Mitch looked confused. “Did someone die?”
The cop named Dwayne looked faintly amused. “Funny you should ask that. I’m here in regards to an incident that happened twelve years ago. A Monte Carlo was stolen from the parking lot of a Piggly Wiggly. Ring any bells?”
“Yeah, I believe I do recall that incident,” Mitch said with an exaggerated Southern accent. “But the charges were dropped. Buried, in fact.”
Charges? Mitch had been arrested and charged with a crime? Her throat tightened as she recalled the last guy she’d dated, who’d also had a criminal past. Vince had explained away the assault charges, claiming it was all a misunderstanding, and she’d been stupid enough to fall for it. Until he’d broken her jaw.
She gave her head a quick, involuntary shake. No way was Mitch in the same boat as Vince. He’d freely admitted he’d been a “wild kid,” but Beth had pictured him pulling pranks, maybe spray-painting a bridge or decorating trees with toilet paper. She’d known nothing about car theft, but that wasn’t violent. Still, it was bad.
“I’m not here about the theft per se,” Dwayne said. “You had a friend with you that night. Robby Racine. That right?”
Abruptly Celeste came out of her chair, proving she’d been listening keenly despite her show of disinterest. She was well into her seventies, with wild gray curls and a spare, wiry body that she stuffed into the most improbable outfits. Today it was a zebra-striped, bat-wing shirt, black leggings and red boots. But anyone who knew her was scared of her. “Mitch, don’t say another word without a lawyer present.”
Mitch turned to Celeste. “This is my brother.”
“Half brother,” Dwayne said.
Beth thought the distinction odd, as if Dwayne wanted to deny the relationship.
“Whatever, I don’t think he’s here to arrest me.” But when Mitch returned his attention to Dwayne, he looked less than sure of himself. “Are you?”
“I’m just here to talk. So, about Robby…”
“Robby Racine was with me that night,” Mitch confirmed.
“You happen to know where he is?”
“Robby? Good gravy, no. Haven’t seen him since that night. Getting arrested for stealing a car would have been his third felony. He’d have done time for sure. He took off.” Mitch seemed to relax slightly. “I figure he’s in Mexico.”
“You figured wrong. He turned up the other day.”
“No kidding. What’s he up to these days?”
“Nothing. That’s the point. He turned up in a shallow grave on some land owned by your mother. And you were the last one to see him alive.”
Beth’s head spun. This could not be happening. Mitch, her Mitch, a murder suspect? She simply could not picture it. He was so nice, so laid-back. He was a computer geek. Since when did geeks go around stealing cars and killing people? It was ridiculous.
“Where did you find Robby?” Mitch asked. “My mom never owned any land that I knew of. She and Daddy were poor as cockroaches at a homeless shelter, you know that.”
“Hell, Mitch, I don’t know the details. I volunteered to come here, pick you up and take you to Coot’s Bayou for questioning. Thought it might go down a little easier if you saw a friendly face.”
Mitch looked as if he wanted to spit. “Friendly, my ass. You’re loving this. And if you want me to come to Coot’s Bayou for anything, you’ll need a warrant.”
Celeste pushed the intercom button. “Raleigh, wherever you are, get your ass into the lobby. Stat.”
“Mitch,” Beth said carefully, “don’t you think you should clear this up?”
Judging from the surprised look he gave her, he’d forgotten she was there—and didn’t seem to welcome her contribution. “I don’t owe the Coot’s Bayou police anything.”
“They just want to talk,” Dwayne said.
“That’s what they always say,” Celeste interjected. “You think we were born yesterday, sonny?”
“Celeste, thank you, but I’ll handle this.” Mitch focused on his brother. “Dwayne, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. I haven’t even lived in Louisiana for seven years!”
“Doesn’t matter. We think Robby died the night that car was stolen.”
Mitch looked over at Beth. Gauging her reaction? And what did he see on her face? She could hide her emotions when dealing with the press, or in court, but when dealing with her own life, every thought that whisked through her mind showed plainly in her expression.
The revulsion she felt was for the crime, not Mitch, who couldn’t possibly have done it, but would he be able to tell the difference?
“Let me know when you have a warrant.” Mitch turned on his heel and sauntered out of the lobby, appearing completely unbothered. But his gait was slightly stiffer than normal, his jaw set more firmly. Anyone who’d spent as much time studying Mitch as she had could notice these things.
Had he fooled his own half brother?
Dwayne looked first at Celeste, who stared back with open challenge, then switched his gaze to Beth, perhaps seeking someone with a more open mind. “It’s in his best interest to cooperate,” he said. “There’s gonna be a warrant, and I’ll have to come back with it tomorrow.” He turned and exited to the street.
By the time Raleigh arrived, whooshing into the hall with her pen, notebook and digital recorder ready for battle, it was all over.
“You’re too late,” Celeste said. “Missed the show. Did you know our Mitch has a half brother? And a cop, at that?”
“No, I didn’t. What happened here?”
“I’ll explain,” Beth said. “But let’s go to the ladies’ room where I can have a meltdown in private.”
Raleigh said nothing until they were safely inside the ladies’ lounge on the second floor. Raleigh and Beth had held quite a few cry fests in here over the past few years. It was furnished with tufted sofas and gilt-framed mirrors, but its best feature was a big box of Kleenex.
“He said no?” Raleigh guessed correctly.
“He said he was busy.” Beth slumped onto a sofa, swallowing back the tears that threatened. What if Mitch got arrested?
“He didn’t issue a counteroffer?” Raleigh sounded genuinely perplexed.
“Never mind the date. His half brother was there asking a lot of questions about something that happened years ago when Mitch lived in… I can hardly say it. Coot’s Bayou. Did you know he was from a place called Coot’s Bayou?”
“Seems I heard about it at some point.”
“Did you know he stole a car?”
“He was a teenager at the time. The charges were dropped.”
“So you did know. You should have told me.”
“It’s not like he’s a criminal. He’s a good person, Beth.”
“Maybe.” Deep down, Beth felt that Mitch was good, not that she could trust her own instincts where men were concerned. “But now he’s being accused of murder. His own half brother seems to think he might have killed the guy—”
“Whoa, whoa. Murder? Start from the beginning.”
Beth recounted the conversation between Mitch and his brother as best she could. Raleigh listened attentively, taking quick notes, firmly in lawyer mode.
When Beth was finished,