“No, I’m sure you haven’t. In fact, your record is stellar.” Cade paused. “With this one exception.”
Josh stiffened. “And what’s that?”
“I got an anonymous tip one day that a former undercover agent in New Mexico had killed an unarmed man. Both men, the shooter and the victim, were Native American, so I decided to ignore it. The story, although intriguing, didn’t fit the pattern for my articles.”
“And besides, red men killing each other won’t sell as many papers as white cops killing black thugs.” Josh immediately regretted his own tone. He believed in the free press and had always cooperated to the extent that he could share information. But news coverage about Native Americans was mostly negative. The sad truth was his people were forgotten, often abused, and living in abject poverty, especially those still on the reservations.
“I didn’t mean to offend. I was merely saying I didn’t jump on this story immediately. And I didn’t know you were involved or that you were seeing Enid, not until sometime later.”
“So why did you decide to pursue this story?”
Cade put his pen down and looked at Josh. “Do you know what made me fall in love with Enid when we first met?”
Josh shifted his weight. This conversation with not going the way he had envisioned. “No,” he said, shaking his head. Enid had shared very little with him about her former spouse.
“When we met in journalism school, we were both working on the campus newsletter, but we both freelanced for a local paper as well. Enid had a nose for finding a good story. That was impressive enough. But she also managed to find humanity in everything she wrote. If it was about a local robbery, she had to learn more about the perp’s life and why he did it.”
Josh smiled. “Yes, that’s Enid. But what does she have to do with this tip you got?”
Cade picked up his pen again, poised to write. “This is where it gets interesting. While the man that called me talked about a cop going rogue, what I heard was really a great love story. A cop’s wife tried to help Native American women with their legal issues, and the spouse of one of her clients killed her in a rage because she interfered in their personal business. But due to a legal technicality, the man got off. The man who shot the cop’s wife in cold blood became a free man.”
“The system isn’t without its flaws.”
“But that’s not the story, is it?”
“So what is the story, in your opinion?” Josh asked.
“The cop allegedly killed his wife’s killer. Was it a primal act of rage and revenge because the system failed? Or a poignant act of love? Or both?”
“You’re sure it was an intentional shooting, like an act of . . .” Josh decided not to characterize the incident for Cade.
“There were no witnesses. Only hearsay and speculation.”
“So how did this tipster know what happened?”
“It was a confidential tip. I can’t discuss those details, as it might identify him.”
“Sounds like the tipster may have been taking revenge also. Could be a hoax.” Dozens of names went through Josh’s head—people who would like to see him punished for sending them to jail.
“Maybe. But the guy said the cop resigned and left New Mexico, landed in a small town in South Carolina as a police chief.”
“And then that cop became involved with your ex-wife.” The cliché of “cutting the tension with a knife” popped into Josh’s mind. “Because of my wife’s murder, my resignation and leaving the state was reported in the Albuquerque Journal, so it wasn’t a secret. And I’d be pretty easy to track here.”
“Are you admitting the undercover policeman was you?” Cade reached over and poured himself a cup of coffee. “This inn has the best coffee.” He added cream and stirred slowly.
Finally, Josh broke the silence. “What is it you want from me?”
“I’d just like to hear your side of the story.”
Josh sat his coffee cup on the tray. “Just write a fair and balanced article—and be sure you get your facts straight. Isn’t that what they teach you to do?”
Cade closed his notepad and put it in his backpack. “Much to my regret, Enid and I are history, at least as a couple. That doesn’t mean I don’t still love her and want her to be safe.”
Josh smiled. “She can take care of herself. I found that out pretty quickly.”
“Enid takes things seriously. Meaning, she’s as committed to her relationships as she is to her job. Just remember that and don’t hurt her or drag her into anything illegal, like lying for you.” Cade paused. “Our marriage failed because I failed her. I will continue to investigate this story, and if and when you’re ready to talk to me about it, you’ve got my cell number there on my business card. Call anytime. In the meantime, if I think Enid is in any danger because of you or your past, whatever that may be, don’t think I won’t hesitate to do whatever I can to bring you down.”
Josh watched Cade walk out of the library, his stride long, his shoulders squared. Josh pushed an errant strand of hair from his eyes. A good haircut would solve that problem. But there was no quick fix for the rest of this mess.
CHAPTER 11
Enid sat in her office and logged onto the county library’s NewsBank database. Since almost all articles were stored digitally now, accessing historical information about the missing woman and the resulting trial of her boyfriend would be relatively easy.
In about fifteen minutes, Enid had found the few scant articles related to this incident. Most of them focused more on the unusual nature of trying someone for murder without a body than it did on other details. She printed copies of the articles and put them in her folder. While it was fresh on her mind, she jotted some notes for herself. One thing she had learned was that the woman, Angelina Peterson, had been dating a man named Reggie Long for more than a year. According to the victim’s brother, when the boyfriend found out she was pregnant, he got angry and claimed he wasn’t the father. A few weeks later, the woman was reported missing by her brother in Bowman County. Sheriff Boogie Waters led the investigation.
After changing the search parameters and trying again, Enid found another article. Sheriff Waters was hailed as a “hero” for the boyfriend’s quick arrest. It was an “ironclad” case, according to the sheriff because they had physical evidence to tie the man to the missing woman, who was presumed dead.
The photo of the missing woman’s boyfriend revealed a young man who looked scared. He had repeatedly claimed he had nothing to do with the woman’s disappearance and knew nothing about her being pregnant. His court-appointed attorney, Alonso Keen, declared that Sheriff Bernard Waters had “rushed to judgment” for the sake of headlines—and his upcoming re-election bid. Even though a black man was accused of killing his white girlfriend, racial tension was not mentioned but lurked between the lines.
Enid put her notes away. Perhaps it had happened exactly as the sheriff had claimed. Enid reminded herself that this case might not have anything to do with the bones found at the inn. On the other hand, even if it proved to have no connection to the bones, it would make an interesting follow-up article. People’s perceptions changed, especially after ten years. It would be interesting to revisit the boyfriend’s trial and conviction.
The first step was to talk to the boyfriend’s attorney. In South Carolina, reporters are not allowed to interview prisoners, but she could do some digging around on him. Once she had more information, she wanted to talk to Sheriff Boogie Waters.
◆◆◆
After leaving Columbia, Enid called Jack to check in. The grandson of one of Madden’s prominent citizens, Mrs. Hathaway, had been awarded a scholarship to Clemson to study livestock maintenance. The Hathaway Farm had been modeled after their family’s estate in Lancashire County, England. The family represented old money and, along with the Jensen family, were considered Madden royalty. Enid agreed to interview Mrs. Hathaway and to duly uphold the family’s standing in the community.
The Madd
en Historical Society was Enid’s next stop, and about thirty minutes later, she parked at its front door. There were no parking meters in Madden, at least not yet. The town council had considered it, but the older members insisted there was no need to change anything.
Inside, Enid was greeted by Roscoe. “Why, Ms. Blackwell. What a pleasant surprise. How can I assist you today?” He pushed his black-framed, retro-styled glasses up on his nose, his smile consuming his face.
“Do you know if Miss Murray is in today?”
Roscoe made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the hallway. “She certainly is. Right down there in her office. And I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you. Have a nice day.”
The door was closed, so Enid knocked lightly. “Miss Murray, it’s Enid Blackwell. Do you have a minute?”
Hearing no sound inside, Enid decided Roscoe had been mistaken and that Miss Murray had stepped out. As she turned to leave, the hinges on the heavy door squeaked loudly. “Please come in. I was just pouring tea. Will you join me?”
“I’d love to.” Enid followed Miss Murray into her office. Between two chairs, a tray held a teapot, two cups and saucers, cream, sugar cubes, and a small plate of butter cookies. “Were you expecting someone? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, no, my dear. I just think it’s depressing to put out only one place for tea, so I always add an extra. Sometimes I get lucky, like today, and get an actual visitor.” Miss Murray poured cream in the cups before asking Enid, “You do take cream, I assume?”
While Enid did not, she didn’t want to spoil her host’s mood. “That’s fine. Thanks.”
After a few minutes of chatting about the weather, the Hathaway Farm, and other town news, Enid pulled out the copies of the articles she had printed from the State’s archives. “Are you familiar with this trial?”
Miss Murray put on the half-frame reading glasses that hung around her neck. “Ah, yes. Such a tragedy.”
“Are you referring to the trial? Or the victim?”
Miss Murray chuckled and removed her eyeglasses, letting them dangle from her neck again. “I like the way you think. Actually, the whole mess was a tragedy.”
“Did you know either the victim or her boyfriend?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m ashamed to say I know very few of our younger citizens, especially the non-white ones. My grandson says I live in a bubble. He works in the Research Triangle in Cary, North Carolina. Some kind of biochemical scientist. His husband is a Vietnamese photographer.” Miss Murray shook her head. “He says I have a lot of catching up to do.”
Enid weighed her next words carefully. “You are one of Madden’s most respected citizens and the keeper of its history. The telling of that history is often influenced by many factors, like money, power—”
Before she could finish Miss Murray interrupted. “My dear, I’m not a fool. I might be an old white woman in a small Southern town, but I’m not cut off from reality, no matter what my grandson thinks. The truth is often blurred by both well-meaning and nefarious individuals. That’s why you have a job, isn’t it? To determine the truth as best you can.”
Enid smiled. “Yes, it is. Then let me rephrase my question. Do you think this man killed his girlfriend?”
“Or was he framed? Isn’t that your real question?”
“Perhaps. What do you know about Sheriff Boogie Waters?” Enid asked.
Miss Murray leaned back in her chair and briefly closed her eyes. “I dated Bernard Waters once, you know. He asked me to go to a movie in Columbia. We shared popcorn and then had dinner at Mary’s Supper Club. It was a nice place over on Two Notch Road, but it’s closed now.” She opened her eyes again. “I thought we had a pretty good time, but he never called me again. Later, I found out he told someone I was boring. It crushed me, at the time.” She shrugged. “Now, not so much.” Miss Murray closed her eyes again, as if replaying a movie only she could see.
Enid waited for Miss Murray to refocus to their conversation. “Have you had any contact with Sheriff Waters since then?”
Miss Murray chuckled. “Oh, no. I follow whatever news about him gets reported in the newspapers, but no more than any other citizen would. My brief relationship with him is ancient history. In fact, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. But, back to your question. What makes you think the boyfriend could have been framed?”
Enid took a deep breath. The question was simple; the answer was not. “I guess I’ve seen too many situations where small law enforcement agencies, many of which lack the personnel and experience to complete comprehensive investigations, often zero in on a suspect and fail to look beyond that person. Sometimes cases are simple and a speedy arrest is warranted. Other times, hasty and erroneous decisions are made.”
“History has shown that power is obtained in two ways. One, the easy way, is through money and blood lines. That’s pretty much how the Jensen and Hathaway families came to power in Madden. They had the most land and money.”
“And the second way to gain power?”
“Brute force and bullying.”
“What are you saying exactly? I mean, in relation to the sheriff.”
“Bernard’s daddy was sheriff before him. He used his office to clean up crime—and to enrich himself. We had some illegal operations around here, like bootleg whiskey, cock fighting, and pimping at truck stops. Most of the victims of these crimes were willing participants. But it made good headlines when the arrests were made.”
“So how did he get rich or powerful arresting these criminals? I’m not sure I understand your point.”
“If you follow these stories, these folks usually managed to get off with probation or a small fine. Few did actual jail time. Meanwhile, Sheriff Waters and his family seemed to be doing alright for themselves.”
“I see. Just one more question. Do you know if the boyfriend, Reggie, is still in prison? Do you know anything further about him?”
Miss Murray began putting the tea cups on the tray, signaling an end to their meeting. “No, dear. I’m sorry, but I haven’t followed the story.”
Enid put her notepad and pen in her tote. “Well, thanks for the information. I appreciate your time—and the tea and cookies.” As Enid was walking out the door of the historical society’s office, Miss Murray stopped her. “Ms. Blackwell. I do applaud your quest for the truth. While I haven’t followed this particular case in the news, I have followed your stories. You’re making a name for yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“But you’re also making yourself a target. People with something to hide are dangerous folks. Not that I have to tell you that. Just a reminder from an old woman. Be careful, my dear.”
CHAPTER 12
Enid glanced at the time on her phone and saw that Josh had texted her while she had been at the historical society. They were going to an Empty Bowls event at the Glitter Lake Inn tonight to raise money for the soup kitchen where Theo had previously worked when he came to Columbia searching for his daughter. Several local artists had made ceramic soup bowls, which were for sale. Some were fairly simple and cost around twenty dollars, but some were exquisitely ornate and typically went for a hundred dollars or more. The bowls would be on display, where guests could bid on the bowl of their choice. Everyone who participated was then treated to unlimited helpings of Theo’s famous chowders and soups, wine or other beverage, freshly baked breads, and heavenly desserts. All proceeds went to the soup kitchen to feed the homeless and the soup kitchen’s patrons. Jack footed the food bill for the Empty Bowls event.
Josh’s text reminded her that he was picking her up in a few hours. She had just enough time to do a little work, shower, and get dressed.
Thanks to Madelyn Jensen’s clothing donations to Enid, she had several “little black dresses” in her wardrobe now. Although Madelyn was a good friend, Enid felt uneasy knowing that Cade would also be at the event, as he had mentioned he was invited. At any rate, Enid and Cade were divorced now, so she had no reason to stand be
tween Madelyn and her ex-husband if there was any spark there.
Enid finished her notes from the conversation with Miss Murray. What had she learned that she didn’t already know? Not much, other than Boogie preferred women more exciting than the historian. Hardly a crime or evidence of framing someone. But she still wanted to check into Boogie’s past. Josh wouldn’t be happy if he found out what she was up to. Keeping secrets from Josh made her uncomfortable. But, because of their work and the inherent conflicts, it was necessary for both of them.
After finishing her notes, she texted Jack to ask if he was going to the Empty Bowls event. Jack and Madelyn had dated off and on, mostly off lately. They had not argued or had any problems, but they lived in different worlds. Jack was happy in his cowboy boots, tending his ranch where he had once boarded horses. Before his quasi-adopted daughter Rachel had left for college to study cyber forensics, she had helped him tend the ranch and care for the horses, but without her there to help, he had stopped taking boarders. Now, he focused exclusively on the Tri-County Gazette. News was in his blood, and he had won awards at a large Chicago newspaper before coming to Madden. He told Enid he had tried several times to retire, but the allure of reporting had overcome him.
Jack responded by text that he would be attending, so this would be an interesting night. Unlike Madelyn, Jack hated parties, small talk, and fundraising. But sometimes opposites make good bedfellows. The focus was supposed to be the charity, but Madelyn’s attendance would certainly shake things up.
◆◆◆
Josh bought two Empty Bowls for himself and Enid that reflected their characters: sturdy and not-too-fancy. His was dark green, the color of a pine forest. Enid’s was the color of eggplant, with touches of yellowish gold and brown around the rim. Josh immediately filled his bowl with Theo’s famous tomato-based fish chowder. Enid opted for the shrimp and corn chowder.
Secrets Never Told Page 5