Dixie Divas (43 page)

Jackson Lee reached for the yellow legal pad on his desk, flipped through some pages, then stopped. “Rayna Blue, Bitty Hollandale, Gaynelle Bishop, Cindy Nelson, Sandra Dobson, Georgette Marshall, Trinket Truevine. Cindy Nelson didn’t make the graveyard detail. Am I right?”

I nodded. “But word got out. Cindy says she didn’t tell anyone, but Melody told Cady Lee Forsythe, who has the biggest mouth around, and it spread from there.”

“So how did Melody find out about it if she wasn’t there?”

That stopped me. He was right. Who’d told her about the cemetery detail? If all were to be believed, no one had breathed a word of it except to the police. That meant all of us could be suspects. I knew I hadn’t said anything, and I was fairly sure Bitty hadn’t said anything, even to Jerry Ray, though that’s always a bit iffy. Bitty’s known to let her mouth get ahead of her at times. Rayna, I felt sure, could be trusted. Cindy had sworn she hadn’t said anything, but had admitted to repeating other things, so I felt inclined to believe her. Besides, she’d had her head bashed in so that pretty much ruled her out. Gaynelle certainly wasn’t the type to repeat things that needed to be kept private, and by default, Georgie wasn’t either. That left Sandra Dobson.

I said, “It’s either Sandra Dobson or Bitty. Since Bitty’s been abducted, I tend to lean toward Sandra, though I never would have thought it of her. She’s a nurse. They know how to keep secrets. Really, I just can’t believe it’d be her, either.”

Jackson Lee said, “Sandra might have spoken out of turn, but not intentionally. She’s just not the kind. I don’t think she’s the one.”

I stood up. “Tell you what. You convince the police to let me talk to her again, and I’ll go ask Melody who told her. Then see what the police find out about Sandra. We can go from there.”

“I’ll make the call,” he said, but still looked troubled. I didn’t blame him.

“I’ll take you to the police station,” Kit said, and I nodded.

“Great. Just drop me off out front. Would you mind running by Bitty’s house to see if the boys are all right? Then pick me back up at the police station. I should be finished by then and we’ll know a little more than we do now. I hope.”

Kit nodded. “I’ll check on the boys. But stay at the police station until I get back, okay?”

“Good heavens, it’s daylight. I’m a big woman. No one’s going to drag me kicking and screaming anywhere I don’t want to go.”

“I’d rather not take any chances. Bitty wasn’t dragged off kicking and screaming either.”

He had a good point.

Kit watched me walk into the police station, then he left, his red truck making the curve back onto Market Street. The lady who’d been so nice to me when I’d been there in my caftan and no underwear said she’d have to check with the officers. I’d have to wait. She pointed to a bench beside the door.

“If you wouldn’t mind sitting over there. It may take a little while.”

I sat for a few minutes, fidgeting as different scenarios kept battering my brain. It’d be dark soon. While there was a lull in the storm, it didn’t look like it was going anywhere fast. Rain threatened, in the distance thunder growled, and the air had a faint yellowish tinge that always makes me nervous. If you’ve ever seen it, you know what I’m talking about. I got up to go to the door and look out, watching for a suspicious cloud or funnel.

Bitty might be caught in this. Out somewhere, maybe tied up. Left to die of exposure or thirst or starvation, or God only knows what kind of injuries . . . .

That line of thought can make me crazy very quickly, so I tried to summon a mantra. I’d have taken any distraction at that point, so when I saw Gaynelle’s pale blue 1985 Cadillac Seville cruise slowly by, I seized at it gratefully.

“Hey,” I called, stepping out to flag her down, “did Jinx find anything?” The car stopped and the passenger side door opened. It was Georgie, not Gaynelle. She beckoned for me to get in as rain began to patter down again.

“Any sign of Bitty yet?” she asked when I got in.

“Unfortunately, no. That’s why I’m here. I talked to Melody—I guess you’ve heard she was found and picked up on suspicion of murder—but I’m waiting to talk to her again. There’s something else I need to ask her. There’s been a delay, though.”

Georgie nodded. Her clothes were damp, hair pulled back into a knot on the nape of her neck, and she looked distressed. “That must be why Jackson Lee sent me after you.”

“Has something else happened?” A sense of dread marched with spiked shoes along my spine, but Georgie shook her head.

“Not yet. We have to hurry.” She pulled out of the parking lot and onto Spring Street.

“Oh Lord.” Tension contracted my muscles so hard I got actual spasms. “The boys? They aren’t hurt, are they?”

“No, no. Of course not. No one could hurt them.” She laughed a little. “They’re ten feet tall and bulletproof, like all young men. None of them ever think anything bad can happen to them. Not until it does. Then it’s too late. I’m rattling, aren’t I . . . it’s just been so stressful lately, with everything happening. I can’t believe . . . it’s just gotten out of hand.”

“Yes,” I said, “it certainly has.”

We both fell silent, each lost in our private thoughts. I wondered what Jackson Lee had found out that’d be important enough to drag me away from the police station, but then, he may not know I hadn’t talked to Melody yet. A growing sense of urgency bit at me sharply, but I kept it under control by reminding myself that we’d find Bitty, that she’d be all right. With all of us out looking for her, loving her, how could she not be?

“Where is Jackson Lee?” I asked when we passed his office without stopping. “He’s left his office?”

“We’re supposed to meet him—he got a call so should already be there waiting on us. At least, I hope he is.”

“Meet us where?”

“In the industrial complex. I have the address written down there on that scrap of paper.”

I looked at it,
11052 Industrial Park Drive
scrawled on a torn sheet of paper. “I haven’t been over there in ages,” I said, remembering it as a rather barren part of town, railroad tracks, propane gas businesses, truck depots, and lumberyards.

It hasn’t changed much. Tall brown weeds choke empty lots; lines of warehouses, some new with pretty green grass in front of office buildings, some old and tumbling down, like the compress building by the railroad depot. Old creosote railroad ties are piled here and there, and some of the corrugated metal walls of abandoned warehouses are rusted out and look as if a giant can opener has peeled away entire portions. Not much different than the vacated industrial area of any decent size town, I guess.

Georgie pulled up in the front parking lot of gray gravel and stunted weeds. The building looked deserted. Long deserted. Empty windows stared out like vacant eye-sockets, a padlock on the front door and a For Sale sign in fading red paint against a peeling white background. Rain pelted the ground, spattered on the windshield, and pinged against corrugated metal roofing. The only sign of life was a dark car parked at the far end by a stack of rusted iron rebar.

I checked the address. “This is it?”

Georgie peered through the windshield of Gaynelle’s car. “I think so. What does it say above the door?”

“It’s the right address,” I said after a moment, rather skeptically since it certainly didn’t look like any place Jackson Lee might ask me to meet him. “What is this place?”

“I think it’s the old ice house and feed and supply warehouse.”

“Ah.” That made sense. The senator and Sanders had spent some time here, so maybe a clue had been left. Then my heart started beating really hard. Or maybe Bitty was here?

I opened the car door and Georgie said, “Don’t you want to wait on Jackson Lee?”

“If he’s on his way, he should be here any minute. Come on.”

Georgie followed me, keeping one hand on my arm as if for comfort. While there may be a huge chain and padlock on the front door, an entire section of clapboard wall left bare a support post. Since there was a hole big enough to drive a small car through, I was able to get in.

It smelled musty inside, no big mystery since it was raining outside and this had been an ice house and feed supply. Straw bale remnants were scattered around, dark brown with age and humidity. A set of iron tongs big enough to lift a Volkswagen lay rusting on the floor. Long trolleys with high handles and wooden wheels slumped against a few walls. Those looked really old. Bitty would love them.

Electrical cords with crackling, broken wire hung from the high ceilings, but none of them held light bulbs, not that I’d want to test them anyway. This place was a fire waiting for the right match, humidity or not. Sawdust and straw lay inches thick on the floor.

“Let’s wait here,” Georgie said when I started toward a door at the far end, and I paused.

“If Jackson Lee told us to meet him here, it can’t be too dangerous. Maybe Bitty’s here. Or maybe there’s evidence he needs me to see before he shows it to the police. Maybe we should wait on him. I don’t know.”

Georgie’s eyes looked huge behind her glasses. The glasses slid down her nose a little, her face still damp from the rain, and she nodded as she pushed them back up. “You might be right. Jackson Lee wouldn’t tell us to meet him if he didn’t know it was safe. What kind of evidence do you think could be here?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. The police would have already checked it out pretty thoroughly, I imagine.”

“Unless whoever took Bitty has been back here.”

Georgie and I looked at each other. Her eyes were white-rimmed and dark in the dim light of the warehouse, as mine must have been. Another chill shivered down my back all the way to my toes. Rain beat harder against the metal roof, sounding like bullets. Or hail. For a minute, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, fear riveting me to the floor. Then I thought of Bitty, and I sucked in a deep breath that smelled of moldy straw, sawdust, dirt, and rain.

“You don’t have to go with me,” I said. “Stay here. It’s safer. But I have to see if Bittye s here somewhere, maybe needing me . . . I know. It’s crazy. I just have to know. Okay?”

Nodding, Georgie glanced toward the parking lot. “I’ll keep an eye out for them and come and get you. Just holler if you find anything.”

“I will.”

Resolute, terrified, and soon in need of dry jeans, I set my shoulders so I’d be taller and walked toward the door at the far end. It was one of those heavy doors with a huge handle on the outside. It reminded me of that old
I Love Lucy
show when she’d been locked inside a freezer, and had icicles on her brows and nose and hair when they found her. While I didn’t really expect it to be in operation, or find anyone in there, I wouldn’t rest until I knew for certain.

Before I reached the door, I glanced back at Georgie. She stood almost where I’d left her, watching me. Another chill went through me. This was crazy. Maybe I should wait on Jackson Lee to arrive. Something wasn’t right. Georgie and I never should have come here.

It was the weirdest thing, but I felt somehow as if I was caught in a time warp. Or in some kind of contest between good and evil. Metal roofing and loose boards rattled furiously in the rising wind. A banging sound came from somewhere deeper inside, a dull, steady thud as of a loose board. Shadows almost hid the door, yet seemed safer than the light where Georgie stood. I didn’t know why. Like I said, it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced. I started to call and tell her to come with me, but hesitated. Then it didn’t matter anyway, because she came toward me, her steps a little quick as if she was frightened to be alone. I turned back to the door.

It had one of those thick metal pull handles, the spring kind like on old refrigerators that Mama always called Frigidaires regardless of brand name. Sometimes she still does. Daddy still calls the side-by-side refrigerator with ice-maker that he bought at Sears an ice box. Old habits are hard to break.

Anyway, I tugged on the door, but it didn’t give easily. I decided to put all my weight into it. If that doesn’t work, it’s usually not workable. Even without the extra twenty pounds, I’m no lightweight.

Grabbing it with both hands, I gave a tremendous heave and the door came open so quick and easy it threw me off-balance. I staggered sideways a little. If not for holding on to the handle, I’d have probably fallen on my nicely cushioned rear. An old barrel stave lay up against the wall, and I used it to prop open the door. Cold dank air drifted out, but at least it wasn’t freezing.

“Are you all right, Trinket?” I heard Georgie ask, and as I regained my balance, I nodded.

Then realizing she probably couldn’t see me well in the thick shadows, I said, “Fine. I’m still on my feet, anyway.”

“That’s too bad.”

I laughed, a little shakily, but with an effort at humor. “Gee, thanks.”

“Go into the freezer. See if she’s in there.”

Something in her tone had changed, a subtle alteration that put me immediately on the defensive. For one thing, I’ve never really liked being bossed around that much, but especially not by someone twenty years younger. It could be a problem in the workplace, but at least there, I understand the chain of authority.

“You first,” I said, probably more sharply than she expected.

“I don’t think so. Get in there.”

I turned to look at her. She was silhouetted against the gray light coming through the big hole in the front of the building. Tension radiated from her, made her seem larger than her slight size, lent her an air of menace.

“What on earth’s the matter with you?” I demanded.

“Nothing if you’ll just do what you’re told.”

That really made me mad. “Look, you little twit, I don’t blame you if you’re scared, but I have no intention of just walking into some dark hole without a few precautions.”

It occurred to me that Georgie had her own agenda. And I didn’t think it was going to be one I liked. While I never joined the Girl Scouts, I am familiar with the
Be Prepared
motto of the Boy Scouts. It never hurts.

Georgie’s voice rose a little, a sure sign of uncertainty. “I’m not scared, you idiot, but you should be. Now walk into the freezer.”