Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘After the election,’’ Diane said, ‘‘instances of bur glaries in these areas dropped back to normal. Many stolen items were recovered. But no perpetrators were arrested and tried. This is just raw data, but it’s very suggestive.’’

  ‘‘I’ll say,’’ said Albert.

  ‘‘I thought you ought to know about it,’’ said Diane.

  Walter Sutton sat down again. ‘‘I’m sorry the SOB is dead and I can’t get my hands on him,’’ he said. His wife put her hand on his arm.

  ‘‘Spence Jefferies put a black cloud over many of us who served in your administration,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You, the commissioner, the chief of police, me— and Garnett.’’

  ‘‘It is just terrible about Garnett,’’ said Sutton.

  Diane noticed that he was noncommittal about his support for his former chief of detectives.

  ‘‘Garnett stayed on the force to help out the depart ment,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Peeks was shifting duties and people around and making a lot of decisions that were not in the best interests of the rank-and-file police officers. And you know about the bulletproof vests.’’

  ‘‘The state-of-the-art body armor,’’ said Sutton sar castically. ‘‘I saw the picture in the newspaper of Jef feries holding them up.’’

  ‘‘Those were the only two state-of-the-art vests he purchased. The ones he gave the police officers were long out of date and wouldn’t stop rubber bullets, ac cording to the testimony of officers on the force,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That wicked man,’’ said Eleanor.

  Diane could see they were all wondering why she really had come. They were politically savvy people and knew there was something now they would be asked to give in return for this information. Diane took another deep breath.

  Chapter 30

  ‘‘I don’t know if you are aware, but Edward Van Ross placed me back in charge of the crime lab.’’

  Diane didn’t want to go into details about Bryce. It would sound too triumphant, and she didn’t want that—even though she did feel it, just a little. She mentally chastised herself. Nor did she want to give away too much information that had to remain confi dential.

  ‘‘I had heard,’’ said Sutton, ‘‘and was glad to hear Edward is putting things right. You know I worked hard to get just the right people in positions. People who are qualified. I know the victor gets to make the changes that suit him, but the men he hired had no background in police work.’’

  Diane nodded in agreement. Be agreeable, she told herself. ‘‘The detectives are trying to find out who killed Jefferies and Peeks,’’ she said. ‘‘They are also trying to learn what Jefferies and his friends were in volved in. And we all want to clear Garnett. I don’t believe that he suddenly became a mass murderer.’’

  ‘‘No, of course not,’’ said Sutton.

  ‘‘My people are going over the crime scenes again. And frankly, we are all playing catch-up. I’m hoping your staff collected information on Jefferies and maybe even his associates. We need a head start in this,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Well, you know I always run a clean campaign. I told Loraine that I didn’t want any dirt dug up. Just pertinent information,’’ said Sutton.

  Loraine was nodding her head. ‘‘It was my job to do research. Maybe if I’d done it better...’’

  ‘‘It has been my experience that Jefferies was really good at hiding things,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Who knew he would pull things like this?’’ Her brother gestured at Diane’s maps.

  ‘‘You probably know,’’ began Sutton, ‘‘that Spence Jefferies was from Atlanta. His mother was, at any rate. He was a military brat for a while. His mother and father divorced, and the mother moved him to Atlanta. You know he went to a good school, one of the ivy league schools.’’

  ‘‘Pennsylvania?’’ said Diane.

  This was just the initial dance. He was telling her ordinary background information to show her that was his focus. But Diane had no doubt he would get to the meatier information after the dance was over.

  ‘‘That’s it—Penn State.’’

  Diane didn’t correct him. And neither did his chil dren, she noticed, though their faces said they noticed the error.

  ‘‘Good business school. The others, Peeks and Bryce, went there too. They were just his campaign workers then. I had no idea he would reward them with such high positions. No matter how good the business school is, it didn’t prepare them for work in law enforcement.’’

  He shook his head. ‘‘Loraine headed up my re search.’’ He smiled at his daughter. The dance was over.

  ‘‘I knew there was something about Jefferies... his eyes,’’ Loraine said. ‘‘I didn’t like him, and not because he was running against Dad.’’

  ‘‘He did have that shark-eyed look,’’ said Diane, hoping to encourage Loraine. She could see there was a reluctance to say anything bad about him right off the bat. Diane wanted to tell them to get on with it, that she didn’t have all day. Instead she smiled and took a sip of coffee and a bite of the sugar cookie.

  ‘‘That was it—like a shark. Cold and dark,’’ she said, giving her body a small shake.

  ‘‘Did you find out anything in your research?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘I thought I had. I was really concerned that Dad not look like he was digging for dirt. We don’t do that. I mainly tried to find out about a candidate’s positions on issues. It’s not easy if they’ve never held office, but we—the volunteers who were working with me—happened upon something that was suspicious. I told Dad I needed to follow up on this, and I did. But maybe I didn’t go deep enough.’’

  ‘‘What were you concerned about?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘I was afraid he was abusing young people in some way,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Abusing how?’’ prompted Diane.

  ‘‘It was Buckley who first noticed something. You remember Buckley Kramer, Dad.’’

  Her father nodded. Her mother murmured that he was a nice boy.

  ‘‘He was in Atlanta at a new restaurant. He saw Jef feries there with three young boys—I guess I should call them men—but they were high school and college age, Buckley said. They weren’t as well dressed as Jefferies. But they were young people; it’s hard to tell if they are poor dressers or just in style.’’

  She stopped to take a drink of coffee. Diane imag ined it was cold by now. It must have been, because she set the cup and saucer down on the coffee table.

  ‘‘Jefferies was giving them gifts,’’ she said. ‘‘Buckley couldn’t see what kind of gifts, exactly, but they looked like watches.’’ Diane raised her eyebrows a fraction.

  ‘‘I know that’s certainly not incriminating behav ior,’’ continued Loraine, ‘‘but Buckley said there was something about it that was creepy to him. Not all the kids looked happy.’’

  Loraine called them kids, but it sounded like some of them were adults—young adults, but adults just the same. Still...

  ‘‘What did you make of it?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Nothing, at first. But we spoke with someone from his campaign who had quit. He said the mayor and his friends gave him the creeps. It looks like Jefferies gave everyone the creeps. I can’t understand how he got elected. Sometimes I think people deserve the leaders they vote in.’’ Her voice was vehement.

  Diane could see that the election defeat had stung her too—and was still stinging.

  ‘‘Now, Loraine,’’ said her father. ‘‘He pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Look at how the governor took to Jefferies. You know people don’t deserve to suffer for making bad choices; let’s just hope they learn from them.’’

  He may have been gently chiding his daughter, but Diane could see he was feeling the same thing she had felt—vindication. She felt a bit ashamed of herself for it.

  ‘‘Did the campaign worker tell you anything use ful?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Not at first. But then he told us he’d noticed Peek
s was spending a lot of time talking to kids in chat rooms. He didn’t know about what or which chat rooms. He only got a glance or two over his shoulder, but he read enough of the screen to see that Peeks was buttering up someone who was obviously much younger than he was.’’

  ‘‘What did he do with the information?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘There’s the problem,’’ said Loraine. ‘‘Nothing. He quit a few weeks later when he was verbally repri manded rather harshly by Bryce for a mistake he made in a mailing. We thought the guy might be just a disgruntled volunteer. It happens in all campaigns. Some people think because they are volunteers they don’t have to abide by a work ethic.’’

  ‘‘Where is he now? Will he talk to me?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘He’s a manager at Wal-Mart. And, yes, Mother, I go to Wal-Mart sometimes. I like their craft section.’’

  She smiled at her mother, who, Diane gathered, wouldn’t be caught dead in a discount department store.

  ‘‘Buckley and I got together to talk about what to do. The problem was, we really didn’t have any infor mation. Just vague suspicions

  could be very innocent. Then

  about something that Buckley remembered about Jefferies’ business in Atlanta. We knew they made commercials—they would have film equipment. It occurred to us that he might be into, well, into porn with these kids. I know it was a stretch. But could we take a chance?’’

  ‘‘Oh, no,’’ said Mrs. Sutton. ‘‘Tell me you didn’t investigate that?’’

  ‘‘Well, yes, Mother, we did. That is, Buckley did. He said, being the candidate’s daughter, I should stay out of it.’’

  ‘‘Well, thank heaven for that,’’ said her mother.

  ‘‘Buckley knew someone who was having a com mercial made by Jefferies’ company. He went with them a couple of times and nosed around. Jefferies wasn’t there. He has...had someone else run his business for him. Buckley couldn’t find anything that suggested any kind of illegal activity at all. We thought it was a dead end. But Buckley wouldn’t let it go.’’

  Diane didn’t quite see how they arrived at the no tion that Jefferies was making porn from that scant evidence. It sounded to her like the beginnings of a smear campaign that Sutton’s people had hoped to start. His supporters were known for planting mali cious innuendos about political opponents, turning the most innocent things into something suspicious. Sutton himself had even helped spread rumors about Diane when she wouldn’t agree to move the museum and sell the property. It was their bad luck that Jefferies was better at vicious campaigning than they were.

  ‘‘What did Buckley do?’’ said Diane. Her body was starting to ache from sitting in one position for so long. She was more sore than she thought she would be.

  Loraine looked at her father. ‘‘You know how loyal Buckley is,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Oh, Lord, what did he do?’’ said her father.

  Loraine turned to Diane. ‘‘Dad’s volunteers are very loyal to him. They know they are working for someone who has Rosewood’s best interests at heart and they want to see him elected.’’

  ‘‘I take it Buckley was at the forefront of loyalty,’’ said Diane, smiling.

  ‘‘He was. He followed one or the other of Jefferies or Peeks. He didn’t stalk them or anything, but he’d follow them as they were leaving their headquarters, and if they didn’t go home, he’d keep following. He wasn’t really routine about it. Just when he had time. About the third time, he saw Peeks meeting with some kids. Two boys and a girl this time. He wrote down the license plate of their car. He found out who owned it and went to see him. The kid wouldn’t talk with him at first except to say that he met Peeks at a job fair on campus. Buckley contacted the campus. You know you have to sign up to be at the job fair. We knew Peeks worked for a recruitment agency in At lanta and we did find out that he placed several col lege students in jobs. They were legitimate jobs. We checked—phone company, banks, insurance offices, government agencies—all good jobs at legitimate places. We were at a dead end and decided to let it go. Then several days later the kid with the car called and told Buckley he wanted to meet with him.’’

  ‘‘What did he want?’’ asked Diane, leaning forward.

  ‘‘Don’t know. The kid didn’t show and he wouldn’t answer Buckley’s calls. Buckley went over to his house, but he wouldn’t answer the door. That was it.’’

  ‘‘What do you think that was about?’’ asked Diane.

  Loraine shrugged. ‘‘Who knows? He was unreliable. He was one of those kids who, well, he dressed in rag ged jeans, had a ring in his nose. Somehow you don’t expect that from Asian kids, but there you are.’’ Lo raine stopped and looked at Diane. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

  Chapter 31

  Diane must have gone pale, but there it was—Asian, nose ring, teenager. They all were staring at her. She put a hand to her cheek and gently rubbed it. ‘‘My face is hurting a little bit. It does that. I’m fine, really.’’

  ‘‘Honestly, a man who would hit a woman,’’ said Mrs. Sutton. ‘‘And he called himself a policeman. May I get you some ice?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be all right. It’s probably just healing twinges.’’ Diane smiled at them and changed position in her chair. ‘‘Do you know the kid’s name?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘No, but I can find out. Just a minute. I’ll call

  Buckley.’’

  ‘‘An address and phone number for him would help

  a lot,’’ said Diane.

  Loraine stood up and went into an adjoining room.

  Diane heard her calling and asking for the name.

  There was a long silence. Diane imagined he was get

  ting the information. They didn’t talk long, but from

  what Diane heard, she guessed they probably had

  dated. May still be dating. There was a friendly play

  fulness to her voice usually reserved for someone

  close. Loraine didn’t tell Buckley what it was about.

  Diane was grateful for that, but she had a feeling Lo

  raine might call him back when she left.

  ‘‘Count on Buckley for keeping good notes,’’ Lo

  raine said, coming back into the room.

  She gave Diane an index card containing two names. One had an address and phone number in Atlanta.

  The other had a local phone number.

  ‘‘Malcolm Chen is the kid. Sid Larkin is the man

  ager at Wal-Mart,’’ said Loraine.

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ said Diane, taking the card and pock

  eting it. ‘‘This will be a big help. I appreciate all of

  you speaking with me. And thank you for the refresh

  ments. I appreciate your hospitality.’’

  ‘‘Glad to help,’’ said Sutton. ‘‘I’m always glad to

  help.’’

  They all rose as Diane stood. She was relieved to

  be leaving. She was starting to feel smothered by a

  room with so much fabric.

  ‘‘Are you going to be all right to drive back?’’

  asked Sutton.

  ‘‘I’ll be fine. I’m mostly just sore,’’ she assured him. ‘‘I’m glad Edward has taken the helm,’’ he said.

  ‘‘He’s a good man.’’

  ‘‘He is,’’ Diane agreed, edging toward the door. Sutton cleared his throat. ‘‘Tell me, do you think

  he will run for mayor in the special election?’’ Ah, thought Diane, fishing for information about an

  other potential rival.

  ‘‘He hasn’t said anything to me, but I’ve always had

  the impression that if Edward were elected mayor, the

  first thing he would do is demand a recount.’’ Their laughter was far heartier than the joke war

  ranted. Diane suspected it was mainly relief. There

  was no way that Walter Sutton could defeat Edward

  Van Ross in an election.

  ‘
‘Please come by again,’’ said Mrs. Sutton. ‘‘Thank you,’’ said Diane.

  Diane finally made it out the door and felt a distinct

  relief as it closed behind her. She climbed in her SUV

  and drove to Spence Jefferies’ house.

  At the entryway she pulled coveralls over her