Bishop turned his gaze, teetering on amused. “So is that your idea of a good time? Reading up on old murder cases?”
“Just struck me as odd, her being in town so close to the anniversary of her family’s death and her hooking up with KC and Georgia.”
“I’ll admit there’re too many coincidences for my taste, but why dig into the murder? You feel guilty about Martinez sharing Jenna’s history?”
Bracing, he said, “I wasn’t happy about it. Irritated me that she found something I missed.”
“Jenna Thompson is a big girl. She knew what she was risking by talking to the media. Hell, she might have agreed to it knowing she might be exposed.”
“The point is,” Rick said, “reading the files set off alarm bells.”
Bishop didn’t speak, but his attention didn’t waver.
“I see similarities between the Thompson case and these two.”
Bishop laughed. “Boy Scout, you’re really reaching. The Thompson case is twenty-five years old.”
“I know. It sounds nuts.”
Bishop folded his arms. “But—”
“First,” Rick said, holding up his index finger, “the victims were shot in the head. Second, there was accelerant in the house and scorch marks. The fire didn’t take. Sara Thompson was sexually assaulted. And the killer was found dead of a drug overdose.”
Bishop’s smile faded a fraction. “No kids involved in any of these new cases.”
“August twenty-six is the twenty-fifth anniversary. Might have triggered something in someone.”
“Triggered something? Like in Jenna?”
“No.”
“Don’t be too quick to dismiss the idea, Boy Scout. She could be pulling the strings of these men. She has the brains and know-how to kill someone.”
“Shit, no! That’s not where I’m going at all.”
“You should be. Think about it. She returns out of the blue, sets up her easel in front of KC’s bar, befriends Georgia, and volunteers to help on a case. Well isn’t she the model citizen.” He shook his head. “Perfect setup. Maybe what happened twenty-five years ago damaged the hell out of her and the anniversary is some kind of trigger.”
The logic fit. But he couldn’t swallow it. “No.”
“Dude, make sure the big head is thinking right now.”
Rick shoved out a breath. “The big head is doing the thinking.”
“If it’s not Jenna, then who? This mystery manipulator has been off the radar for years.”
“Hell if I know. But it wouldn’t hurt to check into old homicides involving fires.”
Bishop rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Old homicides involving fires. You got any idea how long that will take?”
“A lot of time.”
“Time neither of us has.”
Rick imagined the number of dusty files that would have to be read. “Then let’s narrow the connection. Who was in the Thompsons’ life who had an influence on Tuttle and Wheeler?”
“It’s a needle in the haystack.”
“Those parameters narrow the haystack.”
“Not by much.”
Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and thought about his two victims. Successful. Female. Mid thirties. And then, he remembered something Linda Nelson, Nancy’s neighbor, had said. He flipped through his notebook until he found her contact information, a personal cell. He called and she answered on the third ring, “Linda Nelson.”
“Ms. Nelson, this is Detective Rick Morgan. You said Nancy’s mother was moved into a nursing home.”
“That’s right.”
“What happened to her house?”
“Nancy sold it.”
He pictured the trampled FOR SALE sign in Diane’s yard. “Do you know which realtor she used?”
“No, sorry. All the records would have been in her house.”
“If you think of it, call me.”
“Sure. Have you found Nancy yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Call me when you do.”
“Sure.”
He hung up. “Nancy sold her mother’s house and Diane was selling her house.”
Bishop snapped his fingers. “Now that’s a connection that makes sense.”
Rick flipped through his notebook again. “The sign in Diane Smith’s yard read ‘Nashville South Realty.’”
Bishop shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to talk to this group.”
He plugged the name of the agency into his phone and after a few seconds a website appeared. “I’ve got an address.”
“Unless they have an all-night realty service, it’s going to have to wait.”
Rick checked his watch. It was well after midnight. “Right.”
“We’ll be there bright and early, Boy Scout.”
Rick scratched the back of his head. Forty-eight hours until the anniversary. Made no sense that these two cases would be connected to the Thompson murder, but he couldn’t shake the sense that they were and the clock was ticking down fast.
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday, August 23, 7:55 A.M.
Rick and Bishop arrived at Nashville South Realty located in a storefront office of a strip mall. They crossed an empty parking lot and arrived at the front door to find an OPEN sign.
Checking his watch, Rick realized they were early. “Nice to see some folks still get to work early.”
Bishop rubbed his eye. “So you ain’t the only eager beaver in Nashville?”
“Maybe we should start a club.” They walked up to the empty receptionist desk and rapped his knuckles hard. “Hello.”
“Just a moment.” The clear voice emanated from down the long hallway filled with doors leading into dark offices.
Seconds later, steady footsteps sounded on the tiled hallway and a midsize man appeared. He wore dark suit pants, a crisp white shirt, and a red tie. His dark hair was slicked back and gold cuff links winked at his wrists. He extended his hand. “I’m William Spires. Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Rick pulled his badge from his breast pocket. “I’m Detective Rick Morgan and I’m with the Nashville Police Department. I’m checking into a couple of listings, one was handled by your company.”
“I can look them up for you.” Spires moved to the receptionist desk and sat down in front of the computer. “What’s the addresses?”