“I was wondering if you might let them spend the night?” Eddie asked. “I’ve got their beds made up, and you know I still have some of their clothes from when they stayed here the last time. We could spend the day together tomorrow. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“Could we?” Lucie asked.
“Can we play with my musket tomorrow?” Jason asked.
“Of course,” Eddie said.
This was an opportunity I was not about to pass up.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Eddie shooed us out of the house and ordered the four of us to enjoy the rest of our evening.
Tommy suggested Josh change out of his Federal uniform but Josh just shrugged.
“Don’t have anything else,” he said, “and I kind of like the authority it gives me. Guess you’ll have to take me as I am.”
“You’re going to stir up all kinds of trouble in that outfit,” Tommy said.
“You’re afraid I’ll embarrass you,” Josh said and smiled. “Consider this a growth experience for you. How about you two? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
Mason and I shook our heads.
We headed for a favorite Buckhead bar and then huddled together at a table in the back where we could almost hear one another if we shouted.
I leaned toward Josh. “Now I want to hear the rest of the story about that party you attended.”
Josh glanced at Tommy.
“Don’t look at me. If my sister wants to know something she’ll get it out of you one way or another. You might as well get it over with.”
“It was almost as lively as our reenactment today,” Josh said. “Fortunately, no one was armed.”
Chapter Seventeen
The crowd at the bar showed no signs of thinning out. It was after ten and about the time when the Buckhead party crowd got started.
“Okay, Ditie,” Josh said, “let me get another scotch, and I’ll give you every last detail.”
He raised his hand and waited for our waitress to see us. She didn’t look pleased when Josh was the only one ordering a second drink.
While we waited, I asked Mason if everyone came to the reenactment.
“Yes.”
“Even Ryan? I thought he was pretty shaken by Carl’s death.”
“Ryan came as a Federal and Harper was part of the Confederate cavalry,” Mason said. “She said she brought her horse to Atlanta after her father died last year and was anxious to give him some exercise.”
“I tend to forget Harper grew up on a ranch,” I said. “She told me she was a tomboy, but it’s hard to imagine that.”
“It wasn’t just any ranch,” Josh said. “It was one of the three biggest cattle ranches in Texas.”
“I heard that as well, but how would you know that?” I asked.
“Straight from the horse’s mouth—make that Harper’s mouth,” Josh said. “We tend to run in the same circles, and I heard about her life on the ranch—how she loved to hunt, ride horses. She even branded some of the cattle.”
“It sounds as if you two talked a lot,” I said.
“Josh is like you, Ditie,” Tommy said. “People open up to him, especially after a few drinks. Harper couldn’t help herself. Even I heard her life story after her father died last year. It’s like a dam broke.”
I remembered how I felt when my own father died.
“I guess they were very close,” I said.
“Yeah,” Josh said, “I think she worshipped her dad, although she did say something funny to me. She said she was now free to live her own life, not the one her father had planned for her.”
“And she seemed happy about that?” I asked.
“Hard to tell, but I think so.”
“I’m coming to the reenactment tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see her on horseback,” I said.
“Maybe,” Mason said. “I heard her say one day on the battlefield might be enough. Her husband didn’t seem to like that. He quizzed her about where she would be and what she would do on Sunday. Then he begged her to come.”
“I don’t think Ryan trusts her out of his sight,” I said.
“It also sounded like he wanted her to see him in action, admire him,” Mason said. “It was a little odd, I have to say.”
“I’m beginning to think their whole relationship is a little odd,” I said.
“I can add to that,” Josh said, “but not until I get my second scotch.”
Mercifully, it arrived before he’d finished his sentence. He took a sip.
“Ah, this is good. Speaking of scotch, Dr. Brockton had a Macallan twenty-five-year-old single malt and didn’t mind sharing it.”
I gave Josh a look. “Should we be worried about your drinking?” I asked.
“Two’s my limit I swear, and Tommy’ll drive us home. I’ll get my car tomorrow.”
“Very responsible,” I said. “Now, what is it you have to add?”
“Every time I see Harper and Ryan together, he’s all over her,” Josh said, “and she seems anxious to get away. I feel sorry for both of them really. Ryan’s like a dog with a bone, and I don’t think Harper likes being the bone.”
“Nice way with words, Josh,” I said.
“I should have been a poet.”
Tommy put one arm around Josh. “Don’t give up your day job.”
“Now about the party at Dr. Brockton’s house,” I said. “When was it and who was there?”
“Let’s see. It was six or seven weeks ago, right Tommy?”
Tommy nodded.
“Tommy came as my lawyer and partner. I’m not sure Mrs. Brockton was too happy about that once she figured out our relationship, but she was polite.”
“She was never all that happy about my relationship with Phil either,” I said. “I think she hoped Phil would get serious about someone a bit more gorgeous and a lot more Southern. There was probably a small celebration when he broke it off.”
“Besides the two of us, there were eight or so others. Phil came down from New York just for the meeting. Carl and Kathy Thompson were there, Sally, Harper and Ryan, and a couple of other docs.”
“Why was Sally there?” I asked.
“I think she came as a package with Carl, and the senior Dr. Brockton mentioned an open position in his financial department.”
“Phil told me his dad wouldn’t hire her because she didn’t actually have any business degrees despite what she claimed.”
“Maybe no one knew that at the time,” Tommy said. “You don’t check references until you’re about to make an offer.”
Josh continued his story. “It was a small gathering for the Brocktons. I’ve been to their Christmas parties and those are for hundreds. Dr. Brockton lives in one of those modest cottages on Tuxedo Road—I’d guess 10,000 square feet, newly renovated.”
“I know the house,” I said.
“Enough reminiscing,” Mason said. “What did you think of the people there, Josh? Did any one of them seem especially angry at Phil?”
Josh laughed. “Funny you should say that. The person who seemed most angry was Phil. I don’t think the free-flowing alcohol helped much, or the discussion of how Dr. Brockton had plans to expand his business.”
“It wasn’t really a party,” Tommy said. “More a business meeting with Southern hospitality. There was a fairly elaborate dinner—you’d have loved it, Ditie. You know that new Atlanta chef— Boone Babbitt—he served us the best southern fried chicken you’d ever hope to eat, outside of yours of course, followed by lemon meringue pie for dessert.”
“You are making my mouth water, but I really want to hear about the party. Then I need to get home and get some sleep before tomorrow’s reenactment. I plan to go, so I can help Lurleen.”
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Josh said. “After dinner, we settle
d in Dr. Brockton’s den. Mrs. Brockton excused herself, but everyone else stayed. Brockton said that he wanted each of us to seriously consider being a part of his new venture. He’d continue as the nominal head of his concierge business but hoped the rest of us would bring on board our current patients.”
“Did he include Harper and Ryan in his offer?” I asked. “They’re dermatologists, not internists.”
“Brockton said he wanted to work out something with them—exclusive referrals, that kind of thing,” Josh said. “The rest of us were internists or family docs, and Brockton described how great it was to give patients the time they wanted for an annual fee to ensure our availability.”
“Nothing sounds unusual about that,” I said.
“I agree. It didn’t interest me, but I could see Carl Thompson practically salivating. He said he’d really enjoyed his work with Dr. Brockton and looked forward to helping him manage the new corporation. He said it as if he’d be the managing partner.” Josh savored his drink and a moment of silence before he continued. “That flew all over your ex. Phil stood up, yelled at his dad. ‘I am supposed to take over when you retire.’ His father didn’t bat an eye. ‘I’ll see who does the best job and then I’ll make my decision.’”
“Things went from bad to worse,” Tommy said. “Carl made some comment about letting the best man win, and Phil grabbed the nearest thing to him, a half-full decanter of whiskey. He looked as if he were going to smash it over Carl’s head, when Ryan, Josh and I jumped in to restrain him.”
Josh took a last sip of his scotch. “Never allow a person to waste perfectly good whiskey. Phil cooled off and left, but not before he told Carl he’d never be the managing partner of his father’s business.”
“That sounds incriminating,” Mason said.
“The party broke up at that point,” Josh said. “I spoke to Dr. Brockton on my way out saying I was flattered to be asked but was very happy with my present situation. Truth is I had no desire to work with a bunch of hot heads fighting to be in charge.”
Tommy patted Josh on the shoulder. “We only need one prima donna in this family.”
Amen to that, I thought.
“How did Sally Cutter react?” I asked.
“She seemed pleased,” Josh said. “She told Carl not to worry about Phil—that he was finally getting what he deserved. Then she made another comment about how they were about to climb on the gravy train at last.”
“That she said under her breath,” Tommy said. “We only heard it because we were standing behind them while we waited for our cars. Funny thing was Kathy Thompson didn’t seem all that happy. She looked at Carl, and Carl told her it was just a figure of speech, nothing to worry about.”
“Odd,” I said. “You do know that Andy Morrison fired Carl for ‘missing money’ from the practice. Sally was working for him at the time.”
“Interesting,” Tommy said.
“Yes. And then Sally isn’t hired according to Phil because she didn’t have the credentials she claimed. Sally told me it was her decision not to work with Dr. Brockton, not the other way around.”
“Well, she was certainly eager to do it that night,” Josh said.
It was almost midnight when our party broke up. Mason followed me home and spent the night. We didn’t get to do that very often, so we made the most of it.
* * * *
In the morning, Mason asked if I really intended to go to the reenactment.
“Yes. I won’t be on the battlefield. I’ll just offer the weary warriors iced tea and cookies. I’ll get to see that famous railroad tunnel everyone has mentioned—Danny’s version of living history.”
Lurleen arrived, and we decided we could all go together in my car. It was a two hour drive to the Battle of Tunnel Hill. When we arrived we saw a hundred reenactors already on the field. Some were on horses.
“This should be quite a show,” I said, as we walked toward the tent that housed Lurleen’s store along with another woman serving hot tea and biscuits. The woman greeted us warmly. Danny showed up as we were getting supplies arranged in the tent.
“I thought you had to guard Phil,” I said.
“He gave me a fifteen minute break to say hi to you. Everything went like clockwork yesterday, and I think he’s feeling good about that. Today is the day when the Confederates get to win. It’s a two-day affair, so both sides can be victorious. Phil’s even more pumped about today.”
We saw Phil walking across the field. Then we heard a stray shot or a car backfiring. Phil clutched his chest and fell to the ground. We all started running towards him when he jumped up and waved us off.
Danny reached him first. “Don’t ever do that again, man.”
The rest of us arrived seconds after Danny.
Phil looked at our faces. “Hey, lighten up. I think the whole mess last week was an accident. Had to be.”
“That isn’t what the police think, and that doesn’t explain the photo Kathy received showing Carl’s body,” Mason said.
“What are you talking about?” Phil asked.
Mason described the photo in detail.
I looked at Mason. Was he trying to make Phil nervous?
It did the trick.
Phil grew serious. “I can’t explain the photograph.”
“We know about your threat that Carl would never manage your father’s business,” Mason said, “from an eyewitness.”
“It’s that brother of yours, right, Ditie? He never liked me when we were dating. Yeah, everyone knows I hated Carl. He fed Dad lies about my involvement in the cheating scandal and then backed off when my father asked him to.”
“In return for something?” I asked.
“I’m sure my dad offered him a job or a reference in the future if he needed it.”
I nodded.
“You give yourself a good motive for murder,” Mason said.
“If I were going to kill Thompson, you think I’d blow up my own cannon to do it? Believe me, I’d find a better way. That cannon was priceless.”
Mason didn’t answer. He turned and walked off the field towards Lurleen’s store.
“You need to do something about that boyfriend of yours,” Phil said. “I think he’d be happy to see me brought up on charges.”
“He’s not working on your case in any official capacity,” I said, and then I followed Mason across the field. We found Lurleen chatting with Sally and drinking iced tea. Sally didn’t look happy to see me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were keeping the kids away.”
“The kids are with their adopted grandmother,” I said, “so I thought I’d see what was going on. People claim this is a special place with the original tunnel and the house Sherman used to plan his Atlanta campaign.
Sally did one of her quick turn arounds. “It’s great you could come. You should see the tunnel and the house—they’re awesome.” She looked at her Rolex. “I’m late for some pre-battle planning. I have to run.”
It would be a few hours before the reenactment started. Mason said he wanted to talk to the officers he knew. Lurleen didn’t need me, but she couldn’t leave the store, so I decided to go exploring on my own. Andy and Frank caught up with me as I was wandering from tent to tent.
“We didn’t expect to see you here,” Frank said. “God knows I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made a commitment to Phil.”
“Relax, Frank,” Andy said. “You had a good time yesterday, you know you did.”
“Your idea of a good time and mine are different. I just can’t imagine why Ditie would choose to come to another reenactment.”
I suddenly got the feeling I was crashing a private party.
“I for one, am glad you’re here,” Andy said. “I guess you know about the Clisby Austin house Sherman used as his headquarters.”
�
�And the tunnel,” I said. “Everyone tells me I must see the tunnel.”
“Absolutely,” Andy said. “It’s up the road. I’d go with you but we have to report for an artillery drill. You coming, Frank?”
“I’ll be along. I need something to eat. The whole thing doesn’t start for hours.”
He headed towards a stand that offered fried corn on the cob and barbecued chicken.
I continued to meander among the sutler tents. All the women I saw were in period costumes and quite willing to talk about the Civil War—from their perspective. One woman claimed the war was the result of outside agitators from Europe. I let that pass.
I saw Harper from a distance on a beautiful white stallion. She waved in my direction. I saw no sign of Ryan.
Phil and Danny joined me.
“Isn’t this fantastic?” Danny said. “Been to the tunnel yet? The track’s paved over now, but the walls are the original ones that surrounded the railroad. It was quite an achievement at the time.”
Phil continued where Danny left off. “Tunnel Hill was named for the Western and Atlanta Railroad tunnel built through the hillside in 1850. The fight in 1864 was over who could control the tunnel and the railroads going into and out of Atlanta.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” I said.
Phil pointed to the road behind us.
“It’s just up there. Don’t miss it.”
They took off in the direction of the battlefield, and I was once more on my own. It was a hot summer day, and the heat was oppressive. I stopped in one’s sutler’s tent and bought some sassafras root beer, which I drank before I headed up the road toward the tunnel.
The entrance was dark. The tunnel itself was much smaller than I expected. I wondered how a train could actually have traveled through the space. Trains must have been a lot smaller then.
Inside, it was wonderfully cool. I stopped for a moment to appreciate the drop in temperature and let my eyes adjust to the low light. It was easy to imagine how it must have looked at the time of the Civil War. Ground lights barely illuminated portions of the walls and paved ground.
I enjoyed the quiet, the dank smell, the darkness. It was a world in which time stood still. I walked slowly and stopped to feel the wall beside me. It was moist and roughhewn, chiseled more than one hundred fifty years ago. I tried to imagine Confederates and Union soldiers fighting over this tiny tunnel to control supplies headed to the South. Surely there were other routes. I was so lost in a sense of history, I didn’t hear footsteps behind me until they were close.
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