I KNOW HOW to change a tire. My mama taught me the ropes when I was a teenager. The used cars she could afford were notoriously unreliable.
I stripped off my jacket to keep it clean and rolled up the sleeves of my white blouse. The sun had set, but the lights in the parking lot provided fair illumination.
To get to the jack, I had to pull out the spare. When I dropped the spare tire onto the pavement, I knew I had a problem. The spare was flat, too.
I kicked the tire, which didn’t make me feel better and didn’t help the tire any. Then I cussed at it, loudly enough that a man walking to his nearby car let out a shrill whistle.
A trucker saw my plight and jumped out of his rig.
“Can I give you a hand, ma’am?”
“Thanks, but no. I don’t think your tires would fit my old Nissan.”
I sat in the car and called Shorty first. When it went to voice mail, I literally crossed my fingers and called Suzanne.
Forty-five minutes later, her Lexus tore into the lot, spraying gravel in its wake. I grabbed my briefcase and ran to the passenger side.
“Suzanne, I’m so sorry about this,” I began, but she cut me off.
“Don’t even get started with that. This is why you have a partner. To help you when you’re stranded—literally or figuratively.” She put the car in drive. “Where are we headed?”
“Well, I’d planned to drive on down to Vicksburg to see that frat brother of Lee’s, but I expect you need to get home.”
She turned the car onto the highway, heading to Vicksburg, rather than Rosedale. “I’m at your disposal, little sister. Did you get your car towed?”
I’d talked to a lady inside the truck stop who gave me a lead on an automotive repair shop in the area, but they couldn’t help me until the next day. So I was without wheels.
Suzanne drove to Vicksburg in record time, passing so many vehicles that I worried she’d get pulled over. I offered to serve as navigator, but her high-tech Lexus didn’t require my assistance. As we neared the car lot, Suzanne took in the neighborhood and whistled through her teeth.
“What a dump,” she said in a clipped Yankee accent. Then she looked at me and grinned. “Bette Davis.”
“Beg pardon?” I said. I didn’t know a friend of hers named Betty.
Suzanne sighed with resignation, shaking her head. I pointed out the CARY’S USED CARS & TRUX sign, and she wheeled in and pulled up to the office, putting the car in park.
I grabbed my briefcase, but the engine continued to idle. “You coming, Suzanne?”
She grimaced. “I don’t mean to bail on you, sugar. But I haven’t eaten a bite of food since noon. I’ve got the weak tremblies.” She held out her hand; it did have a slight tremor. “My blood sugar is dipping. If I don’t get something to eat pretty quick, I’m going to collapse.”
Opening the passenger door, I said, “Not a problem. Should I call you when I’m done here?”
“Oh, honey, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to find me a hamburger stand. Shouldn’t take me all that long.”
I walked in the evening gloom toward the office. To be downright honest, I longed to have Suzanne at my back, but I also needed to put on my big-girl pants. Suzanne had already saved the day when she rescued me at the truck stop. Squaring my shoulders, I approached the door.
When I walked into Cary Reynolds’s office, he looked up from his desk with genuine surprise.
I spoke before he had a chance. “Sorry I didn’t call for an appointment. I was in the neighborhood.”
He stuck out his hand. And had the nerve to smile at me. “Nice to see you, Ruby.”
I ignored the extended hand. I picked up one of the plastic chairs and placed it directly in front of Cary’s desk. Without waiting for an invitation, I sat.
“Cary, I wanted to talk to you about your testimony today. You said some things that took me by surprise.”
“Is that right?”
I kept a poker face. He knew he’d turned tail today. “So, can we talk?”
“All right.”
In my head, I heard his Matthew McConaughey: All right all right all right. I pulled out my iPhone. “Okay if I record this?”
He gave me an affronted look. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
I gave him a wink. “Fool me twice.”
“Doesn’t seem like a friendly way to hold a conversation.”
I took that as a yes and pushed the button. “So, Cary—what happened to you in court today?”
Cary sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “Gotta say, that Keet dude is pretty intimidating. Can’t deny.”
“So, did the DA tell you to testify that Lee Greene hired Monae? Or was it your idea?”
“I don’t think I said that.”
“Pretty sure you said exactly that, on the stand this afternoon. Cary, I know that it’s tough being a witness. Sometimes people shift the facts if they’re embarrassed. But Lee Greene’s life is at stake here.”
“No—you’re not letting me explain. I never said that other. I never told you that I hired that hooker.”
I blinked and fell silent. He had the gall to lie to my face. Maybe I should drop the bomb.
When I found my voice, I said, “Cary, I know you probably hold a grudge against Lee.” I tried to soften my tone. “I know he done you dirt, back when you were both in undergrad. That deal that went down at the fraternity dance. Lee disrespected you, had sex with your date. But that doesn’t justify committing perjury at his murder trial.”
“You’ve been nosing around, it sounds like.”
“I have. I hate surprises. Speaking of surprises,” and I scooted the chair closer to the desk, “I was shocked to see that you were acquainted with the murder victim. Monae Prince.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too. But funny thing—she’s on your Facebook page.”
He looked away, shaking his head. “Don’t think so.”
I leaned back in the chair, tipping it onto its plastic legs. I hoped it wouldn’t collapse.
“Looks like Monae to me. I took a screenshot. Want me to send it to you?”
He shrugged, frowning. “Ma’am, you’ve been working too hard. You’re all mixed up.”
A narrow hallway led to a back door; I heard it open. A voice called out, “Hey, Cary.”
“In here.” Cary smiled at me. “My security guard.”
As heavy footsteps moved our way, I said, “You hire someone to watch those cars every night? Couldn’t you just set up a camera?”
Cary chuckled. Slitting his eyes, he said, “You’ve got all kinds of ideas, don’t you?”
The uniformed guard stuck his head into the room. “Cary, everything okay?”
When I saw him, my mouth fell open. I shut it so fast that my teeth clacked.
It was a deputy from the Williams County sheriff’s department. Deputy Potts.
Chapter 67
CARY REYNOLDS FLAGGED an arm in invitation. “Come on in here, Potts. We got company. I’ll introduce you.”
Potts cut his eyes at me then looked away. A copy machine stood inside the doorway. He leaned against it and ran a finger along the buttons.
I said, “We’ve met.”
Cary Reynolds turned to me with a quizzical look. “That right?”
I glanced over at Potts, deliberately casual. “Sure. At the courthouse in Rosedale. And the sheriff’s office. Plus, my law partner is representing a good buddy of the deputy.”
Reynolds’s face was a blank. “What buddy is that?”
“A young guy named Brockes. He was Deputy Potts’s partner. Until this week. Brockes has been suspended from the sheriff’s department, pending the outcome of an investigation.”
Potts’s eyes shifted. The tension in the room was mounting, but Cary Reynolds seemed unaffected. He whistled and said, “Seems like things are hopping in your community. Murder trials, murder investigations, I don’t know what all.”
I nodded. “The sheriff’s department has been so busy lately, I’m amazed that Deputy Potts has the time to moonlight at a car lot so far from Rosedale.”
Potts made eye contact with Reynolds. There was a moment of silence. To break it, I said, “How long have you been with our sheriff’s department, Deputy Potts? I don’t recall seeing you around when I started my practice in Rosedale.”