Murder Deja Vu

transition. The veterinary experience came in handy because I also train seeing-eye dogs. I inherited a good deal of money, so that was never a problem. I feel like I’m doing some good.”
    “I’m impressed.”
    “So now that you know I’m not a murderer, what’s your next move?”
    “I honestly don’t know. Between Reece and me, we’ve cleared the three people at the table when Reece found out about Karen.”
    “You missed someone.”
    Clarence thought a moment. “Yes, of course I did. How could I have been so—Jesus, I hate to say the word—blind?”
    “Sometimes those of us without sight see more than a sighted person,” Jordan said. “Oh, and now that I think of it, Carl helped us out at the rescue clinic that day.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine
A Little Undercover Work

    Harold County, North Carolina

    H arry Klugh was an uncommon name. Sheriff Jim Payton tracked one private investigator by that name from his birth in Philadelphia to his death in a boating accident on Lake Michigan in 1984. No one ever found his body.
    The birth date for the Harry Klugh that surfaced in Atlanta in 1985 when he applied for a license under Harry Klugh Investigations was miraculously the same birth date as the dead Harry Klugh. The fuzzy headshot on the license could have been anyone and signaled another red flag. The anomalies put Payton on alert.
    He thought of contacting the feds about his discovery, but if he was right, he didn’t want to warn Klugh—or whatever the hell his real name was—before he gathered more facts. Klugh might go underground and emerge somewhere else with still another name, and Payton’s bargaining chip would be lost.
    Except for a hitch in the Marines during the first Gulf War, Payton had lived in North Carolina his whole life. War cements bonds between men as solid as childhood friendships, and Payton had remained close with a few of his Gulf buddies. One was Barry Kanter from Atlanta.
    After the military, Barry studied law at Georgia State and became a public defender in his hometown. The two men took off every October to go fishing. Payton kept his phone number on speed dial.
    “Is it October?” Barry asked.
    “What happened? You were supposed to be here last week.”
    “You’re getting to be as big a smart-ass as me. What’s up, buddy?”
    “I need a favor.”
    “You want me to break the law?”
    “Possibly.”
    Kanter hesitated. “You’re serious?”
    “Yeah, I am, but not if it’s done right. Ever hear of an Atlanta PI named Harry Klugh ?”
    “Klugh, Klugh. Why does the name sound familiar?”
    “He’s done some work for the DA up here, Robert Minette, going back twenty years when Minette worked for a criminal defense firm in Charlotte.”
    “Minette’s name doesn’t ring any chimes, but Klugh’s does. What do you need?”
    “His fingerprints.” Payton heard Barry whistle through his teeth.
    “May I ask why?”
    Payton filled Barry in on Klugh’s non-existent past. “I think Harry Klugh is someone else, and finding out who might give me leverage to solve a murder in my county, maybe two. It also might clear the man I believe is wrongly accused.”
    “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the Daughtry guy from up your way that the whole country’s looking for, would it?”
    “Yup.”
    “Been following that one. Daughtry seems too smart to murder someone using the same M.O. as the murder he went to prison for.”
    “Yeah. The DA insists that’s Daughtry’s brilliance at work. Kind of reverse psychology. Who’d think a guy that smart would do something so stupid? Minette is hoping this trial will give him name recognition to run for state office. That’s what I think anyway.”
    “Sounds like an asshole.”
    Payton smiled. “You could say that. Others have.”
    “I know a guy who gets off on this kind of work. It shouldn’t be too hard if he leaves something with his prints in a public place.”
    “Bill me for it.”
    “You betcha. My department runs on a shoestring. While we’ve been talking, I checked the phone book. He’s here. Harry J. Klugh, Private Investigator . Why does his name make me think of something I’d rather not think of?”
    “That’s the kind of guy he is. I think he killed a woman, and if we can nail him, he’ll blame Minette for hiring him to do it. But I have no proof other than a twitchy feeling between my shoulder blades.”
    “This is getting better all the time. I’ll get back to you.”
    Sometimes a man needed a