Deep South Dead (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 1)

by Charlotte Moore

  “Oh Lord,” she said, “Please don’t let Hunter wind up marrying that man after I said all that.”

  They both laughed.

  After Taneesha was gone, Hunter checked her e-mail. There was a long letter from Nikki. Well, long for Nikki, anyway, and anxious. Hunter hit reply and started writing.

  Hi, Nikki – No, I wasn’t scared. I probably should have been but I didn’t even think about whoever did it still being in the house. First, it was the surprise of finding the body, and it was just awful to see somebody hurt that way, and I was thinking right at first that maybe she was alive, so I was trying to find her pulse. Then I knew she was dead just from the way her eyes looked, and I had to call 911, and I hate to admit this, but you will know what I mean, I started thinking what a big story it was. I mean, can you imagine being inside a crime scene before the yellow tape goes up?

  A handsome doctor came and helped, but unfortunately is married.

  Yes, the Sheriff Sam Bailey in the story is the one I mentioned before as being good looking, which he is, but yesterday I saw another side of him. For one thing he was downright scary-looking when he came into the house with a gun in his hand, and just told the deputy (named Taneesha, and she was just here eating pizza and ice cream because there’s been a second murder and she had to go somewhere to cry), to get me out of there and put me in his car . He was barking orders at everybody, and then he and this detective (who has asked me out to dinner, but I will get back to that) were both acting like what Taneesha and I had to say was not all that relevant, when it really abso-damn-lutely was. Then he was going to send this sweet cat who was about to have kittens to the worst animal shelter you ever saw. It was like testosterone city in that kitchen, and later it turned out that T. and I were probably absolutely right in what we were thinking, but what do you think the chance is that Sheriff Gunsmoke is ever going to admit that to me? Anyway, back to your first question, I am perfectly okay, but sleepy so I will write more later.

  — H

  As soon as she sent the message, it struck her that some of it might not make a lot of sense, but it was gone. Well, what are best friends for if you can’t send them dumb e-mails?

  Hunter went back to the kitchen and ate the remaining slice of pizza to get the sweet taste of the ice cream out of her mouth. She took another look at Katie and her kittens.

  Twenty minutes later she was asleep.

  Chapter 11

  ON THURSDAY MORNING, SKEET BORDERS CAME to Sam’s office.

  He was a big man and an angry man, keeping his voice soft only because he had his baby daughter in his arms and didn’t want to scare her. He told Sam that he had already raised his voice once in her hearing, and she had cried so hard it broke his heart.

  Sam answered his questions and told him everything he could about the crime. No, she wasn’t raped. Yes, the body could be released to Walker-Hill Mortuary by the end of the day. No, they didn’t think it was a burglary. Yes, they did think it was possible that there was some connection with Mae-Lula Hilliard’s death. No, they hadn’t caught up with the college kids everybody was talking about, but he thought that was just a matter of time.

  “But let me make sure you get this straight, “Sam said, giving Skeet a level look. “At this point, once the guys in Florida find them, or even if we don’t catch up with them until they’re back in Georgia, they’ll be held for questioning, and that could be as far as it goes. We’ve got some questions, but all we’ve really got at this point is that they had a dispute with Mae-Lula Hilliard one day and they were in the neighborhood around the time she was killed the next day. We know that Tamlyn for sure could have been a witness to that, so it’s possible that they figured out where she lived, and made like they were leaving for Florida, and then turned around and went out there in the middle of the night. It’s enough for us to want to talk with them, enough to go a little way on, but it’s all circumstantial and there’s nothing that proves they did either murder. We’re looking at some other possibilities, too.”

  “Like?” Skeet asked.

  “Like maybe somebody just went into Mae-Lula’s house to find some drug money and she saw them and they killed her, and maybe there wasn’t any connection between the two crimes.”

  “I meant who,” Skeet said bluntly.

  “Give me a little time on that and I’ll bring you up to speed as soon as I can,” Sam said.

  “You’re not going to tell me,” Skeet said.

  “No point in speculating,” Sam said.

  “Sam, I just want your word that Tamlyn’s as important to y’all in all this as Mae-Lula Hilliard,” Skeet said.

  Madison reached up and pulled at her father’s cap and giggled when he took it off and put it on her head. She used both of her chubby hands to pull it off and threw it in on the floor, giggling again.

  Sam picked it up and looked at the red-haired child and her red-haired father together. Same hazel eyes, same fair complexion, though Skeet’s was weathered, and the baby didn’t have freckles. Yet. Sam liked the fact that the baby was laughing and happy, that she didn’t understand any of this. Yet.

  Then he handed the cap back to Skeet.

  “You’ve got my word.”

  “Well, okay then, “Skeet said. “Can I get in my house? I need to get Madison’s stuff and my clothes for the funeral, and I need my guns and some keys. “

  “I can give you Tamlyn’s keys now,” Sam said. “But I’m going to have to go out there with you. I need for you to take a look around and see if anything’s missing, but let’s take a couple more days before anybody else goes in.”

  “Don’t matter to me,” Skeet said. “I just want to get the stuff we need and get out.”

  Sam pushed down a button on the intercom on his desk and said, “Shelley, would you get Tamlyn Borders’ pocketbook and keys?”

  “You wouldn’t know anybody interested in buying a 1964 Thunderbird, would you?” Skeet asked while they were waiting.

  “You’ve still got that car?”

  “Yeah. That’s one thing I need to get from the house. The keys to the T-bird. I’ve got to try to sell it. I need to raise some cash to live on until I find some work around here.”

  “You’re not going to keep on with the trucking?”

  “Can’t, Sam. I got a little girl to raise,” he paused and gave the baby a hug, looking at Sam, clear-eyed. “I’m not ever going to forget that I was halfway across the country when she was crying in that crib not understanding why nobody came.”

  His voice didn’t break. In fact, despite his anger, he seemed unnaturally steady.

  Sam didn’t trust unnatural steadiness. He also noticed that Skeet wasn’t saying much about Tamlyn.

  “You gonna use your good sense and let us take care of this?” he asked.

  “No choice,” Skeet said. “I thought about all that on the flight home. I’m not saying I don’t want to personally find the sons of bitches and shoot ‘em, Sam, but like you say, I don’t know for sure that they did it anyway, and I do know Madison doesn’t need me in jail.”

  “She sure does look like you,” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

  “That’s what everybody says,” Skeet said, smiling a little for the first time.

  “You know, I’m raising Bethie by myself, with my mother’s help,” Sam said, “And she’s turning out fine.”

  He wasn’t sure that it was the right thing to say, but it seemed to take the tension down a notch.

  “I may be calling you for advice,” Skeet said.

  Sherry Carstairs, Sam’s secretary came in with an expensive-looking leather shoulder bag in one hand and a ring of keys encased in a plastic bag in the other.

  “The girl from the television station is going around talking to people right across the street,” she said. “I just thought I’d let you know. You and Skeet might not want to walk out together, not the front way anyway. That man from the Macon paper called again. I faxed him the statement, but he wants to talk
to you, too. Said he needs a quote. Are you going to call him back?”

  “Not this morning,” Sam said, “if he calls again tell him to call the D.A.’s office and get a quote. I haven’t got anything to add to what I put in that statement, anyway.”

  He handed the bag and keys to Skeet.

  “We just took these for safe-keeping. The bag was hanging on the coat closet doorknob, and the keys were in it. It didn’t look like it had been gotten into. It’s got about $200 in it.”

  Skeet took the key ring and studied the keys one by one.

  “I don’t know what this one is,” he said.

  “Looks like a P.O. box key,” Sam said.

  “Well, maybe she just got it,” Sam said, “She signed a petition on Tuesday morning, and she put a P.O. Box number on it.”

  Skeet shrugged, frowned and kept studying the keys.

  “Okay, this one’s to her Taurus. Why you reckon those bastards went and smashed in the window with a brick that way, and messed the car up, when they could have just taken the key?”

  “That’s a good question,” Sam said, getting up. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing, and I don’t know the answer, unless whoever it was did the damage to the car before they went into the house.”

  “When can I get the car?” Skeet asked.

  “That might take a while. I can’t say yet,” Sam said. “I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go on out there and get your things. While we’re there, you can look around and see if anything’s missing. Like I said, I didn’t get the impression it was a burglary, but you may see something missing.”

  “Let me meet you out there in an hour, “Skeet said.” I’m not taking Madison back in that house, so I need to go leave her with Tamlyn’s folks.”

  “Give me your keys and I’ll get somebody to drive your truck around to the back entrance.” Sam asked, “Somebody out there could have seen you come in and told the TV crew.”

  Skeet pulled his keys out of his pocket.

  At the Messenger, Hunter was having a cup of coffee with Novena and taking down names of people she could call to pull together a story on Tamlyn Borders.

  “I promise you,” Novena had told them both earlier that morning, “You give Tamlyn one inch less on the front page next week than Mae-Lula got this week, you’re going to have everybody in Cathay up in arms. You know how they are over there about thinking Merchantsville gets all the attention and Cathay never gets in the paper.”

  Cathay was a town of about 2000 people six miles south of Merchantsville. Hunter was familiar with her co-worker’s litany about the keeping the Cathay readers happy, but she didn’t quite see Novena’s point in this case.

  “Well, Tamlyn Borders was from Merchantsville,” she’s said. “So how’s that going to be about Cathay?”

  Tyler and Novena looked at each other and then laughed.

  “No, no, no,” Tyler said. “Tamlyn Sykes Borders is from Cathay. She just happened to be living in Merchantsville.”

  Novena, Hunter had already learned, was a fourth cousin of Marlene Sykes, Tamlyn’s mother.

  Novena had already been at the Sykes home in Cathay for the crisis there. She had taken potato salad, she said. And no, she hadn’t seen Skeet, but they said he had gotten to the Atlanta airport and called from there. His brother and sister-in-law picked him up.

  “Jewell, that’s Marlene’s sister,” Novena recounted, “Jewel said that Marlene went all hysterical when he said he was going to come by and pick up the baby, but she must have gotten over it pretty fast, because when I was there, all she could talk about was how the house was all locked up and had the crime tape and how they were going to have to get in before the funeral or else go shopping for Tamlyn.”

  Hunter winced.

  Novena nodded.

  “I told her that Sam would probably let her in to pick something, but it turns out that Marlene doesn’t speak to Sam since he arrested her baby boy once, so they hadn’t even asked. I think she just wanted to buy something new for Tamlyn. That girl did love clothes.

  “Anyway, they’re going to try to have the visitation at the funeral home tomorrow night, and the funeral on Saturday, and they’re going to bury her over there in Cathay. Jewel, that’s Marlene’s sister, just took over and started planning everything.”

  “Looks like Skeet would be the one to do all the planning,” Tyler said.

  “Oh, I don’t think he’d know what to do,” Novena said, “You know, Skeet’s a sweet boy, always was, but he and Bo just about raised themselves. He doesn’t have much sense of how to do things. The good thing about Jewel doing it instead of Marlene is that Jewel’s the one with common sense in that family, so she’s not going to let the folks at the funeral home talk her into wasting a lot of money.”

  “Okay, Hunter” Tyler said, turning his wheelchair toward his office, “Let’s count on having some kind of tribute to Tamlyn, like get some yearbook pictures to go with whatever the family’s got that’s more recent, and find out if there’s going to be any kind of memorial donations. And see if you can get to talk to Skeet Borders after things settle down. Miss Rose could maybe help with that because she just about adopted him in high school after his folks were killed. You might as well be getting that done, because there’s no point in writing about the investigation until Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  Hunter gave her boss a wry smile, “I’m just hoping they’ll hold off any arrests until Wednesday morning so we don’t get scooped by everybody else in the state.”

  “Fat chance,” Tyler said.

  At the Borders doublewide, Sam and Skeet stepped over the crime tape. Bub, who had been keeping an eye on the house, followed them.

  The interior of the doublewide was the way it had been when Tamlyn’s body was carried out, the scene of the struggle left untouched.

  Skeet had brought a couple of cardboard boxes and a roll of big plastic bags. He dropped them on the floor and looked around, jaw clenched.

  “We need to leave that whole area like it is for now,” Sam said.

  “Okay,” Skeet said, “I just want to get my stuff and the baby’s clothes and get out of here.”

  Skeet picked quickly from a closet jammed with clothes, including the only visible suit in his own closet, then stuffed a plastic bag full of the baby’s clothes.

  Sam offered to help Skeet move the baby’s crib out to the truck.

  “Don’t want it,” Skeet said, “but you can get the high chair and the play pen.”

  He walked around purposefully, tossing toys into a box, sweeping a stack of bills into a cardboard box, pulling open the desk drawer to grab two boxes of checks. He handed the things to Bub, who took them out to the truck. Then he got his hunting guns.

  “Skeet, you need to let somebody else to come back here in a couple of days and pack all this stuff up.” Sam said.

  “Or have a damned yard sale,” Skeet mumbled. Sam could see his point. There was hardly enough room to move around in the house.

  Bub came back and took the guns out to the truck.

  “Okay, let me get the keys to the T-bird, and we’re done,” Skeet said, heading into the kitchen. He stopped abruptly, staring at a wooden key holder lined with pegs.

  “Damn! They’re gone. The only thing I’ve absolutely got to have and they’re gone.”

  “Maybe they’re in Tamlyn’s purse,” Sam said.

  “I already went through it out in the truck,” Skeet said. “I was getting the cash out. No way I’d miss that old rabbit’s foot on that chain. It’s got a padlock key on it, too.”

  He cursed again, and then calmed down a little.

  “It wouldn’t make any sense for her to take the keys anyway, Sam. She couldn’t drive the car. It’s up on blocks. “

  “Could she have been trying to sell it?” Sam asked.

  “Hell, she sure wanted to,” Skeet said. “She must have said a hundred times that we could sell it and put the money to good use, but it wasn’t hers to sell. Title’s in my name.�
��

  Have you checked on the car since you got home?” Sam asked.

  He was wondering if the murderer had a passion for classic cars.

  “Oh, yeah! It’s in the shed right where I left it,” Skeet said. “I had to look through a crack in the door with a flashlight, but it’s in there. I guess I can just get a locksmith, but when you sell a car like that, it’s good to have the original keys. “

  “Is anything else missing that you’ve noticed?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing but my wife,” Skeet said grimly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where’s this shed you’re keeping the car in, Skeet?” Sam asked when they were outdoors, ready to leave. “Out at your brother’s place?”

  “Lord, no. Bo and Arlene don’t live in the old place anymore. The shed’s right down there,” Skeet said, pointing down Old River Road. “You see that little dirt road on the opposite side from the boat landing road. It’s right behind that stand of pines.”

  Sam nodded. He could see part of a rusted tin roof, and he remembered exploring the shed with his friends when he was ten or eleven. It was the last remaining outbuilding of what was once a small, not very successful, farm.

  “Who owns it?” he asked.

  “Same as this lot and the house,” Skeet said. “Hilliard Realty. Tamlyn was working there when she got pregnant with Madison, and we needed more room. She liked this house, but I thought the rent was too high. I was arguing for this older house over in Cathay that had a garage I could keep the Thunderbird in, so next thing I know, she says Mr. Jaybird said he’d knock some off the rent, and that I could use the shed until he sold that land over there.”

  Sam drove back to the office, relieved to be by himself after dealing with all of Skeet’s bottled-up rage and frustration.

  T.J. and Taneesha were waiting for him when he got back to the office.

  Taneesha said she had gotten the information from the telephone company. The call Mae-Lula Hilliard made to Robin Hilliard was at 11:45 a.m., she said.