The Savannah Madam by Tom Turner

Author:Tom Turner [Turner, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tribeca Press
Published: 2020-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Fifteen minutes later, they were on the cluttered porch of a townhouse that could have used the services of a painter, a gardener, and a termite man, based on its peeling paint, unmowed lawn, and a shutter that had little holes in it like someone had taken a shotgun to it.

“What a dump,” Ryder said under her breath as Jackie pressed the buzzer. “All the other houses in here are so perfect.”

The door opened and an unshaven, grizzled man stuck his head out.

“Yes,” was all he said.

“Mr. Bartow?” Jackie asked.

“Yes, who are you?”

“Sorry to just show up like this, Mr. Bartow,” Jackie said. “But my name is Jackie Farrell, and this is my sister, Ryder. We are private investigators looking into the death of Miranda Cato.”

Bartow gasped at the mention of the name. “Well, what do you—”

“Could we just ask you a few questions?” Ryder took a step toward Bartow, who was wearing ratty pajamas and was barefoot.

Bartow looked nervous and took a step back. “Okay, but right here,” he said. “I don’t want to go in. The place is a real mess.”

They took his word for it.

“We know that you and Miranda were romantically involved,” Ryder said. “Would you mind telling us when you first heard about her murder?”

The man’s face was craggy and his cheeks sunken. His eyebrows were so bushy that they hung down to his eyelids, sheepdog-like. Jackie guessed he hadn’t shaved in at least a week.

“A detective handling the case came to the house right after it happened,” Bartow said in a monotone. “Broke the news. I was heartbroken.”

He sounded sincere.

“Did he think you might have known something about her death?” Jackie asked.

“I straightened him out in a hurry,” Bartow said. “It was the worst day of my life. The day Miranda was killed.”

“So, you had nothing to do with it?” Ryder asked, being characteristically direct.

Bartow sighed and flashed her a dirty look. “No, of course not. She was the love of my life.”

Both sisters nodded.

“Mr. Bartow,” Jackie said, “we heard that there were other men in Miranda’s life.”

Bartow let out a long, slow sigh. “Yes, but she always came back to me.”

For the first time he looked Jackie square in the eyes, then Ryder. “Besides, as I told that detective, I needed Miranda,” he said, then glanced away nervously.

“Needed her?” Jackie said. “What do you mean by that?”

Bartow looked back at her. “Money-wise. I lost my shirt back in 2008. I couldn’t live on what I had left. Miranda, let’s just say, helped me out. So, obviously, I wouldn’t kill”—Jackie knew exactly what was coming—“the golden goose.”

Jackie nodded. “Understand,” she said. “Well, Mr. Bartow, we appreciate your help and if there is anything else you think of, we are offering a thousand dollars for any information that leads to the arrest of Miranda’s killer.”

She handed him a card.

From under his bushy eyebrows, Talmadge Bartow’s bloodshot eyes seemed to get brighter for a moment, then he nodded. “Good to know,” he said. “If I think of anything, I’ll definitely give you a call.

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