“Last night, no.” She took another puff and then snuffed out the cigarette. “A lady came by the house on Friday. She’s with a movie company. Asked me about Annie. Said she wanted to make a movie of her life.”
“What was her name?”
“Don’t remember. Her card is back at the house. Lexis something.”
He scribbled the name. “What time did she come by?”
“About nine. Why all the questions?”
He closed his notebook. On the streets he could smell a lie a mile off. He watched and waited for Margaret’s tell. “Rachel Wainwright was attacked last night.”
Margaret arched a brow. “And you think I did it?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She fiddled with her name tag and then adjusted her collar. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”
“But you don’t have an alibi.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove it. I think I already proved that if I’ve a beef with ol’ Ms. Wainwright, I’ll have it out right in public like I did for the television cameras. I’ve been upfront with her.”
“Got a stick in your gut that she’s trying to free Jeb. And seeing as it was your mother’s birthday yesterday it could make the perfect storm. You might have had a few drinks. You got madder and madder and then like that—” He snapped his fingers. “You got up, drove across town, and waited for her outside her building.”
Gray eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t hurt her.”
“It would solve a lot of your problems. Without Rachel, few people would champion Jeb’s cause.”
“I don’t need to hurt her to see that justice remains served. That man killed my sister and he left her body in the woods where animals scavenged her flesh until she was nothing but bones. Those tests are gonna prove that he’s the killer and that cops like your daddy were right all along.”
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I am sure. You should be sure too. Your daddy was one of the best policemen in this state. No one tougher or smarter than Buddy Morgan. You’ll have to go a long way to fill his shoes.”
Deke’s stony expression shrouded traces of doubt. “There are several surveillance cameras around Ms. Wainwright’s building. I’ll be checking them today.”
Disgust deepened the lines on Margaret’s face. “Why would you want to help someone like her? She’s out to ruin your daddy’s good name.”
“She’s not going to do that.”
“She’s saying he screwed up. The case that made his career is a lie. She’s saying your daddy was a liar.”
Irritation snapped at his insides. “That’s not what she’s saying.”
“Really? What do you think the media will do to his memory if they find out he screwed up the case that made his career?”
He slid his hand into his pocket and rattled his change. “I’m leaving to check those surveillance cameras now, Ms. Miller. Let’s hope I don’t see you on them.”
Deke strode out of the diner annoyed and irritated with himself. He’d seen a different side to Rachel last night and her gumption didn’t annoy him like it had. He’d also seen a different side of Margaret today. Her devotion to her late sister bordered on fanatical.
Deke was halfway to his car when his phone rang. It was his partner KC. “We’ve another victim that was beaten to death like Dixie Simmons.”
Tension crawled up his back as he glanced back at the diner. “Give me the address.”
KC rattled off street numbers. It took Deke twenty minutes to cut through the city and to find the log cabin–style house located at the end of a dirt road. A collection of cop cars, blue lights flashing, crowded the top of the circular driveway.
KC stood outside the yellow crime-scene tape, his badge hanging from the breast pocket of his blue blazer. His white shirt looked rumpled and his khakis a size too small. When he spotted Deke he motioned him over.
Deke observed the home’s open front door and the collection of forensic techs on the right side of the house. “The victim is on the side of the house?”
“She is. A client came by this morning for a scheduled meeting and found the door open. Looked around the side of the house and found her.”
Deke pulled plastic gloves from his pocket. “Where is the client?”
“In the squad car. She’s a mess.”
Deke glanced toward the car and saw the woman in the front seat, face buried in her hands. The female officer beside her leaned in as she spoke. Judging by the witness’s tears, the officer’s words had little effect.
He’d give the witness time and let the storm of hysteria pass. “What did the victim do for a living?”
KC glanced at his notebook. “Ms. Lexis Hanover, aged forty-seven, was an adjunct math professor at Vanderbilt University and she owned her own private detective agency. According to her website she did insurance fraud, small claims cases, and surveillance. She’s had her license for ten years.”
“Did you say Lexis?”
“I did.”
Lexis. A memory elbowed its way forward. Lexis, like the movie person who’d visited Margaret. Could be chance.
Annie. Dixie. Rachel. Lexis. Names that did not fully connect. “My brother Rick saw Rachel Wainwright on the campus of Vanderbilt recently. She was visiting a woman who is a private investigator and a math teacher.”
“This gal’s got math degree diplomas hanging on her walls.” KC shook his head. “What are the chances of that being a coincidence?”
“None.” Annoyed, he loosened his tie. “Let me have a look at the body.”
“Around the side of the house near the trash cans.”
Deke ducked under the crime-scene tape, the crisp fall leaves crunching under his feet as he moved toward the body, which lay facedown. Even from ten feet away he could see the blood and destruction.
Brad Holcombe looked up from a sketchpad. “Detective Morgan.”
Deke kept his gaze on the body. “Is Georgia here?”
“She’s working the inside of the house.”
Good. Deke didn’t like the idea of Georgia around this body. He never would have said it out loud because Georgia hated coddling and babying. But he and his brothers rarely apologized for protecting her. All the boys could still remember the day their parents had brought their screaming pink baby sister home. She’d been so tiny. Protecting her had been as natural as breathing.
However, their wishes meant squat to Georgia. She wanted a forensics career and never once shied from a difficult crime scene. And she was damn good at what she did. Deta
iled. Thorough. Tenacious. They’d wanted a desk job for her, but she’d jumped knee deep into the family business.
“What can you tell me about the murder?” Deke asked.
“She was struck at least seven times. Each blow did maximum damage and was excruciating. Her kneecaps are broken, her elbow is shattered and the killing blows struck the right side of her head.”
Deke studied the mangled bloody mess that had been Lexis.
“We also found a thirty-eight.” Brad pointed to a tented yellow number that sat beside the handgun. “It hasn’t been fired so I think the first blow was to her hand. That would have sent shock waves up her arm and she’d have dropped the gun.”
“So when she came outside she was expecting trouble or was she the kind of gal who always figured trouble was around the corner?”
“Hard to say.”
“Do we have any idea what she was investigating?”
“Haven’t dug that far yet.”
Deke squatted by the body. Lexis had been in fair shape. She’d brought her gun with her, so how had the killer gotten the upper hand? “Were there any signs of struggle?”
“The medical examiner will know better.”
He studied the surrounding woods. “The killer would not have happened by out here. He would have come with a single purpose.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna have a look inside.” Deke rounded the side of the house and climbed the three steps to the rustic porch. Inside the smell of burned coffee hovered. He found Georgia standing next to a simple plank desk with a state-of-the-art laptop. On a side table there was a high-tech scanner as well as several cameras. They’d all have to be searched for images that might explain how Lexis Hanover had caught the eye of the killer.
Georgia glanced up, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Deke. Looks like your victim was a fairly successful PI.”
“I never crossed paths with her.”