Murder Deja Vu

took the photo and studied it. “No, can’t say I have, but I know this is the guy. Picture’s been in the paper. Besides, if he planned to do what he did, I doubt he’d come in here and get acquainted.”
    “Good point. Would you show me the police report? I know you’re not obligated to, but I’d appreciate it.”
    Keep it simple, Clarence. He didn’t want to seem like some city slicker showing off, trying to make locals look like yokels. That had never been his style. Get on their wavelength, be one of them. Hell, he was one of them.
    The sheriff eyed him.
    “A man’s life might depend on it, Micah. All I want to do is give him his best shot, and you’re the man who can help.”
    “The sheriff’s boys went over her apartment with a magnifying glass. There was a lot of blood, but not much else in the way of clues. Whoever killed her didn’t leave anything to go on. Can’t imagine how he left the crime scene without being noticed, though. Must’ve been covered in blood. You don’t do a murder like that and not get it all over you.”
    “True. I’d say he came prepared, wouldn’t you?”
    “I seen a movie once where the killer put on one of them cheap plastic raincoats you buy for almost nothing. Disposable. I’d guess that’s what whoever done this wore. Ya think?”
    “If he was smart. Guess he was since no one saw him. I’d sure like to look at the photos of the crime scene. You must have copies. After all, you were in charge.”
    “Thought so.”
    Clarence knew what Micah meant. “I know how it is when someone else comes in and takes over. I used to be a cop, and it happened all the time. The feds’d come in to work with us on a case, and before long they were in charge.” He shook his head. “Man, I hated that.”
    “Then you know. Wait a minute. I’ll get the report, see if we made copies.” He walked into an office with an eye on the woman at the desk. Clarence decided if there were no copies, she’d be to blame. She sniffed a challenge in Micah’s direction. She’d done her job.
    Ah, small town departments. They probably never had more than a few drunk calls on Saturday night. A murder…now that was big time.
    “Here you go,” Micah said. “If your guy didn’t do it, I sure hope you clear him. But if he did, he needs to get what’s coming to him.”
    “I agree. I’m looking for the truth, that’s all. You have any idea where Ms. Johnson could’ve met whoever she took back to her apartment?” Clarence figured the answer was the bar’s name on the matchbook cover Jeri learned they found in Reece’s house, but he never blew an opportunity to hear a different answer.
    “Only thing goes on around these parts, without going over to Asheville or Hendersonville, is blue grass music at Rudy’s Bar on Friday nights. She was a nice gal. No trouble. Worked at Dollar General. Could’ve been a customer she met.”
    Clarence looked at the report. He saw nothing about testing for drugs other than alcohol, and unless they had a specific reason to suspect drugs, they wouldn’t run a tox screen. A slice across the carotid artery proved a powerful cause of death. “Lot of blood.”
    “Place was a real mess.”
    “You don’t have the autopsy report, do you?”
    “Nope. Sheriff Payton took over the case. He hasn’t sent it over. S’ppose he will when he has a mind to.”
    “Where’d you say Rudy’s Bar is?” Clarence knew that too, but Micah seemed brimming with importance now.
    “I didn’t, but it’s down the road apiece, ’bout ten miles. Town called Emory. Ain’t open on Sundays, though. Watch close or you might miss it. Only thing there worth noting is Rudy’s. People and bands come from all ’round. You think Rayanne might’ve met someone there?”
    “What do you think? Possible?”
    “We questioned everyone local, but I gotta tell ya, some of them don’t like cops. They could’ve held back. Maybe not. If she met up with a stranger, Rudy’s’d be the place. Rayanne’s been known to—how can I say it and not say something bad ’bout the dead?”
    “You don’t have to, Micah, and thanks. You’ve been a great help. It’s law enforcement like you that keep things straight.”
    Micah beamed his appreciation at the compliment as Clarence tipped an imaginary hat and said “Ma’am” to the still-frowning woman behind the desk.

Chapter Eleven
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

    T he sound startled Dana. She couldn’t figure out where it came from. The