Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [107]
Derek reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a list of dates. “We would greatly appreciate it if you’d take a look and see if you can account for your whereabouts on each date.”
Ransom held out his hand and grasped the paper with long, bony fingers. He glanced at the dates, closed his eyes as if concentrating, and then handed the list back to Derek. “I’m not certain. I travel occasionally. I give lectures on Virginia history. I also do research. And I have friends who live out of state. I believe I was at home on all those dates. I know I was on the most recent date, when Shontee Thomas was killed in Atlanta.”
“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?” Maleah asked.
“I’m afraid not. I live alone, eat alone, and sleep alone. And I seldom answer the telephone. I don’t like being disturbed when I’m working.”
“Then you don’t have an alibi?” Derek studied Ransom as if trying to decide whether the man was lying.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t, but naturally, you’ll dig around to see if you can find out if perhaps I was not here as I say I was. I understand. That’s your job.” Ransom glanced from Derek to Maleah. “Might I suggest that you check into my son’s whereabouts on those dates. It’s far more likely that he will turn out to be your killer.”
Maleah and Derek exchanged a questioning glance. She knew he was thinking exactly what she was—that just as Tyler had accused his father, now Ransom was accusing his son. Talk about a dysfunctional family.
“Would you care to explain why you think your son is a murderer?” Derek asked.
“I thought I’d done that,” Ransom said. “I sincerely hope my suspicions are unjustified. They probably are. I simply wanted to point out that between the two of us, Tyler is far more likely to be a killer than I am.”
“Then you’re not accusing your son of murder. You’re simply saying that he’s more likely to be a killer than you are. Is that right?” Maleah wanted Ransom Owens to clarify his comments.
“That’s correct.”
Maleah questioned Ransom for the next ten minutes and received replies that revealed very little new information. If this man was a killer, she would be surprised. He seemed like a gentle soul, wounded and lonely. But it was possible that beneath that melancholy exterior, another man existed, a man capable of murder.
As she and Derek walked down the sidewalk toward their parked rental car, she paused and said, “So, what do you think?”
“I think Tyler Owens hates his father,” Derek told her. “And I think there’s more to Ransom Owens than meets the eye.”
“Do you think either of them could be the Midnight Killer?”
“Sure. Either of them could be. But at this point, the way I see it is that each is pointing the finger elsewhere to take suspicion off himself.”
“Great father-son relationship, huh? Makes me feel sorry for Tyler. Most fathers would do anything to protect their son, but Ransom Owens would be willing to sacrifice his son to save himself.”
Doing her level best to keep her hand steady, Lorie gave Jack the letter she had received in today’s mail. Another threat. The wording was identical to the other two messages she had received, and this envelope was postmarked Atlanta, Georgia. The son of a bitch had mailed the letter after he’d killed Shontee. Had the others—Jean, Terri, Charlene, and Sonny—also received another letter? In her phone call last night, Maleah had told Lorie about interviewing Terri’s son and their plans to interview her ex-husband.
“Tyler Owens thinks his father is the Midnight Killer,” Maleah had said.
“What do you think?”
“Derek and I are both reserving judgment until we meet with Ransom Owens in the morning. After that, we’re set to fly to Louisville in the afternoon and interview the Reverend Grant Leroy.”
Lorie had laughed at the thought of Grant Leroy being a born-again Christian evangelist. The Grant she remembered