The Axeman's Jazz (Skip Langdon Mystery Series #2) (The Skip Langdon Series) by Julie Smith Page B

makeup and wore a pink quilted robe, though the suffocating mugginess still hung in the air.
    Inside, a massive man with heavy eyebrows sat in front of a TV, a Dixie beer in his hand. True to stereotype, he wore a T-shirt stretched over his belly, thick chest hair escaping at the top. His forehead protruded.
    The house was like a refrigerator; Skip marveled to think of the Purcells’ electric bills.
    “Darryl, Daddy’s dead.” Her face was a mask; she hadn’t taken it in yet.
    Her husband looked at her with such sudden and unexpected tenderness it tore at Skip’s heart. “Oh, honey.”
    The look on her husband’s face was enough; Edna got it, and fell into his outstretched arms, belated sobs escaping her. Skip stood awkwardly in the background.
    Finally, Darryl Purcell said, “Edna, I think this lady wants to talk to you,” and the Southerner in Edna, the perfect-hostess-in-any-circumstances, dried her eyes and turned to her guest.
    “I’m sorry. Won’t you sit down?” She introduced her husband. “Can I get you anything?”
    Skip shook her head, sitting on the edge of the beige velour sofa. She had told Edna only that her father had been murdered, and now she gave the details.
    Darryl’s face turned dark. “What kind of animal would do a thing like that? Tom Mabus never hurt one soul in his entire life, never did a thing except go to work and come home.”
    “I wonder if it could have been someone he knew.”
    Darryl said, “He didn’t know anybody.”
    “Did he belong to any social clubs, or maybe a church? A bowling league? Anything?”
    Edna shook her head. “We tried and tried to get him interested in something. He’s been a loner ever since Mama died ten years ago. Seemed like he never got over it. Never cleaned the house, always kept the shades down, even in the daytime….”
    “That house never would have got cleaned at all if Edna didn’t do it for him every now and then.”
    “We asked him to live with us, but he wouldn’t. He lost weight and looked sadder and sadder, I swear, as the years went by. I guess he was one of those people who aren’t happy unless they have someone to take care of.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Well, Mama was a handful.”
    Darryl snorted. “Alcoholic.”
    Edna nodded. “Yes, she was. He had to work real hard, raising me, taking care of the house, doing everything Mama was supposed to be doing. And then when I was gone, seemed like she got even worse. But after she died, he never had no interest in anything—not even much in me, to tell you the truth. I guess he really loved her.”
    “Don’t see how anyone could.”
    “Darryl!”
    “I’m sorry, Sugarplum. But you know how she was.”
    “Are you his only child?”
    Edna nodded.
    “Do you have children?”
    Darryl withdrew, stony. Edna said, “Our daughter’s autistic. She doesn’t live with us.”
    ”I’m sorry. I asked because your father had a teddy bear.”
    “A teddy bear?” Darryl sounded furious. Edna was silent.
    “A teddy bear was found near the body, as if he’d been holding it when he was attacked. I’m wondering—do you know of any children he was close to?”
    “No, I don’t. He was always so sad about Rochelle.”
    “Your daughter?”
    Edna nodded. “I wanted him to go into therapy.”
    “Sheeit!” said Darryl.
    Edna cast him a furious look. “He was miserable, Darryl. You never saw an unhappier man.” “Should have gone to church.”
    Edna looked at Skip beseechingly. “He wouldn’t even do that. Wouldn’t do a thing to help himself.”
    “Did he ever mention a Linda Lee Strickland?” Edna and Darryl simply stared.

SIX
     
    THE MORNING DAWNED hot as the night before, and Skip awoke in clammy sheets. After Edna’s meat freezer of a home, she had slept with only the breeze from the ceiling fan, naked and lonely. She hit the snooze alarm and lay in bed awhile, thinking of Steve and missing him, enjoying one of the principal pleasures of the long-distance