It was a young woman, very young. She could barely be eighteen.
When she looked over and saw him, she gave a little cry of panic.
He held up his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.” He made no move toward her.
“Who are you?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“My name is Will Robie. And I might be here for the same reason you are. To see where Sherman Clancy was killed.”
She was petite with strawberry blonde hair and an upturned nose sprinkled with freckles. She had on loose-fitting jeans, sneakers, and a tight pink T-shirt that emphasized her large breasts. There was a leather bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m not here because of that jerk!” she exclaimed.
“Why then?”
“Wait a minute. Robie? Are you related to—”
“He’s my father.”
“Well, he did us all a good service by killin’ that bastard.”
“If he killed him. But why do you say that?”
“I’m Sara Chisum. Janet was my older sister.”
“I’m sorry,” said Robie. “But then I don’t understand why you’re here. Back there on the dirt road is where they found Clancy’s body in his car.”
She looked around, her face twisted in confusion. “I…I didn’t know that. This spot was where Janet and me would come.”
Robie leaned against a tree and folded his arms over his chest. “Why would you come here?”
Sara Chisum looked uncertain for a moment. The next second she stared defiantly at him and said, “What the hell business is it of yours?”
Robie said, “I was young once. And I had spots along the Pearl where I came to drink beer. And do other… things.”
This assessment seemed to take all the fight out of the young woman. She plunked down on a fallen tree. “We’d smoke some weed, too. Not something our parents would understand. But there’s just nothin’ to do around here. I hate it.”
“Why’d your family move here?”
“Work. For my dad.”
“What’s he do?”
She looked nervously at her shoes. “He’s the preacher over at the Jerusalem Baptist Church. We came from Mobile. He…he doesn’t know about what we do here. Or did here,” she added hastily, her lips quivering.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
She looked at him curiously. “You’re not from around here?”
“No, but I was.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “They say your sister spent time with Clancy?”
He thought she might get angry again, but she didn’t. She just kept looking down at her shoes, even as her hand slipped into her bag and pulled out a can of Coors Light. She popped the top and took a swig.
“He gave her money.” She looked up. “He gave me money, too.”
“So he liked giving people money?”
She nodded. “But not for nothin’,” she said slowly. “No, not for nothin’. We had to do stuff for him.” She said in a small voice. “To him.”
“Did your parents know about any of that?”
“They didn’t till that stuff about Janet came out in the trial. I had to testify. Like to kill my daddy. Then they didn’t even convict the bastard.”
“Because he had an alibi.”
She took another sip of beer and held it up. “You want some?”
“No thanks.”
“Right, he had an alibi.” She looked at him accusingly. “Your daddy’s wife gave it to him. She was with him the night Janet was killed. That’s what she said.”
“And if she was, that means someone else killed your sister. Any idea who that might have been?”
“I…I couldn’t say nothin’ ’bout that.”
“I didn’t ask you if you could. I asked if you had any ideas.” She didn’t answer him, and Robie waited a few moments before adding, “I know you want your sister’s killer to pay for what he did.”
“Of course I do!” she snapped.
“Have the police talked to you about it?”
“Not yet. But I guess they will. I guess they’re sort’a focusin’ on your daddy for killin’ Clancy. Police department ain’t that big, I reckon.”
“You have another sister, don’t you?”
“Emma. But she’s only thirteen. She don’t know nothin’.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“She don’t know nothin’, okay!”
He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay.”
Robie made a mental note to check out what Emma Chisum might actually know.
“I gotta go,” said Sara.
“Do you live close by? I guess that’s your bike back there, but I can give you a ride.”
“No thanks. It’s not that far.” She eyed him suspiciously. “And I don’t know you from Adam.”
“Well, I’ll let you get on.” He turned to leave but then said, “If you think of anything, you should tell Deputy Taggert. She’ll be able to help you.”
“I already done told you, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout nothin’.”
“Memories are a funny thing. Sometimes you know more than you think you do.”
He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote his phone number down on it. He passed it over to her. “Just in case.”
She took the paper and stuffed it in her pocket.
He walked back through the woods to his car and then waited until she passed by him on her bike before driving off.
Chapter
20
Robie headed back to the Willows, showered, and changed his clothes. As he was heading downstairs Victoria came out of Tyler’s room, carrying the little boy. She was still wearing her robe.
“Are you heading out already?” she said in surprise. “It’s early yet.”
“I thought I’d get into town, have some coffee, and get over to the courthouse. I doubt there’ll be many seats left.” He studied her. “You decided whether to go or not?”
“Not yet,” she admitted, averting her gaze and taking the opportunity to rub a smudge of dirt off Tyler’s cheek. “Priscilla can make you some breakfast.”
“That’s okay. I’m good.”
He headed out to his car, got in, and started it up. He glanced at the house and saw Victoria and Tyler staring at him from an upstairs window and Priscilla doing the same from a lower one.
He drove into town, found a diner, sat at the counter where he had two cups of coffee and a bowl of buttery grits and a fat biscuit, and checked his messages. Nothing from Blue Man, but Robie had asked him to look into things only a few hours ago. And even Blue Man needed a little bit of time to work his magic.
He gazed around at the others in the diner. Every eye had ventured to him when he walked in, and most were still casting him furtive, curious glances. The folks were more diverse than Robie would have thought — whites, blacks, and a sprinkling of Latinos. Most were men. All but a handful of them were dressed in work clothes. Those in suits, Robie assumed, might have something to do over at the courthouse, or maybe labored in a bank or a medical practice.
He didn’t see Pete Clancy and his buddies, which was a good thing. They might bring a gun to the next fight and Robie had left his in the car, since he was going to the courthouse later.
One of the gents in a suit rose from a table in the back. Robie watched him in the mirror hung on the rear wall of the diner as he made his way slowly toward the counter. He was about five-ten and flabby, with his short, grayish-brown hair precisely parted and cemented down with hair spray. His suit was a three-piece seersucker with a bright red tie over his starched collared white shirt, which made it look like his chest had been slashed open. He stopped along the way to pat backs, shake hands, and chitchat with the other folks there. Not many looked happy to be pressing the flesh with the man.