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trying to organize things
around the house. I’d been through most of the closets and pulled
out what I thought could go directly to the Salvation Army on
Monday. I would go back through the same closets later and try to
decide which items my brothers might want to claim for their own.
As yet, neither of them had shown any interest in keeping anything
from the house. But, if they weren’t going to offer any help in
wrapping the estate up, I was going to force them to disclaim
ownership of items one by one.
    As I carried another box
of clothes out to my pickup, trying not to step on McMurtry who
seemed determined to walk as close to me as possible, I heard my
cell phone ringing from where it was lying on the living room table
inside the house. I didn’t rush back to the house to answer it,
since it was most likely Ray, eager to reveal some tidbit of gossip
he’d forgotten to tell me the night before. I had my phone set to
allow ten rings before kicking over to the answering machine, but I
reached it and answered on ring number nine.
    “Buddy?” It was Kandy
Chilton.
    “Kandy. How are
you?”
    I heard her take a deep
breath on the other end of the line.
    “Okay, I guess. I don’t
know. This is just all too sudden. It seems like a bad dream. I
keep thinking I’ll wake up at any moment.”
    “How are your girls taking
it? Did they get here yet?”
    “Yeah, they got in last
night. I think they’re still in shock. I can tell they don’t know
how to act. They’ve never lost anyone close to them
before.”
    “Is there anything I can
do?” I asked.
    “There is. I need to talk
to you about something.” Her voice displayed so little emotion I
would have never guessed she had found her husband brutally
murdered the previous morning.
    “Sure,” I said. “Would you
like me to come by this afternoon?”
    “No, not here. Ray told me
you’re staying at your parents’ house. Do you mind if I come out
there?”
    “Not at all. The place is
a mess, but you’re welcome,” I said, realizing Ray must have been
the one to give her my cell phone number.
    We agreed on a time and I
spent a few minutes straightening up the living room before taking
a quick shower and changing clothes. I was brewing a pot of iced
tea when I heard a car roll up the dirt driveway, followed a few
seconds later by a knock on the door.
    “I just really wanted to
ask your advice,” Kandy said sitting at the kitchen table with a
glass of tea.
    “The police want to talk
to me again. That detective, Clemmer is his name, I think. He
called and wants me to go down to see him tomorrow
morning.”
    She took her sunglasses
off, placing them on top of her head. Her eyes were worried and
tired looking, but I felt the deep tug of an old attraction in
them.
    “I mean, is that normal? I
don’t know what else I could say that I didn’t already tell
them.”
    “Did you tell John
Donnelly they want to talk to you again?”
    “Yes, he’s going down
there with me. He said it’s probably nothing, but I’m just
wondering if I need to be concerned. That’s why I thought I’d ask
you. That is what you did, isn’t it? Investigate
murders?”
    “That’s right,” I
said.
    “Am I just being paranoid
and silly?”
    “Look, its normal for you
to be concerned, but I’m sure the detectives are just making sure
all bases are covered. It isn’t unusual to question witnesses
multiple times in a murder investigation. Sometimes the initial
shock makes people forget things that come to them later, or they
forget to mention details that might not have seemed important
during the first interview.”
    “I guess you’re right. I’m
just worried that things might get, I don’t know,
overlooked.”
    “What do you
mean?”
    She sighed heavily and
stood up from the table. Walking to the kitchen window, she stood
looking out the window while gathering her thoughts.
    “Russell played golf twice
a week with Dave Adams, the chief of police. He did for years. I’m
just