“The gloves.” Cletus’s small smile returned, his eyes twinkled, and he looked at me like I was wonderful.
“She scratched your face at the party, no gloves. But in the forest when they found her, she’s wearing gloves. Why did she have gloves on? Sure, it was chilly, sixty-five or so, but not glove weather right after sunset—”
“What about the rope?”
“Okay, yes. I don’t know. Tell me about the rope. I don’t know anything about rope.”
“The knot. A farmer’s knot instead of a traditional noose. Elena grew up in farm culture, we know that from last year and all those chickens. She’d know how to tie that knot, no problem. And you use that kind of knot as a sorta hook or a handle, it doesn’t slip, much better than a real noose if the killer were someone small and needed all the leverage they could get.”
“What did you mean in the kitchen yesterday with Ashley? When you said something about sinking rope?”
“Oh, yeah. I can’t figure that out. The rope the killer picked is incredibly strong, heavy, and it sinks. It’s usually used for fishing , crab traps and such. There’s got to be a reason why she picked sinking rope. It’s an unusual feature for rope, but not an unusual rope.”
I thought for a minute about that. “Maybe she—she’d planned to throw it in the pond after? Let it sink to the bottom?”
“Maybe . . .”
We both simmered in our thoughts for a moment.
“Why do you think . . .”
“What? What is it?” he pressed.
“What is her motive?”
“That’s a good question.” Cletus nodded somberly, glancing up at the ceiling. “Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow at the reading of the will.”
“Oh. I forgot that’s tomorrow. Shoot.”
Cletus watched me for a moment before saying, “You don’t have to go.”
“No, no I want to go.”
“You want to see if your brother shows up.”
“Yes, actually. I’m sure my father’s will reading itself will be a waste of time. My guess is he probably wrote a letter to tell me how disappointed he is in my choices.” I wasn’t looking forward to any of it except the possibility of seeing Isaac.
“Why do you think he asked for Billy to be there?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” I shrugged. “He always liked Billy, maybe he left him something?”
“Too bad your momma won’t be there. It’d be helpful to get her side of the story.”
“I wish I could get her to leave the house. She’s . . . it’s weird, Cletus. I think it’s more than the shock of seeing my father dead, more than the police watching. It’s like she’s shut completely down. There’s something else going on with her. She’s scared, I think.”
“Facing murder charges is scary business. Having the FBI breathing down your neck is difficult.”
“But she didn’t do it.”
“No, I don’t think she did. But she saw something. She was there right after. She put her hands on Kip, maybe to stop the flow of blood.”
“I can see her doing that, just being totally in shock. Do you think she saw the shooter?”
He nodded sadly, free of any artifice. “I think she must have.”
“Then why won’t she just talk to the police? Why won’t she talk to us? I brought her dinner tonight and she wouldn’t even get out of bed. But what can I do? I can’t say anything. The FBI is listening.” I was so worried about her.
“I do not yet have the answers to those questions.”
I sat down heavily on the mattress next to him. “We need to figure out who did it. If we clear her name, the FBI will have to back off.”
“It could be anyone who wasn’t in the barn when your daddy was shot, anyone on that list of suspects Jackson gave us. Like Posey Lamont and Roger Gangersworth, they hated your father, felt he stole money from them when their business venture failed. In some cases, like Danvish for instance, and Miller, they lost everything, their farms, their livelihoods. Everything.”
“I just don’t see any of them being a killer.”
“What was Miller doing at the party? You were right. I double-checked and Miller wasn’t on the guest list.”
“You know he wants his cows back. He was probably hoping to get a minute with my mother.”
“Jenn, none of them have a solid alibi, some of them have no alibi.”
“According to the list, you and I don’t have a good alibi either, but we didn’t kill him.”
Cletus huffed. “Heck, Old Man Blount could’ve done it. He wasn’t invited, but he threatened to kill your daddy last year. Remember that? In the hospital when your momma was found next to his bee boxes?”
“He was raving, Cletus. He’d just lost all his honey producing bees. I think he’s threatened to kill everyone in town at least once, or they’ve threatened to kill him. No. I think it must’ve been Repo.”
Cletus didn’t look convinced.
“Well, one thing is for sure.” I stood, screwed the cap back on my moisturizer and returned it to my toiletry bag. “We need to get my mother out of her house and talking. The sooner the better.”
Chapter Thirteen
*Jenn*
“You have to do your own growing no matter how tall your grandfather was.”
Abraham Lincoln
“That woman is two drumsticks short of a picnic,” Cletus muttered, his gaze trained on Elena Wilkinson. Or rather, the shrouded figure we assumed was Elena Wilkinson.
We’d pulled into the parking garage in Knoxville with a few minutes to spare. Cletus then texted Billy, letting him know we’d arrived. Not three seconds after he’d finished, my father’s BMW pulled up and parked about three cars over from us.
A woman in a long black skirt, black shirt, and a black lace veil covering what looked like blonde hair stepped out. She locked the car with a keyless fob and strolled toward the elevator. It was my father’s car, the one he’d been murdered in and, at this realization, my stomach rolled.
I followed her progress in the passenger side mirror, knowing I was making a face. “She kills him by strangulation and wears a black veil to the will reading. Unbelievable.” A hollow sort of hardness sat in my stomach, pressing against the bottom side of my lungs. Cynicism.
That’s what it was.
Cletus unclicked his belt, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “Are you ready?”
Gathering his hand between mine and turning it palm up, I traced the lines with my fingertips. I loved his hands. They were big and strong, scarred, rough with calluses, but so incredibly gentle whenever he reached for me, or held me, or touched me. I loved how much of Cletus could be understood by his hands.
Bracing myself for what was to come, I let the worry fall away. With Cletus here, by my side, I’d be in good hands. “I think—”
“Get away from me!” Elena’s forceful screech interrupted our quiet moment, and we both turned.
I tried to peer out the back of the car, but Cletus had the better view. His side faced the elevators.