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  “Did that bother Jason?”

  “Not that he ever said. I suspect it must’ve. I mean, he and Emily were getting a might serious.” He scratched the back of one hand. “You know, a week or so ago he did mention that Emily was finally going to file for a divorce. Make it all official.”

  “She did.”

  “Oh.” Sharp’s eyes narrowed. “You think that had anything to do with this?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Sort of like a couple decides to separate? Everything is copasetic? Then one of them moves to make it real and the other one ain’t so happy about turning the page? That sort of thing?”

  Pancake nodded.

  “Well, I don’t know nothing about that. All’s I can say is that Jason and Emily seemed happy with one another.”

  CHAPTER 19

  TO SAY THAT Charlie Martin was shy didn’t quite do it justice. He was painfully so. Nice-looking kid, light brown hair that flopped over his forehead and partially hid his left eye. His jeans seemed a size too large, pale, skinny arms fell from a baggy navy tee shirt.

  After Copeland waved him over, introduced us, and with a brief nod retreated back inside, Charlie, Nicole, and I walked into the parking lot, away from the customers that roamed among the plants. Charlie tugged a pack of Pall Malls from his jeans pocket, shook one out, and lit it with a Zippo. He leaned against the front of the Copeland’s van he had been driving.

  His gaze bounced up from the gravel toward me for a beat, then back down. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “So, you want to talk about Emily?”

  “We do,” I said. “We’re sorry for your loss. We know you and Emily were close.”

  Another brief glance, a slight head nod.

  “You want to tell us about it?” Nicole asked. “You and Emily?”

  He puffed on the cigarette, the smoke swirling around his head. “Still hard to believe.” Now he looked up. His eyes glistened.

  Nicole moved closer, touched his arm. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

  A sharp sob escaped him.

  “I can see it,” she continued.

  “I did. I do.” He took a deep ragged breath. “I always will.”

  Charlie Martin was broken. That was evident in the tug of gravity on his face, his stooped shoulders. He looked as if he might collapse and disintegrate into dust. He appeared just that fragile. Nicole sensed it, too.

  “Look, Charlie,” she said. “We know this is hard. We know that talking about her hurts. Deeply. And we’re sorry we have to add to your pain. But we need to find out who did this.”

  He sniffed, wiped the back of one hand across his nose. “I know. I’m sorry.” He looked up at the sky. “It’s just so unfair.” He looked back at Nicole. “She was so very special.”

  “She was,” I said. “I grew up with her.”

  His head snapped toward me. “You did?”

  I nodded. “Her and her brother, Danny. He’s the one that hired us. We went to school together until her family moved from Gulf Shores to here.”

  That seemed to relax him a little. He took a puff, inhaled, let it out. “Emily didn’t like my smoking. I didn’t around her.”

  “How long did you guys date?” Nicole asked.

  “Six, no, eight months.”

  “What kinds of things did you do?”

  “Movies, dinners, sometimes just watch TV. With popcorn. Emily liked popcorn.” He smiled. Weak and unenthusiastic, but a smile anyway. “And chocolate.”

  Nicole laughed. “All us girls like chocolate.”

  That drew a warmer smile from Charlie.

  I hated to break the mood, but we needed info.

  “We know Emily was also seeing Jason Collins. How’d you feel about that?”

  “I didn’t like it. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

  “Did that make you mad?”

  He pulled out another cigarette and lit it with the remnant of the first one. He crushed that butt against the bumper and dropped it onto the gravel.

  “Look, I know where this is going,” he said. “Chief Warren asked me all this. So let me make it clear—I had nothing to do with what happened to Emily and Jason. Nothing. I couldn’t. I loved her.”

  Well, well, Charlie Martin did have balls. When he felt backed in a corner, his spine stiffened. Made me feel good that it did.

  Charlie continued, “I wanted Jason to simply go away. Move to another state. Get a job in Alaska. Or get abducted by space aliens.” He tapped a cigarette ash away. “Maybe then I’d have a chance with Emily. But that wasn’t going to happen. As long as he was around, he had the inside track. She felt things for him she didn’t with me. I knew that.”

  “Some could see that as a motive,” I said.

  “Maybe for Jason,” he said. “But Emily? Not possible. All I can say is that I don’t know anything about it. If I did, I’d be down at the police station telling everything I did know.”

  “What was your plan?” I asked. “To make this play out in your favor?”

  “Didn’t really have one. Except wait. Most relationships fall apart sooner or later. I figured that might happen and I’d be there.” He sighed. “Not very smart probably, but I didn’t see any other way.”

  “And if it didn’t fall apart?”

  “I guess I’d have to live with it, wouldn’t I?”

  “How did you hear about the murders?” Nicole asked.

  “Chief Warren came by here. Late that afternoon. Told me. Asked me all these same questions.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Gaze downward, slight headshake. “At the time I didn’t realize she considered me a suspect. I was in shock, I guess. Fact is, I don’t remember much about that conversation. Time sort of froze when she said Emily had been murdered.”

  “A natural reaction,” Nicole said.

  He glanced at her. “I remember feeling numb. Cold. As if the world had turned into an ice box or something.”

  “Where were you when it happened?” I asked. “That night?”

  “I had been over at my cousin’s place. In Magnolia Springs. I took the day off here to help him clear a field for planting.”

  “You spent the night?”

  “No. I had to work the next day, so after we had dinner and watched some TV, I drove home. Left there around midnight.”

  Which didn’t exactly clear him. According to Warren, the ME determined the time of death to be between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. Granted Magnolia Springs was a few miles east and Emily’s place and Fletcher’s Farm a few more north of Fairhope, it wasn’t that much out of the way. Especially that time of night. The towns around here rolled up the sidewalks long before midnight. The drive time was doable and there would be few folks to randomly witness his movements. Shy Charlie had the motive, at least partially, and the opportunity. But did he have the means? Could this beaten-down soul before me actually do that?

  “As far as you know, did either Emily or Jason have issues with anyone?” I asked. “Problems? Disputes?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know for sure about Jason, but Emily never said anything like that. And she would’ve. We talked. A lot. She was very open.” He sniffed. “Like she would be with a brother.” He glanced up, shrugged.

  And there it was. Charlie was the personification of unrequited love. He loved her; Emily viewed him as a brother.

  “One last question,” I said. “Drugs? Did either Emily or Jason use drugs?”

  “No.” The answer came out quick and sharp. “Emily for sure. She barely even drank. And drugs would be out of the question.”

  “And Jason?” Nicole asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, but I suspect no. I don’t think Emily would be around him if he did.”

  “What about Sean?” I asked. “He use?”

  “Not that I know.” He looked up at me, brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Why all these questions about drugs?”

  “The way they were killed. Makes you think it could’ve been a hit.”r />
  His eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”

  “Probably not the case,” I said. “We just have to consider all possibilities.”

  Charlie seemed to consider that. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Did Emily say she was having any problems with Sean?” Nicole asked.

  “Other than the divorce, not that she ever saw.” He hesitated a beat. “That sounds strange, doesn’t it? Other than the divorce? The truth is, it seemed they’d settled any issues they had and were ready to move on.”

  “Sean, too?”

  “It’s what he said. He’s got a girlfriend. You know that?”

  “We heard. A waitress around here?”

  “Yeah. Whitney Meyer. Works over at The Rib Shack.” He crushed the second cigarette against the bumper. “You don’t think Sean had anything to do with this, do you?”

  “Do you?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I guess anything’s possible. But I’d surely doubt it. Don’t see any reason he would.”

  “Maybe the house?” Nicole said.

  Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Never thought of that.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “YOU GUYS WERE going to get married?” Chief Billie Warren asked.

  “Had it all planned out,” Pancake replied. “Three kids. Tommy Jr., Little Emily, and Jake.”

  “Ahhh. For your charming friend?”

  “He ain’t all that charming once you get to know him. More a pain in the ass.”

  “I’m sorry,” Warren said.

  “For Jake?”

  “No. For Emily. First loves are always lasting.”

  “True that. Her murder sort of ripped out a piece of my soul.”

  They were standing in line at Latte Da, the coffee counter inside Page and Palette, a combination bookstore, bar, and coffee shop on South Section Street. A very cool place was Pancake’s assessment.

  The person in front of them gathered up three tall cups and moved away.

  “What can I get you?” the young lady behind the counter asked. She was short with light-brown curly hair, a row of jewels along the edge of her left ear, and a bright smile. She eyed Pancake.

  Pancake waved to Warren who ordered a coffee, black. Pancake the same, plus a blueberry muffin.

  Out on the street, Warren said, “I think you have a new fan.” She laughed.

  Pancake grunted, took a bite of muffin, and spoke around the mouthful. “Women love me.”

  That drew a smile from Warren. “So it seems.”

  Pancake had called Warren ten minutes earlier and asked to see her. She had said she was downtown, searching for some coffee. After he said he was buying, she suggested meeting at Page and Palette.

  Now they walked back north on Section Street. More small talk during the journey to Warren’s office.

  Once inside and seated, she asked, “I’ve got to ask, did any of you tell anyone that they were executed?”

  “No.” Pancake shook his head. “Not a chance. Why?”

  “It’s out there. On the streets.”

  “Wasn’t us. Maybe someone in your department?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Better not be. I’ve been known to take scalps.”

  “Bet that’s true.”

  “Might’ve been from the ME’s office. Those folks like to talk.”

  “Voice of experience?” Pancake asked.

  “You might say. So, what’d you want to chat about?”

  “Drugs.”

  “Okay. In what context?”

  “Up front, I don’t think Emily and Jason getting murdered had anything to do with drugs. I think they were planted to make it look that way.”

  “Can’t say I disagree.”

  “But we could be wrong.” Pancake opened his palms toward her.

  “We could.”

  “More to the point, whoever planted the meth must have access to it. Means they’re a user, a dealer, or they know someone who is.”

  “I agree. That’s why I had a chat with Clive and Reba Mack.”

  “Who are?”

  “A couple. Local dealers. Mostly marijuana, but they’ve been known to step up their game. Meth, cocaine, bigger stuff.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “Nothing. They know nothing about the murders.”

  “Could be lying.”

  “Of course they’re lying. Every word out of their collective mouths is a lie. Still doesn’t mean they were mixed up in murder.”

  “Would they be capable?”

  “They’re drug dealers. I know this won’t be news to you, but drugs, guns, and murder are common bedfellows.”

  “They carry much weight or are they small-time?”

  “Both,” Warren said. “They’re not big-time like the cartel-connected thugs in Mobile and over in Biloxi, but for here, not much happens in the drug world without their knowledge. Maybe even consent, or involvement.”

  “They keep their fingers on the pulse?”

  “So to speak.”

  “Have you busted them before?” Pancake asked.

  “I’ve tried. They’re pretty clever. I did tag Clive once with some Oxy. About a year ago. The judge let him plead it down to simple possession and not dealing so he got thirty days and two years probation. He’s still on probie so I have easy access to him.”

  “And the wife?”

  “Reba? She’s tougher than he is. And more dangerous. At least that’s my take. She’s not a wilting flower. Not even close. Some guy grabbed her tit in a bar once, and she knocked out two teeth and stomped him in the face. She broke a pool cue and was going to go all vampire-hunter on him when a couple of guys pulled her off.”

  “She sounds pleasant.”

  “Actually, she doesn’t look the part. Blond, attractive, not very big. Short, wiry. Then again, so are rattlesnakes.”

  “You mind if we take a run at them?”

  “Be my guest. Run over them if you want. Lord knows, I’ve tried.” Pancake laughed. “We can do that.”

  “One word of advice.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t touch her tits.”

  CHAPTER 21

  BOBBY TAYLOR, CHARLIE Martin’s cousin, owned and farmed a plot of land just south of Highway 98 near Magnolia Springs. According to the satellite image I pulled up on my iPhone, its western edge was demarcated by the Magnolia River, which itself continued west and dumped into Weeks Bay, an out-pouching of the larger Mobile Bay. The other three sides of Taylor’s slice of Baldwin County were embraced by pine forests.

  Nicole turned onto a gravel road and aimed us toward a light-gray house with a green slanted metal roof. A covered gallery extended its entire length. A large sun-bleached red barn loomed just beyond. She slowed, but I touched her arm, pointed ahead.

  “Keep going,” I said.

  In the distance, a man sat astride a tractor, its wheels churning into the dirt. A long chain extended rearward, taunt, buckling, ripping a tree stump from the ground.

  “You think that’s Bobby Taylor?”

  “Probably.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Pulling up stumps. Clearing the land for planting, it looks like.”

  “Which fits with what Martin told us.”

  Nicole angled past the house and along the edge of the field. The gravel gave way to rutted dirt. Nicole stopped and we climbed out. Taylor looked our way. We waved. He shut down the tractor and jumped to the ground. A handkerchief appeared from his rear pocket, and he mopped his face and neck, walking toward us. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I might have seen him.

  “Bobby Taylor?” I asked.

  He eyed the Mercedes, then Nicole, finally back to me. “Yeah. And who are you?”

  “Jake Longly. This is Nicole Jamison.”

  “You were at Emily Patterson’s funeral,” Taylor said.

  That was it. I could picture him now. Standing toward the back of the gathering.

  “We were. I grew up with Emily
and her brother, Daniel. Down in Gulf Shores.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re looking into the murders of Emily and Jason Collins,” Nicole said.

  His brow furrowed. “And you want to talk to me?”

  I nodded.

  “About what exactly?”

  I explained that we had been hired by Daniel to look into the murders of Emily and Jason Collins. I added that Chief Warren was onboard with our efforts. “We’re gathering as much information on Emily and Jason as we can, and since your cousin Charlie Martin was seeing her, we thought you might have some helpful information.”

  “Don’t see how. Didn’t really know her all that well. Charlie brought her out here for dinner a couple of times. Me and the wife met them in town for dinner or a movie a few other occasions.”

  I explained that we had just left the nursery where we had talked with Charlie. “Charlie said he was here helping you clear land and then stayed for dinner on the day of the murders.”

  His shoulders straightened. “Are you trying to say that Charlie’s a suspect?”

  “No, we’re not,” Nicole said. “But everyone who knew Emily or had any connection to her might have some information that’ll lead us in the right direction.”

  “Well, I can tell you for damn sure, if you’re thinking Charlie did any of this, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

  “I agree,” I said. “He seems like a nice, quiet guy. Not the kind that would do something like this.”

  “He is nice and quiet. And shy. Sometimes too much so.”

  That was my take.

  Taylor continued. “To answer your question, he was here all day. Helped me take down all these trees and chop them into firewood.”

  He waved toward a swath of land that was pocked with tree stumps and ragged holes where others had been removed. Near the corner of the field sat a neat stack or firewood and an unruly tangle of stumps, long roots like Medusa’s snakes projecting from each.

  He went on. “He stayed for dinner and didn’t head out for home until near midnight.”

  “What about him and Emily?” Nicole asked. “How did he feel about her?”

  Taylor sighed. “He loved her. Her death tore him up. That’s for sure.” He looked down, kicked at a clod of dirt. “That’s why there’s no way he could’ve harmed her.”