Chapter 23

 

Suddenly, I was no longer in the mood for Cheerios or much else for that matter, except maybe a fast train to anywhere but Fogerty.

“Rick Rod Delozier?”

“Yessiree,” Evelyn said. “The police found a big, bloody knife under his bed.”

“Good God.” I wondered how Amy was taking the news. Poor Amy, she had to be in shock. Something this hideous would rip the heart right out of any sister worth her salt, unless perhaps you were Rush Limbaugh’s sister.

“It’s plain scary,” Evelyn said. “That Delozier boy’s been running loose in this town for years, and everybody knew he was nuttier than a PayDay.”

 

Rick Rod Delozier was a dark horse. He certainly wouldn’t have been my first pick in the Daily Double, but in the light of what had come to light, I was willing to entertain the notion that he’d been responsible for two grisly murders. I was no evidence expert, but a big, bloody knife under anybody’s bed was more than a bit incriminating.

But before I could say “poor Amy” three times in a row, the phone rang again. Evelyn snatched it up, and after a brief conversation with the caller, she covered the receiver and handed it over to me. “It’s poor Amy,” she said.

 

What does one say to a friend whose brother has just been arrested for murdering and chopping the genitals off his fellow townsfolk, especially if one of the unfortunate townsfolk happens to be one’s own cousin? I had no idea, but I took the phone anyway.

“Hello, Amy. I’m sorry about Rick Rod.”

“Well, don’t be,” she said in what sounded like a huff of major proportions.

“Don’t be?”

“Kim,” she said with real punctuation, “Rick Rod didn’t kill anybody. He’s been set up!”

 

I couldn’t remember just which numerical circle of hell it was that one must pass through on the road to accepting something dreadful, but it sure sounded like Amy was knee deep in denial.

“This must be difficult, Amy.”

There was a very uncomfortable and elongated pause. Then she blurted, “You don’t think for a second that Rick Rod’s really the killer, do you?”

“Well...” I started, but she cut me off like an ace calf roper.

“Jesus, Kim! First my husband turns on me, which should have come as no huge surprise, but you? Listen to me. I know my brother. He may be nuts, but he is not a murderer.”

I’d never sided with a dentist, but there was a first time for everything and the list of first times was growing longer by the minute.

“Amy, at this point, it doesn’t matter much what I think. What Rick Rod needs is a good attorney. No, make that a great attorney.”

Amy sighed. “I’m working on that. And Rick Rod’s going to need money to pay his legal expenses, so now we’ve got to sell the farm.”

It made sense.

“Please,” she said, and I could hear the panic in her voice, “if we don’t do something, they’ll hang Rick Rod for this. I know this town. And I know he’s not guilty.”

We? I didn’t know what to say. “What can I do, Amy?”

“You can meet me at Sparkie’s Lounge in an hour.”