Fair turned to her. “This morning?”
“Keswick Country Club. I stopped by.”
“Harry, usually an adult, unless impaired, has to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before a report is filed. Something is very wrong here.”
“You mean if Penny’s disappearance made the news, they fear the worst?”
“Yes. Obviously, we’re supposed to be on the lookout for her, but she’s more than missing, I’m afraid.”
28
Harry was shocked at Tazio’s appearance when she walked into the area reserved for prison visitors. Unlike big prisons, where people sat on either side of glass, speaking through phones, they sat opposite each other, with a low table between them and a guard at the door.
“Harry.” Tazio reached across the table and the two women touched hands.
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I can’t eat and I can’t sleep.”
“Is the food that bad?”
“Too much starch, sugar, and salt. I just can’t stomach it.”
“Brinkley is fine, but he misses you.”
Tazio wiped away a tear. “You don’t realize how much you love a dog until you’re separated from him. Brinkley and I are together all day, every day. He’s my shadow, my friend, my best friend, corny as that sounds.”
“Not to me it doesn’t. Miranda baked gingerbread. The other guard is cutting it up to make sure it doesn’t have a saw in it.” Harry smiled ruefully. “God knows if you’ll get any of it. Smelled so delicious that I almost tore into it myself on the way down here, and you can imagine how undisciplined Pewter was.”
“I miss them, too.”
“Out in the truck with the windows cracked, although it’s coolish today, finally. October is one of my favorite months, but Friday isn’t my favorite day.” Harry folded her hands, placing them on top of the table.
“Sure puts everyone else in a good mood, because at five, they’re off. The weekend starts the minute they leave the job.”
“You and I don’t have those kind of jobs.”
“Miss that, too.” She tried to make general conversation. “Why don’t you like Fridays?”
“Execution day for the better part of European history. Considered the devil’s day.” Harry noted the expression on Tazio’s thinning features. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I am accused of murder.” She expelled air with force. “I feel like I’m in a bad dream.”
“Big Mim is raising your bail from friends.”
She ruefully snorted. “Guess I know what I’m worth.”
“A lot, apparently.” Harry’s voice was soft, then she continued, “Are you being treated okay? Are the other prisoners okay?”
“Harry, they are exactly what you think they are: drug addicts supporting their habits by prostitution. There’s no one in here for big crimes, other than myself. And you know what’s really weird? I guess it’s not so weird, since people always form a pecking order, but the top of the top is considered armed robbery. I’m accused of murder so I’m lower on the totem pole, but the poor girls in there who are strung out on smack, coke, crank, you name it, they’re on the bottom. They don’t have much to do with me, but they aren’t ugly.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I even like some of the women. Poor things, if they didn’t have bad luck they wouldn’t have any luck at all.”
“Good luck will be coming your way. We’re working on it.”
“Harry, I have replayed that night in my mind over and over again. I can’t think of any detail I neglected to report. Ned keeps counseling me to relax, dream a little. He says sometimes stray bits of information might float up. He thinks because of the shock I’ve blocked things.”
“Possible. In fact, I bet he’s right.”
She shook her head. “I still can’t think of anything except that I heard a footfall, steps away from me, but…” She shrugged.
“What about odors? Perfume, cologne, liquor, I don’t know… uh, cigar smoke?”
“The smell of blood was overpowering.”
“Plus everything else that comes out of the body.”
“That, too. I have thought of one thing, though—not a memory but a note, like a missing note in a line of music.” As Harry leaned forward, Tazio said, “The sheriff said that the way Carla’s throat was slashed would indicate a right-handed person.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If the killer came up behind her, grabbed her by the chin, pulled her head back, and exposed her neck, that cut would be left to right. They’d be right-handed.” She sighed. “I’m grasping at straws. It really doesn’t make any difference.”
“Ned said the coroner’s report from Bedford County indicated she was slashed from the front and she had made no attempt to defend herself.”
“Harry, when someone’s throat is cut, the blood shoots out like a fountain. Wouldn’t whoever did it be drenched in blood? They couldn’t jump aside until the job was done. Blood had to spray over something—clothing, their face, depending on their height.”
Harry sat upright. “God.”
“So I think whoever approached her—someone she knew or someone innocent-looking—had the knife hidden, perhaps in a towel, a bag, even an instrument case like for a trumpet. If he had a towel, he could have used it to wipe himself off.”
“I don’t know if it will make a difference, but who knows. Details finally add up to a picture. Have you told Ned?”
“No. I won’t see him until tomorrow, Saturday.”
“Do you mind if I tell him?”
“No.”
“May I tell Coop? She knows more about these things than either of us.”
“No, I don’t mind. It’s curious, isn’t it?”
“The men wore white tie, and the blood would be noticeable on the pique front and the tie. Most of the women wore bright dresses; it would show. Might not show on a black dress.”
“But you’d smell it.”
“I don’t know. A lot of folks have lost their sense of smell, thanks to the ragweed and goldenrod plus smoking and pollution, but surely one of us would have gotten a whiff. You’re right, Taz, whoever killed Carla had a way to either avoid the blood or clean up.”
“Could have gone into a Porta-John.”
“Hard to change in there. Not impossible, but the killer would have had to stash his clothes somewhere. He couldn’t carry a bundle of clothing under his arm and kill her, go to a John, and hope there wasn’t a line. Not likely.”
“A person walking to the parking lot wouldn’t seem out of place.”
“No, they wouldn’t. They could have slipped back into the house, though that’s less likely with Melvin there.”
“So either they changed or got rid of the bloody towel, if they had one. Stuck it in the car.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll swing back to Poplar Forest and nose around outside. Open to the public, so I can’t very well charge inside. Taz, I’m sorry. We’ll get you out of here. Another week and I think we’ll make bail. You’d be surprised at how many people are chipping in.”
Her eyes misted over. “I’m lucky. I have good friends.”
“You are a good friend.” Harry changed the subject. “Herb’s called a vestry-board meeting. Marvin’s back but I don’t know if he’s going to be there, because Penny’s been missing since Tuesday. Penny, according to her husband, could go off on a shopping toot and forget to call, but she’d call if she would be late getting home.”
Tazio’s eyes widened. “Another client of mine. Harry, what’s going on? Penny and Carla were friends, sort of”
“I don’t know. Could be she’s fine or she’s not fine. If she had a stroke she might not be able to tell people who she is. What if she fell over at a mall? Someone could have stolen her purse. You never know. Stranger things have happened.”
Tazio twisted her fingers together nervously. “She’d be in a hospital. Given the call of her disappearance, someone at the hospital would notify the sheriff. No, Harry, something is wrong.”