Page 28 of Shadow Angel
Clearing his throat, Styles nodded and pulled out a card. “If you hear anything or something comes to mind about either of the missing women, please give me a call.”
“Sure.” Crenshaw tossed the card on the bench, picked up the sander and went back to work.
Leading the way back to his truck, Styles turned to Beth. “What do you think?”
“He sure has the charm of a psychopath, but I guess from a man’s point of view he’s living the life. He has a job, a wife, kids, and spare money to push down strippers’ underwear.” Beth gave him a long hard stare, anger flashed, and her lips flattened. “I wonder what his wife really thinks about having a stripper undulating on her husband’s lap? He’s a big guy. Maybe she’s too scared to say anything?”
Shrugging, Styles stared at her. She was angry and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with her right now. “Maybe but there’s nothing we can do unless she makes a complaint.” The question hung between them, and once behind the wheel, he turned to her. “Rest assured, Nate and the hospital are very hot on spousal abuse. If he abused his wife, and she went to the hospital or Nate, it would be reported to Ryder and action taken. Ryder would have mentioned it if Crenshaw had been an abusive husband.”
“Maybe she’s too scared to get help.” Beth pushed open the truck door and climbed out. “I’m going to speak with her.”
Styles headed after her. “If he is abusive and finds out, it will only make things worse, Beth. The law isn’t strong enough to help her. He’ll only get a fine, if that.”
“Okay, but I’m still going to speak to her. If she needs help, we can get that for her. She doesn’t have to stay here with him, does she?” She looked up at him. “Please, Styles. Stay back, because you know darn well she won’t say anything in front of you.”
THIRTY-ONE
Beth made her way to the front stoop and knocked. The kids had just returned from school and loud voices rumbled down the passageway when a small delicate woman around twenty-five opened the door. The smell of fresh-baked cookies and dogs wafted toward Beth from inside. “Mrs. Crenshaw? I’m Agent Beth Katz.”
“My husband is out back.” Mrs. Crenshaw frowned. “Is this about that dancer who went missing?”
Surprised, Beth took out her notebook and pen. “Yeah, it just happens it is. What do you know about it?”
“Not much.” Mrs. Crenshaw leaned against the doorframe, ignoring the sound of kids fighting behind her. “Joe mentioned it, is all.”
Interested, Beth moved a little closer. “What did he say?”
“He travels all around the place, as you know, collecting old furniture and unwanted things from people all over. He hears things or people ask him about gossip, so when he comes home, he tells me.” Mrs. Crenshaw leaned in conspiratorially. “They’re saying she was murdered for being a whore.”
Beth raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little extreme don’t you think? I assume you are referring to her perhaps being a sex worker?”
“That’s maybe.” Mrs. Crenshaw waved a hand dismissively. “What else can you call women who flaunt themselves half-naked in front of married men?”
Beth’s attention flicked over the woman, making sure that she had no bruises or proof of abuse, but she seemed fine. “I believe they are known as exotic dancers, and gentlemen’s clubs are perfectly legal in this state. There’s also no law that says a man can’t go and watch the dancers, so I can’t imagine a woman being murdered because she works there.”
“Really?” Mrs. Crenshaw snorted with laughter. “I know a few wives who would argue with you.”
The hairs on the back of Beth’s neck prickled. “Do you know who told your husband they figured she’d been murdered?”
“He didn’t say and wouldn’t tell you if he knew.” Mrs. Crenshaw turned around and yelled at the kids to stop fighting. “We have to live in this town. People don’t look kindly on those who run to the cops with hearsay.”
Obviously, the woman was in great shape. Beth folded her notebook and pushed it back into her pocket. “Okay. Thank you for your time.”
Mrs. Crenshaw’s husband appeared in the passageway. He came up behind his wife and slid both arms around her waist. She smiled at Beth. “I was just chatting to Agent Katz.”
“So, I see.” Crenshaw rested his chin on his wife’s bony shoulder. “I want my supper early, tonight. I’m going out and don’t expect me home, darlin’. There’s a few new girls I’m planning on watching and I might have a few beers. Can’t risk driving home intoxicated, can I? Nice meeting you, Agent Katz.” He pushed the door shut.
“Satisfied?” Styles emerged from a stand of trees and stood feet apart and hands on hips. “See, she doesn’t care what he does. As he’s around most of the time, she probably enjoys a night alone.”
Nodding but confused, Beth frowned. Didn’t people get married to be together? What constituted adultery? She’d always imagined fidelity was physical and mental. If someone was in love, why would they consider anyone else? Not ever being in love or having anyone who cared for her in that way left her in the middle of a void of understanding. If she ever found love, she’d want it to be absolute. What would love feel like? How would she know? It was so confusing. She fell into step beside him as they headed back to the truck. “Why get married if you need to go elsewhere for sexual attraction? Surely that comes hand in hand with the person you love, doesn’t it?” She looked at Styles. “You’ve been married. Did you ever feel the need to cheat on your wife, or don’t you believe lusting after another woman is cheating?”
“I didn’t but that’s me.” Styles shrugged and gave her a sideways glance. “I guess for some, the magic goes out of a marriage but couples don’t want to separate, so look for other means. I’ve heard of open marriages, where couples do their own thing, have outside relationships. It happens. I’m no expert on marriage. Mine failed, if you recall.”
Glad for his honesty, Beth looked at him. “Listening to Mrs. Crenshaw, it seems like many married men go to the clubs and not many of their wives are happy about them drooling over strippers. After hearing that, and if I hadn’t seen the killer in action, I might have considered a bunch of jealous women had killed the dancers.”
“Yeah, that could have been a possibility. It’s obvious Mrs. Crenshaw can’t stop her husband going to the clubs and really it’s none of our business.” Styles slid behind the wheel. “I don’t know the answer, Beth. Everyone is different. Whatever works and makes both people happy, I guess.”
Unable to imagine having a husband coming home stinking of another woman, Beth shook her head.My mother must have endured the same thing, but my father was murdering his lovers.“I always believed marriage meant being faithful and trusting your partner.” She shook her head slowly. “Call me old-school but I don’t figure that includes lap dances at strip clubs.”
