Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,99
could without calling attention to themselves. But when they got there, there was no sign of Randy Pinkerton’s car.
“Did we beat him by that much?” Eric asked. “Doesn’t seem possible.”
“Or we were just wrong about where he was going.”
“Crap.”
They watched the building for a half hour, but there was no activity, so they made their way back to their car.
“Didn’t you say we could have been going to his brother’s house?”
“Yes, the older one. Zeke.”
“Should we check it out?”
“I guess. Not sure what else to do. He’s obviously not going back to work today, where we could find him.”
They drove to Zeke Pinkerton’s house, but there was no sign of Randy or his car. Not knowing what else to do they looked up Randy’s house, but there was no action there, either.
“What about Les Danver’s place?” Eric said.
Casey felt as weary as Eric’s voice sounded. “I’ll look him up.”
But he wasn’t listed anywhere, not even in the database they’d paid to belong to.
“Thornville would know,” she said. “The little prick.”
Eric laughed. “I think it’s time for some food.”
“I don’t want another blueberry muffin.”
They found a quick Italian place between the Gulf and Whitley, and were almost done when Eric’s phone buzzed.
“Britney?” Casey said. “I suppose you managed to exchange phone numbers while you were at it.”
He ignored her and read the text. “You’re going to love this. Hometown Interiors? They’ve been around for ages.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t love that.”
“No, listen. They’ve been around, but they haven’t done anything. Just sat in the corporation listings. The last thing they did? Bought out a small business and took it over seventeen years ago. Since then they’ve done nothing but exist until last week, when they apparently did a few small jobs before the work on your brother’s house.”
Casey let that sink in. “How is he supposed to have found this business if they haven’t been active for that long?”
“Doesn’t matter, because we know he really didn’t. If the police would have dug a little farther they would have seen all this. Instead, they believed the voice on the other end of the phone, as well as the fake emails and phone calls they planted.”
“You can do that?”
“I can’t. Other people can, without breaking a sweat. Or, actually, without even waking up much, knowing those folks. But that’s not the part you’re going to love.”
“So tell me already.”
He smiled. “That little business they bought out? It just so happened to be owned by someone here in Texas, by the name of Cyrus Mann.”
Chapter Forty-four
“I don’t understand.” Thornville was wringing his hands, like an old woman in one of those books where old women do that sort of thing. “How did you find me?”
“That’s what you don’t understand?” Casey stepped into Thornville’s front door—the door at his house. “Or you don’t understand about Hometown Interiors?”
“Either one.”
“May we come in?” Eric said.
Thornville hesitated, so Casey pushed past him, into a little foyer.
Eric followed. “Thank you. We appreciate your time.”
“But…”
“I assume you have computer access to your files here at home?” Eric said.
“It’s not really something I like to do—” He hustled after Casey, who was making a self-guided tour around the first floor.
He lived alone, that much was obvious. The living room and kitchen were exceptionally neat and tidy, as was the bathroom, and the small office at the back of the house. Casey stepped in and turned on the light. An extremely fat cat sat on the leather office chair. It took one look at her, rolled off its perch, and waddled out, tail held high.
“Here’s the deal,” Casey said, going around to the other side of the desk. “We know Cyrus Mann was bought out seventeen years ago. His relatives didn’t understand it. They’d thought he was doing great. But all of a sudden, he was out of a business and working for someone else. The Pinkertons. Can you explain that?”
Thornville stood in the doorway, blinking rapidly, like his brain was trying to compute. “I don’t know, I didn’t know anything about—”
“And who do you think bought out his company? I’m betting I know, and I’ll give you one guess.”
Thornville swallowed. “Um, the Pinkertons?”
“Ding, ding. But not all of them. Just one.”
His face pinched, like someone was stepping on his toe. “Randy.”
“You’re getting good at this. Now, you want to tell me why Randy, who is apparently a little pet of yours, seeing how you warned him about us today, would travel up to Marshland just to buy out some business that’s owned