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Glory Lewis stared at them. “You’re saying that Sparky Carroll and my husband were killed by the same person? But isn’t Walter Givens in jail? What is it you’re saying, Agent Savich?”
“Again, I’m not at liberty to speak about our investigation yet, Mrs. Lewis. I’d appreciate it if you talk to us about the Alcott family.”
“But Walt Givens—he’s only a boy, like Brakey. They’re both younger than my daughters. Everyone was so upset about Sparky and Walter Givens, no one understood, and now my husband. They’re saying Brakey’s had to have done it. Ezra said you’d arrested him. But Brakey’s such a nice boy, always has been. He and Kane liked each other, and as far as I know, Walter Givens never had anything against Sparky Carroll. You want to know about the Alcotts because of Brakey?”
“Brakey Alcott is not under arrest. But please tell us what you know, Mrs. Lewis.”
“Well, I’ve known Deliah for as long as Kane and I have lived here, thirty years come the fall. I know they didn’t have much money. Then about twenty years ago, they found natural gas on the property, sold off the rights, and they haven’t worked in town since. They’re quite well off. They stay mostly to themselves, maybe because Deliah doesn’t like people talking about them. She’s always been pleasant to me, and so have her sons. Well, there is Liggert, her eldest. My husband said Liggert can’t hold his liquor, turns into a loudmouth and hits people. He’s spent several nights in jail.” She paused, smoothed the purple skirt of her dress. “I imagine my husband was at the same bar and had to arrest him.”
“Was there ever any trouble between the Alcotts and your husband? Other than with Liggert?” Savich asked. “Or any bad feelings between the Alcotts and Sparky Carroll and his family?”
“Certainly not, that’s absurd. My husband was friends with all of them, even Liggert, except on the nights he had to arrest him. As for Sparky Carroll, he was a nice boy, too. He had ambition, wanted to make the catering business his dad started even bigger than it was under Milt Carroll, his father, who was also a good friend of Kane’s. Milt started Eat Well and Prosper, they call it”—she rolled her eyes—“back in the eighties.” She looked down at her clasped hands again. “I knew Sparky’s mom, Rachael. They hardly ever let her cook a meal, she told me, and it bothered her, not being asked to cook for her family. She died two years ago, bless her soul.
“You know as well as I do that every town has its criminals, Agent Savich, its share of greed and violence. That’s what Kane’s job was about. But neither of those boys are criminals.”
“Do you know who some of your husband’s drinking buddies were, Mrs. Lewis?”
“I have no idea, Agent Savich.” Her voice was prim, and her chin went up in the air. Savich doubted anyone would be talking much more about Kane Lewis’s drinking in the Lewis home.
ALCOTT COMPOUND
PLACKETT, VIRGINIA
Thursday, late afternoon
Savich and Sherlock stopped for pizza at Country Cousin’s in downtown Plackett. Everyone in the eatery was talking about Sparky Carroll and Deputy Kane Lewis. Savich doubted there had ever been a murder within living memory in this small town, let alone two. No one approached them, which was a relief, except the waitress, and it was obvious she was brimming with curiosity, but she held her tongue.
Thirty minutes later they were driving out of Plackett and into rolling hills thick with oak and pine trees. Sherlock opened her tablet. “There are three generations of Alcotts in residence, including grandma, who’s eighty-three and wheelchair-bound. She is Deliah Alcott’s mother-in-law. Deliah’s three sons and their families live with her, Brakey the youngest, then Jonah, and Liggert, the oldest. Liggert’s an odd name. I looked it up. The etymology’s obscure, but it may come from Serbia, go figure that.”
“Do we have anything else on the late Mr. Alcott’s hit-and-run accident six months ago?”
“Let me see. Okay, the police report put the accident about one hundred yards outside this—let’s call it a compound. Mr. Alcott was walking the family dog on the side of the highway when he was hit. The dog stood barking over him until someone stopped. He stayed guarding Mr. Alcott until the police arrived, and that would be Deputy Kane Lewis. As you already know, Deputy Lewis only found skid marks, but nothing to identify the vehicle or the driver.”
The Porsche’s GPS told them to turn right, and soon they were looking down a long gravel driveway at a distant cluster of houses. It was indeed a compound, with a larger two-story house set in the middle. On either side of the big house were single-story ranch-style houses. All three houses were set close to one another, as if privacy wasn’t a priority. All three were well maintained and backed up to an oak and pine forest.
