by Libby Howard
“How dark is it? Would either of you have been able to see a body wrapped in a tarp in the grave?” I found it hard to believe this man before me had knowingly buried Mary Allen’s body in that grave, but how could he have not known?
“Gates close at dusk and we end up rolling in usually a bit after. Depending on how many graves we had that night and the order we did them in, it could have been full dark by the time we filled that one in. Don’t know if there was a moon or not, but the digger has a lamp and we wear lights on our heads. I would have been running the machine, but Junior would have been checking to make sure everything was going okay. He would have noticed if there was a tarp down in the grave and let me know. Heck, I would have noticed. We would have probably thought something fell down there when they were taking down the canopy or something and ended up calling the manager. We would have noticed.”
This was so frustrating. I couldn’t imagine another person brought excavating equipment in through locked gates to re-dig the grave, put Mary Allen in there, and fill it back in. It would have taken too long to do that by hand with shovels, in spite of what the horror movies always showed, but what other option was there?
Unless…Hadn’t Bob said the cemetery had a tractor with a bucket? Maybe one of their employees with a key snuck in at night while the guy living there slept and put Mary Allen in that grave. Maybe Melanie had thrown these guys under the bus because she didn’t want one of her own employees arrested for improper disposal of remains and aiding and abetting a murderer.
“You know…” Bob’s eyes focused off into the distance as he closed the folder. “A tarp in the grave would have caught our eye, but we wouldn’t have thought twice if the plot was already half full.”
“Pardon? Half full of what?”
“Dirt.” He turned and slid the folder back into the filing cabinet. “A few of these services, people come up afterward and throw some dirt into the grave. It’s a custom with some people. Makes it all final somehow.”
“A few handfuls of dirt aren’t going to cover up a body in a bright blue tarp,” I argued. “And besides, if you and your nephew would have noticed a tarp in the grave, I’m pretty sure mourners in broad daylight would have, especially if they just lowered the casket down and someone tossed a body on top.”
“People don’t always throw handfuls, they each sometimes toss in a shovelful of dirt. You get a lot of mourners, and that can mean the grave is half full before we even get there. I’m not saying that’s what happened. I’m saying that if we showed up to fill in a grave and it was already half full, we wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong. We don’t know what sort of funeral people are having. We just dig the holes and fill them in.”
I resisted the urge to grab Bob and hug him. “So, the casket gets lowered, and sometime between the end of the service and you all showing up, someone tosses a body into the grave and shovels a bunch of dirt on top of it.”
He nodded. “Could have happened. And I’ll be honest, lady, it wouldn’t be all that hard to do. The canopy always has one side up for privacy, sometimes all three sides in bad weather. Just pull up like you’re paying respects to someone, make sure no one is around and quickly take the body from your car to the grave plot. Then just shovel in some dirt and leave.”
“Which means it could have been anyone,” I said.
“Yep. Could have been anyone. But definitely wasn’t me, my brother, or my nephew.”
Chapter 12
I was later than usual getting home due to my detour, but I still beat the rest of my household. After school sports practice bought Judge Beck some extra precious time in his office, allowing him to pick the kids up at five instead of three-thirty. I raced in my door at six, threw my bag on the couch and got down to the most important activity of the evening—feeding my cat.
Taco was waiting by the door, loudly informing me that he didn’t appreciate the delay in his dinner schedule. It was a testament to how food-centric the cat was that he didn’t try to squeeze past me to run outside the moment I opened the door. I usually let him have some outside time right when I got home, knowing he’d be yowling to be let in and fed promptly at quarter to six. I’d been determined this summer to make Taco a house cat, worried that his wandering was going to end up with him flattened by a car or eaten by one of the neighborhood dogs that he liked to torment. My cat was a master of manipulation by guilt, though. Not even the fancy enclosed cat run that Henry and Madison had helped me build eased the remorse I felt at my poor cat’s confinement.
So Taco once more had his free time, although I tried to orchestrate his forays into the great outdoors so that he’d be especially motivated to return home at a certain time.
Dinner was clearly more important than chasing birds or tormenting the neighbor’s dog. I somehow managed to make it to the kitchen without tripping over Taco and promptly filled his bowl full of Happy Cat kibble. Then I threw some noodles on to boil and checked the Crock Pot beef stroganoff that had been simmering away since this morning. I was just draining the noodles when I head the front door.
“We’re home!” Henry shouted. “And Taco snuck out!”
Drat.
“I’ll get him,” Madison called. If that cat was going to come for anyone, it was Madison. I think she’d been secretly slipping him treats, because Taco adored her.
Henry set the table, and by the time Madison returned with my cat, dinner was ready. We ate, and while the kids did the dishes, Judge Beck and I began our nightly ritual of spreading our work out on the newly cleaned dining room table. Sometimes the kids sat at either end doing their homework as we caught up on what didn’t quite get done during the hours of nine-to-five, and sometimes the kids took their work upstairs and left us to our laptops and files. As much as I loved Madison and Henry’s company, I was kind of glad they went upstairs this evening because I was dying to tell the judge all I’d found out about the body in David Driver’s grave, and these weren’t the sort of details I felt young ears should be hearing.
When I finished, Judge Beck looked like he wasn’t pleased to have been hearing these details, either.
“The police are investigating it, right?” he asked me. “It’s a murder. They’ve assigned a detective and are investigating.”
I knew where he was going with this. “Yes, they’re investigating. Miles said they’d probably start by looking into this woman’s background and questioning her friends and family.”
“Then let them investigate, Kay. This isn’t a case you’re doing for work. I know you’re smack in the middle of it, as you always seem to be, but it’s not your case. Just let the police do their job and don’t dig around on your own. Not on this one.”
I was a bit stung. I’d thought he would have been intrigued, just as interested in finding out how Mary Allen’s body had ended up in that grave as I was. He’d definitely expressed concerns before, but not like this.
“I dig around. It’s what I do. Before I had this job, I was an investigative journalist. So, I’ve made a career out of digging around. And may I remind you that in the past seven months, my digging around has often turned up information that has helped the police to find and bring a killer to justice.”
“This is different.” He pushed aside a stack of files and leaned toward me, lowering his voice. “Kay, I’ve seen what these people do when they feel threatened. This woman in the grave, you said she had a drug conviction in her past? I’ve seen this sort of thing before—many, many times before. These drug gangs are violent and dangerous, and if they know you’re digging around, they won’t hesitate to do the same to you that they did to this woman.”
I shivered at his insinuation. “But we don’t know it’s drug related. No one knows that. For all we know, she hasn’t crossed that line since her arrest seven years ago.”
His eyes met mine and held them. “Gunshot to the chest. Body dumped in an open grave and covered up. Either no one saw anything, or everyone is afraid to say a word. Kay, it was a drug
hit. Please don’t involve yourself in this. Please.”
When he put it that way, I felt a whole lot less offended by his comments—and a whole lot more afraid.
I sighed. “Okay. I mean, I’ll try. I can’t promise anything because sometimes I end up in the middle of things, like you said, and I’m not going to just walk away if that happens. But I won’t go facing down gangsters or anything.”
The judge made a harrumph noise, then pulled his files over to him. I hid a smile, knowing he was just worried—and that he knew full well I had no intention of letting this go. I was too curious, too nosy.
But I really didn’t want to end up shot by a drug gang. No, that would not be fun.
The doorbell rang. I heard a stampede of feet coming down the stairs and didn’t bother to get up, figuring it was one of Madison or Henry’s friends coming over to help with homework.
“Miss Kay!” Henry’s voice called out. “It’s Miss Olive to see you!”
I got up, wondering if maybe DeLanie had forgotten something when she’d spent the night, although the woman had my number. I’d assumed she would have called me herself. Olive was inside, unwinding a long scarf from around her neck. Henry headed back upstairs and I motioned my friend in, offering her a cup of coffee or something else to drink.
“Oh, no. No, thank you. I won’t be long. I was just down at Suzette’s for dinner and wanted to stop by and ask you something,” she said with an apologetic smile.
The pair of us sat in my parlor. Olive took a deep breath and smoothed her palms along her pants. “I want to hire you.”
I blinked. “Hire me to do what?”
“Investigate. I want to hire you to investigate what happened in David’s grave.”
Oh, my. Judge Beck wasn’t going to be happy about this one, but at least I now had a legitimate business reason for my nosy inquiries.
“I know I could have stopped by your office tomorrow and made it all official,” she continued, “but I was right down the street and this way, I don’t have to run in from Milford in the middle of the day.”
I was too embarrassed to tell her that I’d already been investigating, so I busied myself grabbing a pad of paper and a pencil, supposedly to take notes. “The police are on the case, you know. I don’t want to turn a potential client away, especially one that’s a friend, but I don’t want you to waste your money.”
“The police are investigating that woman’s murder, the one in the grave. I want you to find out who put her in there and why. I want to know if there’s some connection between her and David, if there’s a reason his grave was chosen.”
Yes, exactly what I’d already been trying to dig up. J.T. would be thrilled that I’d actually be getting paid for my snooping for once.
“That’s going to come out in the police investigation, though,” I pointed out, just to be transparent.
“The police are only going to release certain details. They’re going to be working on building a murder case against someone. I want to know more than that, things that they might not bother with because it doesn’t tie in neatly to their case. I want to know why. I have a sick feeling that David’s grave wasn’t just a convenient spot, that this woman’s death had something to do with his.”
Suddenly I understood her. “You’re wondering if David’s overdose wasn’t accidental?”
She nodded. “I know it sounds crazy. From what the papers say, this woman was shot, but I keep thinking about David. DeLanie doesn’t like to talk about it because she thinks we judge her and him for his addiction, but we were very empathetic. Everyone battles demons, and David was family. I know Dad and Uncle Ford were helping David out, making sure he got into a better rehab than DeLanie could have afforded on her own. This last time, Uncle Ford paid for the whole inpatient stay. Dad let that slip one night after the funeral. Uncle Ford didn’t want anyone to know. This last time…we thought he’d had it beat. He got a job at Uncle Ford’s company. He’d been going to his meetings. He got out of rehab around Christmas and everything seemed to change for him. We all saw it. The last few months before he died, he seemed happy. Happier than I’d ever seen him. When he died, I couldn’t believe it. No one could believe it.”
“Sometimes people are really good at covering up their struggles,” I told her. “Sometimes it only takes one little thing to tip them over the edge.”
“I know.” Olive reached up and wiped under her eyes. “I know, and that’s why we all kept quiet. I’m sure the family of every overdose victim thinks briefly that it’s foul play, that their loved one was clean until the end. Our society sees addiction as a symptom of a weak personality, of a failure. No one wants their son to carry that legacy with them after death.”
I leaned forward. “Are you sure you want me to do this, Olive? The only thing I might uncover is a lot of hurt. Sometimes it’s better to live with the memories you have of someone than find out what you hoped for was a lie.”
“I want to hire you.” Her gaze met mine. “I want to know how and why that woman’s body ended up in David’s grave. And if that means I find out David was doing drugs the moment he got back from rehab, that he was stealing or dealing, or doing something horrible, then so be it. My only request is that if you find out anything bad about David, you only tell me. DeLanie has been through enough. She never married. David’s father was some casual boyfriend that took off on her when she got pregnant. His name’s not even on David’s birth certificate. David was all she had.”
I picked up that pad of paper and pencil once more, went over our fee structure, then at Olive’s nod, I got to work. Starting with a confession.
“I’m about to save you a lot of money. Completely free of charge, I’ve already spoken to a deputy, the manager at the cemetery, and the contractor that does the gravedigging work for them.”
Olive blinked, then laughed. “Seriously? I should have known. Why am I even paying you? You were going to investigate this anyway, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but the difference is that since I have a paying client, I have an excuse to use my worktime to check all this out without my boss firing me.”
She smirked. “Isn’t he following Daisy around like a love-sick puppy dog? Your best friend? Girl, he’s not going to fire you. That man knows his chances of getting Daisy in bed drop to a big fat zero if he fires her best friend.”
“Probably true, but I’m not about to press my luck. Now, a few questions, if you don’t mind, Ms. Johnson. About David’s interment, did part of the graveside service involve friends and family putting a handful, or a shovelful of dirt into the grave?”
She winced. “No. I know some people do that, but not us. We didn’t even want them to lower the casket until after we left. It seemed so final, you know? We were all so raw. So shocked over David’s death.”
“Who was there at the service? Anyone you didn’t know?”
“A lot of people I didn’t know. Lots of David’s friends, some I think from his recovery group. There were some people that worked with him at Uncle Ford’s and some from other jobs. DeLanie has the guestbook people signed at the funeral. Do you want me to get that?”
“I’ll go over and see her tomorrow. Do you remember who was there from the cemetery? Their staff?”
Olive frowned a moment, then shook her head. “I remember people from the funeral home, but not specifically who. Our minister from the church giving the service. That Melanie woman from the cemetery was off to the side talking to the man from the funeral parlor, I remember. They were so respectful, so helpful to DeLanie and us all. Very discrete. I think there might have been a few men who looked like they were there to lower the casket after we left, but they held back. They didn’t have suits on, just work clothes, so I’m sure they were part of the cemetery staff.”
“Can you describe them at all?”
“I didn’t pay much attention to them, just saw them sorta out of the corner of my eye as we were getting settled. I probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all
, but I was looking for Aunt Sarah and Uncle Ford and making sure they were seated up front by DeLanie and saw them. They were white. Men. Adult, but not old, so maybe in their thirties or forties? I’m not really sure.”
“Do you recognize the name Mary Allen?” I’d assumed the police had notified her next of kin already and released that information to the public, but just in case I was keeping it vague. I didn’t want to get Miles in trouble for blabbing things he shouldn’t.
“No.” Olive shook her head. “But I didn’t know any of David’s friends outside of high school. We were close when we were kids, but after I went away to college, we grew apart. I’d sometimes see him during the holidays—even with the feud between Aunt Sarah and DeLanie, Uncle Ford always made sure she and David came over for the big Christmas Eve dinner. We didn’t really run in the same social circles, though. And David had other interests, so even when we were kids we didn’t see each other much outside of family get togethers.”
“Do you think DeLanie would know? Were they close enough that she would have met most of his friends?”
“They were close, but I doubt my mother knows all my friends.” She chuckled. “Heck, she probably doesn’t know who I’m dating half the time. And if this Mary Allen was one of David’s friends from when he was using, then I’ll bet he took pains to keep her from DeLanie. The boy wasn’t dumb. Not like he’s going to introduce his mother to his dealer or anything.”
I hesitated, not sure how to bring this up, especially since right at the moment there were no shadowy forms at the edge of my vision. “Do you…do you sense any ghosts in my house right now?”
Olive got that faraway expression on her face, her gaze focusing off into the distance. “A man. Early sixties. He’s the one who is always here whenever I come. I don’t think he strays far from the house.”