Cassie’s offer made her feel a little better about coming to Madden. After thanking Cassie again, she left and checked her messages in the car. Cade had left her a voice mail telling her he needed to talk to her. He didn't sound too happy, so she decided to wait and call him after her meeting with Jack.
CHAPTER 11
Walking into Sarah's Tea Shoppe was like stepping back in time several decades. An old brick wall lined one side, and on the opposite side, shelves of big glass canisters held various assortments of tea. Expecting to see silver-haired ladies, Enid was surprised when she saw two men sitting at the only occupied tables. One man wore tan trousers and a blue sport coat. A large brown accordion folder sat on the small table in front of him where he was jotting notes on a legal pad. The man at the other table had on jeans and a golf shirt. One of his legs stretched out into the aisle, and Enid noticed the intricately cut leather on his western-style boots. The man stared out the window and appeared to be deep in thought.
She turned back to the man making notes, "Mr. Johnson?" The man looked up, but she heard her name called out from the opposite side of the room.
"Ms. Blackwell?" asked the man in the boots.
Enid turned to face the man who stood up. "Yes, I'm Enid Blackwell. Are you Jack Johnson?"
The man extended his hand. "Just call me Jack." He pulled out a chair. "Please."
Enid sat down at the small table, just as a woman appeared. She focused her attention on Enid. "Welcome to Sarah’s. We have some wonderful blackberry tea today. And the apple cinnamon scones are fresh out the oven."
"You must be Sarah. Cassie at the inn told me to say hello."
"Yes, I am. Are you staying at the inn? I didn't think Cassie was taking guests during renovations."
Enid was amused that everyone seemed to know the inn was closed, but in a small town, she figured that the only place to stay being closed was probably big news. "Cassie was kind enough to let me stay—if I promised not to be any trouble." Enid extended her hand. "So nice to meet you."
"Bring us a pot of tea and a couple of those scones," said Jack. After Sarah walked away to get their order, Jack turned to Enid. "Cassie is good people. I've known her ever since we moved here."
"Do you live in Madden?"
"I live on a small horse ranch just outside of town." Jack turned his head and gazed out the window. "My wife loved that place, before she died, that is."
"I'm sorry about your wife’s death. Do you have other family around here?"
"No kids, and my only family is back in Chicago. My wife and I were too busy working and traveling to settle down. By the time we starting thinking about slowing down a bit, the doctor told her she had six months to live. Unfortunately, it turned out to be only three." Jack appeared to force a smile. "But, enough of that. How can I help you?"
"This may sound a bit crazy to you, but I’m curious about a series of articles you wrote about Rose Marie Garrett. She was my husband’s cousin."
Jack's face showed no reaction. “What would like to know?”
"I just found out about her murder, and … well, actually, I’m just curious at this point.”
“Your card says you’re a writer, are you planning on doing a follow-up on her?”
“Well, I am looking for a good story to write, but at this point, I’m just doing some research. Since you were no longer at the paper, I assumed you weren’t interested in doing anything further on the story.”
Jack nodded. “You are correct. You might say I took early retirement.”
Jack looked out the window at the newspaper office across the street. Enid couldn't determine if he was sad or merely thinking, so she just waited. Finally, he turned his attention back to her. "You related to Cade Blackwell?"
Caught off-guard, Enid replied, "Yes. I am. I'm his wife. Are you a friend of his?"
Jack chuckled. "We worked a few stories together back when I was with the Tribune and he was with AP. When I first met Cade, he was a stringer, jumping at any chance to write stories." Jack scratched his ear. "He with you? Here in Madden, I mean?"
Enid reached down and picked a speck of napkin lint off her pants leg. “No, he’s not here.”
"I don't mean to jump into your personal stuff or strike a nerve. I found out Cade was Rosie's cousin when I did the articles. That's all."
"It's just that, well, Cade doesn't know I'm here. At least not yet. I will tell him, but he’s in Montana for a few days on business, and I don’t want to distract him right now. He’s got enough on his mind.”
Jack took a bite of scone. "Look, what you tell Cade, and when, is your business. But I don’t want to get involved in family matters, especially since I know Cade and don't have any idea what I'm getting into." He leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here and what you want from me. Then we'll see where we are."
"Fair enough," said Enid. "I was a journalist myself at one time. That's how I met Cade. We were young and idealistic. Both of us thought we'd change the world with our stories."
Jack laughed. "Show me a journalist that doesn't start out that way."
"Cade is a great investigative reporter." Enid picked at another bit of white lint clinging to her dark pants.
"And you?" asked Jack.
"My first job was reporting local business news for the Charlotte Observer. I got some recognition for a few stories where I explored the human impact of business decisions. Later, I was promoted to cover broader stories and report on the banking industry. Banking is big business in Charlotte. My stock was rising as a reporter, and Cade and I talked about my trying to get on with the Associated Press. That’s what I always wanted to do—the kind of investigative reporting Cade does.” She then added, “Or at least what he was doing. Then my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She ran through her insurance limits pretty quick. I wasn't making enough money to pay our own bills, much less take on her medical expenses. I helped her as much as I could, but we were broke."
"So you left journalism for a better paying job."
Enid stiffened. "I didn't have a choice. Cade landed a staff position with AP, and he was so excited. I couldn't ask him to take another job to help pay our bills. I used my banking contacts to land a job in corporate communications.”
Jack leaned in toward Enid. "Look, I'm not judging you. You're not the first or last reporter to leave the profession because she couldn't live on the meager wages."
Enid relaxed her shoulders. “I was lucky to get a position at the bank. I worked hard and got several promotions. Mother lived another five years after I left journalism, but even with the extra income I was making, we wiped out our savings.” Enid poured another cup of tea. "I'm not resentful of the choices I made.” She blinked back tears. “I cherish those last years with her."
"But . . ." Jack paused. "It's not enough. Is that what you're saying?"
"I want to write again.” Enid took a deep breath. “I'm not that same idealistic girl I was the first time around, and I know I'm rusty. Most of my contacts and friends in journalism have moved on, and I’ve lost touch with them.”
Sarah came back to the table with a small gift bag, the handles tied together with pink ribbon. "Here, take these scones to Cassie. Tell her to come have lunch with me sometime."
"Thanks. I will," said Enid. Sarah left and Enid continued. “I want to try freelancing and see how it goes, but I need a good story. That’s why I’m doing research on Rosie—to see if this is it.”
"I know a thing or two about being forgotten and losing contact,” said Jack. “When my wife got sick, I went on leave from the paper. After she died, I didn't go back. Didn't have it in me. Most of my friends were still working, and we didn't have anything in common any more. Didn't take long for us to drift apart."
"You're still young enough to go back. Why don't you?"
"There was nothing for me at the Madden Gazette. I told myself I left for my wife, but the truth is I was also fed up with small town politics and a spineless editor."
<
br /> "Did I strike a nerve?" Enid smiled.
Jack laughed. "You might say that. But, let's get back to you. Why attracts you to this story?"
"When I read your articles, they touched something in me. I don’t know why, but I can’t get Rosie out of my mind. I keep thinking of her tossed in the woods, left alone.” She paused, momentarily lost in thought. “You know how it feels when you find the right story to write about? How the hairs on your neck stand up? Well, that's how I felt about this one from the minute I read those old clippings." She paused. "This story may be exactly what I was looking for.”
Jack sat back and studied Enid. "What is it you want from me?"
"I want to write about Rosie's life. Maybe if people can understand her better, they won't be ashamed of her."
“What makes you think the family was ashamed?”
Enid pulled out a copy of the article with the latest date. “Did you write more articles after this one?”
Jack looked at the copy she handed him. “No, that’s the last one. My editor told me to ‘wrap it up’ and move on to the next story.”
“In that last article, you seemed to focus on Fern Blackwell and her family’s standing in the Madden community. What were you trying to say between the lines?”
Jack read the article again and handed it back to Enid. “Nothing, at least not consciously. I wrote that one in about five minutes. I was frustrated and pissed off, so that’s probably what’s you’re reading between the lines.”
“Did you get the impression the Blackwell family was trying to sweep the murder under the rug?”
“Oh, without a doubt. But that’s not unusual. Rosie was a troubled girl from a fairly prominent family.”
“You asked what I want from you. As I said, I’m rusty and have no contacts, especially not here in Madden. I’d like to do some research on Rosie’s life and see if there’s a story to be told. If you want to do the story yourself as a follow-up, I would be happy to share the byline, with your name first, of course. What do you think? Would you work with me?”
“You know this is an open case? And you’ll be writing about your husband’s family, which will complicate things.”
"If you think I'm trying to play detective, I’m not. It’s the human interest angle I’m interested in. Why did she turn to drugs and who was she before she became rebellious? Why did the family want to move on and forget her? Besides, her murder was more than ten years ago, and I'm sure whoever did it is either dead or in prison for something else. Most certainly, he's long gone from this area.”
“Maybe. As far as I know, the only killings in Madden since Rose Marie were a drunken brawl where a gun accidently discharged and a farmer who killed the insurance agent who was having an affair with the farmer’s wife.” Jack rubbed his chin and looked away again. When he turned back to Enid, his expression had changed. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you might be getting into something you didn't bargain for."
"I don't understand."
"Randy Travis had out a song years ago called 'Diggin' Up Bones.' Ever hear it?"
"I vaguely remember it. But what are you trying to say?"
"Just that some things are best left buried. That's all."
"Now you sound like my mother-in-law."
Jack threw back his head and laughed. "Cade used to keep me in stitches talking about his mother's garden club ladies."
"You've got a good memory."
"I always remember good stories." Frowning again, he added, "There's a reason that writers stay away from crime stories involving open cases."
"You wrote about them all the time, in Chicago, at least. I read your bio. So does Cade."
Jack chuckled. "Not quite the same thing. A reporter's job is to snoop around in open cases and find that one story that might lead to a Pulitzer." He smiled. "Working for a newspaper or news service also gives a reporter some protection from lawsuits. You'd be on your own, at least while you’re snooping around."
Enid wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "You think I'm being foolish. And if I am, well, you, Fern, and Cade can all line up later and tell me 'I told you so.' But I'm going to at least do my research and then decide if there's enough for a story." Enid threw her napkin on the table. "I think Rosie’s story has a lot of potential as a follow-up to your articles.”
When Enid tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, Jack smiled. "You remind me a lot of my wife. Same red hair and hard head." He motioned for Sarah to bring the bill. "I need to go pick up a few things, but if you'd like, I'll bring my file and notes over to Cassie's tomorrow and show you what I've got. In the meantime, I’ll give your request some serious thought."
Enid smiled. "That would be wonderful." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry for being so defensive. I'm going through a rough patch right now, and finding a story like this one could be my break."
"I'd feel better about all of this if you'd tell Cade I'm helping you." When Enid started to speak, he raised his hand. "I'm saying this only because I know Cade. I don't want him to think I'm doing something behind his back. That's all."
"As I said, Cade is in Montana, but I’ll talk with him tonight." Enid stood to leave. "I appreciate your offer to help."
"I'll take care of the bill. You can go on," said Jack. As Enid was leaving, he called out to her. "Don't do anything until we can talk further. There are some things you need to know about Madden before you go snooping around."
CHAPTER 12
The next morning at the inn, Enid was getting dressed after her shower when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. "Come on in, I'm decent."
Cassie cracked the door open slightly. "I've got eggs and bacon ready if you're hungry."
Enid opened the door wider and motioned for Cassie to come into her room. "I don't want you to feel like you need to feed me. I know you're busy with the renovations, and I promised not to be any trouble."
Enid was caught off guard when Cassie gave her a hug. "I told you I needed some company. You're no trouble." Cassie turned to leave and then called out over her shoulder, "Food's getting cold. Come on down."
Enid finished her makeup and walked downstairs. She had forgotten how the smell of bacon could arouse an appetite. She heard Cassie's voice. "I've got everything set up on the library porch."
Enid sat down with Cassie, who was sitting at a small table covered with a pristine white tablecloth. "I'm not used to this kind of service." Enid gazed across out at the lake. "Just look at that view. The water is like shimmering glass. It's so peaceful out here."
They ate breakfast and talked about the shops and restaurants in Charlotte. When the conversation was winding down, Enid said, "I hope you don't mind, but Jack Johnson is going to stop by later today to discuss the story I'm writing. I should have asked you first, but he's the one who suggested meeting here."
Enid noticed Cassie blushing. "Well, of course it's okay. He's always welcome." Cassie stood up and began clearing the table. "We have a housekeeper, but she wanted to visit her relatives in Savannah while we are closed. So, it's just you and me." Cassie smiled. "You can meet with him in the library if that's okay. They're doing some plaster repairs in the living room, so it'll be messy in there."
"Thanks. That would be great. Here, let me at least help you with this." Enid put the last dish on the large serving tray. After Cassie left with the dishes, Enid went upstairs to her room. She checked her cell phone, hoping Cade had returned her calls from yesterday. No messages. She started to call him again, but stopped. She threw her phone, notepad, and a pen into her tote bag and went back downstairs. Cassie was walking down the hallway with a load of laundry in a basket.
"Going out?" she asked Enid.
"Yes, I need to check something out. Maybe you can help me. I'd like to go to Pinewood Cemetery."
Cassie set the basket on the floor. "Pinewood? Why do you want to go there?"
"I know I promised to tell you why I'm here, and I will. But can we do that later?"
> Cassie put her hands on her hips. "Pinewood is not a place you want to go by yourself. I think you need to take Jack or somebody with you." She hesitated. "I'd go with you myself, but I'm meeting a plumbing contractor here shortly."
"I don't want to involve you or take advantage of your hospitality. I'll be fine." Enid smiled. "It's broad daylight."
"Alright, but be careful and pay attention." Cassie gave Enid directions, about two miles away. "When you get to the cemetery, there's a narrow dirt road that you'll have to follow for about a quarter mile before you get to the cemetery. It's pretty isolated. I haven't been there in, gosh, at least ten years. No telling what kind of shape it's in by now."
"Thanks, sounds pretty easy to find."
Cassie bent down to pick up her laundry basket but left it on the floor and stood up to look at Enid. "I'm not trying to pry in your business here, but do you know the history of Pinewood Cemetery?"
"No, I want to see a family grave there."
"Pinewood is for people who don't belong to one of the churches here. Madden still clings to the old Southern traditions. The first thing people ask newcomers is where they go to church. When folks die that don't have a church affiliation, they're buried in Pinewood." Cassie started to say something else but stopped. "Be careful. Like I said, it's pretty isolated at Pinewood."
* * *
Enid followed Cassie's directions and soon saw a wooden sign reading "Pinewood Cemetery" and an arrow pointing down a narrow dirt road. She drove slowly to avoid the pot holes, dodging the biggest ones the best she could. In her rearview mirror, dust clouds swirled behind her, so she rolled up her windows. Ahead, a large tree limb sprawled across the road.
She got out to see if she could pull it aside. She grabbed the limb at one end and starting dragging it to the side of the road. A hornet buzzed across her face and sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. The rough bark cut into her hand, and she wiped the scrape on her jeans, getting blood on them. Her white shirt, a favorite, was covered in dirt and dust. Regretting her decision to come here, she considered going back to the inn, and said aloud, "I doubt Cade would let a tree limb stop him from covering a story." The smallness of her voice against the solitude of the surrounding woods reminded her of Cassie's warning. She gave the limb one last tug and decided she could drive around it now. She walked back to her car, cursing herself for not bringing a bottle of water. Turning the air conditioning up as high as it would go, she continued down the dirt road.
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