Not surprising. He never tried to be Mr. Popular in high school. He went to class and left. It was a means to an end. “Was she friends with Sherry Higgins?”
Rita’s sharp laugh echoed through the nearly empty room. “Christ, no. Randi lived in a big brick house next to the golf course. She thought she was some hotshot in this town just cause she won a few beauty pageants when she was young.”
Kir frowned. The two women had to have something in common, didn’t they? “Did they go to the same church?”
“I don’t think so. Randi went to that new church in Grange. I guess ours weren’t fancy enough.”
The mention of Grange reminded him of his original purpose in coming to the Bait and Tackle. Nash Cordon. “Did Sherry or Randi ever come to this bar?”
Rita shook her head. “Not that I ever seen.”
“Did they know Nash Cordon?”
“It’s a small town, but I never seen any of them together. Nash has been sniffing after our local vet.”
Kir snapped his teeth together. The next time Nash came sniffing he intended to teach the bastard he wasn’t welcomed. As painfully as possible. “Was Nash here last night?”
“Yep.” Rita hesitated, her brows drawing together. “Or he was. He was behind the bar when I first got here, but I didn’t see him around when I left.”
“What time?”
“Ten or so. I don’t stay out as late as I used to.” She shoved aside the empty bottle with a sigh. “What’s going on? Is Nash in some sort of trouble?”
Kir rose to his feet. He’d discovered that Nash had left the bar before closing time, and that his father had been acting strange before his death. That was enough for tonight. “It’s freezing outside,” he said. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
“No need.” She waved her hand toward the bartender. “Cherry gets off in an hour. She said she’d drop me off.”
Kir nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. His fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper, and he was suddenly struck with inspiration. “One last thing.” He pulled out the note and unfolded it before he set it on the table in front of Rita. “Did my father ever show you this?”
The older woman squinted at the column of initials. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. My father left it with Pastor Bradshaw before he died and told him to give it to me after the funeral.”
“Is that the preacher from the Lighthouse Church?”
Kir was genuinely surprised. “You know him?”
“Not personally. I’m not the churchgoing kind of gal. At least not anymore. But the pastor runs a charity shop out of the old bowling alley.” She glanced down at her velvet jogging suit. “I get all my clothes there. I even found a television for my bedroom. The screen is cracked, but it works fine. Course, I had to wrestle it away from Sherry.”
Kir stiffened. “Sherry? Sherry Higgins?”
“Yeah. She was in there every week trying to snatch up anything she could get for free.” Without warning, Rita flushed. “Oh, I forgot . . . I shouldn’t have said that.”
Kir waved away Rita’s apology, his thoughts racing.
A charity shop. What better place for the community to cross paths? Randi Decker could easily have gone there to donate items. And it sounded as if Sherry Higgins was a regular.
And Pastor Bradshaw.
Something to investigate.
But not tonight.
“So you don’t know anything about the list?” he asked Rita.
She grabbed the paper and held it out to him. “I know one thing.”
“What?”
“That’s not your father’s handwriting.”
Dear Rudolf,
I wish you were here with me. I’ve improved so much. I think you would be proud.
Sherry was sloppy, although I won’t lie, her death gave me a great deal of pleasure. The ugly bitch had never looked better than when I was slicing open her throat. But I didn’t take my time to savor my revenge.
Randi was better. I brought her to my happy place so we could be alone. We played until she couldn’t scream anymore, but I was too rough. She was gone before I could finish enjoying her pleas for mercy.
Now I have Ms. Randall. The dried-up bitch looks like death warmed over, but I intend to take care not to end our time together until I’m fully satisfied. After all, she took delight in seeing my suffering. Day after day, she smirked at the sight of my bruises, never doing anything to end the torment.
Well, now she will know what it’s like to be small