“Not at all. Quiet as a church mouse. Only saw him in the evenings. Most nights he didn’t even come to dinner. By the way, I’ll need a first night’s deposit.”
To give herself more time for casual questioning, Belinda slowed the check-in process as much as possible. “Of course. Did Vick get many visitors?”
“Only in the last week. Before that, he had been quite the loner.”
“I don’t suppose you remember who his visitors were?”
“I didn’t know who they were at the time. Didn’t know it was going to be important.”
“Probably men from that awful training camp outside of town.”
“No,” Mary Sue replied. “You’d be amazed—the man who came to see him two nights before the murder was Vietnamese.”
Belinda’s eyes widened. “You’re certain?”
“Of course. How could I mistake something like that? I thought it was a hopeful sign—maybe the two groups were finally learning to get along. And then tragedy struck.”
“Do you think you would recognize this Vietnamese man if you saw him again?”
Mary Sue reflected for a moment. “I don’t know. Just between us chickens, those Vietnamese all look the same to me.”
Belinda reached into her purse and made a slow show of counting out the first night’s rent. “Do you remember anything distinctive about Vick’s other visitors?”
Mary Sue hiccuped. “Excuse me. Well, of course, his caller the night before the murder was a woman.”
Belinda became intensely interested. “A woman! Can you describe her?”
“Oh, dark hair, slim figure. Sorta like you. Maybe a tad shorter.”
“Why was she seeing Vick?”
“Well, I was afraid”—her neck stiffened—“that something not quite proper was taking place. But it turned out I was wrong. They talked for about half an hour. Then she left.”
Belinda phrased her next question delicately. “You’re certain they just … talked?”
Mary Sue’s darting eyes moved over Belinda’s head and up the stairs. “I happened to be in the hallway outside his room. I overheard them talking.”
“Did you overhear what they were saying?”
“Of course not. What do you take me for, a busybody?”
Ben suppressed a guffaw.
“I do remember this,” Mary Sue said. “The woman’s voice was almost hysterical. She was crying, gasping words between sobs. I became concerned and listened more carefully. I heard her say, ‘I don’t know what to do,’ and then, not too long after that, I heard a sentence that ended with, ‘a baby.’ ”
Ben committed the remarks to memory.
“Sounded to me like they had done something they shouldn’t and Donald was pressuring her to—well, you know. Men are like that. Only one thing on their minds, and once they’ve had it, they don’t care what happens to you.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“No. After that, I went downstairs for Old Sally. I figured the two of us would intercede before he compromised that poor girl any further. But by the time I got back upstairs, it was too late. I heard a banging noise, and for the first time ever I heard Donald raise his voice. And then the woman left. Went flying out of his room, ran down the stairs, and disappeared.”
“Have you seen this woman since that time?”
“Nope. Never saw her before, never seen her since. Don’t know where she went.”
Well, Ben thought, they would just have to find out.
“I don’t suppose you were at the fight the next day,” Belinda asked. “At the Bluebell Bar?”
“Indeed I was. Quite an eye-opener.”
“Would you mind telling me what happened?”
“It was pretty much like the paper described it. The Herald don’t make many mistakes.” Ben attempted to contain himself. “There was one detail they left out, though.”
“What was that?”
“Well, the article made it sound as if Donald just walked up to Vuong and started slugging. Not so. Believe me, I was there, and I watched them the whole time. Donald talked to Vuong for two or three minutes first. They were whispering, but I could tell it was a heated conversation all the same.”
“And then?”
“I guess Vuong said something Donald didn’t like. I never saw anything like it before. Donald’s face just changed—it was like Jekyll turning into Hyde. He became enraged. Grabbed Vuong by the collar and slung him across the bar. That’s how the fight began.”
Belinda nodded. “Thank you so much for your kindness. I’ll be in late tonight, probably after dinnertime.”
“That’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll put a cold plate in the fridge for you.”
“That would be wonderful. Say, is something in the kitchen burning?”
“Oh my!” Mary Sue skittered back toward the kitchen, banging her leg on the coffee table on her way. Belinda took advantage of her absence to grab Ben and pull him out the door.
21.
“GOOD WORK,” BEN SAID as they walked down Maple together. “You got a lot more out of Mary Sue than I did. Despite the fact that you’re”—he lowered his voice to a hush—“a lawyer.”
Belinda laughed. “Mary Sue certainly has been taking an active interest in the affairs of her lodgers. I’m not sure how reliable her information is, though.”
“Why is that?”
“Surely you noticed. Mary Sue is an alcoholic.”
“What? How can you tell?”
“Didn’t have much choice. I smelled her breath. Plus, I saw her tentative stride, her glazed eyes. She’d definitely had a few.”
“That doesn’t necessarily make her an alcoholic.”
“It’s still morning, Ben. No one drinks this time of day unless they need it. And let’s not forget she was at the Bluebell Bar when the big fight occurred. In the afternoon.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Still, she couldn’t have imagined that entire story about the woman who visited Vick.”
“No. Pity we don’t know who the woman was.”
“Agreed. I’ll ask Vick, but I don’t think he’ll tell me.” Ben thought for a moment. “I wonder if any of Vick’s comrades-in-hate would know?”
“It’s possible. Especially if she was a woman they were passing around.”
“That settles it. I’m going to pay the ASP camp a visit.”
“Ben—no!” Belinda reached out and pressed her hand against his shoulder. “Those men are killers. Every one of them.”
“The fact that they belong to a repellent organization doesn’t necessarily make them killers.”
“Ben, believe me. I’ve been tracking these creeps for years. They’ve left a trail of bodies in their wake a mile long. They’re remorseless.”
“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
Belinda shook her head. “You remind me so much of myself it’s scary. You sound just like I did two years ago. Before I learned better.” She turned away and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “You remember John mentioning that ASP came after me, in Birmingham.”
Ben’s eyebrows knitted together. “He said Frank saved you.”
“Eventually, yes. After they’d held me captive over four hours.” Despite the brightness of the sun, her eyes became dark and clouded. “I was leaving Hatewatch late one night, alone. They grabbed me outside my office. Four of them. All wearing hoods. Twisted my arms behind my back, tied a gag so tight it cut my face. They threw me in the back of my car and pinned me down with a boot in my back.”
Instinctively Ben reached out and took her hand.
“After over an hour’s drive we arrived at their secret meeting place. At least fifty of them were there, all hiding beneath hoods. They dragged me to the center of a field—by my hair. Tore big chunks of it out of my scalp. Then they tied me to a wooden cross surrounded by kindling and wrapped a rope around my neck. Made me think they were going to burn me alive. Or hang me. Or both.”