DIGGIN' UP THE DIRT

by Tonya Kappes

  “Most the time when people need money quick after a death, it’s usually to cover funeral expenses. I’m not sure how much Max charged for the funeral, but I do know they can cost well into the thousands.” He made a good point. “She was still in shock about his passing, so I didn’t think what she was saying made much sense. I’ll check in on her in a couple of weeks if I’ve not heard from her just to be sure she’s doing good.”

  “That’s all.” I stood up and turned around. I wanted Reagan Quinlan to see me. But they were gone.

  “Is that it?” He asked.

  “Did you see the couple that was just in here?” I asked.

  “The Brumfield’s?” He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Brumfield’s?” I asked and tucked this bit of information in the corner of my brain.

  “Reagan and Herb Brumfield. I guess it’s Reagan Quinlan now.” He clasped his hands together. “Talk about someone in shock. Reagan couldn’t believe it.”

  “Believe what?” This was getting more and more interesting as the day’d gone, making everything Max said about the killer was probably a woman even more plausible, if it were Reagan that murdered Avon.

  “How she caught him cheating on her. She was devastated. From what I understood, she worked her butt off at the rehab center to make a better life for themselves. Then she got the demotion due to not having continued her education in time or something.” His brows lifted. “I guess something younger and better came long.”

  “They are married?” I gulped.

  “Were.” He shook his finger as if he remembered something. “I think he cheated on her with someone she worked with.”

  “Avon Meyers,” Poppa gasped, ghosting himself behind Vernon.

  Chapter Twenty

  Myrna Savage was dangling off a ladder as she was trying to hang the new seasonal flower baskets from the dowel-rod on one of the carriage lights in front of White’s Jewelers. The arrangements she’d made this year were filled with a bright yellow sunflower and different colored dahlias. The big, red balled dahlias were my favorite. The colors went perfect with the banners the Beautification Committee had approved at the last town council meeting.

  They had “Welcome to Cottonwood” embroidered on the bottom with a photo of the white courthouse that stood out so boldly in the middle of town. I loved seeing how the drawing from the last meeting had actually come to life on the banners that were now hung on each carriage light and blowing in the breeze.

  We waved at each other as I passed and passing White’s made me remember to call Katy Lee about the insurance or if she’d even been able to dig anything up.

  Instead of pulling around to the alley, I pulled into the open spot in front of Cowboy’s Catfish. I needed an extra-large cup of coffee and Bartleby Fry made strong, I just needed to smell it to wake up.

  “Can I get a coffee?” I asked the waitress behind the counter and dialed Katy Lee. “Hey there. I got your text.”

  “I was about to call you because I was shocked you didn’t call me right back,” she said.

  “I was busy checking something out. I had to go to Clay’s Ferry. I visited Shelby and then went to see Max.” I rattled off all the stops I’d made. “What did you find out?”

  I took the coffee from the waitress, mouthed “thank you”, and took out a few dollars from my pocket and left them on the counter so she could swipe it up.

  “I couldn’t find anything here in the office, so I called Dad. He said that Woody Moss had come in years ago when you and I were kids. He recalled about the same story you told about relatives going to New York and getting him these big expensive cuff links.” She started to laugh. “Here’s the thing, they are fake. I mean Dad said that if you rubbed a finger across them, it’d leave a green streak on your finger like the fake rings we used to get out of dime machines.”

  “I was afraid of that.” I groaned and walked into the department from the kitchen of Cowboy’s.

  Scott was standing next to Avon’s dry-erase board and Betty was at her desk typing away on her computer.

  “He said that Woody couldn’t believe it. They are worth nothing of value. But Dad also said that Woody continued to brag about them, so the value to him was more personal than monetary.”

  “That’s a good point.” I never thought that Rich might have stolen them for their personal value and that’s why they’ve not turned up in any pawn shops. He might want to keep them. It was definitely an assumption I should follow up on. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  We hung up the phone.

  “What’s the story?” I asked Scott, shifting my weight to one side and took sips of my coffee.

  I was going to wait and tell them my big news about Reagan and her scorned marriage. I knew Avon had to be the other woman, this gave Reagan a clear motive to kill her.

  “There wasn’t anything in the car. Literally as clean as her house.” He had written this down under Avon’s name on the dry-erase board.

  I looked at Avon’s name on the board.

  “According to Max Bogus,” I said before Betty interrupted.

  “Which reminds me,” Betty held up a file. “Got the autopsy right here in the file. I see where you signed off on it when you went to see Max.”

  “Thank you, Betty.” I gave her a two-finger captain’s salute. “Avon had gone to the Sweet Shop.” I gestured for Scott to write that down, then took another drink of the coffee.

  There was time for a few sips as he began to fill in the timeline.

  “The night before she had been a victim of Lita Brumfield’s endless calls to Clay’s Ferry dispatch.” The last thing I wanted to do was to stop drinking my coffee, but I had to put it down to open my bag and take out the papers. “The papers here state that an officer came by to take a report placed by Lita.”

  “But I thought Avon was the one who was victimized by Lita cutting off the apple tree branches.” Scott pointed to Lita’s name.

  “Avon didn’t call. It was a verbal fight that broke out between the two of them that got Lita to call. Also, the officer asked Avon if she wanted to press charges against Lita and she refused.” My eyes scanned down the page. “It was at nine thirty p.m., and according to her time sheets we found in her office at her home she had to work until nine p.m.”

  Scott wrote down the times and the incidents on the timeline.

  “Go on and leave the hours between ten p.m. and seven a.m.” That time period I assumed Avon was safe and asleep. “At seven-fifteen a.m. Avon was in the Sweet Shop where she bought three donuts.”

  Scott continued to write.

  “Golly gee,” Betty bemoaned. “You’ve got this gal tracked down to the minute.”

  “That’s the sign of a good sheriff, right there.” Poppa appeared. He did a little jig and pumped his arms up and down between his legs. He was never a great dancer, but he was entertaining, forcing me to look down and not let Betty see me smiling.

  “Go on and tell them about the food in her stomach with that finger lick and all.” Poppa patted his stomach and then licked his finger as though he were acting it out. “The affair.”

  “Max’s time of death was between seven and eight a.m. This means that she left the Sweet Shop and it only took her ten minutes at the most to get across town, park her car, and walk into Rock Fence Park path in the back.” I continued to picture her doing these things in my head.

  “You think she was meeting someone and that’s who killed her?” Scott dropped his hand to his side.

  I picked up the cup and held it between both hands to ward off the chill crawling over me.

  “You’re right.” Poppa nodded at me. “What your thinking is right.”

  “Betty.” I shot my gaze to her. “Did you get those background checks back yet?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll let you know.” She tapped on the computer and scanned the screen. �
��Nothing,” she confirmed.

  “I’ve got some news that’s going to change all this.” My hand circled the board. “Reagan and Herb Brumfield were married. According to Vernon Baxter, Herb cheated on Reagan with someone from her work. He didn’t know it was Avon, and I don’t either, but I’ve got a good hunch it was. Also, he told me that Reagan had recently found out she was losing her position as the nurse manager because she let the continued education classes pass by without doing them.”

  “Shut your mouth!” Betty’s jaw dropped. “This is exactly why she killed that poor girl.”

  “That also gives Lita more motive to be even meaner to Avon. Or worse,” Scott made a great point.

  “I’m thinking Avon met with Reagan in the park. Avon was walking and talking while Reagan walked behind her. According to the autopsy, she’d only eaten one donut and the Sweet Shop donut bag in her purse was empty.” I took another drink of coffee to give a pause, so my words could sink in. “She wasn’t thinking she was going to die.”

  I proceeded to tell them about her licking her finger before whoever she was with had shot her in the back.

  “Do you think Avon was up for the promotion that’d suddenly came available giving even more of a motive for Reagan to kill her?” Scott asked.

  “I think it’s a possibility worth exploring,” I added and wrote down all the information on the white board.

  “No weapon has been found,” I said. “She was shot between seven thirty and eight a.m. and not been dead for long because according to Finn, Mama found her right after eight.”

  “How is Finn doing?” Betty’s brows knitted together.

  “He’s a traitor!” Poppa herky-jerkied his way over to Betty’s desk and slammed a hand down. If she’d been able to hear or see him, she’d have jumped out of her skin. “That’s what he is!” Poppa stomped his right foot and darted his right arm up, jabbing the air with his finger for drama.

  “I’m sure he’s fine and with his mom. I did stop by there this morning. They’re still deciding what to do,” I sighed.

  My phone rang, bringing me back to reality. It was Finn.

  “Speak of the devil.” I held my phone out to show them Finn’s name on the screen.

  “Yep. He’s a devil,” Poppa said.

  “Hi, Finn,” I said, but he’d already started talking. “Someone what?” I asked.

  “Someone broke into my parent’s RV last night. They took all the money they’d withdrawn for the trip and the place is torn up.” He sounded mad more than anything and that scared me.

  I’d never heard him sound so on edge.

  “Someone broke into your parent’s RV?” I asked to confirm.

  “Yes. I’m going to go door to door down this street and get the sonofa...” He was spitting mad. I cut him off.

  “Finn, do not do that,” I instructed him. “That will solve nothing. Hang tight. We’ll be right there.” I grabbed my coffee and my bag. “Scott, we’ve got to go to Free Row. Betty, man the phones. Call us if you need us.”

  “Kenni bug,” Poppa called my name. “Kenni bug.”

  The dispatch phone started to ring.

  “Let’s go.” I gave Scott the big eyed “why on Earth are you lolly-gagging” look.

  “Kendrick Lowry!”

  “Sheriff!”

  Poppa and Betty both were screaming my name.

  “What?” I screamed towards Poppa in a frantic tone. I had to get to Finn. “What do you want?” I hurried towards him in a rage.

  “I’m over here,” Betty called in a calmer voice.

  I looked like a complete fool yelling into the air facing the bathroom. I slowly turned around and took a deep breath, giving Betty my attention.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to gather all the clues in my head.” I tried the best to cover up my little burst of crazy, but by the look on Betty’s scared face and Scott’s silence, they weren’t buying it.

  “The phone call is Herb Brumfield, Lita’s son.” She held the phone to her chest. “Someone has broken into his mom’s house and destroyed it.”

  The second phone line started to ring.

  “That is why I was trying to get your attention.” Poppa just wouldn’t stop talking. “I’m afraid the killer and the burglars are the same. There’s just some things you know as a ghost.” He tapped his temple.

  “We are sending someone now.” Betty told Herb and clicked over. “Sheriff’s department,” she answered. “Mmmhmmm. I’ll tell her.”

  “Who was that?” It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. We’d not seen this much action on the phone since I’d been there.

  “Lenora Moss. She’d like to see you.” Betty shrugged.

  “You go to Finn’s and I’ll go to the Brumfield house,” Scott took the reins.

  “Okay. I’ll stop by there after I check out the RV.” We agreed on a plan. “Betty, call Lenora back and tell her I’ll be by a little later,” I called and darted out the of the department door through Cowboy’s.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Poppa, you’ve got to stop talking to me when people are around.” There was no way I could risk them thinking I was anymore cuckoo than they’d already thought. I gripped the stirring wheel.

  “But I had to tell you that these calls were coming in.” He pounded his fist on the dashboard. “This whole ghost-deputy thing is new to us and I’m still trying to figure out what I can and can’t do.”

  “The person committing these criminal acts works at the rehab, which makes me think you’re right that it’s Reagan.” He put his hand up when I went to talk. “I know you’ve got this thing in your head that Rich Moss has done this, but that’s what the criminal wants you to believe.”

  Since it wasn’t a crime in progress, though if I didn’t get to Free Row fast Finn might kill one of our criminal neighbors, I didn’t put the siren on top of the roof.

  The street zoomed by as my foot got heavier on the pedal. Not because I needed to go faster, but the thought that I was wrong was hard to take since Poppa was right, I’d pinned all this on Rich.

  Why? Because I’d seen him have a conversation with the deceased.

  “Go on. I’m listening.” I put on my blinker to turn right on Broadway.

  “Avon knew something about the rehab center and she was going to tell Wally Lamb.” He put up a finger. “Maybe Rich Moss also knew since he’d gone to see Woody in the rehab center.” He held up two fingers. “Here is where you need to think outside of the box.” He held up a third finger. “Woody Moss.” He held up a fourth. “Lita Brumfield.” He held up all five fingers. “Shelby Vincent.”

  “All of them were robbed.” My jaw dropped. I’d never figured Reagan to be a burglar.

  “Yep and they’re all in the rehab staying the night. Someone at the rehab knows this and that’s when they make their move. Reagan Quinlan. Only, somehow Avon found out and was going to spill the beans to Wally Lamb after she got off work that night.”

  “She knew Reagan and that’s why she wasn’t scared when they met even brought her a donut.” I started to piece this puzzle together as Poppa laid out all the pieces.

  “That’s right.” Poppa nodded.

  “Only Reagan knew she was going to kill Avon and that’s what she did.” I turned down Broadway.

  Poppa leaned back in the seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “Reagan Quinlan,” he pondered her name.

  “That’s exactly who I’m thinking about and who has been connected to all three people.” Then I suddenly remembered what Shelby had said about the RV. “Shelby made mention several times at the rehab center that she couldn’t leave the RV alone. Reagan was in the room when she said it.”

  “It looks like we’ve got a good case against her. We just need a few solid details. You might be diggin’ up some dirt, but you’re gonna find them.” He tappe
d his temple. “I know it.”

  I pulled into my driveway. The RV was parked in the street and the door to the RV wide open.

  “Where is Rich Moss?” I still couldn’t leave well enough alone. There was just something I couldn’t quit put my finger on about him that didn’t sit well with my soul.

  “Why are you asking about him?” Finn’s voice caught me off guard when he jerked opened my door. “Can’t you just see that I need you?”

  “Finn,” I sucked in a deep breath. I could feel Poppa ghost away. “I was talking to myself. Working out clues on the investigation, which we need to talk about.”

  “I know you need me, but my mom is in the hospital. I came here to get her some clothes, and this happens.” He threw his hands up in the air with frustration.

  “You are a cop. You know that we have to treat this as a crime scene and I don’t think anyone on Free Row did it.” I grabbed my bag from the back seat and followed him as he stalked towards the RV. “If you can’t look at it objectively, let me and Scott do it.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

  He held up a hand, shrugging off my touch. My hand fisted as I kept my anger from going off on him and telling him exactly what I thought of him going behind my back to apply for the Clay’s Ferry sheriff’s position.

  “Get your tape recorder out. I’m doing this interview right now,” his deep voice cutting through the silence. His jaw tensed, forming a shadow along his cheek.

  It was what he wanted, so I did it. He knew the drill and knew the questions, so I didn’t have to ask them.

  “I got here fifteen minutes ago. I used my parents key to open the door to retrieve some clothing for my mom who is in the Cottonwood Acres Rehabilitation Center.” I held the tape recorder up and listened while recording him. “When I got here, I noticed the RV was unkept which isn’t like my mother. When I went back to the living area of the RV, I noticed the cushions on the couches and the linens on the bed had been ripped off and overturned.”

  His voice got a little shaky, but I refrained from touching him for comfort. All business.