"I'll do my own talking, all I need is a way to get in touch with me," she explained.
The man nodded and scooted one of the large books over in front of her. "Here's some examples, these have proved to be the most popular ones."
Connie began looking through the card samples. "The two color ones are attractive," she sighed. "But I'm really at the black and white stage right now. I want them plain black print on white and easy to read."
She pointed to the one she liked, raising an eyebrow.
"You said five hundred?"
"Yes, five hundred. I may not even need those," she added. Her hands felt clammy at the immensity of five hundred.
"I asked because you can save by ordering a thousand at a time. They're cheaper that way. Are you starting a new business?" He read the card information.
Connie explained what she was trying to do. "I've only called on one office so far."
"Be sure to call on everyone, every business," the man advised her. "You never can tell. Even if the place you leave a card doesn't have anything for you, they may know someone who does. Word will get around," he encouraged her. "Getting cards out will be worth the effort."
"I hope so. I'm certainly going to try."
"I'll call you when these come in." He smiled, "Good luck."
"Thanks." Connie opened the door, already thinking about her next stop.
Getting a scary case of cold feet after ordering her cards she determined firmly to herself to make the three calls she had listed for that day and stick to her plans.
Passing near the square again she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She promised herself if she got through with her calls before the flower shop closed she would stop by to see the Anderson sisters. She also wondered how Cas was doing with his list of student's names and was glad he didn't know what a wimp she was now that it was up to her to find some work for herself.
* * *
Cas opened the door to Judge Spruce's office and went in, speaking to a clerk as he went and waving to two others passing in the corridor. Past the clerk at the counter he could see a little alcove where Muriel Davis sat at her desk.
She saw him coming and smiled up at him as he took the chair beside her desk.
"You aren't going to scold me, too, are you? I felt I needed to come back. Judge Spruce has been so good, as has everyone else. But I needed to come back. To catch up on my work and keep my mind busy too," Muriel explained.
"I can understand that," Cas nodded. "It's best to keep busy. There's something I wanted to ask you about the list of Denise's friends you gave me."
"All right, if I can help."
"Judge Spruce has a son who is a senior at the high school. I was surprised to see his name wasn't on the list." He looked directly at her, watching her face.
Her reaction was mild surprise. "But the list was of Denise's friends. Not that they weren't friends," Muriel hurriedly explained, a little flustered. "I mean, they know each other and get along all right but they're in different grades, and not particular friends. That's what I meant to say." She returned his direct look.
He knew she was telling him the truth, or what she thought was the truth.
"They don't or didn't, have much contact then," Cas pursued. "They've never dated?"
"No. I don't think his name has ever come up at home but once."
"When was that, and what was it about?"
"I don't remember the exact date," Muriel said thoughtfully. "But it must have been around this time last year because it was about a picnic that was planned."
Cas listened and watched her as he did everyone he questioned. Eyes had sometimes told him more than lips as his Aunt Harriet always said. Aunt Harry was very wise. Muriel seemed cooperative and was trying to help.
"Denise and her friends, Doris and Diane, were going to a picnic some group at the school was sponsoring and Denise didn't have anyone to take with her. She said something about asking Darrell Spruce to go with her." She looked embarrassed and Cas waited for her to continue.
"I sat her down and talked to her. She hadn't ever mentioned him before, and I told her I would rather she would not ask him. I work for Judge Spruce and I feel if we don't mix very much we won't have any conflicts. It's sort of like not dating anyone who works for the same company, if you know what I mean?"
"Yes, I think it's probably a good policy. So they knew each other, but weren't close and have never dated?"
"That's right. That's why it never occurred to me to put his name on the list."
"All right, I just wondered about it when I remembered he was a senior. Thank you."
* * *
Outside, Cas looked toward the flower shop and saw Connie's car parked in front of it. He walked over to see if she'd had any luck finding something to do.
Approaching the new shop, he noticed how festive it looked with a bunch of ribbons lying carelessly in a window. A brightly colored sign leaned against the front waiting to be hung.
It said ANDERSON'S FLOWERS. Showy in petunia colors. Cas grinned as he admired the splash of pastels and went inside looking for his wife. It was obvious the shop was not yet open for business. Potted plants, balloons, and assorted decorating materials were strewn about.
"Cas," Connie's voice called. "I wondered if I might run into you. We're back here."
"You're just in time for coffee break," Miss Mayme Anderson informed him. Her sister, Miss Minnie Anderson, poured a cup for him.
The Anderson sisters had been Connie's favorite teachers. Miss Mayme taught English and art. Her ample figure fairly shouted it housed a good cook and her heart was as generous as her proportions. Miss Minnie taught math, was as thin as her sister was wide, did not suffer fools gladly but did her best to educate the ones depending on her for that. Her teaching math and her expectations resulted in her being called Miss Meanie by some of her less than brilliant and studious math students. "Miss Mayme and Miss Meanie," Connie thought to herself as she smiled at them both.
"What's all this hogwash I hear about you girls quitting the school system?" Cas teased them.
"You've got it all wrong," Miss Minnie explained. "They quit us. We got to something called retirement age and they gave us the jolly old ax, to make a long story short."
She raised her coffee cup. "Here's to good brains and good discipline, and good books, in that order."
Cas laughed. "Now, that was a dumb thing for them to do. It's the school's loss. So, now you're going into the flower business, are you?"
"It's something I've always wanted to do," Miss Mayme confided. "And Minnie needs something to do too. We managed to get this little cubby hole when the dress shop moved out, so here we are, 'Open and hopin!' Well, almost, give or take a few days and some cleaning."
"I think it's great," Connie exclaimed. "If I get a vote. It's the only florist shop in town. And Cas, don't you love their sign?"
"Yes, it's pretty. Eye catching. It's the colors I remember in my mother's petunia bed." He looked around at the frilly chaos of ribbon bolts and pastel decorations. He gestured at some shelves beside the door.
"Would you like me to move these shelves where you want them? They look pretty heavy."
"No, but thanks. We haven't decided what to do where yet." Miss Mayme chuckled, enjoying the disorder and excitement.
"Did you get to call on anyone?" Cas asked Connie.
"Sure did. I was just telling Miss Mayme and Miss Minnie about it, about my freelancing. I got to talk to Lisa Randolph and left my resume. I think she sounded interested and she's going to talk to her husband about my doing some work for them. She asked questions about my work and my rates, so that's a good sign. Then I went by and put in an order for some cards. I only ordered five hundred." She hesitated, wondering if Cas would approve. "They should be in about a week from now."
"Good idea. It may take some time for word to get around." He smiled at his wife, his confidence buoying her hopes. "You'll probably have all the work you want."
; "Of course you will," Miss Minnie agreed.
"You've got your skills and the recommendation from Mr. Allen and you don't have warts on your nose." Miss Mayme was famous for being optimistic to the bone. Connie smiled at her pep talk, feeling encouraged.
"When you get your cards be sure to bring one by," Miss Minnie told her. "We're going to have a bulletin board."
"You are? Good! I will. I wish I already had them. I'm going to call on two more law offices before I go home. I was going to make my calls first, but my car just couldn't pass the square." She grinned at Cas.
"A likely story." He grinned back, getting up. "See you later then. Thanks for the coffee, ladies. Let me know if you need help getting settled in." Cas's mind was back on files and business before he got to the door.
He crossed the street and continued on to the back parking lot to get his truck. On a vague hunch, he drove through town and out toward Peaceful Ridge. He tried to remember the incident when the cemetery was vandalized. As he started up the hill in the cemetery he decided to hunt up the report when he got back.
There was a level place to park about halfway to the top. He got out and walked, looking around at some of the weather beaten tombstones.
"No telling how old some of these stones are. The place is well named, it's peaceful up here." He looked down at the graves around him. "No one up here but them and the mocking birds." He turned around and looked down the hill and around the surrounding countryside he could see from the ridge. The view from up there was beautiful. That was one thing besides the square that hadn't changed.
The place where the vandalism had occurred was up high where the tombstones were the oldest. Noticing a stone that leaned slightly, he walked over for a closer look at it.
This must have been one of the stones that were knocked down. Two or three were not exactly straight. He bent to examine the leaning stone, "This must have been one of the easiest to push over, the little devils. Wanted to look macho, no doubt."
He began reading the names and inscriptions on the stones around him. "Some of these are so old, there probably aren't any family members around here any more. The slanted one says, 'Charity Morris, Good Wife to Lemuel Morris, Mother to...?' I can't make out the rest of it, it's so eroded away."
The next stone was old too. It was bigger. Cas could tell it had been pushed over, but it had been righted and now stood fairly straight.
"Sarah Spruce," he read. "Wonder if there's any connection to the family living here now. It's easier to read than the last one, must be a better grade of stone."
He bent to examine the rest of the inscription. "What's this? 'Tried for witchcraft,' hanged April something. Can't make out the rest. But, witchcraft? And 'We hope she lyeth stille' under that."
Cas stood up, stretching his back muscles. Sorry for the poor woman, he realized every age seemed to have had its problems and conflicts. Down below he could see what must have been part of Caleb Martin's land. There was no one in sight. The cattle grazed peacefully. The scene looked like a landscape in an art gallery.
With a regretful glance back at the grave of the condemned witch he retraced his steps, his mind back on county business.
"I've got to get with Rhodes and see what he found out about the cattle Caleb Martin's been missing, and why he waited till now to report it."
* * *
He parked and on the way in and glanced across the street between the courthouse and the huge old magnolia tree. Connie's car was gone.
"Has Rhodes come in," Cas asked Gladys on his way to his office.
"No, but I told him about the missing cattle over the phone and he said he'd go out to the Martin place as soon as he could."
Cas nodded, going on into his office. He went directly to the files and pulled out the report about the vandalism at the cemetery.
There wasn't much there. "Just noted a lot of footprints, looked like dancing? Must have taken cassettes with them," Cas thought and read on. "Hmm. 'Found dead chicken, blood on toppled tombstone, goat tracks and claw marks that looked like they were made artificially, no droppings found.' Goat tracks and claw marks made artificially? Sounds like a Halloween party except for the time of year."
Cas smiled to himself picturing some of the young people he'd been talking to dancing in the cemetery.
He reread the brief report again before replacing the file and called to Gladys.
"Yes, sir?" Gladys peered around the door.
"Do you know of any recent reports we've had about animals being stolen?"
"Animals?" Gladys thought about it.
"Cows, horses, goats?" Cas raised his eyebrows.
"Goats rings a bell. There was one reported stolen about a year ago, I think. It was somewhere around the time of that vandalism at the cemetery and didn't get much attention if I remember right. Handled routinely, never did find it, or know who took it. Don't even remember who took the report."
"Would you find me the report, and while you're at it, look for any other animals reported stolen too."
Cas moved the Davis file over and picked up the phone to dial Judge Spruce's office. Muriel answered.
"This is Cas Larkin, I won't keep you but a minute. I keep running into things I need to ask you to put in the file. Was Denise on any kind of medication? Or did she take a sleeping pill once in a while, anything like that?"
"No, there weren't any health problems, and none of us have ever needed any help getting to sleep." Muriel sounded amused at the thought. "I've been known to go to sleep watching the news."
"Okay, that clears that up," Cas chuckled. "Another little piece in the routine information puzzle. Thanks."
Gladys had laid computer sheets on his desk as he talked to Muriel Davis. He pulled over the file notes to read them. There were three reports besides the goat there. "The goat belonged to Matthew Tinwhistle, I remember it now. Couple of weeks before the Peaceful Ridge to do I think it was."
He wrote the name of Matthew Tinwhistle and Sheriff Harlan Glover on a piece of paper and took it out to Gladys.
"I want a phone number and directions how to get to Tinwhistle's place when you can get around to it. And I want to talk to Harlan Glover any time at all as long is it's in the next ten minutes," he grinned at her.
"I can handle that." Gladys took the challenge.
Cas was still looking over the computer pages when his phone rang.
"Sheriff Glover's on the phone, sir," Gladys called.
"Great," he picked up the phone with a smile. "Hi, Cas here. Haven't seen you for a while, how are you Harlan?"
"I've been better, I've been worse," Harlan answered cautiously. "What are you buttering me up with small talk for?"
"I was looking at some animal thefts we've had in the past year and I noticed one you investigated."
"I remember it. It was cattle. Wasn't in my county, but close to the line, and I'd had two other incidents. That's why my name was on it. Never did find out who was doing the stealing though. We haven't had any more until about two weeks ago. But, this last was not exactly theft. The two cows were not stolen, they were mutilated."
"Mutilated?" Cas raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah. Had their udders, eyes, and horns cut out. They were longhorns. Somebody probably wanted those horns. We got a tire print, or part of one but haven't got much hope of finding out what it was done for or who did it, with nothing else to go on. I promised we'd try to patrol the roads more often. Wasn't much else I could do."
"The latest animal theft we've had reported in this county till now was a goat. It made me curious about what other animal thefts there have been in this area. The owner of the current one said he's been missing some cattle along this year, but he hadn't reported it for some reason. Would you send me printouts of all the reports you've had of cattle thefts for the last year and a half?" Cas grinned, "Keeping in mind of course, a goat is cattle too."
"I'll do it, a goat is a goat is a goat, horns and all," Harlan chuckled. "And if you get anywhere with
it, I'd like to know about it."
Chapter 7
Connie pulled up in front of the building which according to the expensive looking sign, housed the Laurence Fields Law Office. She took note of the neat and lush commercial landscaping as she parked.
It was obvious Lawrence Fields was the established legal light in the area and 'famous for his courtroom successes,' as the paper usually said. She took a deep breath.
Connie held onto her purse and the folder holding her resume and recommendation to keep her hands from shaking. On her way in she patted her hair since there was a little breeze.
"I feel like I've been sent to the principal's office for shooting spit-balls!" She caught her lower lip in her teeth as she stopped in front of the reception desk to address the stern looking secretary.
"I don't have an appointment." She apologized, knowing at once that was a mistake. "I would like to speak to Mr. Fields if he can spare me a moment."
The effect this had was not exactly a frown, but too close to quibble about.
"Mr. Fields is in, but he is ready to leave."
"Connie Larkin!" a hearty and friendly voice boomed. "Come in."
When she turned, Laurence Fields stood in his office door smiling at her. He was about the same age as Cas but a little heavier. She remembered he had been a football player in college and turned down offers from professional teams to pursue his law career. Part of his charm was he was down to earth and friendly in spite of looking like the classic example of what a successful attorney should look like. And there was also in his favor the fact that Cas liked him. She put more faith in her husband's opinion than the things she had heard or read in the paper.
Connie smiled happily back at him. The pleasure of being welcomed by a handsome and busy man completely eclipsed the elderly watchdog behind the reception desk.
She practically skipped into his office and took the chair Fields indicated.
At ease now, she told him her plans and laid the folder on his desk. She was brief and to the point, grateful he had taken the time to talk to her.
Fields was pleasant and predicted she would probably get more work than she wanted, though he himself didn't promise anything.
The Devil in Maryvale Page 7