Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1)

by C. J. Carmichael

  “Yeah, well maybe I wasn’t such a great judge of character back then. Kyle was always a cheat. He cheated at school and he cheated on his girlfriends...including your sister Daisy.”

  Charlotte tensed, but didn’t interrupt.

  “He was also a mean bastard. Loved to pull pranks. And I always played along. He knew he could count on me to back him up. I’m ashamed, for the way I used to look up to him. Wade never did, you know. That guy always had his head screwed on straight.”

  Dougal didn’t want to talk about this shit anymore. He hated thinking back on all the dumb stunts he and Kyle had pulled. At the very least, he should have told Daisy about the cheating. Daisy had been his friend, too.

  “So now it’s your turn. Answer my question.”

  Charlotte took off her glasses, looked him straight in the eyes. “I turned down Wade’s proposal because I know he’s in love with your sister.”

  He hadn’t expected that. “Really?”

  “When he moved back to Twisted Cedars after his father retired, he tried to ask her out. But either he was too subtle, or Jamie deliberately misinterpreted his motives. At any rate, although they spent a lot of time together, he still hadn’t managed to ask her on a formal date when Kyle suddenly started showing her interest.”

  Dougal thought back to the comment he’d made the first time he’d seen Wade. He never would have said it if he’d known Wade had feelings for Jamie. Too bad the fool hadn’t acted on them before it was too late.

  “What if Wade hadn’t been in love with my sister. Would you have said yes to his proposal then?”

  She put a finger on her lips. “Only one question, remember?”

  * * *

  The phone call from Jamie had caught Wade off guard. He knew he should have refused her request. But saying no to Jamie wasn’t easy. Besides, he’d already agreed to do a similar favor for her brother, so what the hell.

  He set aside the Sunday paper. Nice day for a stroll, he might as well head to the office since he needed the exercise and fresh air. Last night he’d put in a few too many hours, and more than a few too many beers, at the Linger Longer. He figured he was entitled. In the space of one week, he’d lost two women. Not that Jamie had ever been his.

  Still.

  Sitting at his desk, he felt useful, at least. Look at the bright side, Wade, he could imagine his mother saying. You have a job, a home, a community of friends and neighbors. This was all true, and he knew he should be grateful.

  Wade fired up his computer to check the records. Then felt the back of his neck tingle when he saw an outstanding warrant for Edward Lachlan’s arrest. He’d skipped out on his parole shortly after his release, whereabouts currently unknown. Wade fired off a quick email to Jamie, advising her to let the matter drop here.

  Next he searched the data base to find out when Shirley Hammond had died: April 7, 1976.

  A damned long time ago. Hell, the records could have been destroyed by now. Shaking his head at himself, Wade descended to the storage room in the basement. The ACL in his knee—an old football injury—ached a little with each step. The rows of file cabinets in the record room seemed daunting at first glance. He didn’t come down here often. All he had to do was ask Marnie for a file and it was on his desk five minutes later.

  She could be a nag, but she was efficient.

  The records were organized by date. And, amazingly, they went back as far the seventies. Within ten minutes, he’d found the report his father had filed after finding Shirley Hammond’s body.

  Wade had expected certain routine comments and an irrefutable conclusion, but the report turned out to be more interesting than that. He pulled out his notepad, jotted down the salient points before returning the file to the cabinets. Marnie would freak out if he didn’t.

  He looked over his notes one more time, and then called his father.

  “How’s it going, son?”

  They chatted for a few minutes before Wade brought up the purpose of his call. “Dougal Lachlan’s back in town. He’s doing some research for a new book and he wants to know about Shirley Hammond’s death.”

  The line went silent for a moment. “One of the saddest cases I ever worked on.”

  “I know. What I was wondering Dad, is whether there was anything about the case that didn’t make it into your report?”

  “Funny you ask that.”

  He waited.

  “A few weeks after Shirley’s death, the board realized that the library improvement fund—ten thousand dollars—had gone missing.”

  “Really? That was a lot of money back then.”

  “Sure was.” His father sighed. “Folks trusted her. They’d bring their donations straight to the library and she’d put the money in a cash box she kept locked in the bottom drawer of her desk. But after she died, we couldn’t find it.”

  “Any theories on what happened to the money?”

  “Well, most of us figured she must have spent it or lost it, somehow. We tried to keep it quiet for the sake of her reputation, and to spare the family.”

  “Do you think that’s why she killed herself?”

  “Must have been. A real shame, though. I know her brother would have gladly replaced the money if she’d only asked. He did it anyway after she was gone.”

  * * *

  As he made the turn to the Hammonds’ cabin off the Forestry Road, Wade was surprised to see Charlotte’s BMW parked behind Dougal’s car.

  He recalled the awkward encounter he’d witnessed between the two of them yesterday. Was it possible they were disagreeing on rental terms? Maybe now that he’d moved in, Dougal wasn’t as happy with the cottage as he’d expected.

  Wade slid out of his truck, feet landing firmly on a thick carpet of pine needles. Sure was quiet out here. He inhaled the woodsy scent. The aroma of coffee was in the air, too. Fried eggs and toast. His stomach growled.

  Wade drove out this way now and then, to check on the place and make sure it hadn’t been vandalized. Luckily it seemed the local kids had never ventured this far for any of their parties. They mostly preferred the beach, just as he and his buddies had in their day.

  The weathered A-frame had to be almost fifty years old, but it still looked solid. Before he could knock, the door opened. Dougal looked preoccupied. He brushed a hand through his hair, settling it down somewhat.

  “Hey, Wade.”

  Maybe he should have called first. Never occurred to him he might be interrupting something. “Mind if I come in?”

  After a brief pause, Dougal stepped aside.

  The scent of breakfast was stronger in here. Wade could feel his mouth watering...but then he saw Charlotte and his mouth went dry.

  She was in jeans and a T-shirt, with the same disheveled look as Dougal. Now it was all too clear what he’d interrupted. It wasn’t breakfast nor was it writing and research.

  “Hi, Wade,” she said, her voice quiet. She tucked her hair behind her ears, then looked uncertainly toward Dougal.

  Wade didn’t anger easily, but Jesus Christ. So soon?

  He thought back on the accidental meeting he’d witnessed between these two yesterday and realized this wasn’t the beginning. Something had already happened between them. He remembered how excited she’d been about Dougal showing up at the library. Naively, he’d assumed it was the challenging research that had her so pumped up.

  “On second thought, this can wait for another time.” As he turned to leave, Charlotte rushed to the door.

  “Don’t do that, Wade. I was just leaving myself. Thanks for helping me sort my aunt’s books, Dougal.” She slipped shoes on her feet, grabbed one of several cardboard boxes stacked by the door and went out. Dougal picked up the remaining boxes and followed. It all happened so quickly Wade was left speechless.

  Suddenly alone, he scanned the room with investigative thoroughness. The dish rack held enough plates for several meals...so she’d probably spent the night. A frying pan…still on the stove, the coffee pot…half full. />
  The bedroom seemed to be upstairs. But the cushions on the sofa were tousled, and a quilt and several pillows were strewn on the floor.

  He kept tracking the evidence, couldn’t stop himself. An empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. He caught a glimpse of pink and ducked his head. Yup, just as he’d thought—a lacy thong mingled with a pair of men’s black cotton briefs under the couch.

  “She’s gone. Sorry about that.” Dougal was back, sounding a little breathless.

  Sorry about what, Wade wanted to ask. Screwing my girlfriend?

  Some men might have slugged Dougal at that point. But Wade kept quiet as Dougal went to the fridge, pulled out a beer and tossed it to him.

  “Want to go for a walk?”

  Wade pulled the tab. Nodded. They fell into step easily once they’d left the cottage behind. The woods had a calming effect, as did the warmth of the afternoon.

  “Look, I’m sorry if you’re upset about Charlotte—"

  “Let’s not talk about that right now.” Wade kept his eyes on the trail. He’d been pretty taken aback. He needed time to process what he’d discovered before he discussed it with anyone. Let alone the guy who was sleeping with his ex-girlfriend.

  Ex.

  Funny to think of Charlotte that way. He felt a pang of sorrow. Knew there were things he was going to miss and that taking that relationship beyond friendship might have been a huge mistake.

  “I checked into those records you were asking about.”

  A jay squawked from somewhere in the towering treetops. Both men glanced up, then at each other.

  For some reason Wade was reminded of the school-aged Dougal. He’d been quiet, dependable, a hell of a student and a pretty mean half-back. But no matter how many hours of the day they spent together, there’d always been something inscrutable in those dark brown eyes of his.

  “You found the report that was filed when Shirley Hammond died?”

  “Yeah, I did. And there were some peculiar things in there. Like for instance, she hung herself with two silk scarves that she’d knotted together.”

  “Were the scarves red?”

  Wade didn’t need to pull out his notebook. “Yeah. Pretty weird, huh? If I was going to hang myself, I’d use rope. It’s strong and available everywhere.”

  “Was there anything to suggest that someone else might have done it?”

  “Not at all. In fact, a reference book was open on the floor nearby. It had directions on how to hang yourself. Trust a librarian to even think of looking in a book for something like that.”

  They came across a big tree that had fallen over the path. Rather than walk around it, they both sat on the broad trunk, and took pulls from their cans of beer. An odd congeniality settled over them. It was like they were kids, again, talking over an assignment at school, or a new football play.

  “Did the report say who found the body in the library?”

  “It was Amos Ward. He’d been installing some new shelving units on the main floor. Forgot his toolbox and came back to the library around closing time. The front door was unlocked, but no one was there. He finally checked the basement and that’s when he found her.”

  “Did Amos cut her down?”

  “No. He checked her pulse, and then called the Sheriff’s office. Like I told you before, my dad was first responder. I called him this morning, to see if he remembered anything that wasn’t in the report.”

  “And did he?”

  Wade nodded. “After her death, the Board discovered ten thousand dollars of library funds were missing—funds that Shirley had been responsible for.”

  Wade swallowed the last of his beer. He glanced at Dougal, who was watching him thoughtfully.

  “I suppose, back then, the missing money might have looked like a motive for the suicide?”

  “No one could say for sure, since there was no note. But there was speculation. For the sake of Shirley and her family’s reputation, her brother replaced the money and it was kept quiet.”

  “I appreciate your checking into this for me,” Dougal said.

  “No problem. So, what do you make of it?”

  “Something doesn’t smell right. Seems to be a regular problem in this town.”

  “Maybe this town doesn’t have a problem. Could be it’s you. Too much imagination.”

  “That’s possible, too,” Dougal agreed.

  chapter twenty-one

  sitting at the computer in the kitchen, Jamie checked her email and found a message from Wade. “Can’t find any trace of your dad. He doesn’t have a current Oregon driver’s license. Sorry, Jamie. But maybe it’s for the best.”

  Not surprised, but saddened, she turned to Cory and Chester. “Time to hit the shower, kids. We have to meet your dad for lunch in about one hour.”

  “Me, first,” Cory said. Chester didn’t argue. He asked Jamie if he could play his video game while he waited for his turn.

  “Sure.” When she was alone, she responded to Wade, thanking him for making an effort.

  After that, she changed into a blue sundress, noticing as she glanced at the mirror that she was getting a good tan. As she smoothed lotion over the rough spots on her elbows and knees, she thought about the man who had supplied her with her olive complexion, last name, half her DNA, and not much else.

  In the letter he’d sent to her mother, he’d sounded keen to talk to his son. Would he be as happy to meet up with a daughter? One he presumably hadn’t known existed?

  He hadn’t been spoken of much when she was growing up. Her mother seemed to shrink a little any time the subject of Edward Lachlan was raised. She knew Dougal had been embarrassed for their mom, that she never found a man who seemed to want a long term relationship.

  But Jamie thought it was the other way around. It was their mother who wasn’t interested in falling in love again. She went to the Linger Longer to relax and have fun. But she’d given her heart to Edward Lachlan. And that had never changed.

  Despite the fact that he’d gone to jail, her dad couldn’t have been all bad. Or why would her mom have continued to love him? The fact that she’d saved his letter proved that she had.

  And the fact that she hadn’t thrown it away, even though she knew she was dying, meant she’d wanted Jamie to find it. She hadn’t had the strength to tell her daughter about her father when she was alive. But she’d kept the door open to the possibility that Jamie would find him after she was gone.

  “We’re ready.” Chester was at her bedroom door.

  She forced a smile. “Let’s get going, then.”

  The Rogue River Golf and Country Club had been built on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The drive was only fifteen miles, but they were all uphill on narrow, winding roads. Jamie gave the road her full attention. It had taken more than a few lives over the years, not just Patricia and Jonathan Hammond’s.

  When they arrived she was able to park her Miata next to Kyle’s SUV. As they walked toward the clubhouse, she spotted Kyle on the green for the eighteenth hole. His hair seemed even more golden than usual in the afternoon sun, and he looked tall and lean in his powder blue golf shirt and tan slacks.

  When he’d sunk his ball, she called out to him. He glanced their way, then smiled and headed toward them, calling something back to his buddies.

  “Hey guys. Good timing.” He put a hand on his son’s head, then his daughter’s, before giving Jamie a warm kiss. He smelled like sunshine and grass and she wished they were alone because right now she wanted to be with him in the worst way.

  But then his father approached. “Hey kids. Got a hug for your grandpa?”

  The kids practically tackled him, but Jim didn’t seem to mind.

  Soon they were seated on an outdoor terrace. A server appeared within seconds to take their drink orders. Jamie glanced around the table, feeling a little bemused. These people were all her family now. It felt nice, but also surreal. She couldn’t help but miss her Mom and wish that Dougal were here, too.

  They we
re on dessert, when a group of men in their fifties headed for a table nearby. One of them was Ben Mason, founding partner at the accounting firm where Jamie worked. When he spotted Jamie, he smiled and headed her way.

  “Nice to see you here. Have you finally taken my advice and started playing golf?”

  According to Ben, it was a necessary skill if she wanted to get ahead in her profession. The business community in Twisted was small and inter-connected. Almost all of them were members here. “Not yet, Ben. I’m having lunch with my family.”

  It was so lovely saying that. Family. Ben said hello to Jim and Kyle, then Jamie introduced the children. They were amazingly well behaved, not even squirming in their chairs as most children would in such an adult setting.

  When the niceties were over, Ben said, “Let me know if you change your mind, Jamie. I’d be glad to teach you.”

  “Jamie is too busy for golf right now.” Kyle placed his hand over hers. “When the kids are older I’ll make sure she learns the basics.”

  Jamie flushed at his overbearing comment, but said nothing.

  Later that night when they were alone in their bedroom, she raised the subject.

  “I wish you wouldn’t have spoken to Ben that way. Isn’t it up to me to decide whether or not I play golf?” She sat on the side of the bed, still in her dress, needing help with the zipper but too annoyed to ask.

  Kyle pulled his shirt over his head. “You told me you found the game boring.” He took off his watch next and set it on the bureau beside his wallet.

  “I do! That’s not the point.”

  “Sorry, honey. I don’t get it.” He was just in his briefs now. And though she was still angry, a part of her had to admire how hot he looked.

  Maybe he hadn’t realized how his comment to Ben had come across.

  “When you speak on my behalf, you make me feel like a child instead of your wife.”

  “Are you sorry you married me? Are the children more work than you bargained for?”

  “Of course not,” she said, though in actual fact their life together was a lot different than she’d imagined. “I just wish we had more time together.”