We spent most of the day on the telephone. As I expected, once Vasti knew where Aunt Daphine was, the rest of the Burnettes found out in short order. Aunt Nora, Aunt Edna, Aunt Nellie, and Aunt Ruby Lee were of course concerned about their sister, and we let Aunt Daphine talk to them. Hank Parker called half a dozen times and sounded personally insulted that Richard hadn’t called him right away, after their earlier experience together. We told him and all the other non–Burnettes who called as little as possible.
I must admit that it felt like we were under siege. I found myself looking out the window every few minutes to see if somebody was watching the house. I don’t think there was anybody stationed outside the house constantly, but I saw the Byerly police cruisers going by a lot more often than usual.
At around four, we heard on the radio that it had been determined that the bullet that killed Dorinda had come from the gun that killed Leonard Cooper. Somehow or another, the two murders were connected.
I tried to convince Richard and Aunt Daphine that it didn’t necessarily mean that the murders were connected to the blackmail, but I couldn’t even convince myself. The fact that Cooper was in the Army with Uncle John Ward couldn’t be a coincidence. Despite what I had told Junior, it looked like we were going after a murderer.
Chapter 24
“We’ve got a little time before Aunt Maggie gets back from the flea market,” I said after hearing the news. “We better make our plans now. Any ideas?”
Aunt Daphine shook her head. “I feel like I’ve caused so much harm. Two people are dead.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said firmly. “Would it have been better if you had aborted Vasti?”
She looked shocked. “Of course not.”
“Then stop blaming yourself. All you did was to raise your daughter the best way you could, and I think Uncle John Ward would be damned proud of you. You didn’t ask to be blackmailed, and you didn’t kill anybody. So stop talking like that, and let’s figure out how we can get out of this mess.”
“You’re right,” she said, and took a good, long breath. “What do y’all think we should do next?”
Richard said, “Now that we know that Cooper was involved, shouldn’t we see what we can find out about him?”
“Junior already tried that,” I said.
“But she didn’t know about the blackmail. Besides which, she’s not likely to share what she knows with us now.”
“True. Do you think we should go to Virginia and check him out?”
“Maybe not so far as that. Didn’t Junior say Cooper’s son was a student at NC State in Raleigh?”
“So she did. Raleigh’s just a few hours’ drive from here. We could drive down and talk to him tomorrow. What was his name?”
Richard located Wednesday’s Gazette and found out that Cooper’s son Michael was an engineering major. “A friend of mine teaches at NC State,” Richard said. “She might help us locate him.”
“An old girlfriend?” Aunt Daphine asked with a little of her usual twinkle in her eye.
“Hardly,” Richard said dryly. “She’s never read anything earlier than the Romantic poets.”
I’m fairly sure that Aunt Daphine didn’t understand why this was such a damning indictment, but she nodded as if she did.
Richard called his friend and she promised to try and track down Michael Cooper by the time we arrived in Raleigh the next day.
“What about Junior?” Aunt Daphine wanted to know. “She’s bound to find out. Won’t she guess why you’re going to Raleigh?”
“She’ll know, all right, because I’m going to call and tell her,” I said. Before Aunt Daphine could object, I added, “She told me yesterday not to leave town without letting her know, so I have to. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if she knows because she thinks that we’ve been investigating Cooper’s murder all along. Our going to Raleigh will only confirm it for her.” Luckily for me, it was Mark Pope who answered the phone, and he took my message without comment.
Aunt Daphine said, “I wish I could go with you, but I can’t. Some of my regulars are coming in tomorrow, and I know we’ll have lots of drop–ins after what happened to Dorinda.”
“Don’t you think there having been a murder there will scare customers off?” I asked.
“Probably not. Curiosity is a lot stronger than fear, at least in the daylight.”
Aunt Maggie arrived right after that, and we decided to go out to Fork–in–the–Road for barbeque. Obviously the news about Dorinda had spread because there was a lot of staring, but Aunt Daphine was feeling strong enough by then to ignore it. Plus Aunt Maggie stared right back until folks got the idea and left us alone. After dinner, Aunt Daphine insisted on going back to her own house, and Richard and I planned our trip to Raleigh.
Chapter 25
Despite our reason for going, I enjoyed the next day’s drive to Raleigh. I love driving in North Carolina. The drivers are so polite that I hardly ever need to use any of the nasty driving tricks I’ve learned in Boston.
We got to Raleigh a little before noon, found a place for lunch, and then drove to NC State. Richard’s friend Leslie had not only tracked down Michael Cooper, but had set up an appointment for us and was loaning us her office for the occasion.
“What did you tell her to get her to be so cooperative?” I asked Richard while we were waiting for Cooper.
“I just mentioned that my office is next to the one occupied by Elisabeth Hubert, the leading light on poets of the Romantic era these days, and asked if there were any papers Leslie wanted me to pass on to her. This was more than enough inducement for her to perform these small services.”
“The world of literature is pretty cutthroat, isn’t it?”
“It’s not for the weak of heart,” he agreed solemnly.
A young man tapped on the office door at one–thirty on the dot. “Dr. Warren?” he asked, looking at me. I’m afraid that I just stared at him.
“Michael Cooper?” Richard asked in response, and when he nodded, said, “Come on in, and shut the door behind you.”
He did so and sat down opposite us.
Richard and I had decided that I was going to ask the questions and he was clearly waiting for me to get started, but I was still staring. I knew it was rude, but I couldn’t help it. I guess it had taken me a while to spot Leonard Cooper’s resemblance to Big Bill Walters because of the circumstances, but I knew as soon as I saw Michael Cooper, that no matter what his last name was, that boy was a Walters.
His hair was dark and curly, like Big Bill’s used to be, and he had that strong Walters chin. Even his uncertain grin when I didn’t speak right away reminded me of Burt Walters. And the only way that Michael Cooper could be a Walters was if his father was a Walters.
I finally gathered my wits enough to say, “Excuse me, Mr. Cooper. I was just trying to decide how I could explain this all to you. I should start by telling you that I’m not Dr. Warren. My name is Laura Fleming, and this is my husband Richard. Dr. Warren is a friend of my husband’s and she set up this meeting at his request.”
Somebody had taught that boy his manners. He shook our hands without even asking why we had wanted to see him.
“Mr. Cooper, I was born and raised in Byerly, North Carolina.”
“That’s the town where my father died,” he said, looking confused.
“That’s part of the reason we’re here. We want to try to find out who killed him, and why.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Are you police officers?”
I shook my head. “No, we’re not.” This was the tricky part. “The day before yesterday, a woman who worked at my aunt’s beauty parlor was shot and killed. My aunt is quite upset about it, and that’s how my husband and I got involved.” That was close enough to the truth that I didn’t feel too guilty. “The woman was shot with the gun that was used to kill your father, so it looks like they were killed by the same person. That’s why we’re here. Do you mind answering some questions for us?”
I wasn’t going to push him if he didn’t want to answer, but again his upbringing showed and he nodded politely. Most of the young people from the South that I know have been raised not to question adults. It can be charming and it can be dangerous, but today it was darned convenient.
I went on. “The woman who died was Dorinda Thompson. Does that name mean anything to you?”
He shook his head.
“Your father never mentioned her?”
“No, ma’am. He never talked about anyone from Byerly that I can remember. I told the police chief that I didn’t know why my father would even have gone to Byerly.”
“You’re from Richmond, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I’ve lived there my whole life, until I came here to school. Dad had been there since he got out of college.”
“What about before then?”
“He was born in Tennessee, but after he got home from Vietnam, he decided to go to school up North. He got a job in Richmond right out of college, and met my mother a couple of months later.”
“I understand that your mother passed away a while back.”
“About three years ago. She never mentioned Byerly to me, either.”
“What about your father’s family in Tennessee? Did you ever visit them, or did they visit you?”
“Dad was an orphan, no living family at all.”
“Then you’re alone now,” Richard said, and I felt awful for asking Michael questions when he had just lost his father.
Michael smiled a little, and said, “Mom had a large family. They’ve been a big help these past few days.”
Richard leaned back, satisfied.
I made myself go on. “Did your father have any family photos or scrapbooks, anything like that?”
Michael shook his head. “His parents died in a fire, and everything was destroyed. Even his birth certificate.” He hesitated. “At least that’s what he said.”
“You don’t think that’s true?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to think. I mean, I always considered my father an honest man, but the way he died has me pretty confused. That police chief asked me about the people who run the mill, some family named Walton.”
“Walters,” I corrected.
“Walters. She said there was a pretty strong resemblance between that family and my father, and she wanted to know if Dad had ever said anything about them to me.”
“Had he?”
“No, ma’am.”
“What about John Ward Marston?”
“That name sounds familiar,” Michael said, and he looked like he was trying to remember. “I think he was in Vietnam with Dad.”
“That’s right,” I said. “John Ward was in the same outfit as your father. He was my uncle, as a matter of fact. Did your father say much about him?”
“I think they were pretty good friends, but he said that Marston died soon after they got to Vietnam. He showed me a picture of him once, taken a couple of days before he died.”
“Anything else?” I prompted.
“I don’t think so. Dad was really upset when Marston died, and he didn’t talk about him because of that.”
“What about Daphine Burnette?” I asked. When he shook his head, I said, “Then you don’t know any of these people from Adam’s house cat?”
He grinned suddenly. “Dad used to say that. I used to laugh at him, because he sounded so country.” Then his grin faded and he looked down at his hands. I think I knew how he felt. When my parents died, I felt like I was supposed to be polite and not show my grief in public, but sometimes it came out despite everything I could do.
“Are you all right?” I asked as gently as I could.
He took a deep breath and nodded. Then he looked up at me again. “Mrs. Fleming, do you know why somebody killed my father?”
“No, I don’t, but we’re sure going to try to find out.” He looked so forlorn, and I wished there was some way I could comfort him, to tell him that the pain would eventually ease, but it wouldn’t have been right coming from a stranger. Instead I said, “I think that’s all I wanted to ask you.” I looked at Richard and he nodded. “We do appreciate your talking to us.”
He shook our hands again and left.
“Not terribly enlightening,” Richard said.
“Are you kidding?” I asked, surprised that he hadn’t seen what I had. “Meeting Michael Cooper has broken things wide open as far as I’m concerned.”
“He didn’t tell us anything.”
“I’m not talking about what he said—I’m talking about who he is. That boy is a Walters. I don’t have any way to prove it, but I can tell that he’s a Walters just by looking at him.”
Richard raised an eyebrow at me.
“Look, when I was younger I got into all kinds of trouble by telling things to the wrong people. Once I heard Aunt Nora tell my mama that Mrs. Mayhew was running around on Mr. Mayhew, and I told Wanda Tyler.”
“I can see how that would convince you that Michael Cooper is a Walters,” Richard said dryly.
“I’m not finished yet. What I didn’t know is that Wanda’s mother is Mr. Mayhew’s sister. So Wanda told her mother, and Wanda’s mother told Mr. Mayhew, and Mr. Mayhew confronted Mrs. Mayhew.”
“Then what?” he asked, interested in spite of himself.
“Mrs. Mayhew told him it was a lie. So Mr. Mayhew got mad at Wanda’s mother, and Wanda’s mother found out from Wanda that I was the one who had told her, and she called my mother and fussed about me spreading lies.”
“So it wasn’t true.”
“Oh it was true, all right. That’s not the point.”
“What is the point? I seem to have lost it.”
“The point is that I learned to tell who was related to who by family resemblance, and not just by names. If I had had one lick of sense, I would have been able to see that Wanda had the Mayhew nose.”
“The Mayhew nose?”
“It was obvious that she had to be related to the Mayhews.”
“Laura, I wouldn’t dream of arguing with you about the Mayhew nose, but if Leonard Cooper looked like a member of the Walters family, isn’t it reasonable that his son also looks like a Walters?”
I shook my head emphatically. “Maybe a passing resemblance I could accept, but not his looking that much like the rest of the family. He’s related by blood all right.”
“So you think that Cooper was a result of Big Bill’s wild oats?”
I thought about it, but the theories about Leonard being Big Bill’s illegitimate son still seemed silly, especially when coupled with the coincidence of Cooper being stationed with Small Bill. The answer had to be more reasonable than that. “I think he was Big Bill’s son all right, but I don’t think he was illegitimate,” I said slowly.
“I don’t understand.”
“Richard, I think that Leonard Cooper was Small Bill Walters.” Before he could say anything, I went on. “That’s the only answer that makes sense. There had to have been a real Leonard Cooper or Junior would have found out about it. So somewhere along the line, Small Bill traded places with Cooper. Probably after Cooper died. So they buried Cooper and Small Bill became Cooper and …” That’s where I stopped. I didn’t have any idea of what came next. “Am I talking crazy?”
Richard shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think you are. I just don’t understand how it could have happened, or why.”
I didn’t understand it all either, but I was sure that I was right. It certainly explained why Cooper had subscribed to the Byerly paper all those years, and how he had known how to sneak into the mill.
Leslie returned then, and politely let us know that she wanted her office back. After we thanked her for her help, we headed back to Byerly. The answers about Small Bill Walters had to be there somewhere.
Chapter 26
I asked Richard to drive back to Byerly, and I have to admit that I wasn’t much company for him. I was too preoccupied with trying to figure out wh
y Small Bill had exchanged identities with Leonard Cooper. From what Aunt Daphine had said, Small Bill had had everything going for him. After the war, he would have come back to run the mill and a good piece of Byerly. Why would he have thrown all of that away?
Why did Small Bill go to Vietnam in the first place? I hadn’t thought about it before, but surely Big Bill could have kept him out of it, fixed his draft status somehow. Could Small Bill have done something to be ashamed of, something to run from? Everybody I had spoken to about him had said that he was a pretty nice fellow, but people have a way of only remembering the good things about a man who dies young. Still, Big Bill could have taken care of almost anything short of murder.
What about in Vietnam? I’d heard stories of otherwise normal men who did monstrous things during the war. Could Small Bill have committed some atrocity? Then why hadn’t we heard about it from the Byerly men who came back from Vietnam? I didn’t think that Small Bill would have been desperate enough to abandon his whole life unless he was sure he would have been punished. Or could the crime, whatever it had been, have been covered up because he was believed dead?
It was after five when we got back, and Aunt Maggie was on the telephone when we came in.
“Hold on Daphine,” she said when she saw us. “They just this minute walked in the door.” She handed me the phone. “Daphine’s all upset about something.”
“Aunt Daphine?” I said. “What’s the matter?”
“Laurie Anne, I got another letter. He wants even more money now, three times as much as what he asked for before because I didn’t pay yesterday like I was supposed to. I just don’t know what to do. The only way I could raise that kind of money would be to sell the shop and I can’t get anybody to buy the shop in less than a week.”
“Aunt Daphine, calm down. You are not going to sell the shop!” I realized that Aunt Maggie was looking awfully interested, despite herself. “Look, why don’t Richard and I come over there?”
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