“Thank you, Elmo,” she said. “I appreciate you answering my question. I know you must think I’m being a busybody.”
Gandy chuckled. “Not at all, my dear. We’re all concerned about this.”
An’gel thanked him again and ended the call. She realized Dickce would be wondering why she hadn’t come to the parlor for her brandy. She’d better go, she decided, before Dickce came looking for her.
“What took you so long?” Dickce asked the moment she entered the parlor.
“I had a phone call I wanted to make.” An’gel headed for the liquor cabinet and poured herself some brandy. She took the snifter and joined her sister on the sofa.
“I see.” Dickce sipped at her brandy. “And this was a call you couldn’t make with me listening in, I gather?”
“Not really,” An’gel said, slightly annoyed at her sister’s snippy tone. “If you must know, I called Elmo Gandy to ask him whether he had been able to help identify those remains as Callie Partridge.”
Dickce leaned forward. “What did he say?”
“There was no conclusive evidence. No broken bones, and Callie had never broken any, to his knowledge. Approximately the right age and height, but that’s it, really.” An’gel stared at the amber liquid in the snifter before taking a sip.
“What about dental records?” Dickce asked.
An’gel repeated the doctor’s words. “The only hope, really, is DNA testing, if they can find a member of Callie’s family.”
“They ought to be able to find someone,” Dickce said. “I don’t recall Callie ever saying anything about a brother or a sister, but surely there’s a cousin around somewhere.”
“I believe she was an only child,” An’gel said. “We’ll have to hope for a cousin. If anyone would know, Hadley should. I’m sure Kanesha has already talked to him about it.”
“No doubt,” Dickce said. “Changing the subject here, but have you called the insurance company about the car?”
An’gel shook her head. “No, I haven’t. Frankly, it went clean out of my mind until you mentioned it. I’ll call in the morning. We’ll have to get the report from the sheriff’s department anyway, and we can’t do that until tomorrow.”
“I didn’t really take the time to look at the damage,” Dickce said. “The moment I saw it all I could think about was you. Now it’s too dark to see that good.”
“I’m deeply thankful it was still drivable.” An’gel downed the rest of her brandy. “Otherwise, well, I don’t want to think about the otherwise.”
“No, let’s not.” Dickce rose and held out her hand. “How about a little more brandy?”
An’gel gave Dickce her snifter. “Perhaps a bit more. Thank you.”
When Dickce returned with the brandy she said, “Another change of subject. Do you remember what Coriander Simpson looked like?”
An’gel thought for a moment, tried to dredge up a clear memory of the young woman. All she got was a hazy picture of an attractive woman with short hair and café au lait skin. She shared the meager description with Dickce.
“That’s about the best I can do,” Dickce said. “I do remember, though, that she was slender, like Callie, and about the same height.” She paused for a sip of brandy. “Maybe I should have asked Mrs. Simpson for a picture of her I could borrow. I didn’t think about it at the time, though.”
“She might have thought that it was a strange request,” An’gel said.
“You’re probably right.”
“I wonder if there are any pictures of her at Ashton Hall,” An’gel said. “We might ask Hadley.”
“What reason could we give for asking for a picture of a former housemaid?” Dickce asked.
“Good point.” An’gel thought for a moment longer, then felt foolish as a memory surfaced. “We have a picture of her. I just remembered.”
“We do?” Dickce said. “Why do we have a picture of her?”
“From that big party we had here that last Christmas before Hadley left and Callie disappeared. Don’t you remember?”
Dickce nodded. “Now that you mention it, I do. Didn’t Coriander Simpson come over to help Clementine supervise the caterer’s staff that evening?”
“She did,” An’gel said. “The question is, where are the picture albums from back then? You packed a bunch of them away, didn’t you, about fifteen years ago?”
“I did,” Dickce said. “I know exactly where they are, too. Unfortunately, we can’t get at them tonight.”
“Why?” An’gel asked. “Where are they?”
“In the Athena College archives,” Dickce replied. “That particular Christmas party was a fund-raiser for the library. They needed money for something—can’t remember now what it was—and we hosted the event. Eulalie Estes asked me for them, and I didn’t see any need for us to keep them.”
“I’d forgotten it was a fund-raiser,” An’gel said. “I guess we’ll have to go by the archives tomorrow and visit with Charlie and Diesel and get a copy of any picture we can find with Coriander in it.”
“After we get the car to the body shop,” Dickce said. “It’s always fun to visit Charlie and Diesel.”
“That takes care of our morning,” An’gel said. “I think we need to talk to Hadley in the afternoon. I know Kanesha has probably already questioned him more than once, but she probably didn’t ask him everything I plan to.”
“Do you think we ought to tell her what we’re doing?” Dickce said. “She might prefer that we keep our noses out of this.”
“We’re simply going to be talking to an old and dear friend about memories from the past,” An’gel said. “I can’t see the harm in that. Besides, I think we’re more likely to get Hadley to open up to us than Kanesha is. He’s hiding something, I’m almost sure of it, and I intend to find out what it is. If it helps put an end to this situation, then Kanesha will be happy to have the information.”
“Hadley’s more likely to open up to you, you mean,” Dickce said.
An’gel didn’t care for the mischievous glint in her sister’s eye. She wished Dickce would give up trying to needle her about Hadley. She was tired of it, and she was having a hard enough time suppressing certain memories without Dickce’s teasing to keep them resurfacing.
“I’m feeling tired. I’m going up to bed.” An’gel rose. “Would you mind taking my snifter to the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” Dickce said. “You have had an unusual day, and I’m sure you’re ready to put it behind you. Go on up, and I’ll make sure everything is locked up for the night.”
“Thank you, Sister.” An’gel appreciated how sweet Dickce could be when she wasn’t feeling her best.
She climbed the stairs slowly. She could feel the stiffness in her back and knew it might be worse in the morning. Her neck was a bit sore as well. She decided a nice hot soak in a tub with Epsom salts might be exactly what she needed to help with her back. Their mother had always sworn by Epsom salts for a variety of issues, and over the years An’gel and Dickce had realized the benefits of their mother’s advice. With her plan in mind, An’gel headed straight for her bathroom to begin filling the tub.
The next morning An’gel felt only a slight stiffness when she awoke, and she hoped a hot shower would soon put that right. The soreness in her neck had diminished a bit, but if it persisted she would probably have to have it x-rayed, she realized.
She called their insurance agent at eight o’clock, and he promised to have everything taken care of. He would contact the sheriff’s department in case they wanted someone at the body shop to examine the car further before repairs began.
By nine o’clock, An’gel and Dickce were finished at the body shop. Dickce drove them to Athena College in the rental car the insurance agent had arranged for them and parked near the antebellum home that served as the offices of the library’s director as well as the h
ome of the rare book collection and college archives.
They stopped to chat briefly with Melba Gilley, the director’s administrative assistant, before continuing upstairs to the archive. An’gel had called Charlie Harris from the body shop to make sure he would be available and that he would have time to help them find the pictures they sought.
An’gel knocked on the open door, and Charlie Harris looked up from his desk. His face broke into a wide smile as he rose and came around the desk to greet them. Right behind him came Diesel, his Maine Coon. Diesel was Charlie’s constant companion, and An’gel and Dickce were as fond of the cat as they were the man.
“Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce, this is such a pleasant surprise,” Charlie said. “It seems like ages since we’ve seen you. You’re both looking well.”
He had two chairs already arranged for them, and in his usual courtly fashion, he made sure they were seated comfortably. Diesel had to warble for each of them in turn and have his head scratched. His greetings completed, he stretched out on the floor between their chairs.
“It has been ages, Charlie,” An’gel said. “You’re looking well, and Diesel looks as handsome and spoiled as ever.”
Charlie laughed. “We’re doing fine, and we’re both glad to see you. What can we do for you this morning? You said you needed to look at some pictures you gave to the archive back in Miss Eulalie’s time, I believe.”
“Yes, they’re pictures from a fund-raiser at Riverhill that we held for the library’s benefit. Eulalie asked for the pictures fifteen years ago, though the party actually took place four decades ago.”
“I see,” Charlie said. “I’ve been looking through our records, and I’m pretty sure I know where the photographs are. Miss Eulalie kept excellent track of everything. If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll go next door and retrieve the box.”
“We don’t mind waiting at all,” An’gel said. “I’m sure Diesel will be happy to keep us company.”
At the sound of his name the cat chirped and meowed, and An’gel and Dickce smiled.
“I’ll be right back.” Charlie strode from the room.
The sisters took turns rubbing Diesel’s head and back while they waited.
“I hope we’re not misremembering about those pictures,” An’gel said. “Surely there’s one of Coriander among them.”
“Bound to be,” Dickce said.
Charlie returned a couple of minutes later with an archival box. He set it on his desk and removed the lid. From inside it he pulled out a smaller box of an appropriate size for photographs.
“There are four of these, each with about forty to fifty photographs,” he said. “They’re all pictures from that fund-raiser, according to Miss Eulalie’s notes.”
“That sounds about right,” Dickce said. “The photographer was snapping pictures constantly.”
“Why don’t you let each of us have a box to go through,” An’gel said. “Shouldn’t take us long to find what we’re after.”
Charlie gave them cotton gloves to put on. The gloves would protect the photographs from any oil or other residue on their fingers.
An’gel settled her box in her lap and cautiously began to go through the photographs. At first the process was awkward, but she quickly got used to the gloves. She had to resist the temptation to linger over certain pictures, especially those that brought back particular memories. She forced herself to focus.
Moments later, Dickce said, “I’ve found her.” She brandished a photograph. “Here’s Coriander Simpson.”
CHAPTER 29
“Let me see.” An’gel held out her hand for the photograph.
Dickce held on to it a moment longer, staring at the image, before yielding it to her sister.
An’gel let it lie flat on her palm as she examined it. The setting was the kitchen at Riverhill, and the subjects were two women, their housekeeper Clementine and another young woman whom An’gel recognized as Coriander Simpson. They stood together near the stove, smiling into the camera. Both women wore red in honor of the season, and Coriander stood a couple of inches shorter than Clementine.
“She was a lovely girl,” An’gel said. “She looks about twenty-five here.”
“I found another one,” Dickce said. “Here she is with Callie. Now that’s interesting.”
“What do you mean?” An’gel asked.
Dickce thrust the picture at her, and An’gel took it and laid it over the first one. Callie Partridge and Coriander Simpson stood together in conversation near the staircase at Riverhill. Each was in profile as she faced the other. What struck An’gel immediately was that they appeared to be the same height. Then, as she continued to examine the picture, she noticed that their hairstyles were similar. Callie was about the same age as Coriander, and they were both beautiful young women.
“I see what you mean.” An’gel looked up at Charlie, who was regarding her and Dickce with interest. “Is there a way we could have copies of these pictures?”
Charlie nodded. “I can scan them and email them to you.”
“Excellent,” An’gel said. “We’d appreciate it.” She handed him the two photographs.
“Here’s one more,” Dickce said. “Scan this one, too.” She gave the one she held to Charlie.
“What’s that one?” An’gel asked.
Charlie passed it to her, and An’gel examined it. The composition was almost exactly the same as the one she had just seen, of Callie and Coriander. In this photograph, they also stood in profile near the staircase, but now An’gel could see Hadley Partridge standing nearby, to the left of Coriander. He was gazing at the two women, and An’gel couldn’t decipher his expression or be sure which woman was the object of his focus. She gave the photograph back to Charlie to scan.
“If you’ll excuse me a few minutes, ladies,” Charlie said, “I’ll turn on the scanner and have these ready to email to you right away.” He nodded toward a machine that stood on a desk nearby. He walked over to it, sat down, and began to work.
“It’s odd how Hadley is looking at them, don’t you think?” An’gel said.
Dickce nodded. “I can’t quite figure out his expression, but it certainly seems intense.”
“We’ll have to ask him,” An’gel said. “I just wonder, though, if he’ll tell us the truth.”
“I think he was really in love with Callie despite what he told us,” Dickce said.
“You may be right,” An’gel said.
They waited in silence after that for Charlie to finish his work with the photographs. Diesel continued to nap quietly between their chairs.
“All done.” Charlie came back to them with the photographs, and Dickce replaced them in the box. “I’ve emailed them to both of you. The scanner is high resolution, so the pictures should be really clear for you, depending on your computer monitor or your phone screen.”
“Thank you, Charlie, we really appreciate your help,” Dickce said.
“I’m sorry we can’t go into more detail about why we want these pictures,” An’gel said.
Charlie grinned. “I’m betting they have something to do with the remains found at Ashton Hall.” He resumed his seat behind the desk and continued to grin at them.
“How on earth did you hear about that?” An’gel said. “It hasn’t even been in the local newspaper.”
Charlie pointed down at the floor, and An’gel looked at him, puzzled. Then the light dawned.
“Melba, you mean.” An’gel shook her head. “How that woman finds out everything that’s going on in Athena is beyond me.”
“She has a network that rivals the CIA,” Charlie said. “She told me about it this morning when I mentioned to her that you were coming to see me.”
“Maybe we should ask her if she knows who those remains belong to,” Dickce said in a jesting tone. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she does.”
“I do want to have a word with her,” An’gel said. “I guess we couldn’t expect the news not to spread. It simply amazes me, though, how quickly things get around.”
“I asked her how she found out about it,” Charlie said. “She told me she heard it from one of the ladies from the garden club. I think the name was Gross. Not anyone I know.”
“Barbie,” An’gel and Dickce said in unison. It didn’t surprise An’gel that Barbie was going around talking about the remains. She and Lottie always liked to have “tidbits” to share.
An’gel thanked Charlie again for his assistance, and they chatted a few more minutes with him. They also made sure to give Diesel attention, and he thanked them with more warbles.
On the way out of the building they stopped to speak for a moment with Melba.
“I ran into Barbie Gross at the grocery store,” Melba said in answer to An’gel’s question. “I hadn’t seen her in a while, and we talked for a few minutes. She told me about the discovery of those bones up at Ashton Hall.” Her eyes gleamed. “I’ll bet they’re all that’s left of that Mrs. Partridge. I remember my mama talking about how she just up and left her husband and went after his brother.”
Dickce started to speak, but An’gel laid a warning hand on her sister’s arm. Anything they told Melba would likely be all over town by nightfall unless they swore her to secrecy. Melba talked a lot but she did honor anything told to her in strictest confidence.
“That’s what everyone thought at the time,” An’gel said. “Now that Hadley is back, though, he says it didn’t happen. In fact, he seemed to be surprised when we told him that Callie went away soon after he did.”
“Guess that makes sense,” Melba said. “Especially if that was Mrs. Partridge in the ground. So who do you think killed her? Her husband? I’m betting it was him. Mama always said there was something a little odd about him.”
“It’s a possibility,” Dickce said. “But it’s up to the sheriff’s department to figure it out. First, though, they have to identify the remains.”
Digging Up the Dirt Page 20