by Nancy Hogue
Each file cabinet, each file item that Blake Brockton wanted hidden would now be exposed to Bibb County investigators, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, and probably the FBI. The murder investigation attracted numerous cable news stations, and their cameras captured it all for the world to watch as a moving van pulled into view.
* * *
Cain stayed in the office all night pouring through the comic sections of the newspaper. The comic was not a daily just ran Wednesdays and Saturdays. So he ordered up back issues for the last three months but only one month was available evidently being a new product.
The author’s name was obviously a pen name, Skinmore. Gumdrop appeared to be the name of a dog, the Heinz 57 type who just couldn’t get a command right by his master. If the master said sit, he’d roll over. If the master said stay, Gumdrop would fetch a stick. Gumdrop was quite the neighborhood pet though. He visited everyone’s garbage cans on a daily basis and seemed to know all the other dogs in the neighborhood very intimately.
Gumdrop also interacted with a turtle and a cat. The turtle mostly hid in his shell while the cat just continually stared at Gumdrop.
Cain rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if this comic strip had anything, anything at all to do with who stole his file. He knew more research was required and he knew he had to find the origin of that comic strip.
He finally went home at eight thirty to shower and shave.
* * *
At ten, on Friday morning, Sammi stood in front of Judge Janice Simmons and entered a plea of not guilty. Judge Simmons placed her bond at $25,000. The District Attorney had not objected to such a low amount. Wilson Lopez was not surprised since Blake Brockton’s money put her on the bench, and they were all good friends. They were close friends with every jurist in the county and many throughout the state.
Wilson fastened his briefcase and escorted Sammi through a rear door and down through an alleyway into a waiting car.
The female driver nodded to Mr. Lopez, and he went back inside the courtroom as the car drove to an apartment building just a few miles from the courthouse. Not one car followed them. No cameras snapped photos. As far as anyone knew, she was still inside the courtroom as reporters waited at the main entrance of the Bibb County Courthouse.
Sammi thought it all cloak and dagger, but she was very happy to be breathing fresh air again. She had no idea what Wilson was charging her, but felt it was already worth it. They drove about ten minutes due to traffic lights and tourists in town for the annual Cherry Blossom festival.
The driver turned into an alley and used a remote control to open the garage door. She eased the vehicle in, and neither spoke until the garage door closed behind them. They walked up a long flight of stairs to a quaint one-bedroom apartment. It was at that point the driver introduced herself as Maria Lopez, Wilson’s wife.
“Oh, thank you so much, I just don’t know what I would do without your husband’s help!”
“Si, senora, I speak little English,” as she pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “I go to school. I help you, si?”
“Si, gracias!”
Maria smiled and opened the refrigerator. It was stocked with diet colas, bottled water, diet green tea, fresh vegetables, cheeses, and even a bottle of white wine. The freezer was just as full with frozen entrees and ice cream. The pleasant look of surprise on Sammi’s face made Maria smile even more.
Maria, thank you, gracias! Although the rented furniture had seen some abuse, it looked wonderful. The living room had a small loveseat, wingback chair, a coffee table and end tables, and numerous lamps for ample lighting.
Maria motioned for Sammi to follow her into the bedroom. The bed was made with yellow linens, a soft, cushiony white comforter. There was a small lounge chair and a few personal items on the dresser. Maria opened the closet and Sammi saw it filled with many of her own clothes, shoes, and handbags.
In the tiny bathroom was her overnight bag with her cosmetics, various perfumes and jewelry. The artificial scent of gardenias filled the small apartment.
“Maria, Maria, muchas gracias, thank you so much!”
“I help you, Senora Brockton. You help me family, I help you!”
“Maria, Mitch worked very hard for us. He made the grounds beautiful. Do you understand?”
“Si!”
“We, Blake and I, always trusted him, and he treated us with respect. But, I never would have expected this.”
“Si, Senora, I go now. Wilson call you.” Maria pulled a cell phone and charger from her coat pocket and handed it to Sammi. “He call you on cell.”
Sammi took the items from Maria, placed them on the table and said good-by. As she closed the door, Sammi once again eyed the small apartment. Her blue eyes glanced over every piece of furniture, every art print on the wall. She was comfortable, and more importantly, she was safe.
Sammi emerged from a long, hot shower and slipped into a pale blue pantsuit. She styled her hair, applied fresh makeup, retrieved a bottled water and eyed the comforter. She found it as luxurious as it looked.
Blake stood at her bed. He was so handsome. More than six feet tall, he had a commanding presence. He called her name, Samantha, Sammi. Listen to me. Are you okay? Samantha, Samantha.
She sat up in bed as if a bullet had pierced her heart realizing someone knocking at the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw Wilson who was calling her name.
Chapter 11
“River Town, Georgia, Jonas Attaway, on Sweet Gum Lane, please.”
“Checking River Town and surrounding cities, I find no Jonas Attaway.”
“Hmmm. Well, okay. Any last name Attaway?”
“No. No Attaway in my area.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Hilda didn’t necessarily think it odd since many people use cell phones and cable Internet. Just saves another bill.
She decided to drive over to ask him to go over the events again. If not convenient, guess I’ll go back another time. As she drove down Sweet Gum Lane, she watched for 2555. She saw the 1000 block, which took her down a wooded drive across a lake into the 2000 section. 21, 22, 23, 24 and finally the 2500 section. There was a house number of 2540, two empty lots, 2570, another empty lot and next was 2590. There was no house at 2555; there wasn’t even an odd numbered house on the street. She called the emergency services administrative telephone number and asked if they would listen to the tape and get the correct house number. She told the assistant she would hold. In fact, play it loud enough for me to hear it, she asked.
Hilda heard Mr. Attaway clearly speak 2555 Sweet Gum Lane. She drove down the street one more time. 2570, two empty lots, 2540. All the houses were on one side of the street. A swampy area and railroad tracks lay across the opposite of the narrow winding road, which reached a dead end at the river. Her mind filled with questions about Jonas Attaway. Why did he give a non-existent address? Who is he? What does he have to hide?
She knew better than to call Jasper. He never answered his phone. She just drove straight to the TV station to see what the tape captured.
She rounded the bend just after crossing the lake and saw a man and a woman walking two large dogs or more correctly, two large dogs walking this man and woman. She pulled the car over and yelled a loud, “Hi there!”
They waved back and paused to see what this woman wanted. Hilda identified herself and asked if this was Sweet Gum Lane. Yes. You ever see a man walking his basset hound. No one they knew or had seen before—been here eight years. No one of that description. No, doesn’t sound familiar. Hilda thanked them and continued in her rush to see what the camera had seen. She pushed five six, her speed dial code for Jasper.
“Nelson”
“Jasper, I can’t believe you answered. You never answer!”
“Well, I knew if you was calling, something’s up! So what’s up?”
“Jasper, there is no Jonas Attaway. There is no 2555 Sweet Gum Lane. Meet me at the TV station, Channel 7.
We have to get that tape and see what we can figure out. Okay? Where are you anyway?”
“I went up to that place in Forsyth that magazine place. You remember us talking about that?”
Hilda and Jasper talked on top of one another’s answer.
“Anything there?”
“Yeah, hey give me ‘bout fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, Jaz, okay? See you there!”
* * *
In a small town, forty-five miles north of River Town, an average looking, slender man driving a blue late model Ford SUV pulled into the driveway and around to the back of a small brick house. He knew the homeowners were visiting relatives in Florida. He opened the cargo door and out jumped Stan, a male basset hound. He opened a wrought-iron gate, unbuckled the leash and returned the happy hound dog to his backyard.
The man backed out of the driveway, drove to north Macon and returned the SUV to the parking lot of a local shuttle business. He got in his own luxury car and drove home to his residence at 2535 Sleepy Meadows Lane.
He retrieved a light green and brown plaid jacket, polyester trousers, a pale yellow golf shirt, a pair of riding gloves, and a red paisley bowtie from the trunk of his car and placed them in a black garbage bag with the fake padding, facemask, sideburns and mustache, a brownish grey bowler hat, and some other items. He tossed the bag and its contents into a toolbox mounted to his truck he drove occasionally.
He changed clothes to avoid any dog hair. He lit newly purchased candles and the aroma of freedom permeated the room.
At 12:40 p.m., he prepared a light lunch for his wife who would be home shortly. He sliced ham, pepperoni, salami and cheeses and arranged them on a platter with an assortment of crackers.
He looked at the antique grandfather clock as it chimed the hour and opened the bottle of wine. He was in an extremely good mood now that the task was done.
He smiled as he heard his wife’s sports car pull into the driveway. He poured two glasses of the Hourglass Cab and savored the aroma. His soul had been reclaimed!
Chapter 12
Anne Jones was stir-crazy. Austin insisted she stay home to rest after her fainting spell. Any other day she would’ve paid no attention to him, but today was unusual. She wanted to watch the action across the street. This morning a long moving van pulled up with a steady stream of bulked up men loading it with boxes, garbage bags, and metal file cabinets. She tried to read the black labeling but no luck. Even binoculars didn’t help. She placed Alan’s small TV next to the window to watch the live action and what the rest of the world was watching.
“Guess I’ve become what you what you call a news junkie!” she said laughing to herself.
The shock of Blake’s murder had captivated her life. As she sat alternating between watching the TV and looking out her large picture window, she thought of the first time she met Blake. Before she and Austin bought the house, they rode down from Rockdale County just to check out the city. One of Austin’s clients was a lawyer who had seen the foreclosure come through the real estate side of the office. They thought it worth the drive.
As they drove down the streets of the neighborhood and finally pulled up in front, the family of three could not exit the SUV fast enough. Alan was eight, so he headed off to the back yard, where he found a ready-made playground, complete with a tree house in a low-branched elm tree. Austin went into the three-car garage to find a workshop with a ramp area to drive the riding lawn mower on.
Anne went straight into the house from room to room and back again. Oh, it desperately needed fresh paint, new carpet, kitchen appliances, and updated lighting, but it was what her mind had pictured as her dream home. She hurried out to find Austin.
He stood at the end of the driveway talking to Blake who had walked over to meet his potential new neighbors. On first impression, he was distinguished, handsome, and very outgoing. Anne was smitten with his personality. Alan joined them, shook hands with Blake as a well-mannered child should do, and Blake offered the invitation to swim in the pool this summer.
With Blake’s encouragement and advice on the offer, they purchased the house and moved in within the month. The four adults became fast friends having cookouts and joining in on other social events.
The side door alarm interrupted her thoughts signaling someone had entered the house. “Mom. Mom.” Alan hobbled into the room.
“Alan, honey, what’s the matter?” He was limping and crying with pain.
“Mom, I’ve turned my ankle. Can you get some ice on it? It hurts so bad!” Anne dropped the binoculars to see to her child. She got him to the couch, propped us his foot and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer.
She made him a peanut butter sandwich and poured a big glass of milk. “How’re you doing, babe? Has the pain eased up?”
“Yes ma’am, thank you for the sandwich. Mom, did you know that Mr. Brockton was a bad man?”
“Alan, why would you say something like that? What are you talking about?” She inspected the swelling.
“I was playing with some kids down the road and their cousin said he killed a woman.”
“Killed a woman!”
“Yes ma’am said he killed her in a car wreck.”
“Well, let’s not worry about that! Eat your sandwich, want another glass of milk?” Anne dialed Evelyn as she poured the milk.
Business was booming at the Exquisite You beauty salon. Evelyn turned away numerous customers and others waited just in case someone cancelled. More likely though these women just wanted to be in the presence of gossip about Blake and Sammi. They had been interesting fodder for the gossip hounds for the last couple of years, but this was ridiculous. Although Evelyn wanted the business, she did not like the reason and did not feel comfortable with her shop, owned by Blake or, now, Sammi, being the primary feeding grounds for these vultures.
Sammi was innocent of Blake’s murder. Of that, she was certain which meant the killer was still out there. The ongoing gossip was lots of people had a reason to kill him. However, for somebody in River Town to do it, she just could not believe it. River Town is a small, church-going community. She turned on the TV to get the five o’clock news. As a recent photo of Blake and Sammi filled the screen, the beauty shop became silent without even the hum of a hair dryer.
Sammi’s low bail lead the newscast. She was free at least if only in a physical way.
She, of course, looked elegant in the same clothes as when arrested. “With barely a wrinkle, how does she do it?” one client asked.
“Hi Anne—how are you today. Good. It’s crazy, absolutely crazy. We were already booked with the gala tonight. It’s standing room only except I don’t know if it’s for hairdos or gossip. Don’t know what time we’ll get out of here. Yes, in the wreck the one with Jess,” cupping her mouth to the receiver. “Didn’t I tell you about that? I was sure we had talked about it but I can’t get it into it now. Let’s talk later, okay, dear, I’ll call you.”
JJ waved to someone across the parking lot as she entered the double glass doors. Evelyn stretched her neck out but could not see anybody.
“Hi everybody, hi Mrs. Young! You’ve got a full house today,” she said as she looked around. Ladies were actually standing due to the lack of chairs
“Pretty crazy, isn’t it. It’s been like this all day. I would never have imagined it.”
“Mrs. Young,” JJ was whispering. “Have you ever seen this woman?” JJ held up a page of still shots from the security camera in the newspaper’s lobby.
“Well, she looks like she could’ve been in here before, you know vaguely familiar. But, I don’t know, JJ, look at her hair. I believe that’s a wig. See how the edges wrap around the ears, and look, in this one, there appears to be a dividing line where the natural hair and the wig meet.”
“Of course, it’s a wig! What about the clothes, what do you think?”
“They don’t fit very well, do they? See how the arm hangs off the shoulder, and the skirt is humped up here in the
back. Let me see the one of her face again.”
“Here it is, but I have enlargements, too.”
“Look at her eyebrows. I believe they’re painted on and that thick eyeliner. Ooh, it’s definitely too thick. She might have on false eyelashes. Look at her lips. She looks like one of those women on the church channels! Who is she?”
“We don’t know.” She was speaking even quieter now. “She stole some stuff off my dad’s desk. It’s another mystery!”
“JJ, look at her wrist, right there near her thumb, what’s that?”
“Let me see. I’ll get the magnifying glass.” JJ and Evelyn take a closer look at the spot on the mystery woman’s hand. “Looks like some kind of mark. A tattoo maybe. Get Anne’s magnifier, the one she does eyebrows with!” They put the photo under both magnifying glasses and could barely make it out, but it was definitely a tattoo. “A rose, or a rat, or something, anyway, it’s got some kind of tail or stem hanging down!” according to Evelyn.
The woman’s a rat stealing my dad’s file. I’ll take care of these towels, and then I’ll call my dad and tell him what you think.
JJ’s cell rang with a ring tone of “Do You Know” identifying it as a restricted call. She answered anyway. A voice simply said, “Be very careful! Be very careful.”
JJ looked around the room, and more than half the women were on cell phones. Had one of them called her? Was it a threat or someone offering friendly advice? She grabbed up the towels and walked to the washer. She had to call her dad now.
“Dad, where are you?” as her call went to voice mail She removed smocks from the washer and started the towels washing and smocks drying. She checked her watch and dialed her dad again.