Bleeding Through: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) by Sandra Parshall Read Free Book Online Page B

Mrs. Hadley,” Tom said. “I know you’ve all been unhappy about Shelley’s investigation into Brian’s murder.”
    “Investigation!” Blake scoffed. “She’s just a kid. Was. What did she know about investigating crimes? Your own father found enough evidence to get Vance Lankford convicted and locked up for killing our son. Don’t tell me you think your dad got the wrong man.”
    “I’m not investigating Brian’s death. As far as I’m concerned, that’s been settled by a judge and jury and his killer is in state prison. My job is to find out—”
    The front door slammed. Skeet Hadley charged into the living room, his face red with fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    Rising from his chair, Tom said, “I’m investigating Shelley Beecher’s murder.”
    “And you came straight over here to accuse us.” Skeet jerked off his black leather jacket and flung it on the chair next to Tom. A younger version of his father, Skeet had the same rugged good looks but was a little taller and more muscular, his curly brown hair long enough to hang over his forehead and brush his shirt collar in back. “Well, if you don’t have the evidence to arrest one of us, you can leave right now. You’re not welcome here.”
    The sour odor of beer wafted out on Skeet’s breath. Not drunk, but almost there. “What makes you so sure that I suspect one of you of murder?”
    Blake opened his mouth to answer, but Skeet cut him off. “Watch what you say, Dad. He’s trying to trick you. Trying to make you incriminate yourself.”
    Skeet, Tom thought wearily, watched too many crime shows on TV. “I’d like to rule out all of you as fast as I can. Help me do that, okay?”
    “You ought to be talking to her boyfriend,” Skeet said.
    “Or boyfriends,” Maureen put in. “She probably had plenty of them, the way she flirted with everything in pants.”
    “When was the last time any of you saw Shelley or talked to her?”
    For a moment none of them answered, then Maureen said, “We all went to see her when she was home for Christmas. We thought if we sat down with her, we could talk some sense into her. But she wouldn’t listen.”
    “She blew us off.” Skeet paced to the fireplace and back as he spoke. “She acted like she felt sorry for us because we couldn’t see the truth.”
    Blake snorted. “She said if we cared about Brian, we’d want his real killer caught and punished. Well, my son’s real killer is sitting in prison right now, and he’s gonna stay there if I have anything to say about it.”
    “All that girl wanted,” Skeet said, “was to make some kind of name for herself. It was just so damned obvious. She had this idea she was gonna be in the news for freeing an innocent man.”
    “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Maureen said, “if she already had her outfit picked out for going on the Today Show.”
    “Look at this.” Skeet spun around, strode to the mantel and grabbed a couple of framed photos. He walked back and thrust them in Tom’s face. “This was my brother. This is who Vance Lankford beat to death.”
    “Did you know he was about to sign on with a record company in Nashville?” Blake asked. “The rest of us, we always picked and sang at the festivals and the fair, but we were just amateurs, having fun. Brian was different. He had the talent to make it. He was gonna be a star. But now—” He broke off, shaking his head.
    Tom looked at the photos Skeet held out. One showed a fresh-faced, grinning Brian Hadley with his guitar slung over his shoulder, his white cowboy hat cocked at an angle. In the other Brian stood at the center of his bandmates, including Skeet, who’d been a teenager then. Something was wrong with that picture, but Skeet pulled both photos away before Tom could figure out what it was.
    “Do you have any idea how it made us feel,” Maureen pleaded, “knowing somebody was trying to get Vance Lankford out of jail? Brian was murdered. His little children are growing