“Okay,” Ida Belle allowed. “But unless she killed Gil, why does she need to be a victim?”
I shook my head. “That’s a good question.”
“Do you think it could have been Liam?” Gertie asked.
“But if Liam and Tiffany are in on something, why would he do that to her?” Ida Belle asked.
“Maybe so she’d leave town,” Gertie said. “And not try to contact him anymore. If Carter sees the two of them together, he’ll start digging deeper and my guess is he’ll get on the same track we are.”
“Especially when he hears about the will,” I said.
“Could be Liam and Tiffany cooked up this plan,” Ida Belle said. “For whatever reason, I can’t picture Tiffany cutting off a chicken head, but clearly Liam wouldn’t even blink.”
“And he has access to chickens,” Gertie said.
“Someone else has access to chickens too,” I said. “And doesn’t like Tiffany.”
Gertie’s eyes widened. “Judith?”
I shrugged. “Why not? She’s already worried that Tiffany is going to set her sights back on Liam now that Gil is gone.”
Ida Belle nodded. “That would be the double blow to Judith if Liam took back up with Tiffany. I’m sure she’d like nothing better than for the girl to cash her check and get out of Dodge.”
“Enough to risk a stunt like that?” Gertie said. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like something Judith would do, especially knowing the cops have got to be watching.”
“Hard to say,” Ida Belle said. “Woman scorned and all. And with Gil gone, she might figure she doesn’t have anything to lose.”
“You think she’s been waiting on him to dump Tiffany all this time?” Gertie asked.
“She wouldn’t be the first to waste her life on a man who was never going to give her the romance she was looking for,” Ida Belle said.
“Then let’s muddy the waters even more,” I said. “What if Judith told Gil how she felt and he told her it was never going to happen. What if she decided that if she couldn’t have him Tiffany darn sure wasn’t going to either.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “We really need to figure out this carjacking thing. Do you think the detective assigned would talk to us? I know they’re not fond of PIs.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” I said. “Since this case isn’t likely to win someone a promotion, he might be willing to talk. Let me call and see if he’s working today.”
I called the main number and asked for Detective Casey. I expected to get voice mail and was surprised when a woman answered the phone.
“Casey,” she said.
“Hi, Detective Casey,” I said. “My name is Fortune Redding and I’m a private investigator looking into some odd business concerning Gilbert Forrest. I understand you’re in charge of the investigation concerning his death.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, her voice clipped, but I didn’t hear any underlying derision.
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to chat with me,” I said. “It shouldn’t take longer than a couple minutes.”
There was silence for several seconds and I could just imagine her weighing the options of whether to blow me off or meet in case I had something relevant to her investigation.
“I’m about to break,” she said. “If you can meet me at Mo’s Coffee in ten then I can give you a few.”
“Sounds great,” I said. “Thanks.”
I smiled. “We’re on.”
Chapter Eleven
Mo’s Coffee was only a five-minute drive away in Sunday traffic and we found a parking spot about half a block away. Detectives wore street clothes but I figured I’d still be able to pick her out of a crowd. Cops had a certain look. Other cops and criminals knew how to spot it. I figured I fell under the ‘sorta a cop’ designation. I scanned the place when we went in but didn’t see anyone who fit the bill and no one studied us, so we headed for an empty four-top in the corner to wait. About five minutes later, Detective Casey walked in.
Midthirties. Five foot ten. One hundred forty pounds. Excellent physical conditioning and a walk that had purpose. Threat level high for criminals.
I waved to her as she scanned the room. She hesitated a second after taking in Ida Belle and Gertie but headed our way. I rose and stuck out my hand as she approached.
“Fortune Redding,” I said. “Thanks so much for meeting with us, Detective Casey. These are my assistants, Ida Belle and Gertie.”
“Call me Casey,” she said. “Everyone does. I have to say, you and your assistants are not the usual fare for PIs. What’s your background, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I worked for the CIA,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Nice.”
“And we’re just nosy and old, so we know a lot,” Ida Belle said.
“Who are you calling old?” Gertie asked.
Casey smiled at Gertie. “You remind me of my great-aunt. Nothing goes on in her town that she doesn’t know about. I take it y’all are from Sinful?”
We all nodded.
“So what’s your interest in Gilbert Forrest?” she asked.
“Has anyone contacted you about a recent event concerning him?” I asked. “Besides his death, I mean?”
She shook her head. “Do you have some information for me?”
“More like I have a situation I’m trying to get an explanation on,” I said and told her about the Headless Horseman ride.
She stared at me when I finished and glanced at Ida Belle and Gertie, probably waiting for one of us to yell that she was on one of those practical joke shows, but when we all just sat silently, she finally broke her silence.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re not making this up.”
“I’m not that creative,” I said.
“That’s one word for it,” she said. “So who hired you to look into this?”
“Technically, no one,” I said. “But since the head literally fell into Gertie’s lap, we’ve been asking why.”
She shook her head. “I would be too. So what do you think that has to do with the carjacking?”
“I don’t know that it has anything to do with it,” I said. “But it got us thinking and we wondered if maybe the carjacking was a cover.”
She frowned. “You think someone intended to kill Forrest and they made it look like a carjacking.”
“Is that a possibility?” I asked.
She shrugged. “As good a one as anything else, I suppose. Unfortunately, I haven’t made much headway. No witnesses. No working security system. No recovery of the car, so no forensics to speak of.”
“What about the car leaving the parking lot?” I asked. “Were you able to track it at all on other streets?”
“Not exactly,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She glanced around, then leaned in. “Look, I never told you this but the department is really low on staff to review hundreds of hours of camera footage. I collected it but the backlog is bad. Really bad. So…so I have my kid working on it. She’s a criminal justice major and intending to follow in my footsteps, but if the department knew I had a civilian looking at footage…”