Free Who Left that Body in the Rain? by Patricia Sprinkle Page A

dinner at the Mexican place; then I went back to MacDonald’s. We’re open until nine on Fridays, and Daddy and I—” She faltered. Without conscious thought, she reached for a strand of her long thick hair and drew it toward her mouth, then noticed what she was doing and flung it away. Gwen Ellen had worked for years to break Laura of the habit of sucking her hair when she was nervous or upset.
    Laura swallowed hard. “Daddy and I used to take turns closing on Friday. This weekend was my turn.” Her voice took on an angry edge. “I had to close out the used-car lot, too, because Skell had disappeared.”
    “Disappeared?” Charlie pounced on the word.
    “Hadn’t bothered to come back after supper. He was with us at the restaurant, but he never showed up at his lot after that. With two lots to close, I worked until around eleven. Maybe a little later, even . . .” She narrowed her eyes and nibbled her upper lip like she was trying to remember. I suspected she was deliberately drawing Charlie’s attention to herself, away from Skell. She used to do the very same thing when one of her teammates was in a vulnerable position.
    Charlie, bless his thick head, fell for it. “You worked alone at night, ma’am? You weren’t afraid?” His hand caressed the butt of his gun. I hoped he wouldn’t get any ideas about going over late at night to protect her.
    Laura gave him an unruffled look. “No, sir. We have a good security system.” She also had a gun in her desk. Skye insisted on it. But instead of saying that, she added, “The manager of our service department can vouch for me. He was there the whole time, except when he ran out to Hardee’s for a bite to eat. He walked me to my car when I left.”
    “This mechanic. He always work that late?”
    “No, sir, he was finishing up a brake job for somebody who needed his car.”
    “He get along with your daddy?”
    “Yessir.” Had Charlie noticed her brief hesitation?
    Maybe so, becuse he shot back, “How long would you say he was gone for his supper?”
    “About fifteen minutes. He brought back something to eat while he worked. He’s conscientious that way.” Joe Riddley and I both looked at her in surprise. Her voice was glacial.
    Chief Muggins didn’t seem to notice. He propped one shoulder against the doorjamb and asked, “So, was your daddy home when you got here?”
    She drew her brows together, trying to remember. “I believe his car was gone, but I didn’t really notice. He and Mama often went down to Dublin to a movie or something on nights when he didn’t have to work.” She turned her face quickly to the window, but not before I saw her blink back tears.
    Charlie’s cell phone rang. He backed into the dining room and we heard him muttering. We heard him finally say, “I’ll be out in just a little while. Get the crew on it right away.”
    He swaggered back in, polecat eyes glittering. “They’ve found his car parked over behind the Presbyterian church. It’s got a dent in the front—looks like it hit somebody.”
    Laura gave an involuntary moan, and her knees bent. If Joe Riddley hadn’t caught her, she’d have fallen. Her face as pale as fat-free milk, she let him help her into the nearest chair.
    The Presbyterian church? That was our church, right downtown on the square, about a mile from the MacDonald house—farther than folks generally walk around here—and a perfect place to leave the car. The lot was secluded behind the big building, and generally deserted on Saturdays. Furthermore, since Skye was forever running over to the church to check on one thing or another, nobody would think a thing about seeing his car there.
    Who called to lure him to the church, met him in the parking lot, and got in beside him for that fatal ride? It would have been simple to drive his car back to the parking lot and drive another car away. His might not even have been noticed until Sunday morning, or his body found until the next time a tractor