“I’m going to church,” Starnes said as if the announcement would trigger some cataclysmic shifting of the plates which lay miles beneath us.
I waited to see if there was going to be a tremor. Nothing moved.
“Why?” I said.
“I don’t know. It just feels like something I should do.”
“Guilt?”
“Probably,” she said.
“The Piney Ridge Community Church?” I asked.
“Not my first choice,” she answered.
“So then where?”
“What difference does it make to you?”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
“It’s what friends do.”
“Sounds like you’re afraid I’ll walk the isle and become a nun,” she said.
“You could do worse, but I don’t think that’s my greatest fear.”
“Your greatest fear would then be…?” she said.
“Marrying the preacher.”
She smiled. Aha, my humor had finally seduced her. A little.
After clearing the few dishes from the table, she went into her room and shut the door. I walked onto the front porch to enjoy the brisk morning air with my last cup of coffee. I watched Sam on a distant slope running for all of his might. I scanned the area in front of him looking for whatever he might be chasing. I could see nothing move ahead of him. He seemed to be running for the sheer delight of running. Life is like that upon occasion. We have those frozen moments of ecstasy, like photographs snapped by some cleverly creative photographer, capturing feelings as well as beauty. Magical.
Starnes emerged and was wearing some black slacks, white blouse, and short heels. The gray jacket that topped out her wardrobe for the day showed a slight bulge on her left side informing me that she was carrying her weapon.
“I’ll be back in time for us to do lunch somewhere,” she said as she walked down the short set of steps from the porch.
“They allow guns in church around here?”
“I promise not to brandish it.”
“And don’t shoot the preacher because of a bad sermon,” I said.
“I’ll have to think about that one.”
“You don’t want me to go with you?”
“Folks might start thinking we’re a couple,” she said.
“We are a couple.”
“Not in your wildest dreams.”
“Yeah. Could make life harder for a new sheriff in the county.”
I watched her drive off and pondered her comment about the couple thing. From there my mind moved to Lucinda and Abel. Wonder why Abel had an affair with Lucinda for two years, then rejected her? Something happened. Then, Lucinda is having some kind of relationship with Betty Jo Gentry. They are seen around Erwin a little, but depicted as close friends. They’re seen around Johnson City as more than friends, at least by one jewelry store clerk. Suddenly, Betty Jo is killed and Lucinda returns a piece of jewelry to the store where Betty Jo had purchased it. Then it is discovered that Betty Jo is pregnant. I’m no genius in this stuff, but I can pretty well be assured that Lucinda was not the father of that unborn child. I can be clever when I need to be.
The whole story line was disjointed. Nothing added up. Little was consistent except for the fact that two people had been shot in the head by the same weapon. Cain Gosnell was in Wake County waiting to be executed for murdering his brother Abel. No one was tying Lucinda to the crime scenes which meant that no one was able to find probable cause for testing her weapon.
I left my coffee cup on the railing of the porch and headed off towards Sam. It was a good morning to walk. Maybe the fresh, cold air would cleanse my muddled mind. The sunshine was warm, but the wind made me glad I was wearing a coat. Sam joined me when I reached the top of the hill in front of Starnes’ house. Together we walked along the ridge.
There was no way I could tell how far we had traveled. I had the feeling I had walked a few miles, but in the mountains time and distance can be deceptive. We reached the edge of a cliff that overlooked a valley. At that moment, the sunlight broke through a small cloud and my heart leaped at the crystal beauty of the landscape. Despite the lack of foliage, there were enough evergreens to give a body some green hope of the spring to come. The mountains in the far distance created the perfect backdrop of my view. There were no houses around. I wondered how many people had seen this valley view in their life time. Caught in that moment of glorious bliss, I was glad to be alive and there with Sam soaking in the radiance of the morning.
I knew that Starnes would be gone for at least a couple of hours, so I continued my trek around the sloping hills that bordered three sides to Starnes’ home place. Sam stayed ahead of me for most of the hike. It was an adventure for him as he sniffed and scurried about as if he were on the trail of something important. By the time we had traveled about one hundred and eight degrees from our beginnings, I decided it was time to return to the house to see if Starnes was back from her religious fervor.
Her truck was not in the driveway. However, there was a beat up old dark green Chevy truck parked next to the Jeep. Sam growled a little, but I patted his head to assure him that all was well despite my cautious trepidations. I think he read me well since he continued his low growling.
When I turned the corner of the house, I could see the old man sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.
“Who the hell are you?” he said to me as if I had violated his Sunday tranquility.
“Clancy Evans.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Not necessarily, but it is who I am, and you asked.”
“Wise witch, aren’t you?”
“What can I help you with?” I said.
“You don’t live here.”
“Staying here with my friend Starnes Carver,” I explained.
“Huh. Where’s the Sheriff?”
“Gone to church.”
“Likely story.”
“Likely as not, it’s the truth.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t say which church. Lots of choices about. Probably Piney Ridge Community.”
“Preacher ain’t no good there. Be better off to go somewhere where she’d hear som’in worthwhile.”
“That’s what I told her, but it’s where her folks were members.”
“Huh. Spud weren’t much of a church goer, if you ask me. I never heard tell of ‘em goin’ at all.”
“That’s how rumors get started,” I said.
“Lady, the man’s dead and rumors don’t matter a’tall to him now.”
“A good name could still be besmirched.”
He raised one eyebrow in my direction.
“Yeah, I guess so. Anyhow, I didn’t come here to talk about Spud Carver.”
“Okay. What did you come to talk about?”
“Well, for starters, I didn’t come here to talk with you.”
“I guess not, since you didn’t know me. But I’m here, so let’s talk.”
“You do got a mouth, you know. Are you the one helpin’ Sheriff Carver on these murders?”
“That would be me.”
“Well, I found something in my pasture that I thought was strange and that the sheriff might want to see.”
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small, black purse. It had the initials BJG on it. He extended the purse in my direction without showing any inclination to stand up and actually hand it to me. I walked over and took it. I unzipped it and turned it upside down to empty the contents into the cushioned rocker next to the old man. A set of rings fell out, one of those sets popular with some folks in which the band interlocked with what appeared to be an engagement ring. The diamond in the engagement ring was a tiffany setting and large. An unattached price tag fell out as well. If the tag went with the ring set, then it was bought for $5,000. The tag had the name Jeffers Jewelry Palace in Johnson City, Tennessee on it. Wow. Another lead.
; Some days my work is really exciting.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Starnes and I drove over to Weaverville to enjoy some good food at the Blue Mountain Pizza place. The weather and the good pizza brought out a large gathering, so we had to wait a few minutes to get a table. We were standing outside enjoying the sunshine. The breezes kept the temperatures in the fifties. The sunshine made it bearable for me.
“This is a nice ring set,” Starnes said as she fondled the two rings in her hands. “You think it was given to Betty Jo recently?”
“I think it was in Betty Jo’s possession recently, but I have no idea when it was given to her.”
“We can find out.”
“Bet we can, too.”
“You up for a drive tomorrow?” she asked.
“Sam and I are always up for a daytrip. Where’re we going?”
The waitress stepped outside and called out my name.
“To eat at the moment,” Starnes said.
We ordered a large pizza that had about as many different toppings as a pizza could hold. The fact that two women ate the whole thing is rather remarkable in light of the fact that I only ate three pieces. I am tall, but without the accompanying hollow leg, I try to maintain my girlish figure for all the good it does me. Starnes was a petite woman. I’d say barely five feet two inches, maybe three. If I had to guess, she would weigh maybe one hundred and twenty pounds. Maybe, like right after a shower when she would still be wet. I was five feet ten inches and weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. No maybe about that. It was a dry weight for me. I keep up with my stats. But the difference between us chiefly had to do with consumption. That little woman could flat out put away food. I did all right, but I had to be careful. She made her five pizza pieces disappear in short order. Envious I was, to say the least. Probably goes to metabolism.
The remainder of the day was spent resting around her place. We walked some and sat some. I suppose it was the first time that Starnes had stopped her frantic pace since she returned to the mountains to take care of her aging parents. Now that both of them were dead and she was alone, it occurred to me that she might be feeling the weight of life on her small shoulders.
“How’re you doing?” I said as we were sitting on the porch late that afternoon.
“I guess I’m surviving. Maybe that’s all one can expect for the time being.”
“You think you’ll keep the sheriff’s job if they ask you to stay on?”
“I doubt it on either slide. Buster wants his job back. It’s an elected position in the county, and I don’t care much for politics. It’s a hard enough job without adding the political flavor to it. I speak my mind and don’t usually care who I offend. Running against Buster Murdock is a lose-lose proposition at the moment. He’d win in a landslide with the sympathy vote. The man got shot in the line of duty. He’s a blooming hero.”
“But they might ask you to stay and help out.”
“You mean be a deputy after I have had all of this glory as acting sheriff?”
“You wait. They’ll ask you,” I said.
“Yeah, they might ask. But I miss Norfolk. I miss Wineski, but don’t you dare tell him I said that. I’ll deny it and call you a liar,” she said firmly.
“He probably misses you too. But your secret is safe with me. He’s like an old bear, but he’s a good man to work with.”
“None better.”
“You plan to keep the house here?”
“Yeah. I figure it’s a place to come and hide from time to time. Likely do me some good. It’s off the path and feels comfortable. You’re welcome to come here anytime as well.”
“I appreciate that. I’m glad I could be here to help out.”
The sun was setting and the air was becoming cooler much too quickly to suit my comfort level. I was ready to go inside. Starnes was rocking with her eyes closed. First time I had seen her relax in a few months.
“I suspect you’ll be heading back to Norfolk as soon as we get a handle on these murders,” I said.
“If they’ll have me,” she said.
“Oh, they’ll have you. Wineski will give the department fits if they don’t rehire you.”
“I hope you’re right. I have no reason to stay. Besides, like you, I miss my place in Norfolk.”
By the time we had finished resting, it was dark in the valley and nearly time to retire for the evening. We snacked on apples, crackers, and cheese. I fed Sam and went to bed.
I think that both Starnes and I were hoping that this new lead might prove to be a turning point in our investigation.
The next morning I called Rogers while Starnes was cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. Not many dishes to clean up, mind you – toast and coffee. We needed a jump on the day light hours.
“Check some records and find out the name of Betty Jo Gentry’s oldest daughter,” I said.
“That’s the woman who was found murdered.”
“The same.”
“It shouldn’t take that long, so you can hold on while I search for that. You want any other information while I’m at it?”
“Yeah. I need the name of her former husband and where he lives. Also see if there are any other relatives of hers in the area. That teenage girl has to be living with someone.”
“What do you want with that daughter?”
“Informational chat. Her daughter will likely fill in some gaps if I can talk with her.”
“You think the family doesn’t want you to talk with her?”
“I think Lucinda Bradshaw doesn’t want me to talk with her, but is not smart enough to be thinking that far ahead so as to know she doesn’t want me to be talking with her daughter.”
“Okay, here we go. The oldest daughter’s name is Lou Ann Gentry. She is fifteen years old, no, wait a minute … yes, she has a birthday upcoming the first of April. Sweet sixteen approaches. Just in case you need this, her younger sibling is … oops … has just turned fourteen and her name is Rebecca Ann Gentry. Goes by Beca.”
“Her father’s name?”
“Raymond Allen Gentry is his name, and he lives in Johnson City. He’s a construction worker … and has remarried since his divorce from Betty Jo three years ago. Ah … and, he owns a construction company. You need anything else?”
“You think you could find out where Lou Ann Gentry is staying now that her mother is dead?”
“Should have some official record on it unless it is still being processed, which could be the case since the local governmental agencies do not move with the speed of light.”
“You can stay with that one and get back to me. I’m headed to Tennessee with Starnes, so let me know something as soon as you have it.”
“Aye, aye.”
The road to Johnson City along I-26 was becoming so familiar that I could literally anticipate every curve, dip, hill, and passing scene. The sunshine was lifting my spirits as we drove along surrounded by mountains both close and far away. Coming through the pass between North Carolina and Tennessee on I-26, the mountains are on top of you. Once you get down from the pass, they move away quickly but stand firm on the horizons on both sides of the highway. Bottom line is that the trip is medicinal for those of us who need such cheap therapy.
When we entered the Jeffers Jewelry Palace, my new best friend Miss Bubbly approached and acted as if she hadn’t seen me in months. This time she was wearing a name plate on her lavender outfit. It said Candy. No surprise to me. Probably not a nickname.
“How are you?” she said and drew out the phrase as if it had tentacles on it. Three short syllables which she could stretch to six, maybe more.
“Fine. Just have some more questions, if you would help us.”
“I sure will. Are you still investigating that thing we talked about last time you were here?” she asked as she lowered her voice near the end of the question.
I leaned over to her ear and said, “I am.”
She beamed as if we were about to share state secrets with each other.
“How long have you worked here at Jeffers?” I said.
“Land’a Goshen, it seems like I’ve been here my whole life. Let me think … I’ve been here nearly ten years. Can you believe that? Ten years,” she said as if that were an achievement worth writing home about.
“Do you recall Betty Jo Gentry coming in here with a man, say two years ago?”
“Oh, child, I don’t think I could remember dates like that. You know what I always do,” she smiled and started walking towards the cash register and her famous log book. “I always keep the log book. That’s why I don’t have to remember anything like that. We get so many people coming in here, buying stuff, looking at stuff, you know, just trying on our jewelry. Well, there’s no way I could keep up with all of them, let alone remember them.”
Instead of going through her ritual with the key and the locked drawer, she opened a file under the cash register and removed three identical looking log books. She opened a book to the front page and briefly scanned it, repeating dates aloud to herself as she went. She found the one she wanted at last and returned to me.
“Let me see, you say about two years ago?”
“Well, it could be anytime from two years ago to, say, four months back. I’m guessing you should have a record of her in here close to two years back,” I estimated.
She studied the log book page by page. Starnes was looking at the bracelets a few feet down from the cash register. Candy was slowly flipping pages to see what she might find by way of an entry.
“Aha,” she said louder than I was expecting. “Here is a listing about eight months ago. Betty Jo came by and bought an anklet for her daughter. I wrote her name there, see,” she moved the log so that I could see the name of Lou Ann Gentry written next to Betty Jo Gentry in the book.
“That’s not what I am looking for,” I said.
“Well, tell me exactly what you are looking for?”
I took out the small, black zippered purse and removed the set of rings from it. I also took out the detached tag with Jeffers’ name on it and laid the items on the counter in front of Candy.
When Blood Cries: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 6) Page 16