The Bone Puzzle

by Clayton E. Spriggs

  The detective made his way through the maze of desks, noting how the men present were doing their best to suck in their guts and exhibit whatever version of masculinity they imagined appropriate. Robert observed that even the petty criminals in various stages of being questioned or detained mimicked the officers.

  The policemen smiled and nodded towards the detective as he passed. That was definitely a new development. Up to that moment, he’d been greeted with scorn and disdain. Leave it up to a woman to change the dynamics in any room, thought Robert. And Claire was not just any woman.

  He walked straight to Sheriff Fuller’s office, briefly tapped on the closed door that was usually open, and went right on in without being invited.

  The sheriff jumped at the intrusion. His face morphed into a grimace before he caught himself. He grinned like a politician as he stood up, greeting the detective warmly as if they were long lost brothers. He offered his hand and squeezed Robert’s upper arm, then motioned for him to pull up a chair and join in the discussion of the investigation.

  Claire was standing at the sheriff’s side, examining the map sprawled out on the cluttered desk. She pretended to be unaware that, while she’d spent the last fifteen minutes pouring over the details of the swamp’s terrain and assorted colored pins marking the spots where they’d recovered the body parts, Sheriff Fuller had been pouring over the woman’s ample cleavage and firm derriere outlined through her thin, crimson summer dress.

  Same ol’ Claire, Robert thought. He suppressed the urge to throw a faux tantrum at the sheriff’s lack of good sense and protocol at giving an unknown civilian unlimited access of evidence in an ongoing criminal investigation involving the double homicide of two children. He knew it would’ve been wasted effort. Nobody could resist Claire. She was as talented at getting information out of people as she was beautiful. Robert recognized that the two were hardly contradictory attributes.

  “I believe you know Miss Montgomery,” said the sheriff as if he were doing Robert a favor by introducing her to him.

  “Oh, don’t be so formal, darlin’. You can call me Claire.” She laughed and patted his back. Robert noted that the physical contact made the sheriff adjust himself in his seat.

  “Miss Montgomery.” Robert nodded, reaching over and gently shaking her hand. “It is still Miss, isn’t it?”

  Robert stared intently into her dazzling green eyes and tried to hide the sudden rush of excitement he felt in her presence. She met his gaze without wavering and replied coolly, “Why yes, yes it is.”

  “Well, well, that does surprise me,” Fuller interrupted, growing jealous of Stallworth’s intrusion. Who invited this asshole in here anyway? “A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a good man.”

  “Oh, I’ve found them, darlin’,” said Claire. “It’s keeping them that’s been the hard part.”

  Robert tried not to laugh as he watched the sheriff blush when Claire subtly emphasized the words hard part, even as the deeper meaning of her comment hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He ignored it and moved on. It was part of the game.

  “I see the good sheriff has been going over the investigation with you,” said Robert. “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

  “More questions than thoughts for the moment,” she replied. “I feel stupid for asking this, but don’t y’all have any idea who these girls were? I know if they were my little ones, I’d be beside myself with worry. Surely, someone has reported them missing.”

  “Not a clue, Miss Mont—, I mean, Claire.” Fuller smiled despite himself at the use of the attractive female’s first name. “You’d think missing twins would be easy to track down.”

  “How do you know they’re twins?” she asked.

  “We’re pretty sure. Their remains match identically, according to the medical examiner. I’m sure the detective can tell you better than I can about that.”

  Robert stayed silent. He knew Claire was working the sheriff, and he was curious as to where she was going.

  “How many twins live in the area?” she asked.

  “Not many,” the sheriff responded. The truth was, he didn’t know. They hadn’t bothered to check on anyone not reported missing.

  “Four sets,” Robert was compelled to answer. Billy had researched the lead at Robert’s request on the first day. “One of the sets is no longer a set and another is middle aged or older; the others are accounted for.”

  “No longer a set?” Claire asked.

  “One of the gentlemen passed away years ago. The other pair is in their fifties.”

  “What do you mean accounted for?”

  “By the size of the bones, Miss, I mean, Claire,” the sheriff offered. “We’re looking for girls in early adolescence or younger.”

  “They could be midgets,” she said.

  “They’re accounted for,” Robert replied. Leave it to Claire to consider all the possibilities. There’s an old saying amongst investigators, ‘When you hear hoof beats, think of horses, not zebras’. In the majority of cases, the most obvious answer turns out to be the correct one. Many a detective fell into the trap of over-thinking only to find out the man standing over the body holding a bloody knife was the culprit all along. Claire thought of horses, and zebras, and antelopes, and bison, and the occasional horse dressed up as a unicorn. If it turned out to be a goat, she’d be the one to have mentioned that it could’ve been a goat.

  “Maybe they’re just similar and not twins,” she said.

  “Maybe,” said Fuller, “but the detective thinks otherwise.” The sheriff hadn’t put much thought into the matter. It had been the detective who had pushed the idea of twins. His theory was seconded by the medical examiner, and Fuller went along. In truth, he was intimidated by their discussions of anatomy, and he didn’t want to expose his ignorance and ask questions.

  Claire skipped past the remark. She’d get an update from Robert later. This was all about the sheriff. “And there are no reports of missing twins or girls of that age in neighboring counties or states?”

  “We haven’t found any,” said Fuller.

  Claire looked at Robert.

  “Watts looked into it and came up blank,” he said.

  Claire nodded. If Billy hadn’t found anything, her job was going to be tough. “I see by the pins in the map that the parts were found to be haphazardly strewn about the area, both corpses intermixed with each other, but put there at roughly the same time. About four to five months ago. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.” There was something in the way Claire asked the question that made the sheriff think they’d missed something vital.

  “Are y’all sure they were put there at the same time?”

  “We’re sure,” Fuller said.

  “Approximately,” corrected Robert.

  “Approximately?” Claire asked.

  “The same relative time,” Robert explained. “By the pattern of where we found them, Hall thinks they were cut up, packaged, and mixed up at another location and disposed of on one visit.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “I don’t know, but my gut says that they were murdered elsewhere at separate times, cut up, and deposited on separate visits within days, if not hours, of each other. I’m going with days,” added Robert, “consecutive days.”

  Sheriff Fuller was getting annoyed at being left out of the discussion, but he had no clue why any of this mattered, or how on earth the detective and medical examiner could possibly know such a thing.

  “Consecutive days?” asked Claire.

  “The first on day one; the next, the following day.”

  “I hate to leave you out of this, darlin’.” Claire smiled at the sheriff and patted his back again. “But I really must hear this.”

  Fuller smiled at the slightly mocking tone that Claire had used. She’s not buying this know-it-all’s bullshit, either, he thought. Quite the contrary to her act, Claire knew better, and she was dying to know what was going on in Robert�
�s head. She’d loved his dry wit and warped sense of humor, and she’d been attracted to his bookish, but strangely rugged, good looks since the first time they’d met. But it was his keen intellect that drew her in. His sense of justice and empathy was what ultimately made her fall in love with him. Thanks to the war, those were the same traits that had shattered her hopes of a happy future with him.

  “Going out there at night is out of the question. It would take time, and a strong stomach, to murder and dismember even one person. I’m thinking one at a time would be the limit for anyone to handle. Once you finished the task, you’d need a break, so it’s likely, the next day it was the second girl’s turn.”

  “Maybe it was more than one person,” said Claire.

  “Most likely,” Robert agreed, “but still, two bodies, two days. It’s a lot of mayhem for one day.”

  “Why the next day?”

  “Too many trips, the more likely you’d be seen. More time in between, the more likely the parts would be spread out or a different location used. No, they wanted to get it over with and forget about it. Well, all but one. One of them wanted to remember.”

  “The heads?” asked Claire.

  Robert nodded, “The heads. Not that it’ll matter soon enough. I’m quite certain that none of them have been able to forget what they’ve done.”

  Yep, that’s the Robert I remember, thought Claire. “I’m quite certain you won’t let them, darlin’.”

  “That’s why you’re here,” said Robert.

  Claire nodded, stood up, and patted Sheriff Fuller on the back one more time before announcing, “Then let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Much to Sheriff Fuller’s delight, the two didn’t leave together. Claire hung around briefly, going over copies of the reports that Stallworth had insisted the sheriff write. Robert excused himself to run some unnamed errand.

  When Claire left, she headed straight to meet with Billy. He’d have a summary of every avenue related to his search for the girls’ identities that she’d need to get started. After that, she agreed to meet with Robert at the medical examiner’s office.

  Claire was both excited and wary of the meeting later. She’d heard about the macabre display Robert had constructed in the empty room at the morgue. It was classic Stallworth. As much as she yearned to hear his theories on the girls and their untimely demise, seeing their remains scattered about the floor would bring the horror of the situation from the theoretical to the very real. Claire knew she’d have the stomach for it. It wasn’t her first go round with murder victims, but she lacked the depth of detachment to such repulsive visions that Robert had earned. She was grateful. She remembered what a changed man he was when he had returned from Europe, and she wanted no part of it.

  Billy opened the door to his hotel room before Claire had the chance to knock. He gave her a fatherly hug, kissed her on the cheek, invited her in, and closed the door.

  The place was a mess. Papers and reports were stacked up in various piles throughout the cramped quarters. The walls were covered in maps, documents, and, most disturbing of all, photographs. The pictures ranged from mug shots of sexual offenders, ghastly photos of the recovered body parts, to rows upon rows of missing children posters.

  Sadness crept into Claire’s heart. How so many children could have been abducted from their homes, yet nobody but the loved ones seemed to know about it? It was a well known fact in her line of work that, no matter how horrendous and terrifying an incident was, it was soon forgotten by the general public within weeks of occurring, being systematically replaced by other shocking events. Claire knew firsthand that the families of those missing children would never forget, and neither would she.

  “I see you’ve done your homework as usual, Captain Watts.”

  “Awe shucks, ma’am,” Billy kidded as he pretended to be embarrassed by the compliment. He put his hands in his pockets and looked away while swinging his feet awkwardly to enhance his impersonation of a bashful kid.

  Claire laughed. Billy smiled in return. He’d noticed the depressed look in her eyes when she’d seen the posters, cognizant of the tragedies in her own family’s past. So he took it upon himself to lighten the mood.

  “I’ve about exhausted every lead I found when it came to identifying the girls,” said Billy. “It’s going to be up to you now. I hope you’re ready for a challenge.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Is it?” asked Billy, his knowing gaze shooting through Claire’s hardened shell.

  “Yes,” she answered, not wholly convinced of her resolve in the matter.

  “Well, we’re happy to have you aboard.”

  “I’m not so sure everybody is happy,” protested Claire.

  Billy knew where she was going. “He is. It’s just hard for him to see you again after all this time.”

  “And it’s easy for me?”

  “I suppose not.” Billy felt like he was intruding on the pair’s unspoken agreement, but he had no choice but to continue. “We really need your help on this one. Robert has made unbelievable progress so far, but it’s not going to be enough. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how he does it. His father was my partner, you know.”

  “I know,” said Claire. She knew little about Robert’s father because he’d refused to discuss it in all the time she’d known him.

  She knew that he was a veteran from the First World War, along with Watts, and they became partners in the state police after their time in the service. She also knew that the senior Stallworth had remained bitter about his stint in the army, and he’d felt burned over the Bonus Army fiasco that occurred when it came time to get what they’d been promised.

  By all accounts, Robert’s father had been detached and unloving with his family and had ignored his son altogether. His wife, Robert’s mother, exhibited signs of depression and paranoia, probably the result of an undiagnosed mental illness, which left Robert to raise himself. Robert, inquisitive even at an early age, had thought of himself as an unwanted addition to the family, a disappointment in the eyes of his parents.

  In reality, his father bent his partner’s ear relentlessly about the boy’s intellectual gifts, confiding to Billy that even he felt intimidated at times by his boy’s capacity to find the truth. This unspoken phenomenon created more distance between the two as time went on, or they might’ve otherwise bonded. The elder Stallworth was afraid of what his son would think about him if he knew about his violent actions and cowardice in the trenches when the flamethrowers made their unwelcome appearance. He was ashamed of his mistreatment of Robert’s mother and his ever-escalating drinking problem.

  Watts had listened to his partner’s lamentations and encouraged him to bide his time. He recognized that Robert already knew how poorly his mother had been treated and might not harbor as much resentment as his father imagined. The boy understood his mother’s illness in ways the older man never could. As horrified by the outbreak of the Second World War as Billy had been, he knew the younger Stallworth would see his share of atrocities and have a greater understanding of the torments his father suffered.

  He’d prayed that, one day, the two would come to terms with their estrangement, but it was not to be. A routine traffic stop ended the elder Stallworth’s life on the side of a little used, rural highway. He bled out on the lonely stretch of Alabama highway, taking his last breath at the hands of a lone gunman. The result was that father and son lost the chance to really know each other. The unknown gunman was never apprehended.

  “Even the old man would’ve been impressed by Robert’s abilities. He had his own methods of getting to the truth. Let me tell you, they were very effective.”

  “I’ve heard stories.”

  “Nobody but me will ever know the real stories, and I’ll never tell,” Billy said. “In any case, with the Stallworth brain or not, we’re dead in the water without the Montgomery charm.”

  Claire laughed, ceremoniously fanning herself and r
eplying in her best Scarlett O’Hara impression, “I do declare!” Taking a more serious tone, she said, “Now that we got the schmoozing out of the way, where should I start?”

  “Dr. Jack’s office,” said Billy. “Is Robert going to meet you there later?”

  “You know it. I can’t say as I’m looking forward to it.”

  Billy cocked an eyebrow, so Claire elaborated, “About what Robert has waiting for me over at the medical examiner’s. Not about meeting up with him. I saw the good detective earlier.”

  “Did you now? And?”

  “Same ol’ Robert,” said Claire. “He’s mighty popular at Dale’s place.”

  “Dale?”

  “Sheriff Fuller,” Claire explained.

  They laughed.

  “Same ol’ Claire,” said Billy. Claire smiled but said nothing. Her eyes scanned the posters on the wall again. Looking for a place to rest, they found a picture of the dismembered foot with the fishing line attached that had started the investigation. The corners of her mouth turned down; the skin on her forehead furrowed.

  “No doubt, you’ve heard about Robert’s little display at the doctor’s,” said Billy.

  Claire remained silent. She’d heard. It was what brought her there. Robert’s eccentric methods notwithstanding, she was going to find out who the girls were and take them home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  “How come we always have to meet over at my place?” asked Cooter.

  There was a time when he loved coming out to the secluded stretch of land he’d inherited. He used to find solace in taking long walks, surrounded by the wonders of nature. Cooter ingratiated himself with his friends in the church by offering his place for gatherings of the other deacons. Even Brother Eustice and his sons looked forward to the invitations, and, over time, the place became a retreat for the disciples of the great prophet. Cooter had been pleased. It made him feel like a big shot.

  “We always meet here,” Charles Ray replied. “What’s the big deal?”