KC spotted Deke and pushed away from the wall as he studied his notebook. “I won’t miss these dates of ours, Deke.”
Deke crossed the lobby. “I can’t see you retiring. Hard to believe today is it.”
Weariness weighed KC’s shoulders. “It’s time. I’m a dinosaur. You’re the new guard.”
“So what do you plan to do with yourself?”
“Heading east to see my son.”
“What about Brenda?”
“She’s working and her mother is sick. And it doesn’t seem right to take her to meet my boy. She’s younger and well, I’m not ready to take her to prime time, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure.” Deke pressed the elevator button. “I hear there’s a party for you tonight.”
He grinned. “A hell of a blow-out. Cannot wait. Georgia said she’d sing.”
“So I hear. You going to spend more time with Brenda after you get back into town?”
He laughed. “Sure. But the trick will be not to piss her off. She’s already annoyed when I’m underfoot on my days off.”
“Trading one danger for another.”
“Murders I get. Premenopausal women not so much.”
Laughter rumbled. “Christ, KC, that’s a big word. I didn’t realize you knew it.”
“It’s another disadvantage of getting old, my boy. Your day will come.”
“I’m not getting married again. I’m no good at it.”
“Maybe you never met the right woman.”
“My wives were good women. I was the wrong guy and that’s never going to change.”
“That’s a bit dramatic.”
“Nope. Just practical.”
Deke pushed into the exam room. As soon as he saw the exposed body of Lexis Hanover, all good humor vanished.
Dr. Heller appeared dressed in scrubs, her dark hair pulled in a tight ponytail. “Gentlemen.”
In this room Deke never felt in his element. Crime scenes he understood because they told a story that he could figure out. But in the autopsy room he was an outsider.
“I finished the autopsy.” She moved to the pale, still, brutalized body now marred by a large Y incision on her chest. “The blow to her head killed her.” She pointed to the crushed right side of Lexis’s skull. “This blow killed her quickly. But judging by the wounds on her knees and elbow, I’d say this was not the first strike. I’d say your killer tortured her before killing her.”
Deke studied the shattered knees and the elbow. “The majority of Dixie Simmons’s blows were to her face. Lexis Hanover sustained injuries all over her body.”
“Her face was all but obliterated. But not in the case of Ms. Hanover. Her features are still recognizable.”
KC rubbed the back of his neck. “Dixie was pretty. Sexy. Lexis was smart. Had more the librarian look. Two very different victims.”
“And then there is Rachel Wainwright,” Deke said.
KC frowned. “I heard about her attack. Happened outside her office.”
Deke nodded. “Struck with a blunt object. But she heard her attacker coming and dodged at the last second. Hit hard but avoided the killing blow.”
Dr. Heller reached for a sheet and pulled it over Lexis Hanover’s body. “Ms. Wainwright called earlier to see when we’d release Hanover’s body. Professional, but she sounded upset.”
“They were friends,” Deke said.
“So we got an Annie lookalike that’s killed,” KC said. “A woman stirring up Annie’s case attacked. And Hanover had the letters.”
“What letters?” Dr. Heller asked.
“Letters apparently written by Annie Dawson were sent to Rachel. She’d sent them to Hanover for authentication.”
“It all goes back to Annie,” KC said.
Deke nodded. “Was there anyone else you and Buddy suspected before Max gave you the big tip?”
KC rubbed his chin. “We vetted the husband, cleared him soon enough. Checked out the bars where she sang but no hits. Talked to her roommates, pastor, and her boyfriend from high school. They all checked out.”
“You suspect any women?”
KC shrugged. “Her roommates were Beth and Joanne. I remember Beth didn’t like Annie at all. Not at all. But she died about a decade ago.”
“How’d she die?”
“Believe it was a car accident.”
“Was it in Nashville?”
“Believe it was.”
“Do me a favor and pull any reports on her.”
“Why?”
“Can’t say, exactly. But I want more details.”
“You didn’t get all the letters.”
“I got all the letters at that woman’s house. All of them. I was careful.”
“They aren’t all here. There are ten. There should be twenty.”
“There are more than ten letters there.”
“Half are originals and half are copies.”
“I searched and that’s all I found,” Baby said. “Even got you that song Annie wrote.”
“You’ve created such a mess.”
“Why is it such a mess? I read the letters,” Baby challenged. “No names are mentioned.”
“You don’t understand.”
Baby frowned. “I understand. I understand that whatever I do for you is never going to be good enough. Never.”
Instead of a rebuttal, the woman shifted through the papers again. “I know there were twenty letters in all. Twenty.” She shook her head. “Rachel Wainwright is smarter than she looks. I’ll bet she didn’t give that woman all the letters.”
“Why wouldn’t she give them all for testing?”
“She’s smart. She’s always planning for the worst.”
“I can go back to her building and search.” Mother still didn’t know about the attack on Rachel. “I’m smarter than both of them together.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself. If you were real smart you’d never have given the letters to her and we’d be in the clear.”
“We are in the clear. He’s the one that has to worry.”
“This is our problem, not his.”
“Why do you always protect him?”
“Be quiet. Let me think.”
A clock ticked on the wall. The old woman shifted in her wheelchair, as if hating the immobility. “Dixie Simmons was selfish and self-absorbed. Trouble waiting to happen.”
Baby smiled. “Killing her was like shooting fish in a barrel. Lexis was easy to fool.” But Rachel. She was a cagey woman. A survivor.
“Rachel will have to die. And soon.”
A teapot whistled in the kitchen. Baby rose. “I was thinking about Rachel. I was thinking . . .”
“Stop thinking about Rachel. There’s someone else we need to consider visiting first.”
“Who?”
“Serve the tea and we will talk.”
The evening television newscaster gave a recap of the construction on I-40 and the traffic delays as Rudy Creed settled in front of the television with a cup of tea. It was busy tonight at the bar and he could spare only five or ten minutes before he had to run back downstairs and get behind the bar.
He settled on the couch next to Nikki whose attention was held by the cup of tea in her hands. She slurped from the edge of the cup.
“Did you have a good day?” Rudy asked.
“I cleaned.” Slurp. “The bar was dirty.”
“You do a good job.” He glanced at Nikki’s vacant lost stare.