After decades of declining population, Madden was growing again, mostly because of a retail distribution center recently built on the outskirts of town. Many of the center’s jobs were filled by locals, but the high-tech and management positions attracted mostly newcomers. Many of them chose to live in Columbia, but a few had built large homes in and around Madden where the land was relatively cheap. While the locals were happy with the job opportunities and the influx of business for the local stores, they were wary of the fast-walking, smooth-talking newbies in town.
The split personality of Sarah’s little restaurant revealed itself after lunch, when it became the kind of environment its owner had envisioned. Teas and scones replaced pancakes and the meat-and-three lunches. Paper napkins were nixed for pressed linen ones favored by the afternoon ladies who often gathered there, sipping tea and sharing tidbits of information. It wasn’t gossip, one of them told Enid, when it was mostly true.
When Enid walked into Sarah’s, the transition was in progress. A few men were finishing lunch, but the scones were on the counter, displayed on doily-lined plates under glass domes.
Cade was sitting at one of the tables, sipping coffee. He stood when he saw her come in. They hugged, but Enid resisted a full embrace. “Have a seat,” he said, as he pulled out a chair for her.
A waitress showed up immediately, her blonde ponytail swinging side to side as she walked to their table. Enid ordered a glass of iced tea. “We got unsweet for you today, Miss Enid.”
“Thanks. I’ll also have a fried green tomato and bacon sandwich. No mayo.”
“We got some whole grain bread, too. Miss Sarah keeps it in the freezer ‘cause not too many people want it here other than you and some of the new folks. But it toasts up fine.”
Enid smiled. “Perfect.”
When the waitress was out of earshot, Cade threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve become a local. And you’re ruining a perfectly good diner.”
Enid made a face at him. “Very funny.”
Cade looked at the time on his phone. “I have to make this quick. Got an appointment in Columbia this afternoon.”
Enid wanted to ask if it was with Madelyn. “This won’t take long.”
Before she could continue, Cade asked, “This is about Police Chief Hart, isn’t it?”
“Before you get defensive, let me say something. You showed up, unannounced, in Madden, claiming that someone who is a close friend of mine may have killed his wife’s murderer, vigilante style. Did you stop to think what kind of position you’ve put me in?”
Cade cleared his throat, something he did when nervous. “Yes, of course. I mean, I didn’t intend to complicate your life, but I thought you needed to know what I was doing.” He reached out and put his hand on top of hers. “I still care about you, you know, as a friend. We had some good years together.” He withdrew his hand. “What was I supposed to do? Say nothing and snoop around in your boyfriend’s life without telling you?”
Enid laughed, while Cade looked at her with a surprised look on his face. “I’m sorry, it’s just that . . .” The smile left her face. “Never mind, this conversation feels all too familiar, just a different subject.” This time, Enid put her hand on Cade’s. “I realize you’re in an awkward situation too. But now, we’ve got to figure this out, for all our sakes. Mine, yours, and Josh’s. No matter what you think you know about him, or how much he may have wanted to kill the man who shot his wife, he wouldn’t have. He’s not like that. And if you don’t tell him about your investigation, I will.”
“You’ve always been hardheaded. It’s a trait that’s both admirable and frustrating. So, I assume you want to be the one to tell him.”
Enid jerked her hand away.
Cade reached into his leather portfolio and pulled out a business card. “After you’ve talked with him, give him my card and ask him if he’d be willing to talk with me. On the record, of course.” He stood up. “I gotta go.”
CHAPTER 6
After a good night’s sleep, Enid no longer dreaded having a conversation with Josh. She pushed the nagging doubts aside, assuring herself that her defense of Josh was warranted. But did she really know him? Every time she brought up his wife and Josh’s past, he was evasive.
She Googled Joshua Hart and found it to be a fairly common name. When she added “wife’s murder” to the search, several articles appeared. The earlier ones focused on the tragedy of Serena Hart trying to help Native Americans and then being killed by one. Later articles mentioned the suspect was killed after being released on a legal technicality. Josh was questioned by the police, but no charges were ever filed.
She closed her laptop and switched her attention to another reason she needed to talk to Josh. While he wasn’t involved in investigating the bones found at the inn, he might be able to give her an update. After a cup of jasmine tea and a honey-drizzled English muffin, she dressed and drove to the Madden police station.
Pete, the young police officer at the front desk, greeted her. “Hello, Ms. Blackwell. How are you today?”
“I’m doing well. Is Josh here?”
“Yes, you can go on in. I know he’ll want to see you.” Pete grinned.
Enid felt her stomach muscles tense when she walked into Josh’s office and saw him smiling at her.
“Hey, gorgeous. What a nice surprise.” They had agreed on no touching, hugging, or other intimate gestures while in the police station or newspaper office. It was hard enough for them to keep boundaries around their respective duties without adding further complications. “Uh oh. You’ve got your reporter face on. What’s up?”
“I’d like to get an update on the bones found at the inn.” She decided not to mention Cade’s investigation until after she got the information she needed.
Josh sat up in his chair. “As far as I know, they don’t have any solid information yet. The county coroner took the bones, and Boogie and his men processed the crime scene for anything obvious. They called in SLED to do a more detailed crime scene investigation.” SLED, the State Law Enforcement Division, was routinely called in to assist local agencies, like Sheriff Bernard Waters’ office in Bowman County. Locally, the sheriff was known as “Boogie,” a nickname given him for his shag dancing at Myrtle Beach’s Society of Stranders conference every year. He routinely won the local dance contests, and now in his sixties, he could still put the younger shaggers to shame. When Josh first came to Madden, Boogie had taken Josh under his wing and acclimated him to small-town policing and politics. The rumor around town was that Boogie would retire soon, and Josh would run for sheriff.
“How long will it take to get the results? I assume they’ll do a DNA test.”
Josh nodded. “If we were in Richland County, the results would be quicker. They have a forensic anthropologist on staff. Our county crime lab is much smaller, so we’ll have to depend on SLED for our crime scene work. Or we’ll have to get Richland County to step in and help. The DNA results will be run against the FBI and NamUs databases. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit.”
“What if you don’t?”
“The sheriff’s office is looking into missing persons also. The problem is, until we get a better idea of how old those bones are, we can’t narrow the timeframe. Right now, the search parameters are too broad.”
“I know you often help Sheriff Waters. Are you assisting him on this one?”
“He hasn’t asked for help yet, but one of his female deputies is out on maternity leave, and the ex-Gamecock football player he recently hired fell off a ladder cleaning his house gutters. He’s out for a while. Being down two deputies, I expect to get a call from Boogie any day.”
“Thanks. I’ll check with you again in a few days.” Enid hated being so formal with Josh, but they were still trying to figure out how the local police chief and the senior reporter for the local newspaper could work together and protect sources without stepping over boundaries of professionalism and confidentiality.
“Yes, ma’am.
I’ll be glad to tell you what I can.”
“Do you have a minute? There’s one more thing I need to discuss with you.”
Josh leaned back in his chair. “Sure.”
Enid pulled Cade’s business card from the ever-present leather tote. “Here,” she said, handing the card to Josh.
He took the business card and studied it, reading aloud. “Cade Blackwell. Reporter. Associated Press.” Josh looked up at Enid. “Ah, the infamous ex-husband.”
“You probably knew he was in town.” No one came into town without Josh knowing about it. Madden was still small enough that a stranger stood out among the locals and word spread fast.
“Well . . .” Josh hesitated. “Yes, I guess I heard a reporter was staying at the inn, but I didn’t know it was your ex.”
“I’d like for you to call him as soon as you can.”
“Because . . .?”
“Because he’s investigating you.”
Josh put his hands behind his head and rocked back and forth in the old wooden banker’s chair. “Gee, I guess I should be flattered. It’s my understanding Cade Blackwell only casts bait for the big ones.”
Enid played with the notepad in her lap, bending and unbending the corner of the paper. “I don’t think this is a joking matter. He’s . . .” She stopped to think about what she could or shouldn’t say. “He’s looking into a police vigilante killing in New Mexico. Your name came up.”
The crease on Josh’s forehead deepened. “Is that all you can say?”
Enid shifted in her seat. “That’s about all I know.” She leaned back and squared her shoulders. “I hope you understand what an awkward position I’m in. Please don’t make it any harder for me. I’m trying to do what’s right for both of you. Cade knows I’m talking to you.”
Josh stood up abruptly. “Well, thanks for that. I’ll give him a call.”
Enid remained seated. “I asked you once about your wife’s murder, and you were vague about what happened. I’d like to know more.”
Josh walked to his office door and stood by it. “So that’s what this is all about. I think we need to keep our boundaries on this subject. I said I’d call Cade, and I will.”
As Enid was leaving Josh’s office, she turned to him. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled the sketch the artist had done of the old woman who had come to see her at the newspaper office. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Josh took the drawing from her and studied it. “No, I can’t say that I do. Is she local?”
“I have no idea. She just came to see me, and I’m trying to figure out who she is.”
“Didn’t you ask her?”
“I did, but she never told me.”
Josh handed the sketch back to Enid. “Sorry I can’t help you.”
As Enid left Cade’s office, Pete called out. “Bye now, Ms. Blackwell. Always good to see you.”
CHAPTER 7
Enid logged onto the website for NamUs, the National Institute of Justice’s National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. It was a national centralized repository and resource center for missing persons and unidentified remains. She put in search parameters for anyone missing in the surrounding areas during the last twenty years. The bones could be older, but at least it was a place to start.
After inputting the necessary information, her efforts produced no results of missing persons in Bowman County, but there were twenty-three people in the surrounding counties and more than a hundred statewide over the last two decades. Since she didn’t know the sex or race of the bones, she couldn’t narrow the search by either. Rather than spend more time guessing, she closed her laptop. Once she got more information, she would try again.
What she needed was a local historian, someone whose memory rivaled NamUs. She glanced at the time on her phone. It was nearly lunchtime, so she went to the kitchen of her small cottage and checked the refrigerator. A small plastic container of hummus sat on the top shelf with a half bottle of water. On the next shelf down was a white Styrofoam container. She opened it and an unrecognizable glob of something with green on it emitted an onerous smell. “Ugh,” she said aloud. After dumping the container in the trash, she pulled the car keys from her tote.
A short drive later, she parked in front of the Blackwell Center where she had visited Lindy at the art studio. When she rang the doorbell, Roscoe greeted her. “Ah, Ms. Blackwell. A pleasure to see you again. Please come in.”
Enid followed Roscoe into the large entrance foyer. A large bouquet of fresh flowers was sitting on a round mahogany table. The smell was sweet but overpowering.
“Is there anyone here today from the Madden Historical Society?” She stepped back, away from the flowers.
Roscoe clapped his hands silently. “Oh, yes. Miss Murray is down the hall. Shall I accompany you to her office?”
“Yes, thanks.” Enid followed Roscoe, being careful not to slip on the freshly waxed floors.
Roscoe tapped on the closed door. “Miss Murray, are you there? You have a visitor.” Roscoe turned to Enid and produced a smile that took up his entire face. “You’re just going to love her. She’s so full of it.” He laughed, but after Enid didn’t respond, he added, “Information, I mean. You know, she’s just full of information.”
The door opened, and a stooped, grey-haired woman stood with the aid of a wooden cane. “Yes?” She eyed Enid from head to toe.
Roscoe waved toward Enid. “Miss Murray, this is Ms. Enid Blackwell. Her family—”
Miss Murray interrupted. “Yes, I know Ms. Blackwell.” She stepped aside slowly. “Come in.” Looking at Roscoe, she added, “Thank you.”
“Oh, yes ma’am. Anytime.” He turned to Enid. “Bye now.”
Miss Murray closed the office door and slowly made her way to a large chair covered with faded floral chintz and stuffed to point of bursting. The arms were covered by crocheted doilies.
After Miss Murray got settled in the chair, Enid sat in the wooden Windsor chair across from her. “Thank you for seeing me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Instead of responding, Miss Murray just stared at Enid.
“I can come back later, if—”
“Not at all, dear.” Miss Murray smiled. “I’ve known of you and your work since you got here. Anytime we get newcomers in town, the buzz intensifies, if you know what I mean. I love small towns, but we do tend to amplify everything.” She laughed. “Probably because we’re all a bit bored and self-consumed.” She paused. “Or perhaps I’m just talking about myself.” She crossed her legs at the ankles, the way women were trained to do in earlier times when they wore mostly dresses and skirts. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I’m doing some research on missing persons in the area. I’ve searched the online registry, but of course it only contains people who are reported missing. I would imagine that not everyone gets reported.”
“You mean poor or black people.”
Miss Murray’s bluntness was both refreshing and disconcerting. “Well, yes,” Enid said.
“This is about the bones found at the inn, isn’t it?”
“Do you know something about them?”
Miss Murray uncrossed her legs and held her hands in her lap. “I don’t know anything.”
“But do you have any thoughts or suspicions you can share with me?”
Miss Murray eyed Enid again. “You’re no fool, are you, Ms. Blackwell?”
“Sometimes I feel foolish, but I hope I’m not a fool. Why do you ask?”
“We have a lot of fools in and around these parts, as I’m sure there are everywhere. With enough power and money, even fools are deemed to be normal.”
“Are you talking about someone in particular?” Enid asked.
“As I said, I don’t know anything, but if I were you, I’d look at the inn’s history. You know, who lived there and worked there. The workers, in particular, are the sort that wouldn’t have the connections needed to do an extensive search, should someone just up and di
sappear, you know.”
Enid picked up her tote and fished in it for a business card. “Well, thank you for your time. If you think of anything, please give me a call.” She handed the card to Miss Murray, who took it without glancing at it.
“Fools eventually reveal themselves. Take care of yourself, Ms. Blackwell. I hope you find who you’re looking for.”
CHAPTER 8
Theo Linard managed the Glitter Lake Inn with an efficiency of a five-star kitchen, mostly because he had been a chef in a Boston, Michelin-rated restaurant for years. The inn had never had problems filling reservations, but since Theo had taken over its operation, it stayed booked nearly a year out. Instead of offering only the usual breakfast and afternoon wine to guests, Theo served a different soup and homemade breads for lunch each day and opened the dining room to visitors for the mid-day meal. His take-out soups were so popular with locals that the inn consistently showed a profit for the first time in decades.
Enid drove up the long driveway to the old mansion, admiring its beauty. The previous owner had done extensive renovations throughout but had done nothing to the kitchen. Since these improvements were overdue, Theo had asked Jack to upgrade the appliances, wiring, and plumbing. A few construction workers milled around in the front yard. One was smoking a cigarette, and another was gulping a Mountain Dew. Enid smiled when she recalled the renovations she and Cade had done to their home in Charlotte, North Carolina, years before their divorce. One finish carpenter stood out from all the rest, because he was able to work magic with wood. He could recreate any molding or fit any two pieces of wood together seamlessly. Later, he confessed to Enid that he was an alcoholic, and the Mountain Dew he seemed to always have nearby was half filled with vodka. When he began going to AA meetings, his work deteriorated, and he seemed unable to do the intricate work any longer.
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