by Patricia Fry
She nodded.
“So where did the name Tyrone come from?” Savannah asked. “It’s kind of an obscure name.”
Gail shrugged. “I never asked.” She explained, “He was my half brother—my father’s son from a previous marriage.”
Savannah patted Gail’s shoulder. “Listen, I’d better get back to my kiddos. Adele, are you going to be here for a bit?”
“Yeah, I can stay.”
“I don’t think I want to do anymore cleaning today,” Gail said, her voice quivering.
“Fine,” Adele agreed. “You just sit down there or lie down and take a nap if you want to. I’ll finish cleaning out Skipper’s closets. You want to donate all of this, don’t you?” she asked. “You don’t want to keep any of it?”
“No. Throw it all away.” When Gail saw the look on Savannah’s face, she said, “What? What are you thinking?”
“I just wonder if it…ah…wouldn’t be a good idea for you to leave this room be for now. Walk away. Maybe tackle the linen closet and bathroom today, or your parents’ room.” When the others stared at her, she fabricated an excuse, “You know, until you’re in a better frame of mind to…um…”
“I think she’s right,” Adele said. “Come on, Gail, there’s plenty of work to do. Let’s come back here when you’re feeling better about things, shall we?”
“Good idea,” Gail said, eagerly. “Thanks, Savannah.”
Savannah nodded and waved as she left the old house. I’d better tell Craig about what we found and where, before any of Tyrone’s things are tossed into the trash. There might be more clues in his room, leading to what happened to Ronnie Griffith.
She was disappointed when her call to Craig went to voicemail. She left him a message.
****
“So how did it go at Gail’s this morning?” Gladys asked over lunch.
“Okay,” Savannah said. “It’s quite a job and very emotional for Gail to go through all that stuff.”
“I can imagine. How’s she holding up?”
“She had a meltdown while I was there. Hopefully, she can get through this and go on with her life. I think this purging is necessary to help her move on.”
“So does she have some lovely family heirlooms?” Gladys asked. When Savannah didn’t respond, she said, “Vannie, are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mom. Yes, there’s just something niggling at me and I haven’t quite figured out what it is. Family heirlooms? Yes, I think so. She found an exquisite set of china and I encouraged her to keep it.” She chuckled. “She wanted to toss out a cast iron skillet and I told her how useful they can be for certain types of cooking.”
“Absolutely,” Gladys agreed. “They aren’t the prettiest pan in the pantry, but when you need one, you need one.”
“We found something that belonged to her boyfriend, Ronnie. Her brother, Ty…” Savannah sat up straight. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Excuse me, Mom. I have to make a phone call.”
Into the phone, she said, “Hi, Iris. Hey, what did that ghost tell Rochelle?”
“Huh?” Iris asked, caught off guard.
“The woman spirit. She talked about someone—what was his name? She gave Rochelle a name. Do you remember what it was?”
“Of course. I remember everything about that night. She mentioned someone named Abe.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said. “That isn’t the one I’m thinking of, though. Wasn’t there another name?”
“Skipper,” Iris said. “Yes, it was Skipper. I remember that because I thought she was talking about a dog or a ship’s captain. Don’t you call them Skipper?”
“Yes,” Savannah said, excitedly, “and sometimes you use it as a nickname for a little boy.”
“Huh?”
“Gotta go. Thanks. I have to try to call your husband again.”
“Wait, Savannah,” Iris said, “he’s right here.”
“In the middle of the day?” Savannah asked.
“Well, we’re at the inn. Mattie fixed tamale pie for lunch, and he’s not going to miss out on her tamale pie.”
Savannah chuckled. She asked, “He’s not in the middle of eating, is he?”
“No, he’s finished and getting ready to take care of a little honey-do for me.”
“Would you have him call me? It’s pretty important.”
“Here, I’ll let you talk to him now, if you want.”
“Hi, honey, what’s up?” Craig asked.
“You sound chipper. Must have been the tamale pie.”
“Yes, a piece of Mattie’s pie makes me happy, whether it’s tamale, peach, lemon…” He laughed at his own joke, then asked, “So what’s going on?”
“Well, I found something today.”
“Something that was lost?”
“Yeah, for about forty years.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed. “You’re talking about the case. What did you find?”
“Actually a couple of things that might be important. Oh, Craig, you’re not going to believe this.”
“What, Savannah? I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry, Craig. I’ve been helping Gail Allen go through the things in the house and today I found Ronnie Griffith’s St. Christopher medal in one of Gail’s brother’s jacket pockets.” When Craig didn’t respond right away, she asked, “Craig, did you hear me?”
“Yeah. How do you know that?”
“Gail said she gave it to Ronnie. She identified it, then she broke down—you know, emotionally. I think she believes her brother had something to do with Ronnie’s disappearance. Maybe she always has suspected him; I don’t know. She didn’t talk to me about it. But she sure was upset. Also, Craig, she calls her brother Skipper. His name’s Tyrone, but the family calls him Skipper.”
“Yeah, and I need to know that because?” Craig prompted.
“Because, well, this might not mean much to you, but I have to tell you anyway. Remember the night Iris, Rochelle, and I did the séance thing at your house? You were out of town.”
“Yeah, I knew about that.”
“Well, the woman Rochelle talked to—the spirit woman—she said the name Skipper. I can’t remember just what Rochelle said, but that name came up. I can ask Rochelle if she recalls what the woman said about Skipper. Craig, that woman ghost might know what happened to Ronnie Griffith.”
“Hmmm,” Craig said. “Yeah, talk to Rochelle. I’d like to hear what she thinks she heard before I go ghost-hunting.”
“I will, right after I put the kids down for a nap. But Craig, there’s one more thing.”
“What? I hope it’s more down to earth; I can’t take much of that angel-dust stuff.”
She chuckled. “I’m not sure I can promise you that. Craig, remember the cat fur you found in the evidence box?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, I found a way to identify it.”
“Are you talking DNA again?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“Savannah…” Craig started.
“Wait—let me explain. Ronnie Griffith was quite artistic, and he made some things for Gail. One of them was a picture of a cat made out of his cat’s fur.”
Craig paused before saying, “Well, I’ll be. Do you suppose we could try to match the fur we got from Tyrone’s clothes?”
“Anything’s possible. Both samples are the same age, so there wouldn’t be a question of comparing fur from a living cat to fur from a cat that lived forty years ago. If you’re interested, I’ll get it for you, but you have to promise to give it back to Gail. It means an awful lot to her.”
“Sure, but do you think her life will be made better if she learns that her brother, and maybe her father, killed her lover?”
It was Savannah’s turn to be speechless. Finally she said, “I would think that any sort of closure would be of value to her. But yeah, that would certainly be a shocking discovery. You’d feel a horrible sense of betrayal.”
“Get that cat fur, Savannah. And see what Rochelle
can remember. Call me back.”
Chapter 8
After putting the children down for their nap, Savannah placed a call to Rochelle. Darn, voicemail. “Hi, Rochelle. It’s Savannah. Would you call me when you get a chance? It’s kind of important. Thanks.” She ended the call and stared down at her phone, then had a thought: Violet...Abe. I wonder if Gail or Adele knows either of those names. She placed another call. “Hi, Adele. Are you still at Gail’s?”
“No. I sent her to bed down in her room and came home. She’s awfully torn up. I knew this would be hard for her, but it breaks my heart to see her so upset.”
Savannah sighed softly. “She’s never had closure. Without closure, I guess there’s still hope. And the things she’s finding in the house may be shattering her hope.” She asked, “So did you two do any more cleaning out after I left?”
“Not much. I got her out of her brother’s room and we went back to the kitchen. I took some of the things she was going to throw out.”
“Good,” Savannah said.
“So how are you?” Adele asked.
“Good. Hey, I have a question. I didn’t want to upset Gail any more than she already is, and I thought you might know.”
“What?” Adele asked suspiciously.
“Who are Violet and Abe?” She thought she heard Adele gasp. “Do you know?”
Finally, Adele asked, “Why?”
“Um…well, the names came up the other day and I was just wondering…do you know who they are or were?”
“Yes,” Adele said. “They were Gail’s parents.”
It was Savannah’s turn to be surprised. “Oh really? And they’re both deceased?”
“Yes, Violet was my mother’s sister. They were close.”
“What about Abe? Did Violet have any reason to be afraid of him?”
After some hesitation, Adele said, “Everyone was afraid of the Allen men. Uncle Abe was born mad at the world and he passed that along to his son. Skipper wasn’t Aunt Violet’s son. My uncle’s first wife died, and he brought the boy into the marriage. What my aunt saw in that man I’ll never know. He was older than she was and, I guess, seemed more sophisticated than the college men she’d been dating.”
“How did they meet?” Savannah asked.
“As I understand it, Abe was traveling through the western states looking for a business to invest in. My aunt was working part time for a local furniture store. Her boss was having health problems and thinking about retiring, so Abe bought the business and the two of them were married shortly after.”
“So your uncle was kind of hard to get along with?”
“Let’s say he wasn’t what you’d call friendly and cordial. As a child, I used to be afraid to go over there because he was so…”
“Mean?” Savannah suggested.
“Yeah, kind of. And loud, and he had no sense of humor.”
“How much older than Gail was her brother?”
“Gosh, about eight or nine years, as I recall. They never had much of a relationship, but he sure made it his business to keep her from having fun. Maybe Uncle Abe put him up to it; I don’t know. But once she hit twelve or thirteen, he hardly gave her any space. Skipper was always on her case about something. And she was always getting into trouble for nothing more serious than talking to a boy after school or bringing a stray cat home. She only did that once.” Adele’s voice dropped. “It did not go well for the poor cat.”
Savannah cringed. “It’s so nice that she had you as a friend.”
“Yes, life has been tough for Gail on many levels, and then the love of her young life goes and disappears. That put her over the edge. She has never recovered. But, Savannah, I think what we’re doing now—helping her to purge and encouraging her to fix up the old place and move into it, and especially your friendship—is making a huge difference for her. Sure, today was difficult. But I think we’re taking her on a positive healing path.” Her voice revealing her uncertainty, she added, “At least I hope so.”
“Oh, Adele, I have a call coming in that I’ve been waiting for. You’ve been very helpful. Thank you so much. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Certainly. Goodbye, Savannah.”
“Hi, Rochelle. Thank you for returning my call. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“No, I was just delivering some jewelry. I have an exciting new boutique owner who’s going to display my jewelry. It’s a lovely place with a great clientele. This is all so validating!”
“Super, Rochelle. Well, you do fabulous work; I’m glad you’re being recognized for it.”
“Thank you. Now, what’s on your beautiful mind this afternoon?”
“Are you home?”
“At the studio, hiding out in the back with a sandwich—late lunch.”
“Oh, okay. Well, the reason I called is that there’s a lot going on with the Ronnie Griffith case. Craig has agreed to look into that old case and, in fact, he might re-open it.”
“You have new information?”
“Not exactly, but we’re maybe on the brink of understanding some old evidence. I wonder if you can remember what Violet said about Skipper during the…you know, what we did the other night.”
“What Violet said about Skipper?” Rochelle repeated, more slowly.
“Yes, I remember the name Skipper coming up, but I don’t remember what was said. Do you?”
“Let me think for a moment, Savannah.” Shortly, Rochelle said, “I’m pretty sure she said
‘find Skipper and you’ll find Ronnie’ or something like that. Does that sound familiar?”
“Yes, vaguely. I’ll run it by Iris to see what she remembers. But yeah, it was something like that. And you thought Violet was afraid of someone named Abe. Rochelle, Iris and I have found Violet’s and Abe’s daughter. Skipper, we believe, is or was her half brother.”
“Oh?” Rochelle said.
“Yes, she was in love with Ronnie Griffith.”
“Their daughter was? Really?”
“Yes. Her name’s Gail Allen. She lives in a yucky, dank basement room in a once-nice home that has been neglected for a long time. Iris and I, and Gail’s cousin are helping her clean the place out and get some repairs done so she can move in and maybe have a more pleasant life.”
“I sense that the process is a bit difficult for her,” Rochelle said.
“Bingo, girlfriend. Very difficult. As she goes through the stuff in the house, she’s reliving times that, I guess, were less than pleasant the first time around—know what I mean?”
“Yes.” Rochelle was quiet, then said, “I get that you found something rather significant. Savannah, follow it through—stay on track.” She went silent again before saying, “I see a rainbow at the end of the trail. I don’t know how it can be, but there it is.”
“Wow!” Savannah said. “That sounds great. Hey, thank you for that extra-special bonus bit—I mean about the rainbow. If you conjure up anything else relevant, especially if it’s positive, would you let us know?”
Rochelle laughed. “Sure will. And, Savannah, now that you have more information, you might want to do another reading with Iris’s spirit guest. I sense that she’s eager to leave, but can’t until things are resolved for someone she loves.” Rochelle added, with a hint of surprise in her voice, “I guess that’s her daughter.”
“So you think once we know what happened to Ronnie, Violet can move on and out of Iris’s house? How did she end up there, anyway?”
Rochelle thought for a moment. “Well, that’s one of the last places Ronnie Griffith was seen, right? He was a helper to the guys who built that house.”
“Yes, that’s my understanding.”
“And now there’s your connection to Gail. Spirits may move around some, depending on where the open channels are. You said Craig’s involved? Iris, too?”
“Yes. So you think Violet believes Iris is an open channel? That would thrill her.”
“Yes, maybe Iris and you.”
“Me?” Sava
nnah shrieked. “I doubt that.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Savannah.”
“Hey, I’m not, but I sure as heck don’t have or even want to have any of that woo-woo stuff flowing through my veins. You and Iris can keep that to yourself. Leave me out of it—well, on the fringes of it.”
When Rochelle stopped laughing, she said, “Okay, then. Hey, hug the kids for me. Hope to see you soon.”
“You, too. Bye.”
Before she could make another call, her phone chimed. “Hi, Craig. I was just going to call you. Have you learned anything?”
“Yes, about that St. Christopher you found. I just remembered that there’s a picture in the evidence box of Ronnie Griffith wearing one.”
Savannah shivered. “I’m getting goose bumps.” She said cautiously, “Hey, Craig, I know you’re not into the supernatural stuff, but I found out something about the people that came up in the séance. Violet, the gal Rochelle spoke to, said she was afraid of someone named Abe. She also mentioned Skipper. She indicated that if we found Skipper we’d find Ronnie. Turns out Abe was Violet’s husband and Skipper was Tyrone, Abe’s son by a previous marriage.”
Craig coughed and cleared his throat. “You’re saying these people are or were real?”
“Yes, Violet and Abe were Gail’s parents. Skipper was or is Gail’s half brother.”
“You knew this already or what?”
“No. The names came up in the reading, or whatever you call it,” Savannah explained.
“I don’t call it anything,” Craig grumped, “but go on…”
Savannah chuckled. “Well, we just found out today, from Gail’s cousin, who the people
in the reading…or séance were. Yes, they were real people and, I guess, they had a reason to hurt Ronnie.”
“What reason?” he asked.
“According to a family member, Gail’s father and brother hated Ronnie and did not want her dating him.”
“And you think that’s a motive for murder?”
“Don’t you? Craig, from what I’ve been told, these were angry, angry men. But of course, we don’t actually know that Ronnie was murdered.”
“No, but what are the chances that…” Craig said. “…I mean, after all of these years?”