Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2)
Page 9
“We had everything fixed up so nice,” she said after taking the final bite of her pulled pork sandwich,” We got the hanging baskets and the benches, and got the city hall painted and renovated, and then we get all this damn muddy water up to the ceiling, and I just don’t have time to do all this. You know how much this job pays, don’t you?”
“No, m’am,” Taneesha said, “but I know it’s pretty much volunteer.”
“$100 a month,” Mayor Taylor said. “Of course, we’ve got Marlene, and she’s the best city clerk ever, but she’s having to work out of her dining room. At least we got the computers out before the river reached us.”
She sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been complaining nonstop and I didn’t even ask you what it was you wanted to talk about.”
“Well, “Taneesha said. “I want to go back over last Tuesday, the day Ned Thigpen was here.”
“Who? Oh, yes, that nice man who got killed. That was just awful. Have y’all found out anything yet?”
“A little bit,” Taneesha said. “We’ve talked with his wife, and we know a computer and some expensive camera equipment were missing from his car. Do you remember any other photographers being around that day?”
“Honey, there have been so many people running around with cameras, I really couldn’t tell you. I mainly remember him because he was such a good listener, and I was thinking he was going to do a really nice story.”
It was a nice lunch, but with no results for the investigation.
Taneesha went back to the downtown area to see who might be around. Most of the shops were full of volunteers, who were crowding into the little shops to tear out walls and move out furnishings now that the floodwaters were gone. Dried red clay and mud were everywhere.
Her first stop, just because it was the store she came to first, was Sharon’s Shabby Chick, which was built on higher ground and had very little flood damage.
“Sharon Bennett kept on working on unpacking boxes while she talked. She explained that there had been photographers from all over, and what a nice man Ned Thigpen was, even though she wasn’t sure how good a friend of Dee Dee’s father he could have been since he didn’t know that Dee Dee’s father had passed away.
“But maybe that’s just the way city people are,” she said.
And, no, she hadn’t talked to him about that at all herself. It hadn’t come up, she said, but she knew all about it from her son Grady.
“What I’d like to know,” she said, her voice getting a little high, “Is why Skeet Borders went to my son’s house that night y’all found the body, and got Dee Dee all upset, and what business was it of that woman from the newspaper to go running to Sam Bailey talking about Dee Dee’s little pictures anyway? “
“I’m not free to discuss that,” Taneesha said, “but thank you for your time, Mrs. Bennett”
“And one more thing! ,” Sharon Bennett said, “You can tell Sheriff Sam Bailey for me that if he wants to be re-elected, he should be spending more time preventing crime and less time having his deputies banging on the doors of good citizens.”
Further down the street, Taneesha talked with several other shopkeepers, none of whom remembered more than they had on Wednesday morning.
In Buckhead, Meredith Thayer couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Deirdre Donagan!” she said, making her way between the crowded racks and counters of her shop, “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
She looked at Grady with open curiosity. He was dressed in faded jeans, boots and an Atlanta Braves tee shirt.
“I’m Grady Bennett,” he said. “Dee Dee and me got married about four years ago. We live down in Magnolia County, but she wanted to come all the way up here for you to help her pick some new clothes.”
“Well, that is so sweet, and I would just love to help her find just what she likes.”
She turned back to Deirdre.
“How’s your dad?”
“He passed away,” Grady said quickly, and Deidre nodded, suddenly looking tearful.
“Oh you poor sweet thing,” Meredith said, enfolding Deirdre in a hug. “I didn’t know that, but I know you loved him so much and he loved you, too. He was such a good man. Now let’s not be sad. Let’s find you some cute things to wear.”
Deirdre smiled through her tears and recovered as soon as Meredith started pulling clothes off the rack.
Wondering whether Grady knew how much Deirdre’s choices were likely to cost, Meredith went back and asked in a whisper, “Have you got a limit you want to spend?”
He looked straight at her and said, “I have lots of money with me. Just please help her find things she likes.”
“$200?” she asked, testing the water.
“Whatever she wants,” he said.
“He handed me four $100 bills,” Meredith told her husband over supper that night. “He seemed sort of rough around the edges, real country, but I got the feeling he cares a lot about her and she loves him, and that’s the important thing. I would have hated for her to wind up in some home.”
“Home?” her husband asked, tuning in.
Yes, he said they have a house out in the country, way down south of Macon where that big flood was,” Meredith said, “I meant I wouldn’t want to see her in a nursing home or some kind of group home…you know.”
CHAPTER 15
ON SATURDAY MORNING, SAM AND HUNTER had pancakes at his place before he left to pick Bethie up at camp. As they were loading the dishwasher, Hunter offered to go along, but Sam shook his head.
“I need to tell her about her mom coming,” he said, “and a long ride is a good time for a long talk.”
“Do you think she’s really coming back here to live?” Hunter asked.
“That’s what the Ransoms are all saying,” Sam said. “But I doubt it, and I don’t want Bethie counting on that. I’ve even told her grandmother not to give Bethie that idea.”
“So when’s she supposed to get here?” Hunter asked, trying to make it an offhand question.
“I think sometime today,” Sam answered. “And it’s a sure thing she’ll be here for a week because the benefit concert is a week from today.”
“That’s on Bethie’s birthday,” Hunter said.
“Yes, it is,” Sam said, reaching over to take her hand. “And I think Bethie won’t mind having two birthday parties. What would you think about grilling steaks and hamburgers here and having a party here on Friday night for all the people we like and Bethie likes? That way she can blow out the candles on your cake first.”
“She said she wants a butterfly party,” Hunter said. “Her cake is going to be decorated with butterflies. How does that fit in with grilling?”
“I have no idea what a butterfly party is,” Sam said, “Can I leave it to you to figure out? “
At the sheriff’s office in the courthouse, Skeet Borders sat down at the computer and slowly typed his incident report on the interview with Lucille Collingsworth.
“Deputy Williston and myself approached the fenced in area around the mobile home where Mrs. Collingsworth resides. There is a large chain link fence, approximately 6 ft. tall around the structure, and there were approximately seven dogs, which all appeared to be pit bulls. The dogs ran to the fence barking and jumping. They appeared to be ready to attack if we opened the gate, so I stood by the gate and Deputy Williston returned the car and honked the horn, and then when nobody came to the door, he turned on the siren.”
A white female came to the door of the mobile home and then came to the gate. She was talking in a raised voice, saying we were on private property and to turn off that siren. She used obscene words to describe the siren.”
She looked to be about 40-50 years old.
“Deputy Williston turned off the siren. I informed her that we were from the Sheriff’s Office and asked her to step outside the fenced area, so we could talk. She did not step outside. She told the dogs to shut up, and they got quiet. Then she asked what we wanted to talk about.
She said, “He’s long gone. I ain’t seen him in five years, not since he told me about this woman he had fell in love with, and how he wanted me to move out and take the dogs with me.”
I asked her if they had a fight. She laughed again and said. “I wouldn’t get my hands dirty fighting that fool. I just got out the shotgun and told him he better run for the gate ‘cause I was gonna sic the dogs on him at the count of ten,, and the last I saw of him, he was through that gate and gone.”
We saw several vehicles on the lot and I asked her if any of them belonged to Mr. Collingsworth. She confirmed that a 2002 blue Ford truck (tag number 473BL) was his and said he could come back for it anytime he wanted to try getting past her dogs.
Her manner was of someone who found it all funny.
She told us that the woman’s name he said he was in love with was Margie Nell something.
I told her she needed to come down to the office with us and make a statement, and she said, “I done told you all I know, and I ain’t going nowhere, unless one of my sons comes with me.”
I asked her what dentist Mr. Collingsworth went to, and she said she didn’t know he ever went to one, but his teeth were his own.
Taneesha, who was standing in for Sam, called Skeet and Bubba in after she read the report.
“How far is that trailer court from the creek?,” she asked.
Skeet gave a triumphant smile. “Shellie showed me how to use Google Earth,” he said, “and we found it. You wouldn’t know it coming into that place, but the creek borders the property line of that trailer court.”
He got Google Earth on his computer screen to show Bub and Taneesha.
“See. This is before the flood,” he explained. “And here’s the trailer court, and here’s her place down that little road, and over here’s Timpoochee Creek.”
Bub has fascinated.
“Let’s see where the lake is” he said, and Skeet moved the screen with his cursor.
“Remember, this taken before the flood,” he said. “It would be a long way that casket to float, but it’s sure possible.”
“Hey,” Bub said. “There’s Good Shepherd Church and there’s Grady Bennett’s place. See the barn out back and that curved driveway?”
“I didn’t know the creek twisted and turned like that,” Taneesha said.
“Like the river does,” Skeet said.
Bub changed the subject back to the case, “You see that woman as strong enough to bury a man in a wooden casket?”
“No, but she said he has sons. They sure could have done it without being seen doing it.”
“Well, first thing, now that we got a name, is to try to find out if he just left town,” Taneesha said.
“That would have meant leaving his truck and he did own the trailer,” Skeet said, “Plus it looks like he would have gone to this Margie Nell, or gotten in touch with her some way.”
“How many Margie Knells you reckon there are?” Skeet asked. “I know of two. Margie Nell Hayfield that married John Hayfield, but she’s more my age. And Margie Nell Carson. “
“Margie Nell Carson is Margie Nell Weatherfield now, “ Bub said,. “Been married about three times. She works out at the kaolin plant.”
“Bingo!” Taneesha said. “How about calling her and asking her if she ever knew a J.T. Collingsworth, who worked out there and put it on speakerphone so Skeet can listen in and tell if it’s the same person who called the other day.”
Two minutes later, Bub had Margie Nell Weatherfield on the phone.
“Margie Nell, this is Bub Williston. How you doing?”
“Fine. How are you? You still working at the sheriff’s office?”
“Sure am, and we’re hoping you can help us with something. Did you ever know a J.T. Collingsworth who worked out there?”
Silence. Bub waited her out.
“Yes, I do remember him. He worked out here for three, four years, and then one Monday right after payday, he just didn’t show up,” her voice seemed shaky. “Has anybody found him?”
Skeet was listening intently.
“How well did you know him?” Bub asked. “What did you mean—found him?”
Silence again, and then Margie Nell’s voice sounded a little higher, more emotional.
“We were going out together for a little while,” she said. “and he just kinda disappeared. Please tell me why you’re asking?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, we were wondering if you were the one who called here the other day saying something about his having been missing.”
“No,” Margie Nell said firmly. “I didn’t call you. Oh Lord, don’t tell me it’s him in that casket.”
“We don’t know,” Bub said. “Now how about we come out and talk to you? You can probably help us.”
Margie Nell said. “No. Don’t some out here. I’m a happily married woman now and whether he’s dead or alive, it’s nothing to me.”
Taneesha shook her head at Bub, and said in a whisper, “Social Security number”
“Well , would y’all still have his Social Security number out there somewhere?” he asked.
“Probably so, but I’d rather you would talk to Cindy in payroll about that. She’ll be there on Monday.”
“Yeah, we can do that. One more question if you don’t mind. Would you happen to know who his dentist was?”
“No, I would not,” she said. “And I have to go.”
She hung up.
“That wasn’t the same woman who called me,” Skeet said. “So he had two girlfriends and a wife with seven pit bulls.”
Just before noon, Hunter got up from her computer smiling. Her search for butterfly decorations had been such a success that she had barely given Rhonda Ransom a thought. Everything was ordered to come by overnight shipping, and she could envision Sam’s back yard with giant silk butterflies handing from all the trees. She had even found paper plates and napkins with a butterfly theme.
What if Bethie wanted to invite her mother?
Hunter frowned. She couldn’t imagine how either she or Sam could tell Bethie no, and she was back to worrying about Rhonda, when the phone mercifully rang.
It was the Mayor of Cathay.
“Hi, Hunter. I’m sorry to bother you at home on the weekend, but Tyler Bankston said you wouldn’t mind. It’s just wonderful what’s happening here today. The Mennonite Disaster Service is here working on that little New Life CME church that was so badly flooded, and there must be 50 of them, men and women working with the people who go to the church, and it would be so nice if you could come and take some pictures.. You are just the best photographer.”
“I’ll be there in about half an hour,” Hunter said. “I hope the Mennonite workers don’t mind having their pictures taken.”
“No, they don’t at all,” Mayor Taylor said. “I already took some with my cell phone.”
It was, in fact, a great photo opportunity, even though the ground was still muddy. Men with beards wearing plain white shirts and pants with suspenders, hard at work with the men of the church, women just as hard at work. The pews and the pulpit had been pulled out of the red brick church, and into the sun. Rolls of ruined carpet were already in the back of a truck to be carried away. Women in modest pastel dresses and little organdy caps were working side by side with women in shorts and tee shirts, scrubbing the river mud off the stained glass windows.
Hunter tried to get names to go with the pictures, and when she approached one of the older Mennonite men, he said, “I’m Enoch Kauffman, but don’t put me in there. Some fellow already took my picture when I was here the other day.”
“Not for our paper,” Hunter said with a smile, and then she remembered her T.J. Jackson’s interest in the photographers who had been there on Monday.”
“Di
d you get his name?” she asked.
“No, but I can sure tell you what he looked like,” the man said. “He was wearing suspenders, for one thing.”
“A bald man?” Hunter asked, “Wearing a plaid shirt?”
“Yes, that’s him He took some pictures of us working on that chicken restaurant, and we wound up having a good long talk because he was thinking we had come all the way down here from Pennsylvania by horse and carriage, and I was explaining to him that we have trucks and all those things. He was the kind of man who listens so hard, it makes you want to talk to him.
“Sounds like Ned Thigpen,” Hunter said. “So you were here on Monday?”
She wondered whether to mention the murder or not, but Enoch Kauffman had more to say.
“Anyway, he finally let me get back to work, and then a while later he came back by and he stopped again and showed me this picture he had bought. He thought I was going to like it because it had something to do with the Bible. Even if I had forgotten him, I never would have forgotten that foolish picture.”
“He bought a picture?”
“He did. It was a strange one too. It was supposed to be Noah’s Ark and had this big rainbow over the ark, even though it was still floating in the water, and the ark was full of nothing but dogs and cats. He said he got it down at that gift shop down there on the other side of the street and it was just $20 and he said it like it was a bargain. Now I have to say I wouldn’t have paid a dime for it myself.”
“Mr. Kauffman,” she said. “That man was shot to death sometime later that day, and, I don’t know how what you just told me fits in, but I know that Sheriff Sam Bailey will want to hear what you just told me. Do you have a telephone where he could reach you?”