“She was ambitious. She had talent and she had drive. I admired both. I see talent. I see drive. I don’t always see both together.”
“So your relationship was strictly professional?”
“Absolutely.”
KC arched his shoulders as if he’d awoken from a long slumber. “You weren’t sleeping with her? Because I can tell you, if she made an offer to me, I’d be hard-pressed to say no.”
Color rose up in Rehnquist’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
KC laughed as if chatting at the hunting lodge with an old friend. “You were sleeping with her. I hear it in your high and defensive voice.” He looked at Deke. “But I’ll give him credit; that hint of outrage and shock was a nice touch.”
Deke folded his arms and studied Rehnquist. “Never sells me on a lie.”
“Really?” KC shook his head. “There was a time I’d have fallen for it but not anymore.”
Deke met the man’s gaze. “You lying about sleeping with Dixie Simmons?”
“Maybe I better call my lawyer.” Rehnquist moved toward his desk and reached for the sleek black phone. “I don’t have any more to say.”
“Shit,” KC said. “I hate it when I ask a simple question and I get attitude. Hell, it’s a simple yes or no question.”
Rehnquist tapped an agitated finger on his desk. “You two are trying to trap me.”
“So you didn’t sleep with her or you didn’t kill her?” Deke asked.
“Neither!”
Every bit of Deke demanded he haul the guy to jail, but he’d play one more round. “Frankly, I don’t care who you sleep with, Mr. Rehnquist. I don’t. I’ve no interest in telling your wife or your girlfriend or whomever that you and Dixie were sleeping together.” That wasn’t totally true. He’d do both if it meant solving the case. “But I need to have the basics of Dixie’s life so I can find her killer.”
“If you are hiding an affair, what else are you hiding?” KC asked.
Beads of sweat plastered wisps of blond hair to his tanned forehead. “I never said I was hiding an affair.”
KC hooked his thumbs behind his thick brown belt. “One lie always makes me wonder what else they are hiding. I suppose now we’ll be getting a search warrant for his office, house, and even his car.”
Deke’s gaze bore into Rehnquist. “Imagine what we will find when we search his residence.”
Rehnquist fisted his fingers as his face flushed. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” Deke said. “I’m willing to work with you on keeping your secrets as long as you work with me. But if you keep pushing, we’ll take this all up to the next level. Won’t be pretty or easy, and I’d just as soon not have to fuss. But I’ll do it.”
Rehnquist drummed his fingers on the phone’s receiver and then curled them into a tight fist before drawing back. “I’d been sleeping with Dixie for about two months. We had no formal arrangement but we met for sex often. She was one of those gals who was fun to hook up with initially but she had a lot of emotional stuff that was tiring. She craved attention. It’s what made her good on stage. She all but fed off the energy of the crowd and when she was jazzed she was hot in bed. But after a while her neediness had me avoiding her calls.”
“Then in the last ten days?”
“I finally took her call a couple of days ago because she threatened to show up at the office and strip off all her clothes.”
KC arched a brow as if the image flickered across his mind.
“I can’t have that kind of bad publicity. We are like a lot of businesses these days. We’re struggling and can’t afford any trouble. I took her call and talked to her and told her what she wanted to hear.”
“What did she want to hear?”
He sighed. “The usual. She was pretty. She was smart and I was hot for her. The same kind of crap chicks eat up.”
KC scribbled notes. “When is the last time you saw her?”
“Two weeks ago. And that is the truth. We did talk on the phone but I haven’t seen her since September.”
Deke held up the mangled image of Dixie. “Who would do this to her?”
Rehnquist’s gaze skirted away as if running to hide. “Holy shit. Don’t show that to me again. I don’t know who would do that to her. Shit!”
Torn flesh and blood quickly grew grotesque when the heart stopped pumping blood and life. “The person who did this was angry.”
“Detective Morgan is right.” KC pulled gum from his pocket and slowly unwrapped it. “Dixie’s killer wasn’t satisfied with killing her. He went out of his way to strip away all her beauty and humanity.”
Rehnquist moistened his lips as if struggling to keep his stomach from upending. “I could never have done that to her.”
He’d seen killers get sick at the sight of their work. In the heat of murder, the brain’s morality values clicked off and urges turned primal and animalistic. After the fact, when the adrenaline cleared and conscious thought returned, regret and disgust reappeared. “You sure about that?”
Rehnquist’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’m no saint, Detective. No saint at all, but I never would have done that to Dixie. For Christ’s sake we were lovers.”
And lovers killed lovers all the time. “Are you married?”
His spine stiffened. “Yes.”
“Did your wife know about Dixie?” KC asked.
“No! I’m careful to leave the office behind me.”
“Whoever killed Dixie was angry. Very angry. Could have been the work of a jealous woman.”
“Judi is a gentle soft soul. She’d never hurt anyone.” He hesitated. “Once she did find evidence of my playtime. She confronted me, but she was rational and calm.”
“Maybe she ran out of calm,” Deke said. “We all have violence in us, it’s just a matter of dialing up the right combination.”
“Not Judi. Not like that.”
“You’d be surprised what people can do,” KC said. “Saw a lil’ bit of a woman kill her six-foot-seven husband with a baseball bat. Later folks kept saying over and over how nice she was. Even the nice ones snap.”
“Judi wouldn’t have the strength right now.” Color rose in his face. “She’s nine months pregnant and due any day. She can barely get out of a chair, let alone do that.”
Deke suppressed an oath. “What do you know about Dixie?”
“Not much. I wasn’t looking for love, just sex.”
“You promise her a record deal?”
“I made no promises.”
“You hint?” KC asked.
“Look, I’m no angel. We’ve established that. But I did not kill her.”
“Where were you Thursday night?”
“New York. In meetings with attorneys and a singer until two in the morning. And I can give you names.” He scrawled several names and numbers on a monogrammed sheet of linen paper. “I flew into Nashville early this morning.”
Deke studied the list and then folded it in half with a crisp line. “Stay in touch until I’ve made these calls.”
“Sure.”
Outside Spinners Records, Deke slid behind the wheel of his car as KC climbed into the passenger side. For a moment the two sat, each soaking up the silence.
“My money says he’s not the guy. Dixie talked with someone who was smart enough to use a burner phone. And clearly this guy had Dixie call his direct personal line.”
Deke rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I don’t think he’s the one. But hell, I’ve been fooled before.”
“So we head to Dixie’s apartment.” KC flipped through notes. “She has a roommate named Tawny.”
“Rudy Creed mentioned Tawny. She’s also a singer. Not as good as Dixie.”
KC nodded. “Jealousy comes in all kinds of forms.”
He fired up the engine. “So it does. Let’s go find Tawny.”
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the Wild Horse Saloon. The place was large, crammed full of tables hugging
the edges of a stage that stretched across the width of the room.
Deke flashed his badge to the greeter. “Tawny here?”
The girl glanced wide-eyed at the badge. “She’s on stage leading the line dance now. Should be finished in a minute or two.”
Up front the young girl wore a mike and a rhinestone outfit. The dancers looked as if they were having fun though most missed steps or spun in the wrong direction. Tawny had long reddish brown hair and a full figure complete with round hips, a narrow waist, and a large bust. Her demeanor was relaxed and carefree as she joked with the guests, sang notes here and there and flirted with the oldest men.
Ten minutes later the audience was clapping and heading back to their seats as Tawny wished everyone a great day and promised to return at the seven o’clock show.
Deke and KC made their way across the restaurant. They showed their badges to a beefy man wearing a security shirt and moved down a long dark hallway toward the dressing rooms.
Deke knocked, waited. “Ms. Richards?”
The door snapped open. This close her makeup, which had looked natural from afar, appeared heavy and overdone. Large black eyelashes batted over brown eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Deke showed his badge. “We’re with the Nashville Police Department. I have questions for you about Dixie Simmons.”
Eyes narrowed. “What does she want? Is she complaining about what I said to her last week?”