Blythe squinted at Lacey through puffy eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever drunk so much in my life. I guess that’s how you feel when it’s all gone, like another drink doesn’t matter.” She took some Advil and offered the bottle to her visitor. “I’m feeling it now.”
“No, thanks.” Lacey was glad she’d stopped after one margarita. After all they had to drink the night before, the velvet factory workers proved to be pretty slow-moving interview targets this morning. “How long did you work at Dominion Velvet, Blythe?”
“The last fifteen years, after my youngest started all-day school. Dominion was like a family. Maybe not the best family, you know, but I had a place there. That’s where the ballet lessons and the piano lessons for my children came from. I could only afford them because of the job.” Blythe’s eyes got misty and she took off her glasses to rub her tears away. “I don’t know what I’ll do now. Got a little severance, but my husband’s on reduced hours, not much savings in the bank.”
“It must be very difficult.”
“I’m sorry to see Dominion go.” Blythe sniffed and put her glasses back on. “It was good, you know, not just pulling a paycheck, but making something beautiful. I could show you.”
Blythe left the room for a minute and returned with a lovely red velvet skirt, with elaborate gores and a sweeping hem, proving that she was some sort of domestic goddess. “I dyed this fabric myself.”
“That’s gorgeous.” Lacey reached out to touch it. “Did you make it yourself too?”
“Oh, sure. Sewing is my hobby. I got lots more.”
Sewing, but not fashion? Interesting
. Lacey wondered where Blythe would wear such an elegant skirt in Black Martin. Perhaps a Christmas party. Perhaps it didn’t matter. For some women, simply having something beautiful hanging in the closet just in case you might get to wear it one day was enough. Lacey could identify with that.
“It’s beautiful, Blythe. Thank you for showing me. But I wanted to ask a few questions about yesterday. And Rod Gibbs.”
Blythe hung the skirt on the door. “What about him?”
“Why did everyone hate him?”
“So many reasons, so little time,” Blythe laughed; then her face darkened. “We had to take two pay cuts because of him. Longer hours, less pay. Fewer benefits. He said if we worked harder and took the cuts, he could save the factory, make it up to us later. Didn’t work, did it? And yet he would flaunt his fancy car and his fancy boat and his money in front of us. We all lost our jobs because of him and his partners. Dirk says Rod must have had some secret deal, some payoff for closing down the company. I don’t know.” She helped herself to a forkful of the coffee cake.
“It must be hard to sell expensive fabric right now,” Lacey said. “Times are tough. A lot of businesses are in trouble.”
Mine included.
“I suppose the velvet business here couldn’t go on forever, what with cheap velvet coming in from China and India and Mexico. God knows how they do it. Probably use little children, practically slave labor. Slicing off their fingers on that dangerous equipment? Makes me crazy to think of it. But closing us down was just done so cruelly, in bits and pieces. Like the song says, ‘Take another little piece of my heart.’ Rod Gibbs was a cruel man. Now he’s dead and I’m thinking maybe there is some justice in the world. At least he won’t be living high on the hog anymore.”
“Do you have any idea who might have killed him?” Lacey took a bite of the coffee cake. It was delicious. Felicity, the food editor at
The Eye,
would kill for the recipe. And then she would use it as a
weapon
.
“No. I don’t really care either.” Blythe poured more coffee. “Some people think it was his wife, Honey. I wouldn’t blame her if she had. Except for throwing him in my dye vat.”
Lacey had to admit the widow had seemed uncommonly happy that her ex was dead, but if Honey Gibbs had killed Rod, wouldn’t she have made some pretense at sorrow?
“But how would she manage it? Tying him to the spool and working the machinery?”
“She used to work at Dominion. Believe you me, Honey Gibbs is not exactly a frail little princess. She is a very strong girl. Solid muscle.” Blythe regarded her own physique. She had strong arms, but she was still a little chubby. “And Honey has a temper.”
“What do you mean?’
“Rod beat her. Common knowledge. But he came in more than once with a big black eye himself.”
“Are you sure it was Honey who did it?”
Blythe smiled. “No, but I like to think she did. One thing I can’t stand is women being beat on.”
“What about Sykes and his so-called Velvet Avenger?”
“That’s a nice idea, don’t you think? Someone taking up the cause.” Blythe smiled and reached for the pill bottle. She took two more Advil for her headache and closed the curtains against the winter sunlight. “I mean, someone going around avenging our lost jobs? It’s right out of a comic book or something. But why would some mysterious avenger start with a velvet factory and not, say—the car industry? Nope, this was personal. And somebody wanted to humiliate Rod, or his poor, sorry corpse.”
It certainly feels personal,
Lacey thought. Rod may have been cruel, but his killer or killers had a good measure of cruelty as well, to truss Rod up on a spindle and soak him in blue dye.
“So the Avenger is just a fantasy?”
“I wouldn’t take anything Dirk Sykes says very serious,” Blythe said. “He’s got kind of a Spider-Man comic-book mind-set. And he likes to mess with your head some.”
Exactly
, Lacey thought. “He’s a fan of DeadFed, isn’t he? And Damon posts some pretty bizarre theories.”
He’ll love the Velvet Avenger
.
Maybe I should leave that part out
.
“Stranger than fiction, I’d say. I still love DeadFed, Lacey. And that Damon, he’s a pistol. I hope y’all get to work on this investigation together. But don’t you catch that Avenger too soon. He’s doing good work.”
Lacey got Inez Garcia on the phone, but she said she couldn’t talk long. Inez was headed to the unemployment office. “I have three months’ severance first, but you gotta keep on top of these things.” She explained that she woke up really late, and then she giggled. The giggle probably involved Dirk Sykes, Lacey thought.
“You guys are a couple, then?”
Inez giggled again. “We better be, after last night. And this morning.”
“So he’s a passionate guy? Like the Velvet Avenger?”
“Oh, Dirk likes to talk. He’s really stuck on that silly thing, I can tell you. Like the Lone Ranger or something.”
“So if it wasn’t the Avenger, who could have killed Rod?”
“No one and anyone,” Inez said.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know anyone who didn’t hate him, but no one I know is crazy enough. People round here would feel bad if someone had to go to jail just for getting rid of a cockroach like Rod. But old Rod, he brought it on himself. I bet it’ll be one of those cases that never gets solved, like those taxi ghosts in the cemetery. Rod might become a legend in spite of himself.”
At least two people liked the idea that Gibbs’s death would be an unsolved murder. Lacey made another call.
Kira Evans still had bookkeeping chores for Dominion Velvet that would keep her busy for the next few weeks. After that, she would also be looking for work.
“My daughter is getting a partial scholarship to college, but I don’t know how we’ll pay for the rest of it,” Kira said. “I might be flipping burgers. Her too.”
“Are you going to attend the funeral?” Lacey asked.
“It’s not like I’m a family friend, but the whole town is going to be there. And maybe it’ll be some closure for us.” Kira sighed. “Closure. Like the factory.”
Chapter 10
“I feel just like a prisoner who’s been let out of jail,” Honey Gibbs told Lacey. “And here I am, back in the big house! My own big house.”
She opened the front door to the home she had shared with Rod and that she’d recently vacated in the divorce proceedings.
Lacey was surprised Honey had agreed to talk to her so readily, but the dry-eyed widow said she had nothing better to do. Apparently she hadn’t consulted her lawyer either, who certainly would have advised her against talking to the media.
Even though her eyes were bloodshot, Honey looked softer and at least ten years younger than the night before. The harsh makeup was gone and her big hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She wore black workout pants and a tight hot pink T-shirt that said BLACK MARTIN GYM RATS. Her toenails were painted the same girly shade of pink and matched her flip-flops. She might be mistaken for a perky Southern college girl.
Honey had already attended to the funeral details with some gusto. Lacey suspected Honey had planned the final scenario in her head repeatedly before actually having to complete the task.
“I heard you moved out of this house,” Lacey said. “But now you’re back?”
The Victorian home Honey occupied offered a dramatic contrast to Blythe’s little shoebox of a house. A large oak stairway dominated the two-story entryway, and rooms fanned out on either side.
“It’s far more mine than it ever was Rod’s. I moved back in last night. Yeah, I know, he was barely cold. But my little apartment wasn’t nearly as nice as this place. Didn’t even have room for my shoes. You know, I painted every single room in this house, and Rod never helped a bit. This house was the one thing he let me have my way in. I kept my keys, and he was too lazy to change the locks. Typical. Since we weren’t divorced yet, this place is
mine
. My name is on the title,” Honey purred with contentment. She ran her hand over the wood banister. “It’s good to be back home.”
She led Lacey to the tastefully appointed living room, which was decorated in chocolate brown and buttery yellow with light blue accents. Lacey sat near the gas fireplace in an overstuffed wing chair upholstered in pale yellow mohair. Honey turned on the fireplace with a click of the remote, and soon the flames were warming the room. She sat on the sofa, kicking off her pink flip-flops and curling her bare feet beneath her. She stretched.
“That’s better, now.” Honey smiled at her guest. “This morning I had to pick out his coffin and clothes. That’s the strangest thing in the world to do, you know that? You pick out a box to shove a man in for as long as his bones will last.” Honey shivered.
“Someone has to do it, but it must be hard.” Lacey felt chills too.
“Hard? Oh, not so much. Just weird. Anyway, since you’re a fashion reporter, you might be interested to know Rod’s gonna wear a blue suit. Blue shirt. Blue tie. Blue coffin. Some kind of silver-blue metal. I thought it was important that he be color-coordinated. In the interest of keeping up the theme Rod ended his life with.”
Lacey looked for signs that Honey was being snide, but she seemed quite serious. “I see. Blue is forever?”
“This time anyway. Besides, he’d look god-awful in green or brown. I mean, Rod doesn’t really go with much of anything but blue right now. He is so damn blue! It was a shock to see him. I thought I was ready, but how can you be ready for a sight like that? He looks like the very devil. Appropriate, I guess. They’re not releasing the body till tomorrow or the next day anyway. The funeral will be Friday at eleven. Rod wasn’t much for churches. Calling himself the Blue Devil and all.” Honey closed her eyes for a moment before she spoke again. “He might really have preferred to be cremated, but that would kind of rob people of the sight of him. You know what I’m saying?”
“Are you really going to have an open coffin?” Lacey was convinced Honey had been drunk when she said that. Surely she must have thought better of it.
“Oh yeah. Absolutely. People are going to want to be sure he’s dead. Don’t want to leave any doubt. Rod was such an awful person, I wouldn’t want to disappoint them. As I am the grieving widow, it’s my call. Ain’t that a kick in the head?” She laughed at the irony. “If Rod wasn’t already dead, that would kill him.” She broke out of her reverie and focused on Lacey. “I hear you’re writing about the factory.”
Lacey nodded. “A feature story about the closing of Dominion Velvet and its effect on the people here.”
“Well, you can see the effect it’s had on Rod. Blue as blue can be. I can’t say it’s been very good on anyone, except me at the moment. I feel for everyone who’s out of a job.” She paused for a beat. “This town’s been collapsing for years. For a long time, the velvet factory was our one ray of hope. Hey, what kind of hostess am I?” Honey hopped to her feet. “You want a beer?”
It was ten o’clock in the morning. Lacey felt her eyes open wide. “No, thanks. I had something at Blythe’s.”
“She’s a sweetie. Regular little Martha Stewart, ain’t she?” Honey headed to the kitchen. Lacey heard the refrigerator door open. A pause. Honey seemed momentarily stumped by her inability to offer something more ladylike than beer. “Unfortunately, Rod had all the savoir faire of a big old frat boy. We got beer. Chips, hot dogs, mustard. More beer. I gotta restock this fridge.” Lacey heard the door slam shut.
“Please don’t worry about me. You go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Honey returned with a Dominion Lager. “This whole business is making me thirsty.”
Lacey wasn’t a bit surprised. “Where were you when you heard about Rod?”
Honey concentrated, though Lacey thought it was the kind of moment that would be frozen in memory. Perhaps she was just savoring it.
“I was at the drugstore. Someone said a body was found at the factory and it’d been dyed blue. She didn’t say it was Rod, but I just knew. Maybe a wife, even one on her way to being an ex-wife, knows those things. A little while later I got a call on my cell from Gavin—you know, Officer Armstrong.”
Lacey wondered exactly when he fit that call in. Probably after he sequestered the witnesses. “Still, it must have been a shock.”
“I nearly sank to the ground! Maybe it was the relief, or the disbelief. It was peculiar, that’s for sure. I never wanted anyone dead so much as Rod, and then he actually
died
. That never really happens, does it? Because I’d been wishing that for quite a long time—I mean, I thought a lot about him dying, but being shoved in the dye vat—well, that’s just extra. But it’s not like I caused it, is it? Thoughts don’t make things happen. I keep telling myself that. I did not make it happen.” She frowned.