If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance (29 page)

“Sally has a request for you.”

“Always happy to oblige.”

Jake turned from the computer. “Sally, Bartholomew
Monroe is buried close to you, only two plots down, actually.” He was looking in her general direction, but she was pacing again, and his glance was off anyway.

“Really?” I said. “I had no idea.” I looked over Jake’s shoulder at the computer screen. He was searching a website specifically for gravesite locations.

“There’s no reason you should know,” he said. “It’s an unmarked grave. It just has a small plaque that says:
MALE, DIED
1893.

“That’s sad. What does that mean, that no one paid for his burial or something?” I asked.

“I’ll look up his obituary next, but it sure seems he lost favor with his own family. Does that mean he was a killer? I think it stands a better chance of meaning that they found out who his father was and everyone disowned him.”

“Who’s buried in between us?” Sally chimed in.

“Oh. It’s your sister,” Jake said.

“I should have known that,” Sally said. “I would have asked Betts to groom her grave, too.”

“I will, I promise,” I said.

Jake clicked the mouse a couple times. “Yep, Jane Swarthmore.” He swiveled the chair, got up, and went to a file cabinet. “I’m getting the obituaries organized in a computer file, but for now I’ve still got this.” He pulled a huge brown accordion file out of the drawer and dropped it on the middle worktable. “Let’s get going with Monroe. Lots of those.” He pulled out a stack of papers and handed them to me. “Look for Bartholomew.”

The papers were photocopies of original obituaries. I didn’t know how many ways Jake had organized things, but this was a lot of work, and wasn’t as easy to peruse as I’d like, but I knew if I complained I’d be given the job to help organize.

I kept quiet as I ran my finger up and down the pages, Sally looking over my shoulder. Each page held four obituaries; the copies were difficult to read but not impossible. It only took a few minutes for my eyes and brain to adjust to the smudgy print.

And then it only took a few more moments for me to find exactly what we were looking for.

“Here. ‘Bartholomew Gerald Monroe, Born August 18, 1850, Died July 14, 1893. Bartholomew, son of Gerald and Ethel Monroe, grandson of Gertrude Monroe of Broken Rope’s Monroe House, passed away suddenly of mysterious causes on July 14, 1893. Services will be held June 18 at the First Church of God right outside Broken Rope. Mr. Monroe will be buried in the neighboring cemetery.’” That was it. I
looked at Jake. “There has to be more, doesn’t there? He died so soon after both Sally and his grandmother died.”

“Depends on if they investigated the mysterious causes or not. There might have been laws back in the day about autopsies and such, but they weren’t always obeyed, particularly in Broken Rope. As fun and genial as we are now, we were once a town that sometimes catered to outlaws and others of ill repute. Sally, do you remember Bartholomew’s parents or just his grandmother?”

“I only remember Gertrude. I think Bartholomew’s parents died when he was younger, at least that’s what Daddy said about the woman he had the affair with.”

I passed the information to Jake.

“We’ll try to look them up, too. Perhaps there was a family fallout as a result of the discovery Mrs. Monroe might have made regarding Bartholomew’s parentage. Maybe many discoveries as well as the Swarthmore murders happened at once. I can only imagine the potential uproar, and considering how close Sally’s, Bartholomew’s, and Gertrude’s deaths were, there might have been more drama going on than we’ll ever know, unless Sally starts to remember specific details. Gertrude might have been so upset that before she died of a broken heart over Sally, she made sure her grandson wouldn’t be buried with the Monroe family. Can’t you just see it—the old woman thought she was exacting some misplaced revenge by making sure that whenever Bartholomew died, he was buried next to his biological half sisters and his grave would be left unmarked.” Jake whistled. “Betts, I sure wish Mrs. Monroe would come back to haunt you someday. I bet she has some stories to tell.”

“I wish I remembered more, but I don’t. Not yet at least,” Sally said.

“Maybe with more time Sally will remember,” I said to Jake.

He nodded. “There might be more I can find.”

“Is there any way we can check the
Noose
?” I said.

“What about Edgar’s notes?” Sally said. “Maybe Edgar mentioned something about him.”

“Good idea.” I turned back to Jake. “Sally said to look at Edgar’s notes, too, and I happen to have the book in my bag.”

“Good plan. You two do that, and I’ll check the
Noose
archives,” Jake said.

Eager to stay busy and with nothing else to do, we all made a move to get to work on our new assignments, but my phone buzzed before I scooted off the stool.

“Hey, Teddy,” I said as I answered.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

“I’m at Jake’s. Speak up.”

“I can’t. Meet me…somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“How about at Jake’s?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m coming in the back door.”

“Deal.”

I closed the phone and announced that Teddy was on his way.

Our other tasks suddenly seemed less important. I’d taken whispered calls from Teddy before. He’d been known to wake up someplace he wished he hadn’t gone and realize he was late for a family event. He’d sometimes call and let me know he was on his way. Sometimes he waited until he got in his truck, but not always.

Almost exactly five minutes later, there was a knock on the
back door. Jake opened it, albeit cautiously, and Teddy hurried in. He seemed frazzled, and his eyes were unusually guilty.

“My goodness, Betts, as sweet as you are, why couldn’t it have been him who saw me? I’d let him see the real me, if you know what I mean,” Sally said.

I ignored her.

“Hey,” Teddy said as he ran his hand through his hair and his left eye twitched.

“Good grief, Teddy, what’s going on?” I said.

“I…I did something and I feel really bad about it.”

“Tell me.” I was curious, because though I knew of some horrible things he’d done, I’d never known Teddy to feel bad about them.

Jake scooted up to a stool, and Sally observed as she stood next to Teddy.

“I snooped. Through Ophelia’s stuff,” he said.

I wanted to ask him to call her Opie, but I didn’t. “What did you find?”

“I think I found the diary.”

“Oh!” Sally squeaked.

“Really? Did you bring it?”

“No, no, but I think she knows I saw it, and I bet she won’t be very happy about that.”

“Teddy, start from the beginning,” I said.

“Okay. I knew Ophelia wouldn’t be home, so I thought I’d look around like you asked. I brought some chicken to put in her fridge, thought I’d barbecue some for dinner—we have keys to each other’s places,” he explained.

I resisted the urge to put my fingers in my ears and beg him to never tell me again that they were having a
relationship
, but I just prompted him on with a wave.

“Anyway,” he continued, “she has her Sally room, of
course. She’s let me in there before, so I didn’t feel so bad about snooping around it again. I didn’t find anything new. She also has an office that she told me is off-limits. She said I’m welcome anywhere else in the house, but not there. On a hunch, I checked above the door frame and found the key. I unlocked the door and went inside. As far as I could tell at first, it’s just an office that she doesn’t use very much. Bookshelves are only half full, and there’s not much on the desk. The drawers are empty except for a few pens and pencils. But there was a trunk—you know, the old kind that has stickers all over ’em, travel stickers or something. I think it’s genuinely old. It was locked, but I thought the key must be somewhere nearby. I looked around and finally found it on a bookshelf behind a book about farmers’ markets of all things. If I’d paid attention to how long it took me to locate the key, I would have figured out that I was cutting it too close. But I took the key and opened the trunk. There was one thing in it. A book, a dusty old book that I was kind of afraid to touch, but I thought it must be what you were looking for, so I picked it up by its sides, using the palms of my hands more than my fingers. I put it on the floor and opened it carefully, but I only read the first page, and that was damn hard to read anyway, just so you know.”

“What did it say?” I asked.

“It just said: ‘Personal diary of Sally Swarthmore.’ I figured unless someone was trying to really throw everyone off track, I’d found what you wanted me to find. I couldn’t figure out a way to get it out of the house, though, so I thought I’d just try to read it. But then I heard Ophelia’s car.”

“Uh–oh,” Jake said.

“Uh–oh’s right. I panicked and picked up the book too quickly and then dropped it in the trunk. A couple pages fell
out, and even though I tried to put them back in right, I messed up the dust. Nothing looked the way it had when I’d found it, but I just had to get out of there. I locked the trunk, put the key back, and then left. I locked the office door, too, but I think—I’m not sure—but I think Ophelia saw my arm come down after I put the key on top of the door frame. I’m not good at acting innocent, and she seemed…cold to me. I just had to get out of there, but I wouldn’t put it past her to have followed me. If she’s figured out what I’ve done, Betts, and she realizes it was for you, I know it’ll be over.” Teddy sounded upset at the thought that his…whatever with Opie might be in jeopardy.

I had to try to remember his feelings over my own. “I’m so sorry,” I said and I meant it. Mostly. “But really, little brother, I can’t thank you enough. To know that diary exists is an amazing discovery.” I looked at Sally, who nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re welcome, but what are you going to do with the information? You can’t go to her, Betts. You just can’t tell her how you know.”

I thought as quickly as I could, which wasn’t as quickly as I needed to. My mind was still not firing correctly.

Finally, I said, “What if—and only if you’re okay with it—but what if Jake approaches her? He can even go in without a diary angle. Just from an historical standpoint. Everyone knows she’s doing a good job portraying Sally this summer. Maybe he can just ask her how she got ready for the character. Maybe she’ll give up the diary, maybe not, but it’s worth a try.”

Teddy nodded, but it took him a second to say, “That might work. Jake, you good with that?”

“Absolutely,” Jake said. “Sounds fun actually.”

Teddy nodded again.

“Teds,” I said, “thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing what you did. I’m sorry for testing your loyalty. At this point in time, it seems kind of unfair, but I really do thank you.”

“Thank me?” Teddy laughed, his stress over his spying and maybe being followed dissipating. “You owe me big, sis. Don’t worry, someday I’ll call in the favor, all the favors. They’re building up.”

“Deal,” I said.

Teddy turned to leave but then stopped at the door and turned back around. “Hey, I heard someone finally picked up the bag with Jake’s fake money.”

“What?” Jake and I said at once.

“Yeah, that pretty woman, the one married to the old guy, picked it up.”

“The foodie? Cece?” I said.

“That’s the one,” Teddy said. “Gram told me all about everything. I don’t know how she knew actually.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t know,” Jake said. “Why didn’t someone tell me?”

Teddy shrugged and then left us looking at each other and wondering which surprise we should tackle first.

The existence of the diary and the fact that Cece had picked
up the bag were both equally compelling to Jake and me; however, Sally was, of course, much more interested in the diary. Jake decided he would wait until later in the day, after all the shows, both his and Opie’s, to track Opie down. I agreed that was a good plan, even if Sally was impatient.

We could think of only a couple ways to possibly get answers to more of our questions: call Cliff and call Gram. I tried, numerous times, but neither of them answered. Cliff was probably busy solving a crime or something, and Gram might have Toby Keith or Tim McGraw turned up too loud to hear her phone.