A Little Death in Dixie, page 19
“I don’t care. Sophia’s in danger.”
Her mother sighed. “We all handle heartbreak in our own way. I have to tell you though, this is almost too much for me.”
“I’m here, Momma.” She touched her mother’s shoulder.
“Your life is in Atlanta. You’ve always hated coming home. I understand more than you realize.”
In spite of the wine, her mother sounded sober, even thoughtful. “You said you had something to tell me.”
“Buck asked me to marry him. I said yes. We’re getting married on Thursday.”
Mercy froze. A knot formed in her stomach. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“He says we need each other now, more than ever. We want something simple. He has arranged for a civil ceremony at noon and a family luncheon at Powell’s afterward.”
A wedding in the middle of this crisis. The word repulsive sprang to Mercy’s mind, along with a few others. She tried to sound calm. “How long have you known Judge Overton?”
“Your sister has known him for . . . I don’t know, a long time. She introduced us five months ago at a party. We played a few hands of bridge. We were good partners.”
“Five months. That’s not long.”
“Your father proposed after three. I was pregnant with Sophia a month after the wedding.”
“But your families knew each other. There was never a question of background.”
“Background! Your father grew up the son of a Mississippi cotton farmer. Buck is quality. His father was an Episcopalian scholar. His mother was D.A.R.”
“His father was what kind of scholar?”
Her mother glared at her. “That’s right, make fun. Buck has a wonderful reputation, and he’s welcomed everywhere in Memphis. After your father died everyone who counts in this city forgot I existed. I raised you girls alone. It’s my turn to have a life.”
Mercy understood what it was like to be lonely, to feel excluded and invisible. But for Momma to marry a man she barely knew . . .
“Judge Overton claimed he’s financially comfortable. Is that true?”
“Mercy! Nice people don’t talk about money. Buck is a judge. He drives a new Cadillac and lives at the best address in Midtown. He loves me. That’s all I need to know.”
“So why would a man like that give up his independence?”
Gloria arched an eyebrow. “You’re asking why a man like Buck would marry an old woman like me unless it’s for money?”
“That’s not fair.”
“You should thank your lucky stars he’s willing to have me.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Momma.”
Her mother’s pained expression was clear even in the darkness. “What if Sophia is dead? The light of my life will be stolen away. How could I be hurt any more than that?”
The light of her life. Sophia. “I hate to press the point, but I’m not sure this man’s being honest with you.”
Gloria heaved herself out of the swing. “If you want honest, I’ll give you honest. You’re upsetting me. If you’d stayed in Atlanta, I’d be talking to Sophia tonight instead of you. And let me tell you something. She’d be happy to know I’m marrying Buck.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tuesday, 6:25 a.m.
The nightmares were killers. Snakes circling him, Lou screaming for help. Billy woke up, tangled in sweaty sheets, Lou’s sarcasm buzzing in his head. When his mom drank, she’d say terrible things to him. The dream had been like that . . . a punch in the gut coming out of nowhere.
He dragged the pillow over his head. A week ago his biggest worry had been getting his swing back. Now Lou was dead. God, how many clues had he missed? How many bean balls had Lou thrown at his head, trying to get his attention?
A towboat blasted its horn. He rolled out of bed. Last night, to get his mind off the video of Lou, he and Jones had gone to The Rendezvous, a restaurant famous for its ribs. Jones distracted him with stories of TBI operations and screw-ups at the governor’s mansion. They ate three orders of dry ribs, drank two pitchers of beer then switched to shots of whiskey. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
He stumbled barefoot through the galley onto the afterdeck. Humidity lay thick on the water, and the sun turned the shoreline platinum. A speedboat slapped past. The sound hurt his head. He hosed down the deck and swept it with a push broom. Then he swept it again. By the time he’d finished, his hangover had diminished.
The truth was, Lou’s body was lying in a cold drawer at the morgue, and Billy no longer believed Sophia was coming home on her own. He had to find out what had happened to both of them.
The back elevator doors slid open at the twelfth floor of the CJC. Billy stepped out and headed for his desk, noticing the place had a weird stillness about it. As he rounded the corner, he heard Lou’s growl break the silence. “Atta boy, fuck up some more. I got it all on tape.” His insides went cold. He’d left the disc in the player last night.
In the conference room, five people with coffee cups stood in a semi-circle around the screen. Lou yelled, “Come on, come on, Billy boy, get a hit.” The camera panned to Smitty winding up for a pitch. Billy watched himself swing and heard Lou grunt as the foul clipped him.
“This oughtta be on YouTube,” a uniformed cop hooted. He elbowed the guy next to him.
“Shut it off,” Billy yelled. He pushed through the group to rip the disc from the player.
Having Jones see the video was bad enough. With these guys, he’d never hear the end of the jokes. Or worse, he’d never hear the jokes at all.
“Shit, man, we didn’t know what it was,” Barry from Maintenance said, grinning.
“Lou could be a real son-of-a-bitch,” Smitty said. “Everybody knows it.”
“Fuck you, Smitty,” Billy said.
“Fuck you, Able,” Smitty shot back. “Hey, maybe Lou was right. Maybe what you need is a good ass- kicking.”
“Come on then,” Billy said.
“Knock it off,” a loud voice said. The group jerked around to see Director Mosby standing in the doorway. “We got felons loose on the streets. Go out and catch some.”
Billy squinted at Smitty. “Later.”
It was a simple room, eight by eight with no windows, a beat-up metal table and three chairs, one with handcuffs dangling from the arm. A giant map of the city hung on the wall. On the door, the flip sign read “Interview in Progress.”
Jones dropped a pile of reports on the table and sat opposite Billy. He didn’t bring up last night’s multiple shots of Jack, and he sure as hell didn’t mention Lou’s video. Jones was all about the job. Billy appreciated that. He scanned the canvass reports and saw nothing new until he got to the bottom of the pile. Jones had come up with a pertinent name and address.
“Miss Courtney Burdine,” Jones said, “is a resident of Childress Place, a high-rise condo in Austin, Texas, financed by the SilverSpring Mortgage Company. Miss Burdine is single, early-thirties and a looker, according to the guard at the desk. The property is listed as a second residence for Mr. Dupree, not a rental.” Jones grinned.
“Jackpot, we got us a bimbo hidden in the tall grass,” Billy said. “Good work. A few more facts on the table and we’ll nail the skunk with this later.” He stretched, rubbed his face and noticed Jones studying him. “What?”
“You get decent sleep on that floating tub you call home?”
“Ol’ Man River rocks me all night long.”
“Looks like Ol’ Man River kicked you in the head. You sure you’re up for this interview with Dupree?”
“Like a kid at Christmas.”
“All right, then.” Jones flipped through the reports. “I see we’ve got a lot on paper, but it’s all circumstantial. I’m wondering how hard we should push the man’s buttons at this point.”
“You know what this guy does?” Billy said.
“Senior V.P. at Zelware Corp. based in Austin. Closes big deals on food products shipped to the Balkans, Central Asia and the Middle East.”
“He’s a glorified salesman. You ever meet a salesman who could keep his mouth shut? Poke him with a stick; he’ll give us what we want. Besides, he’s used to running with the big dogs. Yesterday he acted like I was too stupid to live. Two cops in cheap suits won’t look like much of a threat.”
“Talk about your own bad jacket, leave mine out it.” Jones shoved another stack of papers forward. “Here’s Dupree’s Louisiana record. It’s compelling, but not easily admissible. He lied about booking a cruise on the Pacific Dawn. There’s no ship registered under that name. Mrs. Dupree’s visits to the ER could be considered spousal abuse or a good defense attorney could say she’s a drunk who falls down a lot. I’m wondering; if we avoid bringing up the girlfriend in Texas, where’s our leverage?”
Jones had proven he was a great researcher, Billy thought, but he hadn’t spent much time in an interview room.
“Dupree’s a weak man. He’s done a bad thing. He knows it. That’s our leverage.”
Jones rolled his pen between his thumb and index finger. “So we’re going to assume—”
“Assume nothing in this room. Know your facts when you walk in or you’ll lose the upper hand. Here are some facts: Dupree is a foul-tempered son-of-a-bitch who beat his first wife so bad he could have gone to jail for it. He’s responsible for the accident that killed his son, but he put the blame on his wife. He lied about the cruise, and he’ll lie about hitting Sophia.”
“The man was out of the country. And men buying hits on their wives are rare.”
“There’s a hot younger woman waiting for him in his Texas condo. That’s reason enough for a lot of guys to do crazy things.”
I don’t know, man. I got a funny feeling about this.”
“Funny feeling?”
“Yeah.” Jones looked down at the reports on the desk.
A rap came at the door. Billy ignored it. “You going to help me knock the strut out of Dupree’s walk?”
The rap was louder this time. Jones looked him in the eye. He nodded. “Let’s do it.”
The door opened, and Hollerith put his head in. His hair had been styled, and he wore a charcoal suit and a red tie that made him look more like a politician than middle management. “Dupree is upstairs shaking hands with the director. Tread lightly until we know where we’re going with this one.”
“Come again, sir?’ Billy said.
Hollerith stepped into the room and gave Billy that look you give a kid who’s about to act up in front of company. “Unless you have material evidence, I want you to interview Dupree as a family member of the victim, not a suspect.” He looked around. “Maybe you should move out of this room. It sets a negative tone.”
“We could take him to brunch and beat a confession out of him over eggs benedict,” Billy said.
Jones bent forward as if organizing reports. “Ease up,” he said under his breath.
“You’re not hearing me,” Hollerith said. “I want material evidence on this case.”
“Yesterday you wanted the case closed,” Billy said. “Now you’re tying our hands.”
“The Dupree woman has disappeared before. She could be a walk-away.”
“I’ve covered hospitals, jails, her regular hangouts. This isn’t her usual pattern.”
“What about a random abduction? You look at that?”
“We’re working that angle, sir,” Jones said.
Hollerith switched to Jones. “I want you to act as liaison with Media Relations. Dupree will offer a reward of a hundred thousand dollars on tonight’s six o’clock news. That kind of incentive may catch us a break. Since neither of you has worked as lead on a big case before, I want you to clear your moves with me.”
Jones nodded.
“I don’t work on a leash,” Billy said.
Jones stared at him like he was crazy. Hollerith straightened his tie in the door’s two-way glass panel. “Listen up, Able. Play it like I say it or you’re out.” He glanced down the hall. “Dupree’s on his way here.”
Hollerith ushered Dupree into the room. Billy noted the man’s thousand-dollar suit and high-dollar alligator shoes. He wanted to send a message: I’ve got the bucks, boys. You don’t.
“This is Detective Able and Agent Jones with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation,” Hollerith said. “They’re collaborating on solving your wife’s disappearance.”
Dupree looked at Billy, ignoring Jones. “We’ve met.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee, a cold drink?” Hollerith said.
“Coffee, thanks,” Dupree said and stepped to the city map on the wall, turning his back on everyone.
“I’ll let you gentlemen get to work,” Hollerith said.
Jones angled up beside Dupree and extended his hand. “Sorry we’re meeting under such tough circumstances. Please, have a seat.”
Jones gave Dupree the chair next to his, elbow to elbow. Billy sat across from them. He let Dupree make the first move.
“We had a misunderstanding yesterday, Officer Able.” Dupree put his hands on the table.
“It’s Detective Sergeant Able.”
“Right. It’s just that I was surprised . . . you in my house, sitting at my desk.”
“I understand,” Billy said, taking full measure of the man sitting in front of him. The scar he’d noticed on Dupree’s forehead yesterday was more visible under the interview room’s bright lights. Whatever happened had required stitches. He’d established a baseline on Dupree’s eye movements the day before. Now he checked Dupree’s breathing. The man appeared to be calm.
“I looked into your department’s national ranking,” Dupree said. “Top five for homicide case clearance seven years in a row.”
“We do all right.”
“Mercy told me about the death of your partner. Sorry to hear it.”
Dupree’s condolence surprised him. “Lou Nevers was the best cop in the city.”
“Judge Overton agrees.” Dupree paused. “So if he was the talent, won’t his absence cripple this investigation?”
Billy smiled. All right, no surprise, Dupree was a bully. He pushed only when he thought the other person wouldn’t push back. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Mr. Dupree. Jones and I are very good at our jobs.”
Dupree nodded. Wet his lips. Looked away.
“So let’s get started,” Jones said. “We’ll appreciate anything you can tell us.”
Dupree sat back, glancing around as if just noticing he was in a dingy interview room. “Whatever I can do to help out.”
“First off,” Billy said, “what do you know about your wife’s disappearance?”
“What do I know? Not much. I was out of the country. You verified that with the airline, right? And I’m sure you’re aware . . . well, Sophia has a drinking problem. She’s done this sort of thing before.”
Billy flipped through papers. “But her behavior doesn’t follow her usual pattern. Your wife was expecting her sister’s weekend visit. Her mother described Sophia as being organized, in good spirits. She ran a couple of errands and had a trunk-load of groceries . . . ” He looked up at Dupree, raised his eyebrows.
“I heard a bag boy found her purse. You think he’s involved?” Dupree said.
Typical perp move. Fishing for other suspects.
“We’re not ruling out anyone,” Jones said. He frowned, as if a question had just occurred to him. “Has your wife seemed upset or worried lately?”
“Are you asking if somebody was harassing her?”
Jones shrugged. “Was anyone?”
“Not that I know of, but something was up. She’s been a real mess lately. Anxious, bitchy, worse than usual. Then she got the DUI. Actually, the trip to rehab turned out to be the best thing that’s happened.” He brightened. “Maybe her therapists have some answers.”
“We called. They had nothing to add,” Billy said, shutting down that avenue.
“All I know is she came home from rehab, talking about plans to redecorate,” Dupree said. “She bought rolls of fabrics, drew up designs. I’ve been encouraging her to try new things. Thought this project would get her mind off the bottle.”
Billy didn’t buy it. Gloria Snow said the rolls of fabric were for a charity project. Her live-in mother would know if Sophia had plans to re-do the house. “You’ve got the decorator’s name?”
“She wanted to deal directly with the wholesale workrooms. Said we’d save money if we cut out the middle man, especially if we paid cash. I gave her the deposit money the day I left.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “I’ve heard those decorators are pretty expensive. Sounds like you made a smart move. But considering her past, I’m surprised you gave your wife that much cash.”
“This was different. I thought the project was, you know, healthy, so I agreed.”
“How much did you give her?”
Dupree’s gaze shifted. One side of his mouth lifted. “I don’t recall. I’ll have to check my records.”
“How about receipts or the names of the businesses she dealt with?” Jones said.
“She was just getting started when I left town,” Dupree said.
Billy sat back, wondering why Dupree had brought up the fictitious decorating on his own, a stupid thing to do, unless Sophia had lied to him. Or he could be trying to establish a reason for a large amount of cash leaving his account?
“Would your wife come to you if she were in trouble?” Billy said.
“Honestly, I don’t know anymore. Our marriage is . . . challenging.”
“I guess the anniversary cruise was meant to patch things up.”
Dupree ran his thumb down his jaw line. “I want to clear that up.”
“You said you rebooked on the Pacific Dawn.”
“No, I upgraded.”
Jones flipped through his note pad. “I talked to your travel agent. She said there’s no ship registered under the name Pacific Dawn, and that you told her you didn’t plan to rebook.”
“You talked to my travel agent?” Dupree blinked. “That’s illegal . . . I mean, I changed agencies when I looked into rebooking.”
“Could you give us that agent’s name?” Jones’s pen hovered over his notepad.
Dupree bristled. “I don’t have to give you that information.”
Her mother sighed. “We all handle heartbreak in our own way. I have to tell you though, this is almost too much for me.”
“I’m here, Momma.” She touched her mother’s shoulder.
“Your life is in Atlanta. You’ve always hated coming home. I understand more than you realize.”
In spite of the wine, her mother sounded sober, even thoughtful. “You said you had something to tell me.”
“Buck asked me to marry him. I said yes. We’re getting married on Thursday.”
Mercy froze. A knot formed in her stomach. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“He says we need each other now, more than ever. We want something simple. He has arranged for a civil ceremony at noon and a family luncheon at Powell’s afterward.”
A wedding in the middle of this crisis. The word repulsive sprang to Mercy’s mind, along with a few others. She tried to sound calm. “How long have you known Judge Overton?”
“Your sister has known him for . . . I don’t know, a long time. She introduced us five months ago at a party. We played a few hands of bridge. We were good partners.”
“Five months. That’s not long.”
“Your father proposed after three. I was pregnant with Sophia a month after the wedding.”
“But your families knew each other. There was never a question of background.”
“Background! Your father grew up the son of a Mississippi cotton farmer. Buck is quality. His father was an Episcopalian scholar. His mother was D.A.R.”
“His father was what kind of scholar?”
Her mother glared at her. “That’s right, make fun. Buck has a wonderful reputation, and he’s welcomed everywhere in Memphis. After your father died everyone who counts in this city forgot I existed. I raised you girls alone. It’s my turn to have a life.”
Mercy understood what it was like to be lonely, to feel excluded and invisible. But for Momma to marry a man she barely knew . . .
“Judge Overton claimed he’s financially comfortable. Is that true?”
“Mercy! Nice people don’t talk about money. Buck is a judge. He drives a new Cadillac and lives at the best address in Midtown. He loves me. That’s all I need to know.”
“So why would a man like that give up his independence?”
Gloria arched an eyebrow. “You’re asking why a man like Buck would marry an old woman like me unless it’s for money?”
“That’s not fair.”
“You should thank your lucky stars he’s willing to have me.”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Momma.”
Her mother’s pained expression was clear even in the darkness. “What if Sophia is dead? The light of my life will be stolen away. How could I be hurt any more than that?”
The light of her life. Sophia. “I hate to press the point, but I’m not sure this man’s being honest with you.”
Gloria heaved herself out of the swing. “If you want honest, I’ll give you honest. You’re upsetting me. If you’d stayed in Atlanta, I’d be talking to Sophia tonight instead of you. And let me tell you something. She’d be happy to know I’m marrying Buck.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tuesday, 6:25 a.m.
The nightmares were killers. Snakes circling him, Lou screaming for help. Billy woke up, tangled in sweaty sheets, Lou’s sarcasm buzzing in his head. When his mom drank, she’d say terrible things to him. The dream had been like that . . . a punch in the gut coming out of nowhere.
He dragged the pillow over his head. A week ago his biggest worry had been getting his swing back. Now Lou was dead. God, how many clues had he missed? How many bean balls had Lou thrown at his head, trying to get his attention?
A towboat blasted its horn. He rolled out of bed. Last night, to get his mind off the video of Lou, he and Jones had gone to The Rendezvous, a restaurant famous for its ribs. Jones distracted him with stories of TBI operations and screw-ups at the governor’s mansion. They ate three orders of dry ribs, drank two pitchers of beer then switched to shots of whiskey. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
He stumbled barefoot through the galley onto the afterdeck. Humidity lay thick on the water, and the sun turned the shoreline platinum. A speedboat slapped past. The sound hurt his head. He hosed down the deck and swept it with a push broom. Then he swept it again. By the time he’d finished, his hangover had diminished.
The truth was, Lou’s body was lying in a cold drawer at the morgue, and Billy no longer believed Sophia was coming home on her own. He had to find out what had happened to both of them.
The back elevator doors slid open at the twelfth floor of the CJC. Billy stepped out and headed for his desk, noticing the place had a weird stillness about it. As he rounded the corner, he heard Lou’s growl break the silence. “Atta boy, fuck up some more. I got it all on tape.” His insides went cold. He’d left the disc in the player last night.
In the conference room, five people with coffee cups stood in a semi-circle around the screen. Lou yelled, “Come on, come on, Billy boy, get a hit.” The camera panned to Smitty winding up for a pitch. Billy watched himself swing and heard Lou grunt as the foul clipped him.
“This oughtta be on YouTube,” a uniformed cop hooted. He elbowed the guy next to him.
“Shut it off,” Billy yelled. He pushed through the group to rip the disc from the player.
Having Jones see the video was bad enough. With these guys, he’d never hear the end of the jokes. Or worse, he’d never hear the jokes at all.
“Shit, man, we didn’t know what it was,” Barry from Maintenance said, grinning.
“Lou could be a real son-of-a-bitch,” Smitty said. “Everybody knows it.”
“Fuck you, Smitty,” Billy said.
“Fuck you, Able,” Smitty shot back. “Hey, maybe Lou was right. Maybe what you need is a good ass- kicking.”
“Come on then,” Billy said.
“Knock it off,” a loud voice said. The group jerked around to see Director Mosby standing in the doorway. “We got felons loose on the streets. Go out and catch some.”
Billy squinted at Smitty. “Later.”
It was a simple room, eight by eight with no windows, a beat-up metal table and three chairs, one with handcuffs dangling from the arm. A giant map of the city hung on the wall. On the door, the flip sign read “Interview in Progress.”
Jones dropped a pile of reports on the table and sat opposite Billy. He didn’t bring up last night’s multiple shots of Jack, and he sure as hell didn’t mention Lou’s video. Jones was all about the job. Billy appreciated that. He scanned the canvass reports and saw nothing new until he got to the bottom of the pile. Jones had come up with a pertinent name and address.
“Miss Courtney Burdine,” Jones said, “is a resident of Childress Place, a high-rise condo in Austin, Texas, financed by the SilverSpring Mortgage Company. Miss Burdine is single, early-thirties and a looker, according to the guard at the desk. The property is listed as a second residence for Mr. Dupree, not a rental.” Jones grinned.
“Jackpot, we got us a bimbo hidden in the tall grass,” Billy said. “Good work. A few more facts on the table and we’ll nail the skunk with this later.” He stretched, rubbed his face and noticed Jones studying him. “What?”
“You get decent sleep on that floating tub you call home?”
“Ol’ Man River rocks me all night long.”
“Looks like Ol’ Man River kicked you in the head. You sure you’re up for this interview with Dupree?”
“Like a kid at Christmas.”
“All right, then.” Jones flipped through the reports. “I see we’ve got a lot on paper, but it’s all circumstantial. I’m wondering how hard we should push the man’s buttons at this point.”
“You know what this guy does?” Billy said.
“Senior V.P. at Zelware Corp. based in Austin. Closes big deals on food products shipped to the Balkans, Central Asia and the Middle East.”
“He’s a glorified salesman. You ever meet a salesman who could keep his mouth shut? Poke him with a stick; he’ll give us what we want. Besides, he’s used to running with the big dogs. Yesterday he acted like I was too stupid to live. Two cops in cheap suits won’t look like much of a threat.”
“Talk about your own bad jacket, leave mine out it.” Jones shoved another stack of papers forward. “Here’s Dupree’s Louisiana record. It’s compelling, but not easily admissible. He lied about booking a cruise on the Pacific Dawn. There’s no ship registered under that name. Mrs. Dupree’s visits to the ER could be considered spousal abuse or a good defense attorney could say she’s a drunk who falls down a lot. I’m wondering; if we avoid bringing up the girlfriend in Texas, where’s our leverage?”
Jones had proven he was a great researcher, Billy thought, but he hadn’t spent much time in an interview room.
“Dupree’s a weak man. He’s done a bad thing. He knows it. That’s our leverage.”
Jones rolled his pen between his thumb and index finger. “So we’re going to assume—”
“Assume nothing in this room. Know your facts when you walk in or you’ll lose the upper hand. Here are some facts: Dupree is a foul-tempered son-of-a-bitch who beat his first wife so bad he could have gone to jail for it. He’s responsible for the accident that killed his son, but he put the blame on his wife. He lied about the cruise, and he’ll lie about hitting Sophia.”
“The man was out of the country. And men buying hits on their wives are rare.”
“There’s a hot younger woman waiting for him in his Texas condo. That’s reason enough for a lot of guys to do crazy things.”
I don’t know, man. I got a funny feeling about this.”
“Funny feeling?”
“Yeah.” Jones looked down at the reports on the desk.
A rap came at the door. Billy ignored it. “You going to help me knock the strut out of Dupree’s walk?”
The rap was louder this time. Jones looked him in the eye. He nodded. “Let’s do it.”
The door opened, and Hollerith put his head in. His hair had been styled, and he wore a charcoal suit and a red tie that made him look more like a politician than middle management. “Dupree is upstairs shaking hands with the director. Tread lightly until we know where we’re going with this one.”
“Come again, sir?’ Billy said.
Hollerith stepped into the room and gave Billy that look you give a kid who’s about to act up in front of company. “Unless you have material evidence, I want you to interview Dupree as a family member of the victim, not a suspect.” He looked around. “Maybe you should move out of this room. It sets a negative tone.”
“We could take him to brunch and beat a confession out of him over eggs benedict,” Billy said.
Jones bent forward as if organizing reports. “Ease up,” he said under his breath.
“You’re not hearing me,” Hollerith said. “I want material evidence on this case.”
“Yesterday you wanted the case closed,” Billy said. “Now you’re tying our hands.”
“The Dupree woman has disappeared before. She could be a walk-away.”
“I’ve covered hospitals, jails, her regular hangouts. This isn’t her usual pattern.”
“What about a random abduction? You look at that?”
“We’re working that angle, sir,” Jones said.
Hollerith switched to Jones. “I want you to act as liaison with Media Relations. Dupree will offer a reward of a hundred thousand dollars on tonight’s six o’clock news. That kind of incentive may catch us a break. Since neither of you has worked as lead on a big case before, I want you to clear your moves with me.”
Jones nodded.
“I don’t work on a leash,” Billy said.
Jones stared at him like he was crazy. Hollerith straightened his tie in the door’s two-way glass panel. “Listen up, Able. Play it like I say it or you’re out.” He glanced down the hall. “Dupree’s on his way here.”
Hollerith ushered Dupree into the room. Billy noted the man’s thousand-dollar suit and high-dollar alligator shoes. He wanted to send a message: I’ve got the bucks, boys. You don’t.
“This is Detective Able and Agent Jones with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation,” Hollerith said. “They’re collaborating on solving your wife’s disappearance.”
Dupree looked at Billy, ignoring Jones. “We’ve met.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee, a cold drink?” Hollerith said.
“Coffee, thanks,” Dupree said and stepped to the city map on the wall, turning his back on everyone.
“I’ll let you gentlemen get to work,” Hollerith said.
Jones angled up beside Dupree and extended his hand. “Sorry we’re meeting under such tough circumstances. Please, have a seat.”
Jones gave Dupree the chair next to his, elbow to elbow. Billy sat across from them. He let Dupree make the first move.
“We had a misunderstanding yesterday, Officer Able.” Dupree put his hands on the table.
“It’s Detective Sergeant Able.”
“Right. It’s just that I was surprised . . . you in my house, sitting at my desk.”
“I understand,” Billy said, taking full measure of the man sitting in front of him. The scar he’d noticed on Dupree’s forehead yesterday was more visible under the interview room’s bright lights. Whatever happened had required stitches. He’d established a baseline on Dupree’s eye movements the day before. Now he checked Dupree’s breathing. The man appeared to be calm.
“I looked into your department’s national ranking,” Dupree said. “Top five for homicide case clearance seven years in a row.”
“We do all right.”
“Mercy told me about the death of your partner. Sorry to hear it.”
Dupree’s condolence surprised him. “Lou Nevers was the best cop in the city.”
“Judge Overton agrees.” Dupree paused. “So if he was the talent, won’t his absence cripple this investigation?”
Billy smiled. All right, no surprise, Dupree was a bully. He pushed only when he thought the other person wouldn’t push back. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Mr. Dupree. Jones and I are very good at our jobs.”
Dupree nodded. Wet his lips. Looked away.
“So let’s get started,” Jones said. “We’ll appreciate anything you can tell us.”
Dupree sat back, glancing around as if just noticing he was in a dingy interview room. “Whatever I can do to help out.”
“First off,” Billy said, “what do you know about your wife’s disappearance?”
“What do I know? Not much. I was out of the country. You verified that with the airline, right? And I’m sure you’re aware . . . well, Sophia has a drinking problem. She’s done this sort of thing before.”
Billy flipped through papers. “But her behavior doesn’t follow her usual pattern. Your wife was expecting her sister’s weekend visit. Her mother described Sophia as being organized, in good spirits. She ran a couple of errands and had a trunk-load of groceries . . . ” He looked up at Dupree, raised his eyebrows.
“I heard a bag boy found her purse. You think he’s involved?” Dupree said.
Typical perp move. Fishing for other suspects.
“We’re not ruling out anyone,” Jones said. He frowned, as if a question had just occurred to him. “Has your wife seemed upset or worried lately?”
“Are you asking if somebody was harassing her?”
Jones shrugged. “Was anyone?”
“Not that I know of, but something was up. She’s been a real mess lately. Anxious, bitchy, worse than usual. Then she got the DUI. Actually, the trip to rehab turned out to be the best thing that’s happened.” He brightened. “Maybe her therapists have some answers.”
“We called. They had nothing to add,” Billy said, shutting down that avenue.
“All I know is she came home from rehab, talking about plans to redecorate,” Dupree said. “She bought rolls of fabrics, drew up designs. I’ve been encouraging her to try new things. Thought this project would get her mind off the bottle.”
Billy didn’t buy it. Gloria Snow said the rolls of fabric were for a charity project. Her live-in mother would know if Sophia had plans to re-do the house. “You’ve got the decorator’s name?”
“She wanted to deal directly with the wholesale workrooms. Said we’d save money if we cut out the middle man, especially if we paid cash. I gave her the deposit money the day I left.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “I’ve heard those decorators are pretty expensive. Sounds like you made a smart move. But considering her past, I’m surprised you gave your wife that much cash.”
“This was different. I thought the project was, you know, healthy, so I agreed.”
“How much did you give her?”
Dupree’s gaze shifted. One side of his mouth lifted. “I don’t recall. I’ll have to check my records.”
“How about receipts or the names of the businesses she dealt with?” Jones said.
“She was just getting started when I left town,” Dupree said.
Billy sat back, wondering why Dupree had brought up the fictitious decorating on his own, a stupid thing to do, unless Sophia had lied to him. Or he could be trying to establish a reason for a large amount of cash leaving his account?
“Would your wife come to you if she were in trouble?” Billy said.
“Honestly, I don’t know anymore. Our marriage is . . . challenging.”
“I guess the anniversary cruise was meant to patch things up.”
Dupree ran his thumb down his jaw line. “I want to clear that up.”
“You said you rebooked on the Pacific Dawn.”
“No, I upgraded.”
Jones flipped through his note pad. “I talked to your travel agent. She said there’s no ship registered under the name Pacific Dawn, and that you told her you didn’t plan to rebook.”
“You talked to my travel agent?” Dupree blinked. “That’s illegal . . . I mean, I changed agencies when I looked into rebooking.”
“Could you give us that agent’s name?” Jones’s pen hovered over his notepad.
Dupree bristled. “I don’t have to give you that information.”
