing really, except…well, Mr. Louis Royale seemed to have some doubts about Lemar Fuqua’s guilt. But he was the only one, except Lemar’s sister. And I heard that later, when she was able to, Miss Clarice Desmond made a statement that she believed he was innocent. But everybody knew Lemar did it.”

“Daddy had doubts about Lemar’s guilt?”

“Yeah, but the sheriff told Mr. Royale flat-out that the evidence showed plainly that Lemar was guilty and that there was nobody else could have done it.”

“Were any other suspects questioned?” Ike asked.

Lin shook his head. “Weren’t no other suspects. Not really.”

“Did the sheriff question anyone else about the case?” Ike tried a different tactic.

“Well, sure he did. And so did that CIB agent. Can’t recall his name. Sanderson, Henderson, something like that. They had to call in the CIB and get some help. Our sheriff’s department and our police department wasn’t equipped to handle anything like the Belle Rose massacre. Anyway, the CIB came to the same conclusion as Sheriff Bendall.” Lin lifted the mug to his lips and sipped on the hot coffee.

“Who was questioned?” Jolie asked.

“Who?” Lin sat there and thought for a few minutes. “Well, you were questioned, Miss Jolie. While you were in the hospital. And of course, Miss Clarice, but she was completely off her rocker for a while. I think her doctor kept her doped up all the time. Mr. Royale was questioned and—” Lin became suddenly quiet, his gaze darting back and forth from Jolie to Ike.

“And who else?” Jolie pressed him.

“Ma’am, it ain’t something you ought to hear.” Lin looked to Ike for help.

“I don’t think you’ll be telling Ms. Royale anything she doesn’t already know,” Ike said. “Everybody in Sumarville heard about Mr. Royale’s alibi that day.”

“Don’t be concerned, Mr. Singleton,” Jolie said. “I know that my father was with Georgette Devereaux when my mother was killed.”

“Ain’t a man alive hadn’t been tempted at some time or other,” Lin said. “Your daddy wasn’t no bad man. He just gave in to temptation. And Lord knows Georgette Devereaux was a mighty tempting piece of—”

Ike cleared his throat.

Lin darted an apologetic glance at Jolie, then looked sheepishly down at the floor. “Yeah, well, Mr. Royale and Mrs. Devereaux were questioned. And so was Parry Clifton, since he was engaged to Miss Lisette. Lucky bastard.” Lin shook his head and
tsk-tsked
sadly. “Never seen a man so broke up. Parry sure did love Miss Lisette.” Lin took a few more sips of his coffee, then leaned over and set the mug on Ike’s desk. “And they questioned Max Devereaux, too.”

“Did Max have an alibi?” Jolie asked.

“Can’t say as I recall. Don’t guess it mattered. Nobody really took those rumors about him killing your mama to clear a path for his mama very seriously.”

“Lin, is there anything else you can tell us that you think might have been the least bit odd?” Ike flopped his big hands down on top of his thighs in a well-does-that-about-cover-it? gesture.

“Nope. That’s about it. So, you gonna tell me why you’re wanting all this information about a twenty-year-old case that was solved at the time it happened?”

“Theron Carter—I’m sure you heard about what happened to him,” Jolie said. Lin Singleton nodded.

“He believes that Lemar Fuqua was innocent. And I agree with Theron. We think he was murdered by the same person who murdered my mother and aunt.”

Lin let out a long low whistle. “You’re opening up a can of worms. A stinky can of worms. People don’t like remembering bad times.”

“All we want is to find out the truth,” Jolie said.

Lin looked at Ike. “Have you questioned any of the other deputies about the case?”

“We talked to Carl Bowling and Ernie Dupuis before we did you, and we’re going to call Willie Norville later.” Ike stood and stretched his legs, moving restlessly around his office.

“You ought to talk to Earl Farris’s widow,” Lin suggested. “She might know something. Earl was the only deputy who questioned Lemar’s guilt. After the sheriff told Earl that there was no room for doubt and not to be stirring up unnecessary trouble, Earl kept his mouth shut. But he might have told his wife something about his suspicions before he died. Now, mind you, I don’t think Earl was right, but if you’re determined to rake over the past, you ought to talk to Ginny.”

Ike held out his hand to Lin. “I want to thank you for coming in today and talking to us.”

Lin shook Ike’s hand, then nodded to Jolie. “You might ought to be careful, Miss Jolie. Sometimes it’s better to just let sleeping dogs lie. You never know, you might dig up something you’d rather not know.”

With that said, Lin turned and left Ike’s office. When Jolie opened her mouth to speak, Ike held up a restraining hand, then closed the door.

“I say we get Willie Norville’s number from Nellie and call him right now,” Ike said. “Let’s see if he’s as talkative as Lin.”

“Ike, when did Earl Farris die?”

“Huh?”

“Earl Farris. When did he die?”

“I don’t know. Years ago.”

“How many years?”

“Fifteen, twenty years…What are you thinking?”

“You don’t know exactly when he died or how he died?” Jolie rose from the swivel chair behind Ike’s desk.

“I’ve got no idea. I wasn’t around back then. I was away at college for several years, then I worked out of state for a few years after that.”

BOOK: What She Doesn't Know

12.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub