Authors: Virginia Brown
Dixie Divas (41 page)
I looked out the window at the rolling pastures and stands of trees we passed, the kudzu along the road still in hibernation. Leathery brown vines clung to trees, telephone poles, clambered up banks and down into ditches, and smothered deserted shacks that had once housed families. Here and there, a blackened chimney stands testament to a fire having consumed a structure. House trailers squat atop hills, magnificent brick homes built like French villas sit behind trees at the ends of long driveways.
Rachel’s dog grooming shop sits close to the road, concrete blocks painted beige with big brown dog and cat prints decorating it. Bitty’s car sat out front, and a police officer was already there searching it. That made it even more real. My fingers tightened on the door handle.
“Easy now,” Kit said, and I wondered if I’d made a noise, “they might find something useful.”
Gravel crunched under truck tires as we pulled in and stopped. The officer straightened. I recognized Marcus Stone. We got out of the truck and went over to the Miata. He nodded at Kit, then me. I noticed he wore plastic gloves.
“Miz Truevine, can you identify this purse?” He held up a Dooney & Bourke shoulder bag, black leather with brown trim.
I nodded. “That’s Bitty’s shopping purse. It holds her checkbook, keys, cell phone, things like that.” My last couple of words came out in a choked whisper. Just seeing Bitty’s purse left in her car, when I knew she’d rather leave behind her underwear than her purse with credit cards, was the final proof she’d been abducted.
Kit put a hand on my back, lightly, but enough to let me know he was there. I had no idea why, but it was very comforting.
“Was Rachel Tompkins able to provide any more description?” he asked Officer Stone, and for a moment, I thought Stone didn’t intend to reply. Then he shook his head.
“No. From her viewpoint through the small window, she only saw Mrs. Hollandale go to the driver’s side window of the other car. A dark blue sedan, maybe a Pontiac. There didn’t seem to be any problem, so she didn’t think anything of it. When she looked up again, the sedan was gone but Mrs. Hollandale’s car was still here.”
“Chitling?” I asked suddenly. “The dog? Has she picked up her dog yet?”
Stone nodded. “Had it with her when she walked out of the shop.”
There’s not much around the grooming shop, just a house a few hundred yards behind that has nothing to do with the grooming and boarding, and a few white Charolais grazing in a pasture that butts up to the kennel’s fenced back yard. A road goes beside the kennel leading to the house, but it’s private. A wide stretch of pasture lies on each side, thick trees across the road, and a couple of houses scattered within the next half mile.
“It’s possible Chen Ling ran off again and Bitty’s gone after her,” I said, but it didn’t really seem likely.
“We’re checking out all possibilities, Miz Truevine,” Officer Stone said. “We’ve got a few men from the crime scene unit coming, and horsemen alerted if we don’t find her pretty quick. Don’t you worry, we intend to find her and make sure she’s in good shape for her trial.”
“I assume that’s meant to be comforting, so thank you,” I said, and as if just realizing how it’d sounded, Officer Stone looked embarrassed.
“I didn’t really mean it like that,” Stone said, and I nodded.
“I figured you didn’t. This is just all so upsetting.”
Gaynelle and Rayna arrived then with the dog, saving us all from the awkward moment, and Officer Stone nodded grudging permission for them to let Jinx try and find Bitty. Rachel Tompkins came outside, visibly upset, and said she had the towel she’d used on Chen Ling if it’d help.
“Just keep away from this area,” Stone said, gesturing to markers cordoning off a wide section around Bitty’s car. “We don’t want any evidence compromised.”
Rayna took out the nightgown I’d brought from Bitty’s hamper, and knelt down beside Jinx to show it to him. He sniffed it for a few moments, tail wagging, then put his nose to the ground. Apparently he caught the scent immediately. He went from Bitty’s car to the shop door, then kept circling and coming back to one spot, where he’d sit down and look up at Rayna. He didn’t go near the road, just stopped at the spot where Rachel had seen the dark blue sedan.
Rayna looked up at me, and I saw the answer in her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “I hoped it’d turn out differently.”
“I know. So did I. It just means we have to look a little harder, that’s all.”
“We should take Jinx over to Melody’s house,” Gaynelle said, “or Dr. Johnston’s. It’s worth a try. Call if you think they’ve been to the cabin, and we’ll come out there.”
Kit and I returned to his truck, and we sat there for a moment. Shadows skidded over the road and fields, sunshine flirting with storm clouds. Pine tree branches danced and whistled their soft song that promises rain.
“Do you want to look for her along the road?” Kit asked finally.
“No. She didn’t leave here on foot.”
He started the truck. “You still have the directions to the cabin?”
I nodded. Just down Highway 4, Kit pulled in to the paved parking lot of a white-painted concrete block store and gas station. It has big beer signs out front, the last chance to buy beer before crossing into Benton County, which is still dry. Not to say residents don’t drink there, they just can’t buy it in Benton County. All those tax revenues are enjoyed by the surrounding counties.
He went in, and came back out with a big bag of ice and a case of soft drinks that he put into a cooler in the back seat of the cab. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was, and accepted the can of Coke very gratefully.
Snow Lake itself isn’t that big, but houses are flung out around the shores and up on hills in a haphazard pattern. Home-owners have a few sailboats, but the lake is mostly for fisherman. After passing over the dam that spills under the bridge and into Little Snow Creek, we took the next left onto Snow Lake Drive. Recently repaved roads wind up and down the hills and around, houses anywhere from one-bedroom cabins to five and six bedroom houses that sprawl over three lots. Ashland is the county seat and home to the only stop light in all of Benton County.
Behind Snow Lake the Holly Springs National Forest curves around in a horseshoe. It has an abundance of deer, squirrels, doves, wild dogs, and a few panthers. Hawks hover over lake and forest, riding wind currents.
Melody’s cabin backs right up to the forest, almost hidden in the trees. The road dead-ends right next to it. Another road probably formed by four-wheelers dips down into high grass and weeds, then into a gully before rising sharply to a rim thickly crowned with pines, oaks, ash trees, and a hundred other species of bush and tree and weed. If she was out there, we’d never find her.
“It looks so desolate,” I said. “Why would Melody want a place out here?”
“Maybe to get away from her own demons.” Kit had gotten out of the truck and come to stand beside me as I looked out over the gully. “From what I’ve heard, she has a few.”
“Don’t we all.”
He nodded understanding, if not agreement.
The cabin door was locked, and it looked as if no one had been there in a while. Cobwebs hung like tattered lace in window corners and above the door of the small porch. Dust had settled on wood planks. Kit took something out of his pocket, and in just a few seconds, twisted the door knob and swung open the door.
“I see your career hasn’t always been honest,” I observed, stepping a little closer to him as he held the door wide. “You go first.”
“A trick learned when I used to lock myself out of my own house. One of my clients used to be a burglar. It’s very simple to learn. I’ll teach you. After you, my lady.”
“A useful trade when you get out of Parchman. No. Seriously. After you.”
Kit went in first, and when no one hit him on the head or shot him, I stepped inside. It’s not that I’m completely selfish, but I just figured that anyone who knows how to pick locks is much better than I am at deflecting blows to the head and bullets. My past experience with blows to the head has taught me that avoiding them is always less painful.
The cabin interior wasn’t especially neat, but it wasn’t a disaster, either. A rather ratty old couch had a blanket thrown over it, a wood stove sat in one corner below soot-covered walls and ceilings, and the kitchen sink held clean dishes that looked like they’d been there a few days. That sign of life kept it from being completely dreary.
I stood just a few feet inside the open door, poised to run, heart slamming against my ribs like a jackhammer, while Kit poked around in a bedroom behind the living room. Then he swung open the door to another room, and I heard him say something under his breath. The hair stood up on my entire scalp. I’m sure I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein when he turned back to me and tossed me his cell phone.
“Call 911,” he said, and as I caught the phone, I heard myself babbling, “Bitty? Bitty?”
“No,” he said, squatting down where I couldn’t see him, “it’s Cindy Nelson.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cindy Nelson was still alive, but not by much. The Snow Lake volunteer fire department has a great
It didn’t help much that the storm broke over our heads, rain slashing down and wind so fierce I thought a few of the trees around Melody’s cabin were going to come crashing down on us. The police had cordoned off the cabin, and since no one could go inside, I waited on the front porch. My clothes were soaked through. I couldn’t stop shivering.
“Nothing like this should happen,” I said when Kit held a cup of coffee out to me, “it’s not right.”
“No. It’s not. And just because it happened to Cindy doesn’t mean it’s happened to Bitty. We don’t know anything like that.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, but this has to be connected. Melody tried to kill Cindy, and now she plans to kill Bitty. If she hasn’t already.”
Another shiver made my hand shake so badly I spilled coffee on my shoes. Kit took it from me, and guided me to his truck. He’d turned up the heat so that the smell of rotten potatoes, pine fresheners, and manure was really strong.
“Look, I don’t know all the details,” he said when he lifted me into the truck cab, a feat that even in my distress I thought remarkable, “but I trust Jackson Lee. He’ll find her. He must have an idea where she could be. I bet we hear from him before long that he’s handed Melody over to the police, and has Bitty safe with him.”
Kit was half right. Not an hour later, just as we reached Bitty’s house, Jackson Lee pulled up and got out of his truck. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a flash of lightning briefly lit up his face as he reached the front porch where I waited, as jittery from the hovering storm as I was with dread.
“Did you find Melody?” I asked, ignoring the courtesies, and he nodded.
Relief swamped me, and Kit opened the door for us all to go inside. Clayton and Brandon met us in the foyer, strain showing on their faces and in their eyes. I’d forgotten what a strain this must be on them, too. Sometimes I can be very selfish.
“So where’s Bitty?” I asked Jackson Lee. “Is she at the police station?”
“No. We didn’t find her. She wasn’t with Melody.”
Stunned, I gaped at him. “But . . . why not?”
Jackson Lee shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. We found Melody out at the old Richmond place, or what’s left of it. She was hiding in the attic. The police are talking to her, but she claims she hasn’t seen Bitty.”
A chill went through me. “If Melody doesn’t have her, then Jefferson must. Right?”
Jackson Lee looked at Clayton and Brandon, then Kit before looking back at me. “He’s in custody. They caught him a half-hour ago at The Cedars.”
The unspoken fear had to be in all our eyes. Bitty was hidden somewhere and left to die. Or already dead. It didn’t seem possible. Not Bitty.
Brandon said it first, his tone calm. “Mama’s alive. She’s strong, and she’ll get through this. We just have to find her. How long can they hold Melody and Jefferson before they have to charge them or let them go?”
“Wait,” I said since I needed time to cushion my disappointment, “we all need to get something to drink and to sit down. Jackson Lee looks like he’s about to fall down.”
Because it was so obviously true, deep lines of weariness and resolute despair in his face, we went into the kitchen and Kit and I got out platters of leftovers and two pitchers of sweet tea. I made coffee, after Kit showed me how to work the state of the art monster Bitty has, and gave some to Jackson Lee.
“Now,” I said, “tell us everything, good and bad. We’ll handle it.”
A faint smile briefly lit his face. “I know. You Truevine women are something else. Here is what I know for sure, and then I’ll share some speculation. Jefferson Johnston’s real name is Jerry Ray Dean. He’s from Conyers, right outside Atlanta. He’s got a record a mile long, but his daddy was a doctor. A podiatrist, which is where Jerry probably got what little he knows about it from. Jerry’s been in trouble with the law since he was fourteen, mostly minor stuff until he got a little older and decided it’s a lot easier to get someone else’s money than it is to earn his own. He has a history of running scams that I won’t go into right now. Suffice it to say, he’s pretty good at running a con, then skipping town before people realize they’ve been had.”
I thought of when Bitty had called Jefferson a con man. She’d been right.
“Anyway,” Jackson Lee went on, “apparently he met up with Melody in Atlanta. They came back here once they had everything set up, phony certificates, credentials, all that, and he ran a scam on Ted Alston down at the bank, made some big deposits, some legit, others cashier checks he’d stolen, bought Easthaven mostly on credit and a good yarn, and hasn’t made a single payment on it yet. He and Melody headed up the charity auction with proceeds to go to the Holly Springs Historical Society, but of course, they didn’t. It was all about to fall in on him anyway. That’s fact. Here’s the speculation. I think he and Melody targeted old man Sanders. Growing up with Mrs. Overton, all her life all Melody heard was how The Cedars belongs to the Richmonds. They went out there, things got heated, there was a struggle, Sanders gets killed, and the senator just happens to show up at the wrong time, so they killed him, too.”