Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery)

by Gina Conroy

  “Yes, if only I could have done something to save him.”

  “I’m sure you tried your best.”

  “It wasn’t enough.” She batted away invisible tears.

  “Did you hear one of Henderson’s artifacts is missing?”

  Susan reached into her purse for a tissue. “I’m sure they’ll turn up. The maid probably misplaced them while cleaning.” She wiped her nose.

  Them? “I meant at the university.”

  She hiked her purse higher on her shoulder, then checked her watch. “Oh, my. Maybe you can tell me about it another time. I’m running late.”

  “Sure. Maybe this weekend if you feel up to it?”

  “That would be nice. Call me at home. I’m in the book.”

  As she hurried away, I didn’t recognize the woman who barreled through the glass doors. In a few short years, Susan Kipling Henderson had completely changed.

  By the time I dropped the death certificate and Henderson’s remains at the mansion, it was almost 9:00. Not only did I miss dinner, but if I didn’t hurry I would miss tucking Ben and Hattie into bed. Before I started the Jeep, I retrieved Matt’s phone to call Hattie. The voicemail showed one of us had a message. I dialed, hoping it was from Jack.

  “Hey, man. Just making sure we’re still on for tonight. Meet at the abandoned building on the corner of Vine and Spruce, 7:30 sharp. Don’t be late.”

  My jaw clenched. If Matt wasn’t suspended and under house arrest who knows what he’d be doing. I dialed home.

  Hattie fired off some jumbled complaint. Most likely against Matt. “Hattie, slow down.”

  “Mooom, we’re starving. Matt’s supposed to cook dinner tonight, but he’s not in his room.”

  “Did you check the rec room?” Jack called me crazy when I told him I wanted to build on a hill. I thought the walkout-man cave would be a great place for Matt to bring his friends. Problem was, he never brought his friends home. Matt’s phone message explained why.

  “He’s not anywhere.”

  I leaned into the steering wheel, pressing against the knot in my stomach. “Make sandwiches or something. Danny should be home soon. Call me if he’s not there in an hour.”

  Then I floored the car and peeled out of the parking lot toward Vine and Spruce.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  9:06 p.m.

  LYNDON WASN’T A BIG town, but it had a dark side. One I always avoided until now. I should’ve been afraid to venture to this part of town alone at night, but my anger overrode my common sense. Matt was headed straight for Vine and Spruce. The intersection of Lyndon’s degradation.

  As I drove in silence, darkness enveloped me, and it wasn’t because of all the broken streetlights. The atmosphere dripped with a thick fog of evil. I parked in front of an old, tan brick building on the corner of Vine, hoping I was wrong about the call, that I had misinterpreted the message, that Matt was someplace at home, sulking.

  A decent-looking Honda sat parked around the corner. I labored toward the building as if my heels had turned to cement. My gaze volleyed back and forth at the broken beer bottles, cans, and debris littering the grass. Shattered windows dared me to enter. Colorful graffiti warned me to flee. My mind bleated danger, but the message wallowed in my gut, never reaching my feet.

  I pushed at the splintered door. It let out a steady creak, a last caution. Standing in the doorway, I looked. Listened. It was too dark. Too quiet. My mouth trembled, wanting to whisper a prayer of help, but prayer never helped my mother. And the wickedness she experienced proved far more menacing.

  Something scurried across the floor. I screamed. A mouse. So much for entering quietly. By the layout of the downstairs, it seemed to be an old apartment building. I wormed my way through the four modest-sized apartments, holding my breath each time I entered a room. Except for the debris and weeds, which sprung up through cracks in the floor and wall, every room was vacant.

  I tiptoed up the crumbling, cement steps, drawing my arms in close. Rubble caught in my pumps, stabbing my feet, but I didn’t stop to remove it. I needed to find Matt. Stains splattered the walls like an impressionist painting. Blue, brown, red. I didn’t even want to guess what they were. Ancient words echoed in my mind. Words my mother had prayed again and again as she took a beating. I pushed the prayers from my mind, but they wouldn’t budge, so I gave in, surprised when they flowed from my mouth with ease.

  “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  Calm trickled on me like a gentle rain. I hugged my belly, hoping God would loose a storm of peace to help drown my remaining apprehension. I peered into the first room on the second floor. An old, stained mattress and propane lantern filled the small space littered with beer cans. Clouds of emotion descended. Maternal guilt surfaced.

  “Matt, I’m so sorry. I failed to protect you from this.” I kicked a glass tube. It rattled across the floor. Tears flooded my vision. “I failed you as a sister, and a mother. I wanted so much more for you.” I shuffled into the next room, holding my breath. It was empty. “God, if you really are as loving and caring as Elizabeth says you are, let Matt be okay.”

  My stomach cramped as I approached the last room in the building. Terrifying thoughts of what I might find bombarded me. I peeked inside the room and sobbed uncontrollably. Like my soul, it too was empty.

  A tremulous sigh pushed past my lips. I headed toward the stairs, but noticed another set of steps leading up. Anxiety rushed through my body, but I stayed on course, trudging upward one step at a time. I reached the top. An attic apartment. A cool breeze swept across the room from the broken window. I shuffled through each room. One agonizing step after the other. Each room empty. One more to go. The bathroom. I pushed one leaden foot in front of the other. Moonlight spilled through the window shining light on something hanging over the edge of the tub. I inched closer and focused on a … shoe. I gasped.

  It was attached to a lifeless body.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  9:19 p.m.

  A WAIL ESCAPED AS I shielded my face, my head shaking violently at the body in the tub. “Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no … nooooo.” Blue, lifeless eyes leered at me. Eyes that were once living. Eyes I had looked into today.

  Eyes that weren’t Matt’s.

  But that didn’t calm my frantic heart. Shudders seized my body. I shrunk back, hitting the wall. Something crashed to the floor, echoing in the muted night. Insect legs scurried across my neck. Screaming, I shook it off and two-stepped. My foot landed on something long and slender, then twisted on the rolling object. My ankle burned with pain. I reached out to steady myself, grabbing the bathroom sink. Thick, slimy gunk clung to my hand. I shrieked, tried to fling it off, but it stuck. I wiped the filth on my grey pants and dry heaved into the sink.

  Maybe if I had gotten here earlier, I could have helped. I stared at the AME as cold as the body on his autopsy table. No, it was too late. I was always too late.

  With my sleeve, I dried my mouth and limped backward toward the bathroom door, my eyes transfixed on the body. My emotions dry. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t cry.

  Matt’s phone rang. I jumped, slamming into the bathroom door. Something within shifted. Sobs racked my body. I answered the phone, my hands shaking. “Officer Taylor?” I tried to steady my breathing, but it came out in thick chunks.

  “Mrs. Duggins, I’m glad we got a hold of you. Are you all right?”

  “No … I’m at the corner of Vine … and Spruce. In an a-a-abandoned building.” Oxygen swooshed in and out. “Why are you calling me?”

  “You’re where?”

  “Vine and Spruce. The abandoned building on the corner.”

/>   “What are you doing there? We just had a squad car there—”

  “Hurry quick. He might still be a-a-alive.”

  “Are you in danger? Is anyone with you?”

  I glanced at Brian Farlow, the Assistant Medical Examiner again. A rubber tourniquet tied on his arm. A needle in his hand. I turned away. There was nothing anyone could do for him anymore. I knew death, and it had sucked the life from this man I had met only hours earlier.

  “I think I’m going to be sick again.” Bile rocketed and spewed on the wooden cane I had tripped on. I hurried through the attic apartment toward the stairs.

  Why did everyone around me end up dead?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  9:58 p.m.

  UNLIKE FEAR’S SUCKER PUNCH to the gut at the abandoned building, rage steeped, growing stronger with each harried step I took toward Lyndon Police Station. Gratitude for Matt’s life, that he escaped unharmed from that vile place, filled the tiny space anger had not yet consumed, but that niche was closing quickly. A part of me wanted to hug him, lock him in his room, and ground him for eternity. The other part of me wanted to slip my hands around his teenage neck and squeeze.

  “Don’t be too hard on the boy. He’s really a good kid.” Officer Taylor held the door open, my Lancelot on this godforsaken evening. “A little misguided, but I think we got him in time. Remember go easy, he’s had a rough night.”

  “He’s had a rough night?” I shook my head as I followed Officer Taylor into the lobby. “Well, it’s about to get tougher. I don’t get it. How could I have missed the signs? Why didn’t I know Matt was smoking pot?”

  Officer Taylor laid a meaty hand on my shoulder. His fingernails still encrusted with dirt, yet warmth trickled through my body, dissolving my tension.

  “I hate to sound cliché, but parents are usually the last to know. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I forced a smile at the female officer sitting at the counter behind the glass.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “No, thanks. I’m waiting for Officer Taylor.”

  “Please have a seat.” She pointed to the vinyl chairs in the waiting room.

  I sat against the stiff cushion, shifting to find a comfortable position. If I’d been in the Ritz Carlton hotel lobby, I still couldn’t have relaxed. How could Matt do this? He was already suspended from school, now arrested? Not only would Matt’s reputation be tarnished, but his recklessness would reflect on the entire family. He’d be forever labeled a druggie and criminal.

  Ten minutes later Officer Taylor waltzed in. I met him half way. “How is he?”

  “Scared out of his wits. Booking really did a number on him.”

  “What?” My knees buckled.

  “Don’t worry, it was all psychological. We fingerprinted him with old-fashioned ink and painted a real ugly picture of the path he’s headed. Hope to knock some sense into his thick head.”

  “I don’t understand how this could happen. He was a straight A student at Lyndon High and barely passing at Winton.”

  “Drugs are everywhere, not only in public schools.” Officer Taylor crossed his arms.

  “I moved him to Winton Preparatory School so he’d get away from his old friends and the drugs in that school.” I raised my eyebrows. “You think he got marijuana from kids at his new school?”

  “Can’t say for sure. Matt’s being tight-lipped about the whole thing, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Especially if you say his grades dropped after he got to Winton.”

  “Mr. Fielding told me he was hanging around with his old friends. I assumed ... I saw Matt pulling away. I thought he was having trouble adjusting to the divorce, and needed space.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Most kids we can’t help, but Matt’s different. He’s got a caring parent and a chance to turn his life around before it’s too late.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll take you to him now.”

  We stopped at a small room that looked like it’d been furnished from the Salvation Army. The rancid odor confirmed my suspicions.

  “Have a seat.” Officer Taylor motioned to the plaid couch. “I’ll be right back.”

  I cringed at the unidentifiable stains and started pacing, testing the durability of the carpet. Minutes later, Matt entered the room, hands deep in his pockets. His eyes hidden by his disheveled hair and downcast stare.

  Officer Taylor followed him and handed me a clipboard. “You need to sign here and make sure you call a lawyer.”

  With a trembling hand, I took the pen. “Is this going on his record?”

  “Only if he’s convicted, but make sure you get a good lawyer so that doesn’t happen. Once a judge convicts, it will follow him for the rest of his life, especially in a small town like Lyndon.”

  I swallowed hard. “This could go away?”

  “I’m not saying that, but Matt’s got a good chance to beat this and turn his life around. He’ll probably get probation, be sentenced to drug treatment and community service, plus have to pay a fine of up to $2,000, but that’s a gift compared to a record.”

  Matt’s bloodshot eyes connected with mine, then his gaze retreated to the floor.

  “Thanks so much, Officer Taylor.”

  I glared at Matt, promising him an earful.

  “No problem. I’ll leave you two alone. You’re free to go when you’re ready.” He closed the door behind him.

  “What were you thinking?” The levy to my reserve broke. “First fighting? Now this? You can forget about that cushy summer job at the country club. I don’t even want to think how this might affect your chances of getting into an Ivy League college.”

  “Are you going to tell Jack?”

  Realization illuminated. Could Matt be acting out to get Jack’s attention?

  “Jack can’t be bothered with your self-destructive behavior right now. I’ll deal with you in my own way.”

  Matt slid his hands from his pockets. Black ink stained his fingertips, yet unlike his reputation, Matt could wipe them clean. “It wasn’t my fault!”

  “What do you mean it wasn’t your fault? Did they hold the joint to your mouth and plug your nose? And don’t tell me you didn’t inhale.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to go home.”

  “We’re not going home until you tell me what was going through your head. How long have you smoked pot?”

  His eyes narrowed, challenged. Eyes filled with so much fury, so much pain. “I could be doing a lot worse, ya know. And I’m not the only one who screws up in this family.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The car accident yesterday wasn’t that man’s fault.”

  “Sure it was. He was drunk. He ran a red light.”

  “No, you ran the red light. The accident was your fault.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  10:27 p.m.

  MATT’S ACCUSATION HUNG AROUND my neck like a noose as I closed the garage door and stepped from his Jeep. We hadn’t spoken since we left the police station, but I couldn’t get his words out of my mind. Was the accident my fault? I played the scene over and over. Realization tightened, sentencing me to the fate I deserved. I had looked down. I had run the red light. Not the violent drunk in the rusty old car. Me. Mari Duggins.

  I was the guilty one.

  Before I clicked the deadbolt, Matt disappeared upstairs to his room. I was glad to let him go. The way he looked at me earlier. The judgment in his eyes. I couldn’t bear it again, not tonight. The clock chimed on the half hour as I shuffled through the kitchen, a stack of mail in my hand. After the upheaval my stomach experienced today, I welcomed the grumble, but my exhaustion prevented me from finding something to eat. I kicked off my shoes, then sorted the mail.

  Giggles echoed through the hall. I padded to the living room. Danny and Cherilyn sat on the floor, open textbooks all around,
their lips locked in a spit-swapping kiss. I cleared my throat.

  Cherilyn pulled off in a hurry.

  Danny wiped his mouth, his face flush. “Oh, Mrs. D., we were just studying.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  Cherilyn inched away from Danny. “It’s much quieter studying here than in the dorms.”

  “Then I’d better leave you two to your studying. I’ll check on the kids.”

  I left the two lovebirds to roost, still uneasy about Cherilyn. Even if she wasn’t C.S., Henderson still could have fathered her child.

  After tucking Hattie and Ben in bed, I bumped into Danny at the top of the stairs. He bounced around as if he were on cloud eleven.

  “Things are going well between you and Cherilyn?”

  “Better than I could have imagined.”

  “I hate to sound like a mother hen, but be careful. Don’t rush things. Take it slow. Girls like—who’ve come off of a bad relationship are vulnerable. I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt Cherilyn for anything.”

  “You’re okay with everything that’s happened?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I overheard you two talking last night. It seemed you were pretty upset when she told you about the abortion.”

  “Sure, I was upset. I kept thinking, how could you do that? What if my parents killed me? Then when I cooled down I tried to put myself in her situation. Young, alone, in trouble. I couldn’t judge her. So I forgave her.”

  “And you’re okay with it now?”

  “I’ll never be okay with someone taking the life of an innocent child, but I can’t hold her past against her. God knows I’ve done some stupid things. I’d hate for him to leave my sins hanging around my neck. Cherilyn’s waiting. I better go find my study notes.” Danny entered his room, and I headed downstairs.