Pit Perfect, page 14
Ryan Petry was handsome, charming, and likable, but he wasn’t Parker Knowles. Maybe that was a good thing. “Maybe.”
He grinned. “That’s not a no.”
I started the truck up again and put it in gear. “Don’t be late. Minds to shape and all.”
“Where can I find you?”
“Bye.” I smiled and waved as I backed the truck out the parking spot. It had been a while since my last date, and I wasn’t sure how to proceed with a human. “It shouldn’t be this complicated, Smoosh.”
She curled in the seat and started licking her butt.
“Not helpful,” I told her. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t care.
After more driving around, I found myself parked out in front of Rex Kapersky’s church. There was only one car in the parking lot, a red four-door sedan—an upscale model. Something I imagined Katherine Kapersky would have been proud to drive. The sign over the church’s front door proclaimed, All are welcome. I hooked Smooshie’s leash on her collar. “Last time I checked, you were an All,” I told her.
Smooshie pulled me up the steps, ready to explore a new place. The doors, like last time, were unlocked. There wasn’t any music today. The church had a quiet serenity that can only happen when a sanctuary was vacant. Absent of activity. I sat in the last pew and Smoosh parked herself between my knees, her head on my left thigh. The interior was a mixture of dark wood grains, rich red and gold fabrics, and stain-glassed windows on both walls. A podium stood at the center of the stage where the choir had been rehearsing just two days earlier. Towering behind the podium on the wall was a statue of Jesus Christ, his hands out as if asking for a hug. I thought it was nice. Some images I’ve seen of Christ, especially the crucifixion ones, could scare the bejeezus out of people. I sat quietly for a moment and stared at a stained-glass angel.
Reverend Kapersky, wearing black slacks and an untucked white button-down shirt, walked out through a side door at the front of the church. The door I’d seen him go come out of when he greeted Lacy Evans. His shoulders slumped, and his arms were slack as he crossed to the front of the church. Even in the poor lighting, I could see puffy redness around his eyes. His grief was real, and the fact that some people were glad his wife was dead, no matter how awful she might have been, struck a nerve with me.
He turned toward the back of the church and made his way down the middle aisle. His eyes widened when he finally noticed me.
“Can I help you?”
Smooshie popped up and put her paws on the back of the pew in front of me. “Sorry,” I said. I moved her back to the floor.
“All God’s creatures, great and small,” the reverend said. He walked back to where I sat. He approached us with enough caution for me to count him as a smart man. He held up his hand to Smooshie and let her sniff him. When she pushed her head forward, he took that as permission to pet her. “Beautiful animal.”
“Thanks.” I kept a tight hold on her leash in case she decided to get aggressive with her affection. “She’s a lover,” I warned.
Reverend Rex sat next to me and leaned over to pet Smoosh again, and he ended up with a wet lick across his mouth and nose for his effort. He sputtered then wiped his face with the back of his hand and smiled. “Definitely a lover.”
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
The smile faded. “Thank you.” He looked at me. “Did you know Katherine well?”
I shook my head. “No. Really, I didn’t know her at all. I…I just…” I realized he didn’t know I was the one who had found her.
“It’s okay, child.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I thank you for your sympathy. Would you like some counsel, or would you rather me leave you alone to pray?”
I had a million questions to ask the reverend, but I couldn’t think of a single organic way to go about it. Buzz had said that some of Katherine’s information had to have come from the private counseling sessions between the reverend and his flock. Could that be my way in? After all, Kapersky had offered. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Let’s go back to my office.” He stood and straightened the tail of his shirt.
I followed him back, the heavy scent of musk and alcohol wafting behind him. Some kind of aftershave. At least he hadn’t stopped grooming. That was always the first sign of someone who has given up. He ushered me into a room that was maybe twelve feet by ten feet, not quite a square. A large oak desk took up a big chunk of space opposite the door. A wooden office chair with leather padding was situated behind the desk. The reverend sat down and gestured for me to take one of the two hardwood chairs across from him. One wall had a bookshelf filled with different Bibles, like King James, New American Standard, and the International Bible.
“Please have a seat.”
He sat with his hands folded on the desk. No pen or paper at the ready. “Do you take notes during your sessions?”
The question surprised him. “If you’re worried about confidentiality, you needn’t. I no longer take notes.” He leaned forward, smiling. “How can I be of service, Miss…?”
“Mason,” I told him. “Lily.”
“Miss Mason.” Some of the kindness and sadness had left his tone. It had been replaced with suspicion and a simmering of anger. “You’re the young woman who found Katherine, aren’t you?” Before I could deny it, he added, “The sheriff told me your name.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hide that from you.” I walked to the bookshelf.
“Yes, you were.” He didn’t sound angry. “I don’t blame you, Miss Mason.”
I pulled out a leather-bound book, thin, almost fragile in its years, from the lower shelf. It smelled of dust, mold, and cardamom.
“Careful, there,” the reverend said. “That’s a Taverner’s Bible. Not a first edition, of course, but still pretty rare.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said and slid it back into place. “You have a lot of Bibles.” I carefully placed the old tome back in its spot. “You really have a lot of Bibles.”
“I believe in studying the whole word,” he said. “And since all versions of the Bible have slightly different ways to interpret the original texts, I try to read them all.”
On an upper shelf, I saw an Aramaic to English Bible. “Isn’t Aramaic the original language of the sea scrolls, or something like that?” I remembered the word from a documentary I’d watched, but I hadn’t paid enough attention to it to really know.
The reverend smiled. “Something like that.”
I tilted the Bible toward me. A picture slid off the shelf and onto the floor. I picked it up. It was a studio photograph of Lacy Evans and a baby in a blue onesie.
“Leave that,” the reverend said.
I turned the photo over. In messy cursive, “Our Son, 3 Months Old,” was written on the back. Shock took the breath right out of me. “Oh, my God. Are you the father of Lacy Evan’s baby?”
“No.”
“Do you know who is?”
“That’s none of your business, Miss Mason. I would no more share Lacy’s confidences than I would yours.”
“But your wife didn’t have the same compunction, did she?” Smooshie sat down next to me, her head swinging from me to the rev. She obviously felt the tension because she offered a pitiful whine. The reverend’s face reddened, but he didn’t deny it. I pushed a little harder. “She was reading your private notes, gathering information on people in the church and using it as leverage. Is that why you stopped writing down your sessions when counseling people?”
He rubbed his hands over his face and looked out the window. I slid the picture in my pocket before he turned back to me. “Katherine wasn’t an easy woman, but I loved her. Why did Parker kill her? Over some dogs?”
“He didn’t do it.” I was beginning to feel like one of those six-second looped videos all over social media. He didn’t do it. He didn’t do it. He didn’t do it. ~insert parrot squawk~
He looked at me, his stare hard as the vein in his forehead pulsed. “Sheriff Avery says he has a solid case against the young man. I hear he suffers from mental problems. I’ll be sure to pray for him. I’m a man of God. I have faith that all things happen for a reason.”
“Do you really believe God approved a killing spree in Moonrise?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Who told you something that was worth killing for?”
“No one.” I couldn’t detect any deception in Reverend Kapersky. It made me wonder if he was telling the truth or if he was just that naive.
“I’ve known people who have killed because it was Thursday.”
“Then you’ve known some depraved people, Miss Mason.”
“So have you, Reverend. Difference is, I am aware.”
Chapter 18
The Cat’s Meow was closed on Tuesday evenings. I hated to bug Buzz on his night off, but I needed Freda’s address. The picture of Lacy and the baby stashed in the rev’s Bible might have nothing to do with Katherine’s or Ed’s deaths, but that same picture had been in Ed’s utility drawer. I needed to know why. Buzz gave me the information I wanted with very little guff. Before I hung up, I heard distinct and recognizable giggling in the background. “Tell Nadine I said hello.”
“Will do,” Buzz said in farewell then hung up.
Freda’s home was on the south side of town. As I drove into her neighborhood, the houses decreased in size, but the yards were neat, no clutter anywhere. Many front lawns had skeletons of trees and shrubs with a few evergreens adding pops of color in the snow. I bet the area was real pretty when the flowers were in bloom.
Freda lived on 543 Spring Street. Her house was a pale gray-blue with black shutters, the decorative kind bolted to the siding for show only. She had a one-car paved driveway, and her white station wagon was parked in the space. I pulled onto the side of the road just past her mailbox.
I wasn’t sure what I planned to accomplish by visiting Freda. I had my own doubts about whether I was investigating or just being nosey. For one, I had no idea if or how Lacy played any role in Katherine’s death. Being a frazzled mom didn’t make a person homicidal.
Smooshie practically dragged me to Freda’s front door but stopped just shy to pee next to a juniper bush. The mahogany door was charmingly rustic with a speakeasy opening at the top behind a black rod iron grill. I pressed the doorbell and waited. I could hear the soft shuffle of footsteps on the other side then the squeak of a slide bolt on the door. The speakeasy opened. Freda stared at me through the square hole. “Well, hi, Lily. Just give me a sec.” She closed the lookout and unlocked the deadbolt and the door handle. She opened the door and look at Smooshie, eyes wide. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had your dog with you. I’m really sorry, but I’m allergic. I can’t let you in with her.”
“That’s all right, Freda. I don’t want to take up a lot of your time.”
“What can I do for you?”
I wasn’t sure the best way to approach the subject. I reached into my coat pocket for the picture I’d taken from the church and held it out to her.
“Where’d you get that from?” She took the wallet-sized portrait from me. “Lacy got those done at the studio in the Walmart.” She flipped it over, blanching as she read the inscription. She stared at me, her eyes lit with accusation. “Where did you get this from?”
“I found it,” I lied.
Freda’s expression was guarded now. “I thank you for returning it. Good day, Lily.”
I didn’t give her time to shut the door on me. “Does Lacy have a connection to Ed Miles?”
“Why are you asking me about Ed?”
How freaked out would Freda get if I told her about his picture stash? “Were they lovers? Was Ed Paulie’s father?”
Freda blanched. “That’s… No. No. That’s not possible.” She didn’t say it as if in denial. She said it as if she knew for a fact.
Another reason for Ed having all those photos dawned on me. “Was Ed Lacy’s father?”
“You need to mind your own business, Lily.” Freda swallowed hard, her right hand balled into a fist as she shook her head. “What game are you playing at?”
“I’m not playing, Freda. I’m trying to find out who killed Katherine Kapersky and framed Parker Knowles.”
“I don’t know anything about that woman’s death.”
“You’re afraid, Freda. It’s written all over you. Are you worried Lacy had something to do with Katherine’s murder? Maybe she killed Ed too? I did see her at the bar last night.”
“You have no right,” Freda hissed. She pointed a long, thin finger at me. “Katherine got what was coming to her, but Lacy had nothing to do with it. She was at my house that night. Paulie had a bad case of colic, and she couldn’t cope on her own. And as far as killing Ed…” Freda shook her head. “She wouldn’t.”
“Because he’s her father?”
Freda’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t suppose it matters now. He was her father.”
“Does she know?”
“I…I don’t think so. But she and Ed were always on friendly terms. He was married when I got pregnant with Lacy. He wasn’t going to leave his wife, and I wasn’t going to get an abortion, so we parted ways. He gave me money over the years in return for my silence.”
“You blackmailed him?”
She grimaced. “The arrangement was Ed’s idea. I wouldn’t have told his wife. They never had any children, so I think he just wanted to be a part of Lacy’s life in some way. When Sheila left him about five years later, I didn’t want him back. He’d started drinking pretty heavy, and I was content to leave things as they were.”
“Did Katherine know about Lacy?”
“That old bat didn’t know jack crap or she would have found a way to use the information against me.”
“And what about the father of Paulie?”
Freda shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve tried to get Lacy to tell me, but she refuses.”
“You think he’s married?”
“I think it’s likely.”
I nodded. “I appreciate you talking to me, Freda.”
“You won’t tell anyone. About Ed, I mean.”
“No,” I assured her. “Not if it doesn’t have anything to do with the killings.”
* * * *
Lacy Evans might not be a murderer, but I was beginning to believe she was somewhere at the heart of these killings. Other than the accident, I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to the woman. She worked as a legal secretary for Jock Simmons, so I looked up the lawyer’s office and headed down there under the guise of wanting to discuss Parker’s case with the man.
I’ll admit, I wanted to check his knuckles for bruising as well. I worried for Theresa, and I didn’t know what I’d do if it turned out Jock was hitting her. Make no mistake, I would do something. I already didn’t like the guy on principle, if it turned out he was a woman beater as well as a douche-nozzle, I might have to mete out some Shifter justice on his abusive butt.
Simmons Family Law was located in the Birch Hills Business Plaza. The long building had a real estate company, a chiropractor, a massage therapist (I made note of the phone number for later), a physical therapist, and a place called The Smile Factory.
I parked out in front of the law office. It was 4:30 n the afternoon, and the sign on the door said they were open until 5:00 p.m. I didn’t see Lacy’s black sedan, no surprise there since she’d wrecked it, but there was a rental car in the first parking spot.
Smooshie whined when I shut off the engine, and I had a real “oh crap” moment. I couldn’t, or should I say, wouldn’t leave her in the truck. I didn’t know how long my conversation with Lacy would take, and I didn’t want to leave Smoosh to her own devices. I’d already seen what she could do with a small office. My truck wasn’t much, but I liked my seats and console intact.
I had another “oh crap” moment when Parker pulled into the parking lot next to me. He met my gaze the moment he came to a halt and gave me a thin-lipped smile.
Shoot. I hadn’t meant to run away from him or hide from him all day (yes, I had). Elvis was in the seat next to him. Smooshie barked and yipped then smashed her face against the passenger window, her tongue creating streaks in the condensation from her heated breath.
Parker’s thin smile turned into a real one as he shook his head. I scratched Smooshie’s back. “Good girl,” I said gratefully.
Parker got out of his truck and walked to the driver’s side of mine. I rolled the window down. “Hey, you.” The scent of mint and honey wafted in at me.
“Hey, you,” he said. “Watcha doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I have an appointment with a lawyer.”
“Oh, right.” Duh! “I wanted to check in on Lacy and see how she was doing. Ryan told me she passed out during the fire at Nix’s.”
“Ryan?”
“That veterinarian of yours.”
“When did you meet him?”
“He was at the bar last night, and I ran into him over at the college today.”
To say my senses were off is an understatement. For example, I hadn’t noticed the slight mottling of color in Parker’s cheeks, the slight tremble in his fingers, or the quickening of his pulse and breath. But when I said, “Ryan seems like a really nice guy,” Elvis wedged himself between Parker and my truck, creating a larger space between us.
I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights as my eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. I made an “uh” sound, then closed my mouth.
“I’d like you to come in with me, if you want,” was not what I thought he’d say, but he did.
I nodded mutely and did a whole bunch of blinking as I grabbed Smooshie’s leash. “Do you think Simmons will be okay with me bringing her inside?”
“He has to let Elvis in, I don’t see how one more dog will make a difference.” His nostrils flared, and I swear his ice-blue eyes turned almost azure.
Lacy Evans was startled to see Smooshie and me show up with Parker. She wrinkled her nose at me then glared at Parker. “You’re late.”
