Disturbing the Dead

by Sandra Parshall

  “Ed McClure’s wife couldn’t have been happy about her husband’s attentions to Pauline,” Tom said. How much had his mother known about his father and Pauline? “Did you ever see Natalie McClure at Pauline’s house?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Mrs. Barker broke off bits of her muffin and placed them before the cats. “Queenie, Sadie, each of you eat your own and don’t squabble.” The cats sniffed the treats, then mouthed and swallowed them.

  “So Natalie came to the house,” Tom said, trying to get her back on track. “What happened between her and Pauline?”

  “Natalie came several times. The first time, I answered the door to her and she screamed at me, Where is my husband? He came out of the living room looking white as a ghost. Natalie, what are you doing here? She shoved me aside and marched right in and screamed the same question back at him. Pauline came into the foyer and Natalie proceeded to curse a blue streak at her.”

  “How did it end?”

  “With Ed dragging his wife outside by the arm and forcing her into her car. Then they both drove off.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, months before Pauline disappeared.” Mrs. Barker bit into her muffin.

  “But he went on seeing Pauline even after his wife made an issue of it?”

  Mrs. Barker chewed and swallowed. “Yes. As if it had never happened. However, Ed eventually became angry with Pauline for some reason. I heard them arguing one day. I didn’t catch all the words, but I did hear her say that she would not allow him to run her life, and she didn’t want to see him again. I believe I told you the other day, she instructed me not to let him into the house.”

  That could have been the point when Ed had found out about Pauline and John Bridger. Tom picked up his muffin, discovered he didn’t have an appetite anymore, and set it back on the plate. “But Ed kept coming?”

  “He stopped visiting for a while, but not long before Pauline disappeared, he began coming around again, begging for forgiveness. He would stand on the front porch and talk to the closed door, pleading with her to let him in.”

  “Was that when Pauline asked my father to put a stop to it?”

  “Yes. But Ed continued his visits, even after your father spoke to him. Natalie McClure must have been aware of what he was doing, because she showed up again. Twice. She accused Pauline of going after her husband, when the exact opposite was true.”

  “Did this go on right up to the time Pauline disappeared?”

  Mrs. Barker rubbed her eyes with fingers and thumb. “The last time—and the worst—was several days before she disappeared. Her sisters were at the house, then all the McClures descended, one after the other. It was utter madness.”

  “Tell me. From the beginning. And don’t leave anything out.”

  She sipped her coffee and seemed to gather her thoughts. “Pauline’s niece, Amy Watford, had been at the house all that morning. Pauline was very fond of Amy. With Mary Lee away so much, I think Amy filled a gap in Pauline’s life. She gave Amy clothes, instructed her on the proper use of makeup, and—”

  “Who showed up next?”

  “That afternoon, Pauline’s sisters arrived. Jean Turner and Bonnie Watford, Amy’s mother. Jean’s little girl, Holly, was with them. Pauline made a great fuss over Holly. Bonnie told Jean to be careful, or Pauline would take her child away from her too.”

  “What did she mean by that?”

  “Bonnie resented Pauline’s attentions to Amy. Or perhaps I should say she resented Amy’s adulation of Pauline. She felt Pauline was stealing her daughter.”

  Not exactly the same story Bonnie had given Tom. “Why were they there?”

  “My assumption has always been that Bonnie wanted to put a stop to Amy and Pauline’s friendship.”

  “I’ve been told that Mrs. Turner was sick, and Pauline’s sisters wanted her to visit their mother, but she refused.”

  Mrs. Barker drew back as if offended. “You were misinformed. She would never have refused to visit when her mother was ill. She did so on a number of occasions. She would have paid for a doctor if Mrs. Turner had been willing to see one. But Mrs. Turner preferred to treat herself with herbal remedies.”

  So Bonnie Watford had lied. What had been behind that visit, what was it that Bonnie didn’t want him to find out? “Tell me everything you saw or heard,” he told Mrs. Barker. “Even a scrap of conversation.”

  “I heard nothing after the first few minutes. Pauline told me to keep Holly occupied in the garden. The others stayed in the house, with the windows and doors closed.” Mrs. Barker poured more coffee into Tom’s cup. “But I could see them through the living room windows, having a furious argument. At one point Bonnie slapped Pauline, and Jean and Amy had to restrain her.”

  “But you couldn’t hear what they were arguing about?”

  “Not a word. But the oddest thing happened after the others pulled Bonnie away from Pauline. Pauline went to Bonnie and embraced her, and the two of them cried in one another’s arms.”

  Tom drank his coffee and considered this. He would probably never get the straight story from Bonnie. He had to locate Amy. Who else could have witnessed the argument? “Where was Mary Lee?”

  “She didn’t return from her grand tour of Europe until the next day.”

  Damn. “All right, you said the McClures showed up too.”

  “Oh, yes. Ed arrived first. He’d been drinking. He pounded on the door, but Pauline wouldn’t open it. He threw stones at the windows, shouting all the while. Poor little Holly was outside with me, as I said, and the child was terrified. This had been going on for fifteen or twenty minutes when his wife and brother arrived.”

  “Together?” Tom asked.

  “In Robert McClure’s Lincoln Town Car,” Mrs. Barker said. “They leapt from the car and ran to Ed.” The flowing motion of her hands described their actions. “Natalie screamed at her husband. Invective such as I have never heard before or since. Robert seized Ed and attempted to maneuver him into the Lincoln, but Ed fought him wildly. Pauline came out of the house, with her sisters and Amy. The sight of all of them seemed to enrage Robert McClure.”

  “Enrage is a strong word.”

  “Oh, he was already quite worked up. When he saw Pauline and her sisters and niece, he…what’s that expression young people use? Went ballistic.” Her faint smile showed her pleasure in the sound of the slang. “That describes his reaction perfectly.”

  “What did Robert do?”

  “He advanced on them. His face was almost purple. I was sincerely concerned that the man would keel over with a coronary in the front garden.”

  “He advanced on them, and—?”

  “He said it made him sick to see Melungeon trash in his grandfather’s house. He said he was going to set things right no matter what he had to do, and if they thought they were going to live high on McClure money for the rest of their lives, they had another think coming.”

  A real threat, or more of Robert’s bluster? “How did Pauline react to that?”

  “She looked him in the eye and said, Robert, if you weren’t so funny, I’d feel sorry for you. Take your brother home and leave me alone.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Natalie continued to carry on at a remarkable decibel level. Robert told her to drive Ed’s car home. Ed would ride with him. Natalie finally got into her husband’s car, but before she left, she rolled down the window and yelled at Pauline that if she didn’t leave Ed alone she, Natalie, would…would…”

  Tom sat forward. “Would what?”

  The words came out in a whisper. “Kill her.”

  Tom took a moment to imagine Natalie McClure in the role of cold-blooded killer. She had a motive, the strongest motive in the world. In a rage, she could have swung an ax at Pauline’s head. But she couldn’t have taken Pauline’s body up that mountain.

  Maybe Natalie engineered Pauline’s murder but hadn’t done it herself. If the mot
ive was Natalie’s jealousy, Tom couldn’t explain—yet—where the second, unidentified victim fit in, but he could easily imagine Natalie hiring somebody to get rid of Pauline. Something Jack Watford had said a couple of days before popped into Tom’s head. When he’d suggested that Troy Shackleford was Pauline’s killer, Watford had answered, She wasn’t robbed. Troy don’t do nothin’ except for money.

  Tom asked Mrs. Barker, “Do you know whether Natalie McClure ever met Troy Shackleford?”

  “Met him? Of course. He’s an electrician, you know, and he did an extensive rewiring job at Ed and Natalie McClure’s house. She saw quite a bit of Shackleford, I would think.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Rachel had barely slept the rest of the night. Lying in the dark, she was awash in guilt. How could she feel so drawn to Tom when she still ached for Luke? How could she even think of bringing her troubled past into Tom’s life, when he had such a heavy burden of his own?

  She didn’t want Tom, or any other man, to ever know her the way Luke did. She’d loved him, still loved him, but he would always see her as damaged, fragile, and that had made her feel dependent and frustrated. Tom was already over-protective of her, and if he knew her story he’d probably be as smothering as Luke had been.

  She had hoped to start a new life here in Mason County. But she hadn’t realized how lonely that life might be. She couldn’t let loneliness push her into a relationship with Tom that she wasn’t ready for, might never be ready for.

  At dawn she rose and dressed. With her cat Frank at her side, she crept past the room where Holly was asleep at last.

  In the kitchen she found a bleary-eyed Joanna having coffee with Brandon. Billy Bob sprawled on the floor beside Joanna’s golden retriever, Nan. “Where’s Tom?” Rachel asked.

  “He’s gone to see Pauline’s housekeeper,” Brandon said, frowning into his coffee mug. “I hope he’ll be able to drive okay.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel said, both disappointed and relieved that Tom wasn’t there. She opened a can of food for Frank, who had jumped onto a counter when he saw the dogs in the kitchen, then she grabbed a coffee mug and dropped into a chair. “I’d love some coffee, but I don’t think I have enough energy to lift the pot. I might have blown it all on feeding Frank.”

  “Allow me.” Brandon reached across the table and filled Rachel’s cup. He wasn’t exactly a picture of perkiness himself, Rachel thought. His fresh-faced look was lost to fatigue and his short sandy hair was headed in the direction of punk rocker spikes. “Man, you guys had a rough night from the sound of it. Is Holly asleep now?”

  “Yeah. I wish I were.” Rachel sipped the strong brew. That should help. Joanna refused to have decaf in her house, claiming coffee wasn’t coffee if it didn’t jolt you wide awake. “I haven’t had a full night’s rest since she moved in with me.”

  “You’re not gonna throw her out or anything, are you?” Brandon asked.

  “Absolutely not. She needs friends to help her stand up to her nutty relatives.”

  “I’m glad she’s got somebody like you on her side,” Brandon said. “I’m gonna be right there for her too, anytime she needs me.” His cheeks flushed when he added, “She’s a great girl, isn’t she?”

  “You seem to be taking more than a friendly interest in Holly.”

  “I thought you and Debbie were planning a spring wedding,” Joanna said.

  Brandon’s blush deepened and he gave a short embarrassed laugh. “I’ve kinda been rethinking all that.”

  Uh-oh. “Well,” Rachel said, “you’re a terrific guy and any girl who got you would be lucky. But I don’t want Holly hurt. She can’t take any more.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her for anything in the world,” Brandon said, somber and earnest. “You gotta believe that.”

  “You know what you sound like, Rachel?” Joanna smiled across the table. “A mother.”

  “What? No. Just a friend.” For a moment Joanna’s words flustered her, and she automatically rejected the idea. But she didn’t need much time to get used to it. Why shouldn’t she be a mother figure to Holly? Maybe the girl was a young adult, but she was such a lost little kid in so many ways, and she needed help and guidance. Rachel couldn’t say no to that need.

  ***

  Brandon wouldn’t hear of Rachel going back to the cottage to get more clothes for herself and Holly. He relented only after another deputy dropped by and agreed to stay with Holly while Brandon accompanied Rachel.

  As they drove down the farm lane, heavy mist blanketed the paddocks and meadows on either side. Dark clouds hung low over the hills, but lights shone in the stable and barn. At the barn door a farmhand loaded bales of hay and bags of grain onto a pickup for the short drive across the road to the horses’ quarters. Through the open stable door, Rachel saw two men walking down the long aisle, giving each of the two dozen horses a morning check for overt signs of illness. Up ahead, shrouded in mist at the end of the lane, sat Rachel’s cottage. The world seemed so normal, so ordinary, that the shooting yesterday seemed a bizarre incident in another dimension.

  Brandon pulled the car to the side of the road before they reached the cottage. “Let me have your keys,” he said. “You stay here till I go in and make sure everything’s okay.”

  Rachel thought he was being over-cautious, but she’d noticed that arguing with a cop seldom got her anywhere, so she pulled her keys out of her coat pocket and handed them to him. She watched Brandon trot to the cottage.

  He started up the short flight of steps, then stopped as if he’d hit a wall. He seemed to be staring at the porch floor. In the car, Rachel leaned forward, trying to see what Brandon saw. She was too far away, and she couldn’t make out much through the mist.

  She hopped out of the cruiser and jogged toward the cottage. “What’s wrong?” she called.

  Brandon whipped around.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s the matter?”

  Brandon gestured and moved aside so she could see.

  A gray goose sprawled on the porch, its wings stretched to their full span, its head and neck twisted to one side, its eyes half-closed and glazed. An iron stake pierced its body, pinning it to the floorboards.

  “Oh, my God,” Rachel whispered. “Penny?”

  “No,” Brandon said. “It couldn’t be. I saw Holly’s goose at the house this morning.”

  “It’s one of Joanna’s,” Rachel said. The sight of the bird sent a wave of angry, helpless pity crashing through her. “They’re practically pets, they’re so trusting. Who would do this?”

  “Somebody that wants to scare Holly out of her mind. And you.” Brandon pointed.

  Rachel tore her gaze from the dead bird and followed Brandon’s gesture. What she saw made her gasp. Painted in red on the front door of her home were four words.

  YOUR DEAD DOCTER BITCH

  ***

  They’re just trying to scare me into abandoning Holly, Rachel told herself as she paced Joanna’s living room, waiting for Tom to show up again. Whoever they were, they’d succeeded in scaring her. But she’d be damned if she’d throw Holly’s life away to protect herself.

  When she heard a car door slam outside in late morning, she peeked through the drapes. Tom, at last. She ran to let him in. He’d changed into his uniform, and he crossed the lawn from the driveway with the confident stride of a man who was sure of his strength and authority. The very sight of him made Rachel feel safer.

  As soon as Tom came in, Billy Bob charged up the hall, followed by Brandon. Tom looked at Rachel while he stooped to pat and scratch his dog. “The barn door was standing open this morning when the farmhands showed up, but I couldn’t see any sign that your house was broken into. A crime scene tech’s over there now. He might turn up something useful.” Tom stood and touched her shoulder. “Nobody got to you and Holly last night. That’s the important thing.”

  Rachel drew a deep breath and let it out. “Righ
t. But we haven’t told Holly about this, and I’d rather you didn’t either, okay?”

  “Sure. I need to talk to her about something else, though.”

  “Can I be with her?”

  “Me too?” Brandon said.

  Tom grinned and shook his head. “I don’t know what you two think I’m going to do to the girl, but okay, you can be there to protect her from me.”

  Rachel led him and Brandon down the hall and through the kitchen to the enclosed porch, where Joanna was using strands of twine attached to a board to teach Holly how to make fancy braids in a horse’s mane. Penny, the goose, had settled in a corner, her eyes half-closed as Cicero groomed her neck feathers.

  Joanna glanced from one deputy to the other and excused herself.

  “Hi, Holly,” Tom said. “I need to ask you a few more questions.”

  Holly continued braiding twine, her fingers moving in intricate patterns, and didn’t look at him.

  “Do you remember going to your Aunt Pauline’s house the week before she disappeared?” he asked. “With your mother and Aunt Bonnie?”

  Holly’s hands stilled and she frowned. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time. Amy was there.”

  “Right,” Tom said. “And the McClures showed up too—Ed and Robert and Ed’s wife, Natalie. Do you remember anything Natalie said to Pauline?”

  “I don’t know if I remember it right.” Holly looked so distressed that Rachel moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Grandma says I get a lot of stuff wrong, I claim stuff happened and it really didn’t.”

  “Just tell Tom what you remember,” Rachel said. That old woman had really done a number on Holly, and Rachel had begun to think the motive behind the brainwashing was much deeper and darker than fear of losing a companion. “I’m sure your memory is just as accurate as anyone else’s.”

  “I’ll get in trouble.” Holly’s voice edged toward panic. “Sayin’ things about rich people.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Tom said. “The McClures can’t hurt you.”

  Holly picked up the strands of twine, dropped them again. Rachel squeezed Holly’s shoulder reassuringly, wishing she could make her believe in the truth of her own memory and emotions.