Chapter 23. Alibis and Apple Pies
ALIBIS AND APPLE PIES
WHITNEY
The salesman angled his head to indicate the door. “We could step outside, I guess.”
Alonzo led the charge as the salesman and I followed her out the door and down the walkway. She stopped under the nylon canopy next to the golf cart where the sun wouldn’t be in our eyes, and launched right into her questions. “Did you see Mr. Gentry here the day Tyler Yee was killed?”
“I did,” he said. “He showed up around half past nine that morning, not long after I arrived to open the sales trailer. The construction crew had finished the model home next door, and he went over to make sure everything looked good. Then he drove around to check on the power lines. An electrical company had laid underground lines throughout the subdivision, and Thad wanted to verify that the lines were clearly marked on the lots. He didn’t want anyone accidentally digging them up.
Then he came back to the trailer to do some work in the spare office.
It’s my understanding he’s trying to acquire another property near here to build a country club. I think he was working on that.”
So far, the salesman’s story jibed with Gentry’s.
“Was anyone else around?” Alonzo asked. “The foreman? Anyone on the crew?”
“No,” he said. “It was too stormy for the crew to work that day. They’d already finished the model home and had started on a new house at the back of the subdivision. It’s the first one that sold. Extra-large premium lot on a cul-de-sac. Earned me a nice commission.”
“Were you in the trailer all morning?” Alonzo asked.
“Most of it, but not all,” he said. “I went out on the property to show the model home and lots to a prospective buyer.”
“How long were you out of the trailer?”
The man looked up in thought. “About forty-five minutes to an hour.”
“What time was that?”
“I can’t say exactly. Not without checking my planner.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s in my office.”
“Grab it and bring it right back here. Don’t stop for chitchat.” In other words, Don’t say anything to Thad Gentry.
The man strode quickly back into the trailer and emerged seconds later with a small planner in his hand.
He brought it over to us and opened it, fingering through the pages to the date Tyler Yee was murdered.
He pointed to a line preprinted with “11:00 a.m.” Next to it, the names Lindsay and Carter Baker had been written, along with a phone number beginning with an area code of 323.
Not a local number. The salesman solved the mystery.
“The Bakers are newlyweds from the West Coast. They’re moving to the area soon and looking to build their first home. ”
The homes to be built at River Valley Ranch would hardly be typical starter homes, but I supposed 1.2 million dollars for a three-thousand-square-foot house sounded like a steal compared to the astronomical housing prices in California.
“The electricity kept going on and off in the model,” the salesman said, “so I’m not sure they were too impressed, and it was hard to sell them on a lot when it was too muddy to get out of the car and look around.”
“Do you know if Mr. Gentry remained in the trailer the entire time you were out on the property with the Bakers?”
“I assume so,” the salesman said. “He was sitting in the office when we left and he was sitting there when we returned. I didn’t see him leave or return at any point, but the sales trailer isn’t visible from the entire property.
There’s a slight rise in the center of the acreage that blocks the view. Besides, my focus was on the buyers.”
“So, if Gentry had stepped out for a short time, you wouldn’t necessarily know?”
He hesitated for a moment before reluctantly replying, “I suppose not.”
“Were you aware that Mr. Gentry had an interview scheduled with Mr. Yee at twelve thirty that day?”
“I was. I didn’t know until the time had come and gone, and Thad complained that the reporter was running late and holding him up from heading to the airport.
He had a flight to Charleston to catch. It finally got so late that Thad had to leave.
He told me if the reporter showed up to tell him he’d be happy to reschedule, but that it might be a week or two before he’d be available. ”
Everything the salesman told us sounded plausible. Had Gentry been on the up-and-up? Or had he given his spiel to the salesman about Yee being late to create an alibi?
Alonzo held out her hand. “May I see your planner?”
“Sure.” The salesman handed her the book.
She tapped the page listing the Bakers’ appointment with her finger. “You don’t need this information anymore, do you?”
Again, he said, “I suppose not.”
She carefully ripped the page from the planner and tucked it into an evidence bag.
The man put his hand to the back of his neck and eyed Alonzo, his expression apprehensive. “You don’t think Mr. Gentry had something to do with that reporter’s murder, do you?”
Her response was noncommittal. “Just gathering information and covering my bases.” Alonzo returned his planner and thanked him for his time. We returned to her car.
On the drive back to the barn, I said, “I didn’t get a chance to point this out to Gentry, but the booties the techs gave me at the barn were plastic waterproof booties. They’re more durable than the typical paper type he was talking about.”
“I figured as much,” Alonzo said. “Any chance you’ve still got them?”
“I threw them away. The garbage collectors have come by twice since then. They’re in the landfill somewhere.
” If I’d realized that the booties would be relevant to the investigation, I would’ve hung on to them.
“You think Gentry was trying to plant a seed with the talk about the coffee shop? So that he can claim he might have lost his pin there, and that’s where it got stuck in my boot? ”
“Are you reading my mind?” She cast a glance at me. “I guess we’ll know once I go to his house this afternoon and learn whether he’s still got his pin.”
Alonzo turned onto the gravel drive and, as soon as we reached the fence line for the pasture, Ruby trotted along beside us again.
She didn’t bark this time. I supposed she was less excited to see us since we’d gone through this routine not long before.
Maisy was in the back corner of the pasture, again scratching her rump on the tree trunk.
I found myself wondering if cows could get fleas.
After I climbed out of the car, I turned to look back at Alonzo. “Will I still see you at the co-op board meeting tonight?”
She raised a shoulder. “Depends on what happens at Gentry’s house. If I don’t show, take notes for me.”
My brows shot up. “Am I being deputized?”
“Unofficially.” She reached over to her glove compartment, opened it, and retrieved a roll of gold star-shaped stickers with Honorary Deputy printed on them, the kind law enforcement passes out to children. She peeled one off the roll and held it out to me. “Here you go.”
I took it from her, pressed it to the chest of my coveralls, and gave her a salute.
After I’d closed the passenger door and Alonzo had headed off, I returned to the barn. Buck and Owen had made good progress, framing half of the next apartment. I picked up my hammer and got back to work, all the while wondering if we’d soon nail Tyler’s killer.
When Buck, Owen, and I stopped work on Thursday, we had half of the apartments framed and I’d worked up a big appetite.
There was no point in driving an hour home for dinner, then driving another hour down to Murfreesboro to the headquarters for Middle Tennessee Electric for the board meeting.
If I had dinner at the Victory Garden, I could drive straight east and be at the board meeting in forty-five minutes.
As I enjoyed a delicious dinner of down-home cornbread and beans at the restaurant, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on at Gentry’s house.
Had he shown his pin to Detective Alonzo and cleared his name?
Or had he been unable to produce his pin and been arrested?
Was it possible that Gentry’s implication was correct, that he or someone else might have lost the pin at the coffee house?
Could the point of the pin have torn through the plastic booty so that it didn’t hold the covering to the sole of my boot?
I’d felt so certain earlier that we were on the right track, but now I was having doubts.
Deborah came over to check on me. She wore another French comb today, one with white and gold feathers. “You cleared your plate. Good for you.”
“Buck and I framed apartments all day. I probably burned ten thousand calories.” Not to mention that I was eating for two.
“You’ll need some pie, then. Would you like blueberry, peach, or apple?”
“Apple.”
“à la mode? We’ve got a delicious oat milk vanilla ice cream.”
“Definitely. Any chance I could get a cup of coffee, too? Half-caff?” I’d been good about avoiding caffeine so far, but I wasn’t just physically exhausted at the moment, I was sleepy, too. A small amount of caffeine shouldn’t hurt the baby.
“You got it.” Deborah collected the dirty dishes from my table and strode off to put in my dessert order.