I took another swallow of the awful coffee. I didn’t know what it was like to have a sister, but if I’d had one, I would have wanted her to be like Kate.
“OK,” I said, because she left me no room to argue.
I grabbed a couple more of the ridiculous milk containers and followed her out to the car.
~~~~
We pulled back onto the state highway and followed it north through the rolling hills. This part of Texas looked just like northern Louisiana, with its blend of pine trees and farmland. It was chilly and overcast, but pleasant enough to drive with the windows cracked. Kate slurped her coffee as we drove, munching on a biscuit.
“I’ve got another biscuit in my purse,” she said. “You want it?”
“No thanks. I’m good.” I shifted my hands on the wheel, feeling more anxious now that we were closing in on Green Bluff.
Kate’s phone buzzed. “Andre says thanks for a lovely dinner and lovely company,” she said, looking at the screen.
“He actually used the word ‘lovely’? Twice?”
“Yep. He wants to know what we’re up to today.”
“You mean what you’re up to.”
“Road trip,” she said, holding the biscuit in her mouth as she typed.
Two hours later, we slowed to twenty miles an hour and pulled into the incorporated community of Green Bluff. It looked like an ordinary small town, with one main street that had a post office, a gas station and a diner. We drove around for a few minutes, looking for any government buildings that might be useful. A couple of streets had nice historic houses, and a couple had clapboards and single-wides. It was like any other small town, really, with clear demarcations of the well-off and the not so. After driving past the post office three times, I parallel parked on the main street in front of what appeared to be the town’s only restaurant. The Frogtown Diner was a remnant of the 1960s, complete with a J-shaped sign that was an arrow directing us inside.
“What do you say to a real breakfast?” Kate said. “That biscuit was like a stone.”
“Sure. Maybe we can get some directions.”
The diner was smaller than it looked from outside. Red vinyl barstools lined the counter, each of them occupied. There were ten or so booths, also red vinyl, and a couple of tables that looked like they’d been there since the beginning. Ceramic frogs sat like sentinels on the bar, along the window sills, and by the cash register. We chose a booth in the back, and I tried to ignore the fact that everyone watched us as we walked past.
We ordered two breakfast specials. Our waitress—Tanya, her name tag read, though she never introduced herself—was friendly enough, but she knew we didn’t belong there. As she flitted from table to table, she chatted with everyone else like she’d known them her whole life, asking about their kids and parents as she refilled their coffees. I wondered if my mother had sat in this very diner, pushing eggs around a plate like I did.
When Tanya came back to check on us, Kate picked up our frog-shaped salt shaker and asked, “Why’s it called Frogtown?”
Tanya smiled. “They call this part of town Frogtown because it’s right on the creek. You know, frog level.”
“Ah,” Kate said.
“What brings y’all to our neck of the woods?” Tanya asked.
“Just a road trip,” I said. “Passing through.”
She nodded, refilling my coffee and placing another dish of individual creamers on the table.
Kate frowned at the dish and shook her head.
“Where’s the police station?” I asked.
Tanya wrinkled her brow. “The sheriff’s office is next to the library. Back on Moss Street.” She pointed in the direction of the post office. “Two streets over.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And the wildlife refuge?”
“Take highway eighty east. It’s about two miles from here, right on the river.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled and went to refill coffee cups at the table next to us.
“Why do you need the police department?” Kate asked, stabbing her pancakes.
“I need the police report from when they found my mother.”
She studied me for a long moment. “Why would you want that?”
“There’s some question as to how she died. Vergie thought it wasn’t an accident.”
She swallowed hard and reached for her coffee. “And you think they’re just going to hand that over to you?”
“It’s worth asking. I’m her last kin.”
She drizzled more syrup on the pancakes. “Don’t you have a death certificate?”
“No.”
“That might be easier to get.”
“I looked online. I put in an application to see it, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“There’s an application process for that?”
“You have to prove you’re family in Texas.”
She nodded, sipping her coffee.
“You think this is a waste of time,” I said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She set her fork down. “Enza, I know you want answers. I’m here to do whatever you need me to. But I don’t want to see you banging your head against a wall.”
“Let’s just see how far we can get,” I said.
“We should go to the courthouse,” she said. “Probably the county one. They’d get you a death certificate.”
Tanya came by and slipped the check on the table. “Thanks,” she said. “Y’all have a great day.”
“Hey,” I said. “One more question. Where would the county courthouse be?”
“Liberty. About an hour west of here.” She turned and walked over to a table where two middle-aged women had just sat down. She glanced back at us as if noting the particulars of our clothes and build, just in case she needed to describe us to the police later.
Kate took the check and said, “Onward.”
~~~~
Since it had started to rain, Kate convinced me it was smarter to go to the courthouse first, then go on to the refuge in the afternoon. She didn’t like swamps to begin with, and she certainly didn’t like them in the rain.
We found the courthouse quickly and parked on the street. After talking to two assistants, we were pointed toward the Deeds Office in the basement.
“Of course it’s in the basement,” Kate said, following me down the stairs.
The Deeds Office wasn’t much bigger than a supply closet, but a sensor went off when we approached the counter, ringing like a doorbell.
“Be right there,” a voice said.
I shifted, and the sensor went off again.
“I said I’m coming,” the voice called out gruffly.
A man who looked to be in his late thirties rounded the corner. He had a handlebar mustache and wore a yellow plaid shirt and a bolo tie. It was enough vintage Texas that I’d have pegged him as a hipster if he were anywhere else.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to keep sounding the alarm.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping to get a copy of a death certificate.”
“What’s your relationship to the deceased?”
“I’m her daughter.”
He nodded and handed me a form on a clipboard.
“Will I be able to see it today?” I asked. “I’m not from here, and I came a long way.”
His eyes narrowed, like he wished he had a dollar for every time he heard that.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
At a tiny desk behind the counter, he began typing on a computer while I sat down with the form.
Kate read over my shoulder as I started writing. “Do you have your birth certificate on you?”
“No, why?”
She pointed to the bottom of the form. Two forms of identification were required.
I cursed under my breath and went back to the counter. The sensor went off again, and the hipster reappeared.
“I don’t
have my birth certificate with me,” I said. “Just a license.”
“That’s what we call a predicament.”
“Come on,” Kate said, shoving over next to me. She leaned against the counter and fixed her big blue eyes on the clerk. “All she wants is to know her mother’s cause of death. Can’t you just tell her that much?”
“Did your mother die prior to 1960?” he asked.
“Does she look in her fifties to you?” Kate said, nodding toward me.
I frowned. “No,” I said to the clerk. “She didn’t.”
“Then I’m afraid it’s not public record,” he said.
“Could you have a look at the certificate?” Kate asked. “Can we ask you a simple yes or no question about it?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
“As in, was it an accidental death, yes or no?”
His face was as blank as the surface of an egg.
“We could pay you,” Kate said. It was hard to tell if she was joking.
He stared at her, as if considering it. The red second hand on the government-issued clock behind him split the air like a hammer, once, twice, three times. His moustache twitched.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave now,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
~~~~
Kate was still fussing when we got back into the car.
“I can’t believe you tried to bribe a government official,” I said.
“I was joking,” she said, starting the car. “Unless of course he’d taken me up on it.”
“Do you even have any cash on you?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure there’s an ATM nearby.”
“Let’s go back to Green Bluff and try the police station.”
Kate was quiet most of the way back, still ticked off about the surly clerk. My phone rang, and I hesitated before finally turning the ringer off.
“Is that Jack?” Kate asked.
I sighed, waiting to see if he left a voice message. He didn’t.
“Maybe you should call him back,” she said. “Maybe he wants to apologize for being an ass.”
“Maybe I’ll call him tonight, after we have some answers. But honestly, I think it might be over.”
“Do you want it to be?”
I put the phone in the cup holder between our seats and turned it so I could still see the screen.
“You heard what he said to me. If that’s how he feels, then yes.”
She sighed. “People say stupid things when they’re mad.” She turned and gave me a hard look. “You included.”
“Can’t I deal with one problem at a time?”
“Oh, if only life worked like that.”
I sighed. “I’ll call him back and hear him out. But not right now.” We’d been through too much for me to not give him one opportunity to apologize. If he could stop blaming me and try to understand why I did what I did, we might be able to start over.
The phone’s screen lit up with a text message. Where are you?
Kate glanced at me, but I pretended to ignore it, staring out the window, listening to the splatter of rain on the windshield. Everything outside was gray.
The phone lit up again. Please just let me know you’re OK.
I picked it up, and Kate said, “Yep. Do it.”
“Stop,” I said.
I finally texted back, I’m fine.
When are you coming back?
Let’s talk later, I typed. We’re driving now.
Kate’s lips turned up in the slightest grin as I put the phone in the glove compartment.
~~~~
When we got to the sheriff’s office, it was almost four. I talked to a receptionist first, who was seated behind a Plexiglas window. A tiny Christmas tree sat on the far corner of her desk, draped in tinsel and twinkling lights.
“Could I speak to the sheriff?” I asked.
“Do you have an appointment?” The sharpness of her chiseled cheekbones and pointed chin matched her tone.
“No,” I said.
“What’s this regarding?”
“I was hoping to get some information about an old police report. My mother’s case.”
She glared at me.
“It’ll only take a minute,” I said. “And actually, I might have some new information about her case. It was a suspicious death.” I was stretching the truth, but I had to get past this gatekeeper and talk to someone who could tell me more about how my mother was found. I couldn’t leave Texas without answers.
The officer picked up her phone and dialed, then took a couple of steps away from her desk. After a few hushed sentences, she hung up and moved closer to the glass. “Have a seat out there,” she said, pointing toward a plastic chair that looked like it belonged in a high school cafeteria.
After a few minutes, a lock buzzed and the metal door across the room opened. A man in a tan and brown uniform stepped into the waiting room. “Miss Parker?”
“Yes,” I said, extending my hand as he approached.
He shook my hand a little too hard and said, “I’m Deputy West. We can chat in my office.” He was tall and svelte, his hair cropped in a military-style cut. His jaw was rigid, but his eyes were warm.
I followed him down the hall into a tiny office with another uncomfortable plastic chair. He leaned against the corner of his desk as if to hide the heap of files that covered it.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
I quickly explained about my mother, how she’d been missing and turned up in the river, how we’d been estranged, how I’d just recently learned about it all. He looked like he was in his late forties, and I supposed he could have been on the squad when my mother was found.
At last he nodded. “I remember that case. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Did you work on the case?”
“Not exactly,” he said.
I waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
“The thing is,” I said, “I need to know how my mother died.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, and his sleeves strained over his shoulders. “Next of kin should be able to get a death certificate,” he said. I caught myself staring at the crisp lines in his shirt, the brass nameplate that said D. West, resting just above the shirt’s pocket, centered exactly on the vertical seam. I wondered what the D stood for. David. Desmond. Damien.
“I tried already. I didn’t realize I needed my birth certificate.”
“Yeah, they’re sticklers,” he said. “Protective of your information even when you’re deceased.”
I nodded. “I get it. The thing is, I came three hundred miles. I can’t get answers anywhere else but here. I just want to know if it really was an accident.” I paused, thinking of how Kate could turn on the charm in her big blue eyes and put the whammy on men without even trying. (With the exception of the mustachioed clerk, but he was an outlier.) She’d probably eke out a tear or two if she were in my position.
“Right before my grandmother died,” I continued, “she told me she thought it might not be an accident, and I just want to know what really happened. Put this all behind us.” I stuttered a little at that last part, the lie catching in my throat.
I felt real tears filling my eyes and thought, for once, they might actually come on command and work in my favor. Or this man might grab me by the elbow and usher me right out the door.
Deputy West pulled a pair of reading glasses from his chest pocket and slipped them on. He walked behind his desk and typed something quickly into his computer, his fingers striking the keys so hard the keyboard rattled.
He looked at the screen as he typed, then shifted his gaze back to me. I swiped a finger over my eyes and sniffed.
“May I see your license?” he asked.
I dug it out of my purse and handed it to him.
He looked at the photo, then looked at me, and resumed typing. After reading the screen, he handed the license back to me.
“Typically we can’t give out information like this,” he sai
d. “But sometimes things make their way into the wide, wide world and become public record.” His eyes narrowed as he said, “In a manner of speaking.”
He reminded me of Andre, the way his voice was gruff but not unkind.
“Thank you,” I said.
He turned back to the screen, but it was difficult to read his expression. Like Andre, he seemed to have mastered the stone-faced give-nothing-away façade that appeared to be standard issue for civil servants. His eyes darted across the screen as he read, scrolling slowly. After a few minutes he typed something else and began reading again.
At last he said, reading from the screen, “The local paper reported that a woman, at that time unidentified, was pulled from the Trinity River. Found on the refuge side. A later report says it was ruled an accidental drowning.”
I waited for more.
“The later report says she was Martine Devereaux of Bayou Sabine, Louisiana.”
“That’s her. So it was accidental?”
“I believe the article to be accurate,” he said, his eyes resting on mine. He was choosing his words carefully.
“Is that what’s in the coroner’s report?”
He turned back to the screen, and I fought the urge to run around the desk and read over his shoulder. “I don’t see inconsistencies,” he said. He pushed his glasses up into his hair and rested his elbows on the desk. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say, Miss Parker. You can fill out some paperwork and fax us your birth certificate if you want a copy of the full report.”
I nodded and stood up. I shook his hand again. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate your help.”
~~~~
Kate slapped me on the shoulder when I told her. “I knew you had it in you,” she said. “You just had to learn how to set your gaze to ‘smolder.’”
“Whatever.”
“Was he cute?”
“Shut up.”
She grinned. “I knew I should have gone in too. I do love a man in uniform.”
“Yes, dinner yesterday made that painfully obvious.”
She started the car and cleared her throat. “Let’s find a place to stay, Nancy Drew. All this sleuthing is making me tired.”
Bayou, Whispers from the Past: A Novel Page 19