Evidently, Chance decided, the man didn’t watch the news or he would know there was going to be a new trial. Not exactly surprising. He glanced around the room. The old box-type television probably didn’t work, and even if it did, the news likely wasn’t on his up-next list.
“Yes, I am,” she admitted, her chin going up in protest of the way her voice trembled. “Because I didn’t kill him.”
“What we’re looking for,” Chance explained, “is any information you know firsthand or may have heard about Pete Harris’s murder.”
“And the identity of who put you up to blackmail me,” Rory tacked on.
“First off,” Banks said, his gaze fixed on Rory, “I ain’t telling you nothing until I see the money.”
“This is not a negotiation,” Chance warned. “If the information you provide is worth hearing, then you’ll be paid. Until we hear it and make that determination, we are not going there.”
“Fine,” he spat. He looked to Rory once more. “Anyone who ain’t stupid knows you didn’t kill him.” He downed another long swallow of beer. “Do I know anything that can prove you didn’t? I wish. But there are people who do know stuff. You can bet your sweet ass on that.”
“Who hired you to try and blackmail me?” Rory repeated.
Banks grinned, laughed a little. “You should know the answer to that, girl. She hated your guts. It’s a flat-out miracle she didn’t put out a hit on you.”
Rory stared at him but said nothing more. She had the answer to her question.
Chance picked up the conversation from there. “You’re suggesting Eudora Harris paid you to pretend you possessed scandalous photos of Rory and that the two of you had a relationship.”
He gave a single nod. “She did. Paid me five hundred dollars up front. All I had to do was say all that stuff and then not tell anyone who hired me. If I did everything just like she said, when it was all over, she’d give me another five Benjamins for keeping quiet.”
“You said,” Chance ventured, “there were people who knew things. Who would you go to if you wanted the facts about what happened to Pete Harris?”
A grin kicked up one side of the man’s mouth. “That sounds more like advice you’re looking for than just plain old information. You asking me for advice, hotshot?”
Chance nodded. “I am.”
“Just so you know—” Banks leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees “—advice costs extra.”
“All right. Let’s hear your advice.”
“Well—” he looked from Chance to Rory and back “—first off, I wouldn’t bother with his people. That family don’t let nobody see or hear about their issues. Ever. So you’ll never get nothing from one of them. My advice would be to go to the police.”
Rory’s mouth gaped. “Seriously? Is that the best you’ve got? The police are the ones who said it was me who killed him. Why would I go to them?”
Banks allowed his grin to widen. “Come on, girl. Think. Just cause they said it was you don’t mean they didn’t know it wasn’t.”
CHAPTER NINE
Kindred Residence
Tupelo Pike
Scottsboro, 6:00 p.m.
Rory had played tour guide for the past couple of hours. The memories that haunted her along the way were bittersweet. After giving that lowlife Tay Banks a hundred bucks, they had driven by the sheriff’s department and police department as well as the courthouse. They had cruised around the downtown square, and she had pointed out the corner drugstore where she’d had her first job back in high school.
The tour had continued to Cumberland Court, where Pete’s parents lived on the very edge of the peninsula jutting into the lake. The house was massive, far larger than they had ever needed, Rory explained, but it was stunning, isolated and flanked by water on three sides as if it were in the middle of the ocean. The home provided the ostentatious setting that suited the image and lifestyle the Harris family wanted the world to see.
By contrast, the house Rory and Pete had purchased together was on Buchannan Street, only blocks from Caldwell Elementary where she had taught third grade. Pete could have bought any house he wanted, but he understood how very much she had wanted to live in that neighborhood. Showing off hadn’t been his style despite having grown up in that mansion.
As they had driven past Rory’s former home, Chance had slowed. The house looked dark and lonely, but thankfully therewas no sign of vandalism. She imagined everything was just as it had been—except for her possessions, of course. Eudora had likely ensured that all signs of Rory were removed. Eventually, she supposed they would sell the home. Their savvy lawyer had seen that Rory would receive nothing if that happened. Didn’t matter. However the media slanted it, Rory had never cared about the money or other material possessions.
Pete and teaching had been her world. Austin had already been away at university, and Lulu, well, Lulu was Lulu. The eccentric lady had been all over the place and always running off to visit friends in other locations for days or weeks. Rory hoped some of those friends had taken the time to visit her while she was ill with cancer. Given all that had happened, Rory hadn’t even thought to ask her brother.
With the tour over, Chance parked in the driveway of Lulu’s place. Rory exhaled a big breath as they emerged from the car. The plywood remained on the damaged window. She would get around to the repair eventually. There were more important issues to worry about just now.
