Music to Die For (26 page)

Carrie got to her feet by herself, still woozy, but able to stand, and in a moment Tracy was standing too. Pushing Tracy in front of her, Margaret went to the window and shoved it up, then came back to help Carrie.

A truck’s rumbling noise vibrated through the window, and Margaret paused, dismay clouding her face. “No, no, hit’s Zeph’s truck. He’s early, what we gonter do?” She stood motionless by the window, fingers locked around Carrie’s arm.

Then the thunder of a shotgun interrupted all thought. Tracy screamed, and Carrie stared toward the door, feeling separated—as if she were part of the audience at a play.

In an instant, Habakkuk Culpeper was back in the room, shotgun raised, but he hadn’t been shooting at them. His gun was pointing down the hall, and a sharp crack came from that direction. Simultaneously, Carrie heard a bullet hit the doorframe next to Habakkuk. Finally she moved, dropping to the floor, pulling Margaret down beside her.

Habakkuk grabbed Tracy, who was still standing, and yanked her to him. He stood sideways in the door with Tracy as a shield and faced down the hall, shotgun pointed. Tracy looked frozen—unable, even, to scream.

Another shot came, this time from the black rectangle of the open window behind Habakkuk, and as he toppled to the floor, all Carrie could think was, no, no, it’s not fair. Henry’s come, and he had to shoot Margaret’s son.

She rose to her knees and crawled toward Margaret, who had lifted Habakkuk’s head into her lap and was pulling his bloody shirt away from the wound in his side. Margaret put her hand over the wound and leaned into Carrie, who touched her gently on the arm, feeling utterly miserable. She couldn’t even manage to be frightened and simply could not look toward the window.

But Margaret looked. She gasped, and, at last, Carrie looked too. A man Carrie recognized—not Henry, praise God, not Henry—was climbing over the sill. He went immediately to Tracy and pushed her behind him, ready to protect her from any coming danger. He, too, had a gun.

Margaret stared, her hand still against the wound in her son’s side. “Benjamin? Benjamin Calhoun?” she said. “Is it ye? Aire ye come back?”

Then Carrie understood. It had not been Henry who fired at Habakkuk through the window. It was the man called Ben Yokum, and she knew who he must be. Tracy’s father had, after all, come back to be closer to his daughter, and he’d been close enough to kill for her... twice.

Tracy was alert now, moving quickly around Ben, ignoring everyone but Habakkuk. She stamped her heel on Habakkuk’s hand as it slid across the floor toward the gun.

Guess he’s not very dead, after all, Carrie thought, because Habakkuk had definitely howled as Tracy’s heel ground into his hand.

Tracy bent to pick up the gun and raised it to shooting position. “No, Uncle,” she said. “No more.” She stopped and addressed her next remark to her grandmother. “Don’t you worry, Granny, I’m not gonna shoot him... unless he moves.”

Footsteps were thundering down the hall. This was too much. Carrie realized her wooziness had gone and just in time. Henry stood in the doorway, and a man in uniform was behind him, peering to see in the room. They both had guns, but now Tracy was the only one pointing a gun at anyone.

Henry’s eyes swiveled around the room, stopping briefly on each person there. Carrie could almost see his mind working, taking it all in. Then he said, “It’s all yours,” to the man in uniform and came to wrap Carrie in his arms.

No matter how she felt about tears, hers began to soak the front of his jacket.

Once more Margaret Culpeper was serving tea in her home, though, this time, it was three A.M. instead of three in the afternoon. Carrie doubted anyone there really wanted tea—what she wanted was her bed—but tea-making gave Margaret something to do. All of them, including the sheriff, seemed to understand that, so they were drinking tea.

During tea preparation the sheriff had been surveying each of them, sometimes thoughtfully, sometimes with
the look
. Carrie recognized
the look,
she remembered it from her childhood. Back then, the familiar glare had come from her father, and the misbehavior that caused it was less serious than failure to report a kidnapping or share information about drug dealing and murder.

Quiet ruled the room as the weary group sipped and the sheriff looked. All major activity was back at Habakkuk’s house—though the homeowner was no longer there. After assuring Margaret that her son wasn’t in mortal danger, medical technicians had carted him off to the hospital under guard. The last Carrie heard from him as he disappeared inside the ambulance were loud complaints that Tracy Teal had broken every bone in his hand.

The EMTs had offered to take Carrie to the hospital along with Habakkuk, but there was no way she was going to leave this place. She proclaimed herself quite satisfied with Margaret’s ministrations and stood her ground with Henry, Tracy, and Margaret. So, after quick phone calls to Brigid and Chase and the Stacks, the five of them had come to Margaret’s home where they could talk without interruption.

Now the sheriff was just sitting there in Margaret’s rocker, looking at them.

“Well,” he said finally, “I need a good picture of what’s happened here. From what King said when he called us, things got kinda deep, didn’t they?” He smiled gently at Margaret, who had just returned the kettle to the grate and was sitting in her chair by the fire. “S’cuse me, Miz Culpeper, but how did you get hooked in with this crazy bunch of outsiders?”

He was probably just being kind, including her in his special circle, and Carrie decided she liked him for that, but Margaret took the man at his word. She began to tell her story, starting with when she first saw Carrie on the Folk Center path.

Carrie and Henry already knew most of what Margaret said, but Tracy’s wide eyes were on her grandmother’s face throughout. And Margaret didn’t hold back. She didn’t spare Micah, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah, or even her husband, as she told the involved tale of the family business and what she knew about the kidnapping of Dulcey and Tracy.

But she said nothing about Farel’s murder, a daughter, or Tracy’s relationship to her family.

“And thet’s hit,” Margaret finished. “I reckon ye’ll be wantin’ t’ take me away too, but Nahum’s innercent o’ all this. Oh, he knowed about the fam’ly bizness, but, shuriff, how could one man like Nahum stop hit?”

“Or one woman?” the sheriff said. “Thank you, Miz Culpeper, we’ll leave it at that. No need for you to be packin’ your bag. But, after you’ve had some rest, you might pack clothing for your sons and get a lawyer for them. If you need help with that...”

“I’ll help her,” Tracy said, breaking her long silence. “I’ll get a lawyer for my uncles.”

The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “S’cuse me, Miz Teal, but, uncles? How’s that fit? Of course you don’t need to say,” he added quickly. It had been obvious all along that Sheriff Wylie—indeed almost everyone they’d seen this night—had been awed by Tracy’s fame as a music star and very gentle and considerate of her well-being.

“Yes, my uncles,” said Tracy, going to stand by Margaret’s chair and putting her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. Her stance was theatrical, but Carrie doubted Tracy was acting or even conscious of how she looked, nor was Margaret as she raised her hand and put it over her granddaughter’s.

Tracy looked straight at the sheriff and continued, “My birth mother was this woman’s youngest child, Elizabeth, who died just after I was born. I’m a Culpeper by birth.”

And proud of it,
Tracy’s tone said plainly. Carrie wanted to leap to her feet and go hug her.

“Oh, well-uh, I’m sure Miz, uh, Culpeper... Margaret... will appreciate your help, Miz...Teal... ma’am. And, of course we know you and Mr. Mason had nothing to do with the drug business. I’m sorry to say, though, that Chief Bolen and I have suspected about those drugs for some time and were about ready to make a case. You see...” He hesitated, looked around, and stopped.

“We know Farel Teal was involved.” That was Henry, helping out.

“Yes, sir, he was. He was easier to track than the others. In fact, we’d been thinkin’ we might arrest Farel and get him to help us collect evidence on the Culpepers. I guess they must have found out about our plans and... and....”

“My sons don’t hold with killin’ fer sech a thing as that,” Margaret said, fixing her black eyes on the sheriff’s face.

“Um, yes, I’m sure, ma’am.”

The sheriff turned toward Henry and Carrie. “Now, how about you two?” he said, obviously glad to change focus.

He nodded encouragingly at Carrie, and she began her story. She was sure Henry would be eager to hear what had happened to her after they separated. He leaned toward her as she talked and finally reached out for her hand as she told about being thrown into the wall by Habakkuk.

Carrie was just as eager to learn what Henry did after he walked away from her in the woods by Nahum’s, and she was glad when her story was finished and he began to tell his.

“So, not long after I left Carrie, Margaret met me on the path. She had Dulcey with her and warned me that Habakkuk had changed places with Nahum. That’s why she didn’t dare meet us at the house. Then Margaret and I—with me carrying the child—made a large circle through the woods back to the place where I’d left Carrie. When she was gone...well, I didn’t know what to do.

“After a bit, Margaret went up to the house to see who was there. It was empty, but she did find Carrie’s denim hat on the floor.” He tugged the hat out of his pocket and showed it to Carrie but, after looking at her bandaged head, stuffed it back in his pocket. “We didn’t know that Tracy had been there

too. Margaret didn’t find out, as she said, until she went to Habakkuk’s house. I only suspected it when I got back to the Folk Center Lodge with Dulcey and learned Tracy was gone and what she’d said in her note to Eleanor.

“That’s when I called Sheriff Wylie. Sheriff, perhaps you can understand why we didn’t involve you sooner? We had the safety of the child to consider. Everything else came after that. And, you must admit we had an inside advantage, with the family name, and as two older civilians...”

The sheriff nodded and continued the story himself. “When King called, told us about the kidnapping, and asked us to stop Zephaniah, we were ready, you see. We got him in the parkin’ lot with one lunch pail still full of merchandise. That made it easy to get close to this place since we had his truck and could hide deputies lyin’ down in the back. First we parked on the road near here, listenin’ and watchin’, and when Ol’ Mad Marg...ur, Miz Culpeper, began to play her music, King said he knew right where you all were. We should just follow the music.”

He turned to Margaret. “You’re pretty sharp, ma’am, pretty sharp! And accordin’ to Ben Yokum, who had evidently caught on to the kidnapping some way, the music is what led him here too, lookin’ fer the child. He says he just came because he thought there might be a reward. He didn’t know Tracy was here either. None of us did know that for sure.”

“What about Micah now?” Henry asked.

“They’re watchin’ the highways between here and Little Rock. I’ve warned the State Police to be gentle with Nahum Culpeper, and no violence if possible. Shucks, though, Micah and his wife must be near eighty. The others...not much younger, right?” He looked at Margaret. “They’ve got to be tired of all this, and I can’t see they’ll be a problem. Now, as to Habakkuk’s wife, I’m not so sure. Accordin’ to him she was out for the evening to a bridge game, but from all accounts, she’s a wicked one.

“Thing is, the kidnapping would be enough without the drug charges. Kidnapping is serious stuff. It’s obvious Habakkuk’s wife was in on it, though Micah’s wife’s been away.”

The sheriff turned toward Carrie. “Bobby Lee Logan knew about Farel’s drug dealing, but he wouldn’t talk to anyone about it until he found out we already knew. He told us last night he burned Farel’s house to get rid of any evidence of Farel’s dealings with the Culpepers. He wanted to protect his friend’s reputation, and since he knew the murder had already been reported, he figured he didn’t have time to search the whole house and clean out evidence Farel might have left. Of course that gets him an arson charge.”

The sheriff paused, looking more closely at Carrie. “He heard you calling in that 911, Miz McCrite. That’s how he found out about the murder.

“We know Bobby Lee didn’t kill Farel. Never did suspect him. There are folks who saw him inside the auditorium all evening up until the time he left for Farel’s. That was after he heard you call to report the murder, of course.

“Now, Miz Teal, do you have anything to add to clearing this up? The only thing we haven’t solved yet is the murder of your cousin, Farel. Can you shed any light on that? Seems no one else here can.” He gave them all
the look
again. “Unless a Culpeper...”

“No!” Tracy said, stopping him. Head bowed, she stood next to her grandmother and said no more.

What can she do now? Carrie was thinking. Implicate her birth father, or break Margaret’s heart and imply that it was one of her uncles? Does she realize yet that Ben is her father? What can she do?

Heavy steps thunked on the wood porch, and a deputy beckoned to the sheriff from the doorway. After the two men had left the room, Carrie said, “Tracy, you know who killed Farel... you know it was not one of Margaret’s sons.”

Tracy raised her head to look at Carrie, then walked around to kneel in front of her grandmother, putting her hands in Margaret’s lap and looking up into her face like a small child in prayer. “It was Ben, Granny. It was Ben, but he thought he was protecting me... same as he did with Habakkuk.”

Margaret had just placed a hand on each side of Tracy’s head, cradling her face, when the sheriff came back into the room. He noticed Margaret and Tracy and looked at them thoughtfully for a moment before he said, “Well, now, that’s interesting. Ben Yokum has confessed to the murder of Farel Teal. He says they had an argument. Says Farel was threatening him, so he took the knife from Farel and just stabbed out. Didn’t mean to kill him.”