Jazz Funeral

her daddy forty whacks.”
    “Surely not with an ax.”
    He laughed as if it were the funniest thing ever happened in Pine County. “Not forty either. Just stabbed him once, to tell you the truth. But hard. Rammed that sucker right up to the heart—she was fat but she wasn’t necessarily strong. But you know what they say—crazy people got superhuman strength.”
    “What was the weapon?”
    “Kitchen knife. Plain ordinary kitchen knife. Homely little crime, nothin’ fancy about it, but shore did shake this town up.”
    “Her daddy was a prominent citizen?”
    “Naah. He was a carpenter, I b’lieve. Maybe ‘lectrician. Something like that. Lacey was closer to being a local celebrity. Straight-A student, good citizen award, worked on the yearbook. Nobody could believe it.”
    “Were there witnesses?”
    “Well, now. That depends on who you believe. Officially, no, there weren’t any witnesses. What happened was, her mom left to pick up her little brother from basketball practice and came back to find daddy dead and Lacey gone. That’s what Mom and Bubba say. Coach says there wasn’t any practice that day.”
    “How do you know Mom didn’t kill Dad and Lacey both, but somehow got rid of Lacey’s body?”
    “Detective, you have any idea how small Doradale is? Lacey was seen, of course; at the Greyhound bus station. Bought a ticket to Jackson. But she fooled us—got off at the first or second stop, who knows what happened after that? Trace’s been cold for almost fifteen years, but don’t think we’ve forgotten. Spectacular murder by our standards. Been looking for that young woman off and on ever since.”
    “She was fat, was she?”
    “Uh-huh, but kind of tall. Worst possible combination. Big and clumsy.”
    Well, thanks.
    “Much worse than short and fat, I always thought.”
    Skip said, “Blond?”
    “Nope. Dark. Real ordinary-looking kid.”
    “Sheriff, have you ever heard of someone named Ti-Belle Thiebaud?”
    “The singer? Sure. She’s one of my favorites. I’m crazy about her.”
    “Have you seen her on television or anything?”
    “Heck, yeah. Been to one of her concerts—why do you ask?”
    “Because her drummer says she’s Lacey Longtree.”
    “No!”
    “I’m just telling you what he says.”
    “Oh, fuck. You mean I gave up an hour’s sleep for this? I thought you had something.”
    “She absolutely couldn’t be Lacey Longtree?”
    “No way in hell.”
    She hadn’t known about Proctor at the time, or she would have asked about him.
    Ti-Belle was saying, “I just don’t know what happened.” She stared at her hands as if they were foreign objects. “I’ve never done anything like that in my life.”
    “The sheriff of Pine County, Alabama, says you have.”
    “Oh, fuck.”
    Her attorney, Barnes Naismith, hastily called by Anglime, was trying to shush her, had been trying for half an half, but Ti-Belle apparently had things in her that wanted out. Tears for sure and maybe words, if Skip got lucky.
    Ti-Belle got a quizzical look. “You’ve talked to the sheriff already?”
    “He says you killed your dad, Ti-Belle. With one blow; with a kitchen knife; in the kitchen. Just like you lulled Ham.”
    “You bitch.” She was half out of her chair before Naismith could stop her.
    He got her back down but couldn’t shut her up. “I didn’t kill Ham. I swear to God I didn’t kill him. I didn’t love him, I wish I had, but I didn’t kill him. I didn’t have any reason to kill him. Why in hell would I kill Ham?”
    Skip kept her voice low, almost sleepy. “He wanted you to stop seeing Anglime. You fought, he said the wrong thing, it made you furious. What was it he said, Ti-Belle?” She was doing the questioning alone because it was Saturday, and because Cappello wasn’t there. She would have loved to work with Cappello on this one. She needed someone to play the good cop.
    “It wasn’t me. Can’t you leave me alone, goddammit?”
    Naismith turned to Skip as if she were beating babies up.
    “Can’t you?”
    She ignored him.
    Ti-Belle maundered, a woman in a dream: “I didn’t hurt Ham. I could never hurt Ham. His problem was he was too nice. How could you hurt a guy like that?”
    “Sleep with another guy?”
    That brought on more tears. “I did wrong, I know I did wrong. But I didn’t kill him. Don’t you see the difference?”
    “Tell me about your dad.”
    She bent her head, laced her fingers behind her neck and stayed that way for a long