As expected, Madelyn was the center of attention, other than the spread of food, of course. She purchased the most expensive bowl for five hundred dollars, although Enid never saw her eat anything the entire night. Instead, Madelyn went from guest to guest, shaking hands and finding a disarming and discreet way to ask for their votes.
As the police chief, Josh was also obligated to make the rounds, talking to the locals and introducing himself to the large number of attendees from Columbia and other parts of the state who didn’t know him. He was less comfortable than Madelyn in this political role. The few times Enid caught his eye, she tried to convey with a smile that she was proud of him. And she was. Josh cared about Madden’s citizens and, as far as Enid could tell, had impeccable principles and values. Cade would learn this about Josh, too, she was sure. Yet, for Cade to come to Madden meant something wasn’t adding up.
Enid refilled her wine glass and walked out on the porch to get some air. The gentle sounds of nighttime were a soothing antidote against the chatter inside. A few of the hundred or more guests had started to leave. The crowd wasn’t particularly diverse, which was usual at such events in this area, so when the young black woman walked out onto the porch, she caught Enid’s eye. There was something in the way she carried herself that seemed familiar. “Thanks for coming. I hope you enjoyed it,” Enid called out. The woman seemed startled, as though she had not noticed Enid sitting in one of the porch rockers. The woman turned to face Enid and the two women locked eyes.
Had Enid’s wine glass not been supported by the arm on the rocker, she would probably have dropped it. The woman ran down the steps toward her car.
“Wait,” Enid called out and she ran toward the woman. “Please. Stop.”
The woman turned to face Enid. “Hello, Ms. Blackwell.”
Enid stood back several feet, as she didn’t want to alarm the woman any further. “Good to see you again. You look a lot younger than you did when you came to my office. In costume.”
The woman dropped her head slightly. “I’m sorry for concealing my identity. I just wanted to make you curious enough to follow up on our conversation.”
Enid held out her hand. “You know my name. Now, what’s yours?”
The woman took Enid’s hand. “My name is Phyllis.”
“So why the charade? Not only were you in costume, you spoke in riddles that day. Was that part of the game?”
“I know you’re upset with me, and I don’t blame you. I was afraid that if you knew who I was, you might not listen.”
“Why is that?” Enid asked. “Who are you exactly?”
“I teach English and drama at Waters Middle School. I’m also a pottery artist and donated two of my bowls for this event. That’s why I’m here.” She smiled. “It’s rewarding to see people appreciating your work.”
“That doesn’t sound too sinister. So why didn’t you think I’d listen to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand, but I’ve spent a lifetime being afraid to speak up. I’m also the sister of the man who went to prison for murdering his missing girlfriend. But he didn’t do it.”
Enid felt like someone had hit her in the stomach. “That’s interesting.” Enid took a deep breath. “Can we talk, later I mean? And this time, no games.” She pulled a business card from her tote. “Here’s my personal cell number. Call me tomorrow.”
Phyllis put the card in her purse and nodded. “Goodnight, Ms. Blackwell.” She opened the car door but turned back to Enid. “My brother didn’t do what they said. I need for you to help me prove that.”
CHAPTER 13
Enid walked into the Richland County coroner’s office in Columbia. After signing in, she took a brochure from the rack and read about their operations. While she was reading, a relatively young man, at least younger than she had expected, came into the lobby to greet her.
“I’m Dr. Vents, Steve Vents. Come on back.”
Enid followed him down the hallway to a room where bones were laid out on a stainless-steel table. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Of course. Always glad to educate the public on what we do here.” He pointed to the bones. “These remains were found at a construction site. We’re trying to identify them, so they can either be returned to the family or properly interred.”
“What happens if you can’t identify the remains?”
“Eventually, they’ll be buried in an unmarked grave, if they are never claimed.”
Enid looked at the bones carefully arranged across the lab table. “Why are the pieces so small?”
“This person was cremated. Modern cremation methods would have reduced this person to mere ash, but years ago, larger bone fragments survived the process.” He pointed to a group of similar fragments. “These are all skull bones.” He pointed to the jagged edges and explained their particular characteristics. He pointed to another group of bones. “These are probably from the ribcage.” Pointing to the next group, he added, “And these are likely leg bone fragments.”
“This looks like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Some of these pieces are smaller than an inch long.”
Dr. Vents smiled. “Exactly. We have a young woman, an intern from the University of South Carolina anthropology department, who is helping us with the work.”
“How often do you partner with the university on identification work?”
“If it’s a large project, for example, where an entire cemetery is discovered, we’ll work with them. Or if it’s a particularly challenging project, we might consult with them. I’m also a guest lecturer at USC, so we work closely together.”
Enid looked down at the bones again. “Can you do a DNA analysis on a cremated body?”
“Hopefully. That kind of analysis is fairly new, and there’s some interesting work being done in the field.”
Enid flipped a page in her notebook and continued taking notes. “What can you learn from a DNA analysis?”
“We get a biological profile that includes age, race, and sex. We run that information against the FBI database. We also post the information in NamUs. If we’re lucky, we get a hit and can identify the person. If not, then we have to rely on other means to identify the remains. But you had questions about a specific case, I believe. How can I help you?”
Enid told Dr. Vents about the bones found at the inn.
“We haven’t been called in on that one, at least not yet. Bowman County, where your bones were found, is a much smaller agency than Richland County. They have to rely on SLED for their analysis or ask for assistance from a larger county, like Richland, Greenville, or Charleston. If the need is urgent, we’re often called in to assist. SLED has to serve the entire state, and as you might imagine, they get backed up at times.”
“What kind of investigation would be done at the scene?”
“Of course, we’re talking hypothetical here. I can tell you what’s typically done, but not in this specific case.”
“Of course, I understand.”
“We would send out crime scene investigators to process the area. They would take soil samples and we would do a lab analysis.”
“What can you learn from the soil?”
“A lot, actually. For example, soil samples can indicate whether the person died in that same spot or if the body was dumped. The soil is like a sponge and would absorb body fluids and other chemicals.”
Enid looked up from her notepad. “What kind of chemicals?”
“Poisons or other toxins.”
“I know you’re busy, so just one last question. For the bones found at the inn, will they be able to determine the cause of death?”
“Without seeing the actual bones, I can only speculate. If there’s soft tissue left on the bones, definitely. But you said they were dry bones, so unless there’s a skull fracture, broken ribs, or a bullet or knife nick on the bones, or unless something shows up in the soil analysis, it would be difficult. The cause of death would simply be listed as undetermined.”
Eni
d thanked Dr. Vents and returned to her car. Before starting the engine, she sat there a moment, reflecting on what she had learned. She had to get more information about those bones from the inn. This time she wasn’t going through Josh.
She looked for a number in her contacts. After three rings, a man answered. “Sheriff Waters’ office. How may we help you?”
CHAPTER 14
Boogie Waters sat at his desk across from Enid. “I must admit, Ms. Blackwell, I was surprised when you called for an interview. Being that you’re Josh’s girl, I figured he’d tell you whatever you wanted to know.”
Enid stiffened. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Boogie chuckled. “So what can I do for you?”
“I’d like to know more about your department’s investigation into the identity of the bones found at Glitter Lake Inn. Has any progress been made?”
Boogie appeared to be studying Enid. He reminded her of Senator Sam Ervin from North Carolina, who investigated the Watergate scandal. Boogie had that same “I’m just a country lawyer” air about him. But his eyes told a different story. “Well, of course we’ve made progress. This department is partnering with SLED—that’s the State Law Enforcement Division. You know, since you’re not from around here, didn’t know if you were aware of that.”
Enid nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of SLED. Please go on.”
“We’re working with SLED to do a DNA analysis.”
Enid had studied her notes from the meeting with Dr. Vents and was glad she had done her homework. “Have you received any information from the soil analysis?”
Boogie’s smile faded. “Those are old bones, as you know.”
“Yes, but it’s my understanding there’s a lot to be learned from the soil around the remains. You know, decomp material or the absence of it, poisons or other toxins.” Enid stifled a smile when Boogie looked surprised.
“Yes, well, the results are not in yet.”
“Do you have any idea of the age of the bones?”
Boogie repositioned himself in the big wooden chair. “As I said, we don’t know anything yet.” He smiled broadly. “This department cooperates with the press, and we’ll be happy to provide any information when it’s available.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Unless you get it from Josh first.”
“And when do you expect those results?”
“That depends on SLED’s workload. Could be a week. Could be several weeks. Can’t really say at this point.”
Enid slammed her notepad shut. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff Waters.” She stood to leave. “Oh, by the way, is Waters Middle School named after your family?”
Boogied looked surprised. “Well, yes, actually. My father contributed the land it’s built on. Why do you ask?”
Enid shrugged. “No particular reason. I just met a teacher who works there. When she mentioned the name of the school, I was just curious, that’s all.”
Boogie ran his hand through his silver mane. “I know quite a few of the teachers there. Who did you talk to?”
“I’m afraid I can’t reveal a source. You understand, I’m sure.”
Boogie stood up abruptly. “I think we’re finished here. Couple things I need to take care of, but you have a nice day now.”
◆◆◆
Enid had agreed to meet Phyllis at the McDonald’s near Waters Middle School. The fast-food restaurant wasn’t an ideal setting, but there wasn’t much else nearby. Enid had just ordered an unsweetened iced tea when Phyllis came in and joined her at a booth. “Sorry I’m late. One of my students needed help on an assignment.”
“You’re not late at all. Thanks for coming. Do you want something to eat or drink?”
Phyllis shook her head.
“I’m happy to talk with you,” Enid said, “but I need to make one thing clear. I am not agreeing at this point to investigate your brother’s case. I’m a reporter, not a private eye. Contrary to what you might see in the movies or read about, most of my work is pretty mundane. I attend community events and engagement parties and write about everyday things in the tri-county area. The more prominent the family, the more I write about them. If a company buys an ad, they get special coverage of their company picnic. That’s just the way it is. Occasionally, I get to write about a break-in or a domestic dispute that ends up with someone arrested. All pretty common stuff for a weekly newspaper. The stories about the two cold cases I solved were exceptions. Understand?”
“Yes,” Phyllis said, nodding.
“Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I’m committed to doing a story for you. I’ll do some preliminary research, and then my editor and I will decide if it’s something we need to report on.”
“Okay.” Phyllis dropped her gaze, staring at her hands in her lap.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh or uncaring, but since those articles were published . . . well, you know what I mean. I’m just a weekly reporter who gets lucky sometimes.”
Phyllis smiled for the first time. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ms. Blackwell. But I do understand what you’re saying. All I ask is that you hear me out and then decide if justice has been done.” She paused. “And I apologize again for misleading you when I came to see you. I was just scared, too scared to come as myself.”
“Fair enough. When we talked at the inn, you said your brother was in prison for killing his girlfriend.” Enid put copies of the articles about the trial on the table. “I assume this is the case you’re referring to.”
Phyllis nodded. “Yes, that’s his case. But my brother is no longer in prison. He caught pneumonia, or so they said, and died not long after being incarcerated.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. And that also presents a problem. Without being able to talk with him, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to get all the facts and clear his name posthumously.”
Phyllis nodded. “I understand the situation, but we can try, can’t we?”
“We never like to believe those closest to us are capable of anything like this. What makes you so sure he’s innocent?”
“They never checked his alibi or tried to look at anyone else. It’s almost like they wanted him to be guilty from the beginning.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Phyllis glanced around the nearly empty restaurant. A couple of teenage girls sat in a booth, smirking conspiratorially about something on one of their phones. An elderly man sat behind them, munching on fries slathered in ketchup. “The Bowman County Sheriff’s Department,” Phyllis whispered.
“Specifically, do you mean Sheriff Waters?”
Phyllis nodded.
“Look, Phyllis. I’ve only had a couple of brief encounters with him. I admit he’s a throw-back to an era when the county sheriff was king. He rubs me the wrong way sometimes, too. But I don’t have enough information to doubt his integrity or motives. I need something more substantial from you if you expect me to take your allegations seriously.” Enid paused. “I want to help you, but I also don’t want to get your hopes up.”
Phyllis made direct eye contact before she spoke. “My brother Reggie did make a serious mistake, but it wasn’t murder.” She paused, appearing to collect her thoughts. “He dated a girl, a white girl, who was known around town as Angel. She supposedly got the nickname from being ‘heavenly’ in bed. But then, that’s just gossip. When I learned Reggie was dating her, I confronted him.”
“How old was your brother at the time?”
“He was twenty. Angel was a bit older.”
Enid scribbled a note on her notepad. “I can understand why you were worried about your brother. He was dating an older woman with a questionable reputation.”
“All that’s true. But that’s not why I warned him to stay away from her.” Phyllis chewed on her bottom lip as she paused. “Angel got around, but it was who she was seeing that worried me.” Phyllis looked around the restaurant again. “I’m sorry, I’m just not sure this is the right thing to do. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that .
. .”
Enid refrained from pushing Phyllis to get to the point. The woman was obviously distressed and needed to process her thoughts. Enid put her pen down. “You came to me, so if you’re not comfortable telling me what happened, I understand. I’ll tear up my notes and this meeting never happened.”
Phyllis’ eyes widened. “No, please don’t do that. I mean, you’re my last hope. I need to tell you, for Reggie’s sake.”
Enid cringed at the idea of being anyone’s last hope. That’s how she had gotten involved in two stories that had cost innocent lives. Enid knew all too well that law enforcement agencies often made mistakes, although not always intentionally. Lack of training, heavy workloads, and human bias were often to blame. Although, in this case, the reason for Reggie’s guilty verdict could be something else—something more sinister. “Who was Angel seeing?”
“Mind you, much of what I’m telling you was just the talk around town, so to speak. But we’re a small community, and much of the gossip you hear is either true or mostly true.”
“I understand. Go on.”
“Angel dated deputies at the Bowman County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Was Angel a prostitute?”
“If you’re asking if they paid her money, then no. But she got paid in other ways. No matter what kind of trouble her family got into, they seemed to walk away scot-free.”
“So in return for Angel’s heavenly treats to the sheriff’s department, the family was protected.”
“That’s right.”
Enid rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Whew. I must say, this is a lot to take in. Is there anyone who can corroborate your allegations?”
“No one that will talk. And the guys who were involved are either retired or moved on.” Phyllis leaned forward slightly. “Look, even though it was just ten years ago, it was a different era then. Things were, let’s say, tolerated in law enforcement then that might not be overlooked today. And all of the deputies were white then, so no black person would dare come forward to accuse them.”
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