When Blood Cries: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 6) Read online

  “I wasn’t drinking this stuff.”

  “You won’t throw up. Drink the stuff. Lady said it was good for a headache,” I lied.

  “Did she really say that?”

  “So many words, yes. Drink the stuff. See what happens.”

  “You live on the edge, woman. I test the facts, retest the evidence, and then make my conclusions.”

  “Look here, Dr. Einstein, it’s likely an herbal tea that comes by way of her Asian heritage. It’s an offering of help. Good for pain. Drink the stuff,” I said and sat down. I began eating without waiting to see if my attempt at forcefulness would work.

  After I dove into my Chinese cuisine, Starnes sipped away at her hot whatever-in-the-world-it-was drink. Twenty minutes later, I was still enjoying the last remains of my food. Delicious food. Starnes was feeling no pain. And she was smiling.

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  “I feel great,” she answered.

  “See, I told you that it would help.”

  “That stuff is better than vodka.”

  Yikes.

  “We shall hope that it offers no after affects,” I said with some doubt.

  “Tell me, Clancy. What do you expect to learn from Lucinda? Dredging up all of that stuff from their nasty divorce will not be pleasant.” She was still smiling. I wasn’t used to this facial expression from Starnes. It was a little disarming, to say the least.

  “I realize that, but we have no choice. She’s a lead. Look at it this way – until we know something different, she had this affair, it’s then brought out into the open, she’s jilted by her lover, and she is forced to leave the county embarrassed. The way I see it, it’s a viable motive.”

  “You really think she killed Abel Gosnell?”

  “I don’t think anything yet. I think she had a reason to kill him. That doesn’t mean she did. I also think that Cain Gosnell had a reason to kill his brother, ancient Bible stories notwithstanding. That doesn’t mean he did. Clyde and Bart Ramsey had a strong dislike of Abel; but, unless we find something more than their hatred of sheep, I don’t think that motive is as strong as brotherly hatred or a jilted lover. So, we uncover what we can.”

  “I don’t like your work.”

  “It’s not for the timid of heart,” I said.

  “It’s not for anyone who values friends or family.”

  “Hey, I value friends. I value some family. I just don’t have that many of either.”

  “Easy to see why.”

  “We do what we have to do. I’m a detective because it’s in my blood. If I annoy people along the way towards finding answers, then so be it. I can’t apologize for doing my work.”

  “This one is not your job. It belongs to me.”

  “You asked me to help. Tell me to stop and I’ll go home.”

  “I won’t do that. I need you. I just want you to remember that I have to live here. Some of these people are kinfolk.”

  “Makes it tough when that’s on the table,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucinda Bradshaw Gosnell had a lovely older home on Oak Street in Erwin, Tennessee. It was a two-story white framed house with a 1940’s open garage on the right side of the home that was built as part of the original structure. The garage enjoyed the same roof line as the house and was held up by a combination of brick columns with wood supports on top. Green shutters adorned the windows giving it a picturesque style.

  The rooms in the home, at least the ones I could see as we walked through the short hallway en route to the room where Lucinda led us, were large enough to handle more than two or three people at one time. We sat in the living room which was comfortable and spacious enough to allow some feeling of openness. Lucinda told us that the girls were upstairs studying. They had final exams coming up in a few weeks, so they were trying to stay ahead. Either these two teenagers were quite diligent or Lucinda was a drill sergeant. She also told us that both girls were A-students. I got the feeling that she was quoting from their mother-affected resumes.

  “We need to talk with you about Abel, Lucinda,” Starnes said as gently as she could with her alto voice and direct style.

  “I’m sorry he’s dead,” she said.

  “How long has it been since you last saw him?” Starnes asked.

  “About a year, I think. Yes, it’s been a year,” she said as if she were trying to convince herself.

  “You go there or did he come here?”

  “He never came here. I saw him … I guess the last time I was over settling with Cain.”

  “A year ago,” Starnes repeated.

  “Yes, that’s what I said. About a year ago,” she tried to appear resolute.

  She seemed annoyed that Starnes had repeated the time as if it meant something more than twelve months. Perhaps it was an important designation. Perhaps she thought that Starnes was questioning her voracity. Whatever it was, it caught my attention. I make many mental notes since I seem to always forget to bring along a small notepad and pencil like the old time detectives were wont to do. I could go modern and use smart phone, but I disdain most technological gadgetry. My flip-phone, antiquated as it is in terms of nowadays technology turnover, and my smart computer are sufficient.

  “You and Abel part on good terms?” Starnes asked.

  “I’m not sure I like your questions,” Lucinda said.

  “We have to ask, Luci. It’s my job. If you and Abel departed on bad terms, with bad feelings between you and your estranged husband … then, well, you see the problem, don’t you?”

  “So go ahead and cut to the chase, Starnes. Ask me the point-blank question,” she demanded.

  “Did you kill him?” I asked.

  Lucinda turned abruptly and stared at me as if I had profaned something holy in her life.

  “I did not kill him. He was a bastard and I hated him. He deserved to die, but I wasn’t the one who did that. And I’m not sorry that he’s dead. But I didn’t do it.”

  “You said earlier you were sorry he was dead,” I reminded her.

  “I was trying to be nice,” she said with obvious contempt towards me.

  “Okay, failed that one, didn’t we?” I said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Clancy here was attempting some humor,” Starnes said.

  “I didn’t hear anything funny,” she said.

  Her sense of humor must have been in another room of the house.

  “Look, we need to know where you were on October 28th,” Starnes said. “That would be a Friday.”

  “Several days back… let’s see. I’m guessing here, but probably something with the girls … wait a minute, I live and die by the calendar. It’s on the fridge. Let me check it,” she said as she left the living room.

  “Hey,” Starnes said to me in a harsh hushed tone, “remember that she’s my family. Let’s keep her cool if we can.”

  I nodded as if I agreed. Lucinda returned from the kitchen.

  “Yes, I was with the girls that night. They had a sleepover or something like that at one of their friend’s, and I was with them for that.”

  “Parents are invited to teenage girls’ sleepovers?” I said.

  “Oh, I didn’t stay. I was just involved with the other moms at the beginning of it. You know, cooking, helping sort through stuff, whatever. The girls stayed and I came home.”

  “You recall what time that was?” I said.

  “No, but it was probably after nine o’clock that evening. I remember it clearly now. It was a pre-Halloween sleepover for the girls. Since Halloween came on Monday night, a school night, the girls wanted a scary party-thing … you know, watch scary movies and be teenagers. That’s all I can remember,” Lucinda said.

  “You have any idea who might want to kill Abel,” Starnes said.

  “My estranged husband, Cain Gosnell. He lost his family because of him. I’d say that was a pretty fair motive, wouldn’t you?”

  Her tone changed d
ramatically. She was quite confident of what she was saying. Lucinda was now on the offensive.

  I wanted to comment, but for the sake of Starnes I remained quiet. Playing nice was not something I did well with any regularity. On this occasion I initiated sufficient self-control to dodge the fury of Starnes once we would leave Lucinda’s.

  “Could we talk with your daughters?” I said.

  “You certainly will not talk with my daughters. Keep them out of this. They know nothing about Abel’s death, and I don’t want them dragged through this.”

  “Did they know that you and Abel were having an affair?” I said.

  “Well, you certainly are a blunt bitch, I will say that for you,” Lucinda snapped at me.

  “I try.”

  “No. I am not the kind of person who would involve her children in an adult relationship. They knew him only as their uncle.”

  “So, as far as you knew, your relationship with Abel was a well-guarded secret from most of the family,” I said.

  “I did my best to keep my private life private. I doubt it anyone knew of it in the whole county, to say nothing of family.”

  I wondered about that, like I wondered about her daughter’s ignorance of the affair, but I said nary a word.

  “We appreciate your seeing us, Luci. Thanks for answering our questions. We’ll show ourselves out,” Starnes said as she headed towards the door.

  “You won’t be back,” Lucinda said.

  “Is that a question?” Starnes said.

  “No,” Lucinda said firmly.

  “We’ll be back if we need to come back,” Starnes said forcefully, and we walked out into the night air of Tennessee. Touché, Starnes.

  We walked to my vehicle in silence. After Starnes shut her door, I said, “Wow. Am I proud of you.”

  “For what?”

  “Showing some restraint with her being family and all.”

  “Shut up and take us home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I may have to let you go back to Norfolk,” Starnes said to me as we were on our way back to McAdams County that evening.

  “I’m not used to being nice to suspects,” I said.

  “I haven’t detected a whole lot of niceness from you to anybody,” she said.

  “I’ve been nice.”

  “Name one person.”

  “You.”

  “Name another person,” she said, her voice changed slightly. I could tell I was swaying her a bit.

  “Spud.”

  “I think you just maxed out.”

  “They’re the only people I know well in the county,” I said. “Let me check out Lucinda’s alibi.”

  “Can you do it without causing a lawsuit?”

  “Probably. And what about you? That parting shot you gave her was a direct hit. I don’t recall saying anything quite so confrontive.”

  “That’s different.”

  “From what?”

  “You.”

  “How so?”

  “Lucinda and I are kin.”

  “So you can be testy with her but I can’t?”

  “Yeah, and try to remember that.”

  “Restraint is not my strong suit,” I said.

  “I’ll put you in jail if you cross the line,” she said. “I can do that now, you know.”

  “Yeah, I reckon you can. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “If anything is discoverable. You scare me, you know that. You really scare me,” Starnes said.

  “Diligence is its own reward.”

  “Where do you get these quotes?”

  “I make them up.”

  “Figures.”

  “Tell me the truth, Starnes. You believe she has no reason to lie, you believe that she has no motive to kill the man who jilted her after two years or more of no-strings-attached sex? You don’t find that a bit far-fetched?”

  “Okay, a little far-fetched, to use your word. But if she is telling the truth, then I don’t see her leaving her daughters at a party, driving all the way back over here, killing him, dumping the truck and the body, and then driving home. Just the way a soccer mom would do it, right?”

  “Why not? Soccer moms can be both vicious and vigilant when it comes to paybacks.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m leaning towards Cain as the most likely,” she said as a confession.

  “Investigators need to remain objective. Besides, you’re a trained lab technician, or so you keep reminding me. You science-types are supposed to be super objective, looking only at the facts, and making conclusions based solely upon the evidence. We detectives are the ones who speculate, imagine, and theorize. You collect data and determine what’s what based solely upon hard evidence at hand.”

  “Touché,” she said.

  “I’ll let you know what I find out about her alibi.”

  The next day Starnes headed off to interview Jasper Franklin, the cattle farmer who had some issues with Abel. I took Sam and headed back to Erwin in the Jeep. I was not altogether completely positive that I could do my job efficiently and be nice at the same time. Seemed like a contradiction. At least it was a contradiction for my personality to put niceness in front of truth-finding. For the sake of my friend and her familial relations, I would have to try.

  I nosed around the small town checking to see if anyone knew very much about Lucinda Gosnell. I told people that I worked for a law firm over in Johnson City and that we were scouting around for a dependable office manager, and that someone had recommended Mrs. Gosnell. I thought that was a move towards being nice. The first thing I learned about Lucinda Gosnell was that she had reverted back to Lucinda Bradshaw. Burning bridges.

  “Didn’t do your homework very well, did you now, missy?” one wag scolded me regarding her name change. I accepted the critique with a faux smile. She had a point.

  I also learned that she was well liked in the community, active in the county high school, worked with the cheerleaders as well as served as the chairperson of the high school Beta Club. She was asked to serve as the PTA President, but declined due to other activities. The only thing I discovered that she did not do was to attend any specific church or chair any community committees. I could not in good conscience hold that against her since the same could be said about me.

  When I asked about friends, I was pointed in the direction of the ice cream shop in the center of town. The man directing me told me to ask for Betty Jo. He also told me what he thought about Betty Jo.

  “Look for the dumb blond,” he had said. Tsk! Tsk! Apparently law enforcement is not the only group that profiles.

  The Unicoi County Creamery was the name of the ice cream shop. When I entered, one of those little dinging bells above the entrance door sounded to alert everyone in the place that a new person had arrived. Besides me, there was one other person in the Unicoi County Creamery. She appeared to be working there. She was blond. Her name tag told me that her name was Betty Jo. I was thinking the man could have been kinder. She certainly did not look dumb. Attractive, well dressed, and abundantly friendly.

  I ordered a double chocolate raspberry swirl with pecans on top. She put it in a cup per my request.

  “You want a spoon with that?” she asked.

  I was trying to figure what the alternative would be since I was getting it in a cup. I could lap it with my tongue with an absent of dignity or strain with a straw without sucking the life out of me. I should have asked for a straw, but I had promised Starnes I would be nice. There seems to be a test at every turn when a person like me tries to be pleasant.

  “Yes, a spoon would be lovely,” I said.

  “You want extra napkins. I usually get the stuff all over me, so I have to have extra napkins when I eat ice cream. Say, this is the first time I’ve seen you in here. Are you new in town?”

  “Fresh as a daisy.”

  “That’s cute. What does that mean?”

  “What does what mean?” I said.

  “Fresh as a daisy … I don’
t understand. Are you selling flowers?” she asked me again.

  “No. I meant that I am new here, just arrived today,” I said.

  “Well, welcome to Erwin. Good to have visitors here. Are you a tourist?” she said.

  I was thinking it was still November and there was nothing going on in town that I had seen so far, so it begged the question. I was in my kindness mode, so I refrained from asking what I was thinking.

  “I suppose I am, although I did come to get some information regarding one of your citizens,” I said.

  “Oh, which one?”

  “Well,” I began, “I represent the award company that honors distinguished mothers who are above and beyond the normal high school student’s mom in their activities for the school as well as the community. I am researching a mother by the name of Lucinda Bradshaw. She has been nominated for the award of Outstanding High School Mother of the Year by our company and I wanted to see how the community esteemed her.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I know Lucinda. In fact, she’s my best friend. We are always doing things together. She’s a dream, such a hard worker. She’s always running around, doing things for others, traveling here and there. She’s on the go constantly, what with her two high school daughters and their activities. Goodness knows, she has tons of things she’s involved in with the school. She’s an excellent choice.”

  “How is it you know her so well?”

  “Oh, we’ve been close ever since she moved back here. We were in high school together, good friends, but not close like we are now. She and I have teenage daughters.”

  “So, your daughters do things together?”

  “Of course. They’re close friends as well.”

  “I heard about a big party they had recently,” I said trying to fish a little.

  “Oh, that was at my house. It wasn’t big, just a few teenage girls over for a slumber party … excuse me, they don’t call it that anymore. What am I thinking? A sleep over, I think that’s what they say … whatever it is they call the thing nowadays. Just a few dozen girls, laughing, giggling, talking about boys, you know how that is. Oh, and this one, imagine this if you can, it was a scary sleepover since it occurred right before Halloween. The weekend before. They stayed up all hours of the night watching horror movies and all.”