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Without mentioning Ty by name or detailing the circumstances, I told him what I knew.
Cramer regarded me with interest. “So you’re saying this fellow would have recognized the truck because his father had the 1948 model.”
“Right. And it couldn’t have been later than 1953 because the ‘54 models wouldn’t have come out as early as July.”
“You’re correct on that point. So a span of five years. That shouldn’t be too hard. Have a seat and I’ll pull what I have. There’s a tin of chocolate chip cookies on my desk if you want to help yourself. My wife made them. Caroleena. She’s a fabulous cook.”
The cookies were incredible, so I treated myself to another while I waited for him. Five minutes later he emerged from the room with an armload of files, saying, “I keep these cross-referenced. Customer’s name with the type of vehicle he’s bought from me before. I don’t go so far as to color code, but I can lay hands on the contract for every vehicle I’ve sold. What I have here is the Advance Design Series, 1949 through 1953.”
He handed me a scratch pad, pen, and two of the files while he took the other three. We sat and went through them contract by contract, checking the color of the pickup, noting down the names of anyone who’d bought a black one. Twenty-five minutes later, we each had a list, though mine wasn’t at all enlightening. He got up and made copies of both lists and gave them to me.
I ran my eye down the names on his list. “No one I recognize.”
He shrugged. “The truck might have been repainted.”
“In that case, we’d have no way to find the owner.”
“Another possibility, the fella might have borrowed the truck. In those days, nobody locked their doors, and half the time people left their keys in the ignition.”
“I’ve heard that before and it actually makes sense. You go out to dig a grave, you don’t want use your own truck complete with California plates. Well. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“I guess every lead you get isn’t going to pay off.”
“That’s for sure. Mind if I pick your brain about something else?”
“I’ll help if I can. It’s not like I have total recall of anything much beyond this dealership.”
“Understood. I’ve been digging and I’ve come up with something quirky.”
“That being?”
“Hairl Ta
“I hadn’t heard about that. Sounds like the old man had a mad-on about something. Wonder what it was?”
“I think Jake and Violet had a fling and he found out.”
Some of the complacency faded from his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“What, that they had a fling or that Ta
“Violet and Jake. I can’t imagine such a thing.”
“Why not? Jake must have been handsome. I mean, he’s not bad-looking now, and I can just imagine how he must have looked back then. His wife was dying of uterine cancer so his sex life couldn’t have amounted to much. If he ran into Violet at the Moon, what with all the drinking that went down, it wouldn’t be surprising if the two of them stumbled into a relationship. From what I’ve heard, she went after just about every man she saw.” I was so intent on persuading him that I hadn’t paid attention to his reaction. Now I caught a glimpse of his face and I flashed on the fact that he was married to a bloated Violet Sullivan clone. He had access to any number of pickup trucks and I had no idea what he’d been doing with his time in the days before she died. How dumb could I get? Here I sat, about to lay out the evidence I’d gathered, when for all I knew, he was as capable of killing her as anyone else.
“Go on,” he said.
I backpedaled. “That’s about it. I don’t have any proof. I was hoping you might’ve heard a rumor to that effect.”
“I did not and it would grieve me to learn it was true. Mary Hairl was a lovely woman, and if Jake fooled around on her he should be ashamed.”
“Well. I trust you’ll keep the notion to yourself. It’s pure speculation on my part and I wouldn’t want him to suffer your ill-opinion if he’s i
He straightened up abruptly, dismissing me with a wave. “I best get back to work. I’ve got things to do.”
“Sure. Sorry to keep you. I appreciate your help.” We shook hands across the desk. As I was leaving his office, I glanced back and noticed he hadn’t moved.
I went down the big staircase to the ground-floor showroom. I wanted to have a conversation with Winston to see if he had any reason to believe there was a link between Violet and Jake. He was in his office but so deeply engrossed in a telephone conversation he didn’t look up. I went out to the parking lot, where I unlocked my car and slid under the wheel. I was reaching for the ignition when the pe
The dog.
Daisy’s car was in the drive when I arrived at the house. I’d returned the key to its hiding place beneath the flowerpot. Rather than walk in una
“What is it?”
She put a hand against her mouth and shook her head. Like a sleepwalker, she crossed to an upholstered chair and sank down on the edge. I closed the front door behind me. I moved to the sofa and sat down with my knees nearly touching hers. “Can you tell me what it is?”
She nodded, but said nothing. I had to wait her out. Whatever it was, she’d been hit hard. A minute passed and she sighed. Was her father dead?
Another minute passed.
When she finally spoke, her voice was so low I had to lean close to hear. “Detective Nichols was here. He left a few minutes ago, and when you rang the bell, I thought he’d come back.”
“Bad news?”
She nodded and fell silent again. “They found two brown paper bags filled with my mother’s clothes in the trunk. It’s clear she was leaving us or at least she believed she was.”
“You must have guessed as much,” I said.
“That’s not it.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Take your time. It’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“He said if there was any way to avoid telling me he would, but he was worried word would leak out and he didn’t want me to hear it from anyone else.”
I waited.
“The techs went over the car.”
I waited.
She took a deep breath and exhaled with an audible sound. “When the pathologist peeled the curtain away her body, they realized my mother’s hands were bound behind her back. They think she was alive for some time. It looks like the dog was killed with a shovel they found in the bottom of the hole once they got the car out. It’s possible the guy knocked her out and he put her in the car, thinking she was dead. At some point she must have come to and realized what was going on.”
She stopped, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. She blew her nose. “Even tied up, she’d tried to claw her way free. Her fingernails were broken off and some were caught in the upholstery fabric. There were tiny shards of glass embedded in the bones of her heels. She managed to kick out the window, but by then he must have started filling in the hole.”
She paused, struggling. All I could do was look on, allowing her to take whatever time she needed. The air felt heavy, and I could sense the weight of the darkness Violet must have known. Why scream for help when the silence would have been profound, thick yards of soil muffling any sound? The blackness would have been absolute.