Murder Deja Vu

cleaned up the county.”
    “He gets results. You don’t have to like someone to think he’s doing a good job, although—”
    “Although, what?”
    “There’ve been a couple of cases where I think he acted overzealous. Like I said before, he prosecutes everyone like they’re serial killers, even if the crime’s nothing near.”
    “One way to make a name for himself. What did you find out about Klugh?”
    “He keeps a low profile. I didn’t really dig back very far, but I imagine he does the dirty work for others like Minette .” Payton took a stick of gum, offered one to Clarence, who reached across the desk and slipped one out of the pack. “How am I doing for a yokel?”
    “You got an inferiority complex or something?”
    “Nope. I know how you guys think. Gotta admit, though, you don’t come off like most of them who come down here thinking they’re in Mayberry.”
    “Boy, that show left an indelible mark on North Carolina law enforcement. Like I explained to the chief over in Corley, I’m from a small town in the middle of the country. Hicksville, though that isn’t the real name. I rather like it here. Pretty scenery. Nice weather. Friendly people. Cheap compared to Boston. Might drag Jeri here to retire.”
    “You could do worse.”
    “I believe I could.”
    “Here’s my problem, Mr. Wright. A guy visiting Minette doesn’t make him a murderer-for-hire. Not unless someone can ID him with Lurena Howe, and so far no one’s stepping up to the plate.”
    “I know.”
    “Even though Minette has an investigator on his staff, nothing says he can’t consult with someone else. I’d bet he pays Klugh out of his own pocket to keep things on the up and up and to keep him off the radar. So we’re back to square one. We can think whatever we want, but proving it is another story.”
    Clarence rubbed his chin. “Earlier, I thought I’d go to Atlanta to do a little digging, but I don’t have any bargaining chips to put to Klugh. I think I’ll hop on over to Minette’s office and irritate him.”
    Payton worked his gum with a slow steady grind, then curled his mouth in a lopsided smile. “Watch yourself with Minette. He might set Klugh on you.”
    “I hope he does. I’ll call you if anything good happens. These are your cases. I don’t want to step on your toes.”
    “They’re mine until someone else comes to take them over.”
    “Been there, back when.”
    “And if Daughtry left North Carolina,” Payton said, “you can be sure the federal boys will be on his ass.”
    “I know.”
    “I might do some more checking on Klugh . Let’s keep in touch.”
    “Definitely.” Clarence left the sheriff’s office and found the courthouse in the middle of town. As the DA for three counties, Minette employed a sizeable staff of ADAs. Reece would be his ticket to the big time. A national case, eyes on him. Clarence hoped he could stop the snowball from gathering more speed. Then he thought of Reece on the run and figured too much speed had gathered already.
    The receptionist in the lobby regarded him with a smile. “May I help you?”
    “I’d like to see District Attorney Minette.”
    “Do you have an appointment?”
    “Tell him the investigator for Reece Daughtry is here.”
    The woman looked confused, but she picked up the phone, punched a couple of numbers, and conveyed Clarence’s message. After listening, she said, “Mr. Minette is with someone right now, but you can wait in his outer office. Down the hall.” She pointed to the only hall off the lobby. “You’ll see the sign.”
    Clarence smiled at her. “Thanks.” He found Minette’s office and entered. The secretary greeted him, said Mr. Minette would be with him shortly, and to take a seat. Clarence did. About ten minutes later, a well-dressed man came out of the office and left, nodding to Clarence as he passed. A few minutes later, the secretary answered the phone, then ushered Clarence into Minette’s office.
    The district attorney looked exactly as what Clarence expected. Slick, tanned, expensive suit, and he wore a pinky ring. Beware of pinky rings, his mother told him. They said something about the men who wore them. He’d found his simple, Midwestern mother had made a good observation, and over the years, he decided men who wore them fell into one of two categories: either they’d gained too much weight since they bought the ring for another finger or they weren’t trustworthy. When he stood to offer his hand,