Free Dead Red Cadillac, A by R. P. Dahlke

the next day anyway. In Caleb's case, he used the baggies to hold bits and pieces of evidence; fingernails, hair and little bloody body parts, appetizing stuff police use to connect a long line of pieces that make a puzzle complete.
    He opened one bag and upended the contents into his hand. A chunk of smashed gold glittered in his palm. I took it from him, and holding it up, asked, "What's this?"
    "That's what I was hoping you could tell me. Is it yours?"
    He leaned back and away from me. I was sorry to lose the nearness of his familiar fragrance and the light whiff of some lemony soap. I held up the remains of what appeared to be a small gold pendant. Turning it around in the light I could make out the tiny pattern veins that must have run through a cluster of leaves.
    "See," he said, encouraging me to jump in, "each leaf was a different color: gold, pink and yellow. It's called Black Hills Gold."
    "I know what it is, but it's definitely not mine. A wedding band every few years or so, but other than that, you know I don't wear jewelry. Heck, I don't even have my ears pierced. I have to keep something virgin on my body. Besides, stuff like this gets caught in machinery. Where'd you find it?"
    "We found it jammed in the door of your Cadillac."
    I went still. "What was it, an earring?"
    "No, too big, our desk clerk says maybe a pendant. We're thinking it got jerked off when the person leaned over the door as it was closing."
    "You mean woman, don't you? And Detective Rodney asked you to come out here and see if I'd lie about it? Like maybe I was the one who buckled her into her seat, drove into that tree, got out and then pushed the Caddy into the lake?" I was getting hot under the collar just thinking where this was leading.
    He rubbed a hand over his face. "Lalla, I gotta ask, or would you rather do it downtown with another officer?"
    "Tell him to get stuffed!"
    "Okay, calm down. It was your car, and you're either going to help me or go back to the police station, your call," he said, slipping the mangled gold back into its plastic baggie and zipping it shut.
    I folded my arms across my chest and slouched down into my chair. "Anything else?"
    Seeing as I’d conceded this round to him, he held up another bag. "How about this?"
    "A cigar?" I said. "On the record? Tell the detective I made a pact with the Dalai Lama, we both quit cold turkey. No cigars, no thank you, no matter which president offers them."
    He stood up. "I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you that you've got a major chip on your shoulder."
    "Not from you, it doesn't."
    "I'll give you a ride to the impound lot."
    "Great, let's go."
    But Caleb didn't move, apparently occupied with some silent interior musings.
    "Now what?"
    "Well, though the department is still stumped as to why Patience was in your car, we did find something that puts a new spin on the whole thing."
    He was still quietly gazing at the crepe myrtles. I stood up and glared down at him. "Earth to Caleb, can we do this in the car? I'd really like to leave, you know—excited to get those estimates on the Caddy, get her all cleaned up and shiny again. So, can we go now?"
    "Did you know that Patience McBride wasn't a widow?"
    "Of course she is—was. She told all of us… Wait, what're you saying?"
    "I remember that, but I now know where he's been for the last twenty years."
    "I'm all ears, where?"
    "In Folsom, twenty to twenty-five for second-degree murder."
    "I'll be damned. We all thought she was a widow."
    "Not any more, she isn't," he said, stepping off the porch. "What I can't understand is why, with just barely a month of his sentence to go, he escaped."
    "The husband? He escaped?"
    "Well, more like walked off the premises. It's not that hard to do. That's why they call it an honor farm."
    "Uh-oh," I said, suddenly aware of who called me girly and held a gun in my back. Maybe staying up on the porch where I could feel the safety of home under my feet wasn't such a bad idea after all.