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“How soon after that did you two start hooking up at that house on Windsor?”
The glass of soda almost slipped from her unsteady hand.
He grinned. “I bet you’re wondering how I know about your romance. Well, see, I’ve had my eye on Burkett ever since the day he got out of Big Spring.”
“Why?”
“I investigated the murder of Bill Bandy. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Griff Burkett was implicated in his murder.”
“He committed the murder, Mrs. Speakman. No question in my mind. But he was clever, didn’t leave any hard evidence, not enough for me to get an indictment from the grand jury. But there’s no statute of limitations on homicide. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see justice done for the late Bill Bandy.”
Griff had known the detective was following him. It was clear now why he hadn’t wanted her talking to Rodarte, why he had used scare tactics to warn her against being alone with him. He hadn’t wanted her to hear the conviction in Rodarte’s voice when he said, He committed the murder.
“He was more careless this time,” Rodarte was saying. “Or more arrogant. Leaving behind the murder weapon. Fingerprints.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
“First thing I intend to ask him when we find him.”
She raised her head and looked over at him. He read the question in her eyes.
“No, we haven’t located him yet. He’s gone underground. We’ve got cops staking out his apartment, but there’s been no sign of him. That old Honda he’s been driving? We found it in a strip center parking lot up in Addison. Lab guys are going over it now. I’ve got men watching the house on Windsor, too, but he hasn’t been there. By the way, the yard service came this morning and mowed the grass, edged the sidewalk. Who pays for the upkeep on that house?”
“I do. I lease it.”
He glanced around the luxurious surroundings, making a silent comparison between the two houses. When he came back to her, he said bluntly, “What for?”
She gave him a look full of meaning.
He studied her for a moment, then flashed that revolting grin. “I already knew you rented the house.”
“I know,” she said coldly.
He spread his hands wide. “Sorry. It was my duty to check it out, Mrs. Speakman. The lease isn’t in your name, but I traced it back through that corporate name to you.”
“It wouldn’t have been that difficult to do.” It was a subtle insult to his investigative skills, but if he caught the slight, he didn’t take issue with it.
“When’s the last time you saw Burkett?”
She dropped her gaze to her hands, moistly clenched in her lap. She knew the cagey detective would pick up on the body language, but she couldn’t help herself. “Almost six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks? That long?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
She gave him the exact date and saw that Carter wrote it down in his small spiral notebook.
“What made the date memorable?” Rodarte asked.
“I told him that I wouldn’t be coming back.”
He whistled softly. “How’d he take it?”
“He understood and accepted my decision.”
