| |
That evening, Dee and Connie arrived at 33-year-old Autumn Stuart’s house on Peachtree Drive ten minutes after getting the call. They got details from forensics and first responders and then met with the distraught woman sitting in the red chair on the porch.
“You’re Nelda North?” Dee asked in her softest tone. “The property manager?”
The 50-year-old nodded, a tear dissolving into her peach cheek.
“I’m Detective Dee Quarter. Homicide.” Dee showed her badge as Connie pointed to the one on her waist. “And this is Detective Connie Wilks.”
“Do we have this right?” Connie read off her notepad. “You came around six-thirty and found Autumn strangled to death in the living room.”
“Y...yes.” The grayish-black curls of Nelda’s shoulder-length bob gyrated in the spring breeze. “I’d been trying to contact her for a few days. No one had heard from her.” She lifted her head, displaying her soft, moss green eyes. “Autumn’s been a tenant for about eight months.”
“We sympathize but we need you to tell us anything you can about Autumn,” Dee said.
“She was a nice person.” Nelda stretched out her feet, wearing a denim skirt and white Keds. “She had a good sense of humor and could brighten your day with one joke.”
Dee jotted in her notebook. “Were you two friends?”
“Yes. We got close when I’d pick up the rent. She’d ask me in and we’d talk. I rarely spend much time with tenants because they’re not very nice when you’re getting on them to pay rent and stuff.”
Connie smiled.
“But, Autumn was the best tenant I could’ve asked for.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Can’t find a bad thing to say about her.”
Two forensics officers walked out the front door as another one entered.
“Could you tell us where you were before six-thirty?” Dee wiggled her pencil.
“Am I a suspect?”
“This is procedure,” Connie said. “We need to rule you out if you’re innocent.”
“I am innocent.” Nelda shifted her shoulders back. “I couldn’t strangle Autumn. I’m only five-three, and she was five-eight. There’s no way I could’ve overpowered her. Why would I want to hurt her, anyway?”
“Like we said, this is procedure,” Dee said. “No one is accusing you of anything but you’re the only one who was here.”
“I was with my dad all day.” She rubbed her forehead, making it red. “He’s in a nursing home. I live alone and I’m not married.” She shrugged. “I’m lonely so I spend as much time with him as I can.”
“What nursing home?” Connie pushed blonde strands out her face.
“Pine Village on Ash Street.”
“How long has he been there?” Dee asked.
“Five years. He has Alzheimer’s. He won’t be here much longer so I treasure the time we spend together.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dee said, struggling to evade thoughts of her father. “I lost my dad a week ago. He had a heart attack and died in his sleep.”
“That’s horrible.” Nelda’s forehead crinkled. “My condolences.”
Dee nodded with tight lips. “Had the funeral yesterday.”
“You a daddy’s girl?” Nelda’s oversized, top lip covered the bottom one when she smiled. “I am.”
“What can you tell us about Autumn’s life?” Connie asked. “Did she have friends and work?”
“She worked from home. She wrote freelance articles for money.” Nelda wiggled her feet. “She was dating a writer.” She squinted, snapping her fingers. “Now, I’m not a big reader but this guy is a local author. Famous. I think he writes mystery books.”
Dee’s breath caught in her throat. “Grayson Paul?”
“That’s him.” Nelda waved her finger. “He’s a little older than her I think.”
“He’s forty-seven.” Dee sighed, glaring at Connie. “So Autumn was dating Grayson?”
Nelda nodded. “Yes, and I think he was helping her get a book published.”
“I don’t believe this.” Dee lowered her notepad. “Am I ever gonna get that man out my life?”
“You know Grayson Paul personally?” Nelda asked.
Dee groaned. “We have history.”
“What about Autumn’s family?” Connie asked.
“She wasn’t from here and she didn’t speak about her family much. Mentioned a brother somewhere in Arkansas or something I think.”
“Once again we’re sorry you had to see her like that,” Dee said as she and Connie handed Nelda their cards. “Please call us if there is anything else we should know.”
“I will, Detective Quarter.” Nelda secured the cards in her hand. “Thanks.”
“My god,” Dee muttered to Connie as they walked off the porch. “Grayson Paul? Are you kidding me?”
They headed toward Dee’s white, Chevy Malibu.
“This case is gonna be mighty interesting.” Connie got into the passenger’s seat.
****
“It’s always so nice to see you, Dee.” Sylvia, Grayson’s loyal housekeeper, smiled from the front door.
“Hey, Sylvia.” Dee took off her shades, gesturing to the woman beside her. “This is Connie Wilks. She’s helping me on my latest case.”
“We’re partners.” Connie shifted her eyes toward Dee without turning her head and took Sylvia’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too. I guess you want to see Mr. Paul?”
“Not really ‘want’ to.” Dee hooked her shades on her blouse. “Need to discuss business with him. That’s all.”
Sylvia stepped out the door, gaping. “Is this about your case?”
Dee smiled.
“He’s on the back patio.” She pointed to the side gate. “You need me to show you—”
“Nope, it’s fine,” Dee said. “Come on, Connie.”
Connie waved at Sylvia and followed Dee through the curvy walkway and into the metal fence that separated the backyard from view.
“Wow.” She stopped in place. “This is amazing, Dee.”
“It’s not mine.” They continued through the stone pathway and made it to a large patio where Grayson sat in the gazebo with a woman who looked young enough to be his daughter.
“Hm.” Dee turned up her nose.
“What?” Connie stood beside her, smirking. “Jealous?”
“No.” She smacked her lips. “Look, if this is gonna work then stay out my business. We only need to discuss the case. I’m not trying to be your friend.”
Grayson and the young woman exited the gazebo and started toward Dee and Connie.
“Grayson is a part of the case,” Connie said. “Like it or not your relationship with him might tie into it at some point.”
“Grayson and I are over.”
“You seem jealous.” Connie snickered as Grayson and the girl approached.
A wry smile spread across Grayson’s lips, the sun hitting his pale skin.
“Well?” Dee held her palms out to him. “You going to just stare or what?”
“You came to my home, remember?” His black hair was almost completely gray now. “Seems you should tell me what you want.”
Dee pointed at the girl. “Is this your long-lost daughter or something?”
He chuckled. “Funny.”
The shapely, brunette woman fidgeted with a notebook in hand.
“Grayson, what are you doing hanging around this young girl?” Dee observed the brunette. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-two,” the young woman snapped.
“Twenty-two?” Dee shrieked. “Grayson, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Nothing is going on between us,” he said. “Tammie is a writing student at the community college where I often give signings and seminars.” He took off his reading glasses, his almond-brown eyes flickering. “Tammie is a huge fan of my work.” He glared at Dee. “Just like you used to be.”
“I still love your work.” Dee flashed a stiff smile at Tammie. “If I’m wrong I apologize.”
“You thought I was having an affair with Mr. Paul?” She scoffed, grimacing. “Ewe. He’s older than my dad. Oops.” She covered her mouth. “No offense, Mr. Paul.”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Dee snickered.
“Mr. Paul is an amazing author,” Tammie gushed. “It’s a wonderful opportunity to pick his brain. I’m writing my first mystery novel and he’s been reading it and giving me tips.”
Grayson raised his eyebrow, still holding that sly smile. “And, who is this lovely creature?” He alluded to Connie.
She smiled, blushing. “Detective Connie Wilks. I’m Dee’s new partner.”
“Wonderful to meet you.” Grayson kissed her hand, another thing Dee swore he did to make her jealous.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’ve enjoyed some of your books.”
“Only some?” Grayson’s eyes twinkled.
“I mean...” Connie dropped her head, blushing. “I haven’t read all your books but the ones I have, I liked them a lot.”
He smiled.
“Hello, can we get to business here?” Dee rubbed her palms together. “We have something important to discuss with you, Grayson.”
“Certainly.” He dismissed Tammie and showed the detectives to the little round chair with the centerpiece made of violets and tulips from his garden. “May I?” He held Dee’s chair out for her. “That perfume.” He sat beside her and placed his glasses on the table. “All it takes is one whiff to remind me of how things used to be.”