Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  “I’ll be there. Just promise me you won’t tell her before then.”

  “I promise.” He disconnected and snapped his phone back on his belt before tapping on Kelsey’s door.

  “It’s open,” she said.

  He stepped inside and found her standing at the window, looking out. When she turned around, regret pinged his heart again. “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry for what happened in there.”

  “Then why did you do it? It was like an ambush. Why did I have to be there?”

  If only he hadn’t promised her mother he’d wait. If he could tell her, she would understand that looking for a murderer sometimes required subterfuge.

  “I . . . will you trust me on this until I can explain?” If there’d been another way to do it, he would have, but Rachel felt they needed to act before news of Carter’s death leaked. They were in agreement that someone who worked at the museum twenty-eight years ago killed Paul Carter, and both men had been there at the time.

  Once Carter’s death was public, the murderer would be much more on guard and careful about what he said. And maybe not only the murderer. Anyone associated with the museum at the time of his death would be a person of interest and might not want the skeletons in their closet rattled by an investigation. At least today’s session had netted them more information, along with two more people to talk to.

  “When will you be able to explain?”

  “Soon.” He checked the clock on her wall. “Look, it’s almost four thirty. Why don’t I follow you home and then you can ride with me to the house on Snowden?”

  “Because I’m not finished with my work. I’ll just meet you there.”

  “What time are you clocking out?”

  “Five.”

  “I’ll wait. We’ll let your bodyguard know he won’t be needed on the way out.” He looked around for a chair.

  “Not in here—I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with you here. Go look at the exhibits until five.”

  “Good idea.” But he had a better one. When he stepped out of Kelsey’s office, he nodded to the young man guarding her door and explained he wouldn’t need to accompany Kelsey home. Then he turned left and walked to the collections director’s office. Julie was working at her computer.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

  “Of course. Take a seat and let me close this program out.”

  He sat in the chair she indicated. Julie Webb’s personality was evident in the tastefully decorated room. Various American Indian pieces of pottery were on display as well as a model of a Depression-era farm truck. Eclectic taste.

  “Now, what can I do for you?” She swiveled to face him. “But first, did you learn anything about the bones?”

  “When I left the Forensic Center, Dr. Caldwell was still working on them.”

  “Peculiar thing, someone sending a crate of bones here.”

  “We discovered something even more peculiar today,” he said. “A pistol stolen from the museum almost thirty years ago was used to kill Mr. Rutherford and another victim.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.”

  “That must be the gun used in the 1954 shooting at the House of Representatives.” She shook her head. “But I thought Paul Carter stole that gun.”

  “It’s on the list of artifacts missing after he disappeared.”

  “So you’re saying that maybe he didn’t steal it . . .” She frowned. “Because I know he’s not back in town shooting people.”

  Julie’s reaction surprised him. “Why do you think that’s far-fetched?”

  “I knew Paul Carter, and he would not come back to Memphis, not even to shoot people. He was a nice man, and the rumors almost killed him.”

  “What rumors?”

  “Just days before he left, someone started a rumor that he was stealing artifacts.”

  “Why do you think he didn’t fight the rumors?”

  “He said you can’t fight rumors, that people who knew him wouldn’t believe the lies.” She sighed. “He just wasn’t a fighter. He thought if he ignored them, they would go away.”

  “Do you know who started them?”

  She shook her head, and then she pressed her lips in a thin line. “I do know Jackson King repeated them.”

  And was perhaps the reason she broke up with him. “Did you and Jackson ever date?”

  “I suppose Robert Tomlinson brought that up.” A red tinge filled her cheeks, and she glanced down at her clasped hands. Then she smoothed back a strand of chestnut hair and looked up. “One kiss with someone around here, and no one ever forgets it. Or allows me to.”

  “I take it you don’t like Mr. King.”

  She flattened her hands on the desk and stood. “He’s a boor and a gossip. Would you like a drink? I grabbed a pitcher of peach tea before they poured it out at the café.”

  “Sure.” Kelsey had liked it the other day. Might make a good peace offering. He accepted the Solo cup and sipped the tea, and tried not to make a face. Must be a woman thing. He set the cup down as Julie returned to her desk. “How many of the people who were working here when Carter left are still here?”

  She doodled on a scratch pad. “I was here, Robert Tomlinson, his brother Mark—he was working in shipping then and worked his way up to building manager—and there are a couple of guys who worked in maintenance that have been here forever . . . and Jackson, of course.” She leaned back in her chair. “But wait, Jackson doesn’t exactly work here now, and Robert didn’t work straight through. He went to work for the city for a few years before returning here as director.”

  Brad added Mark Tomlinson’s name as a definite. Why didn’t his brother remember he worked here with Carter? “You said Jackson King gossiped about the thefts. If you don’t think Carter stole the artifacts, do you think Jackson could have?”

  “Jackson?” She seemed to mull the idea over. “Only if he was certain he wouldn’t get caught. A scandal like that would have gotten him cut off from his father’s money. Conrad King was a stickler for honesty and propriety.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the Kings.”

  “We went to college together, and my father and Conrad King are friends. Excuse me,” she said as her phone rang. After she answered, she put the call on hold. “Do you have more questions?”

  “Not for now.” He stood and picked up his Solo cup. “But I’ll probably be back. Do you mind if I take Kelsey a cup of your tea?”

  “No, please take some.”

  Brad paused outside her office. He was getting a very interesting picture of the employees at the time of Paul Carter’s death. Then he walked to Kelsey’s office and tapped on her door, hoping the tea would smooth things over.

  A knock at the door startled Kelsey, and she glanced at the clock. Was it already five? “It’s open,” she said and pulled her gloves off.

  “Peace offering?” Brad said, holding out a red Solo cup when he came into the room. “Peach tea.”

  He must think she was a pushover. “It’ll take more than peach tea to make up for what you did,” she said.

  “Not trying to do that. I just remembered that you like peach tea.”

  He remembered? Her double-crossing heart warmed. And she was thirsty. Grudgingly, she accepted the cup. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Julie rescued a pitcher from the café before they poured it out. Are you ready to go?”

  Kelsey drained the cup and set it on the table. “Just a sec.” She wrapped the spotted horse in a cloth and returned it to the box before grabbing her bag with her laptop in it. “I’m ready. And thank you for telling the bodyguard you are escorting me home. He said there would be someone else at the apartment and gave me his number to call when we started that way.”

  “Good. Why don’t you leave your car in the parking lot and ride with me? We can pick it up on the way back.”

  “Sure.” She allowed him to open the car door for her, even though it made her feel a littl
e ungrateful. Then she reminded herself of how he’d made her father look like a murderer. The silence in his car grew as they drove toward the house. Evidently he was going to let her stew. Finally she could stand it no longer. “What have you learned about the bones? Anything important?”

  “Dr. Caldwell isn’t through yet.”

  What kind of answer was that? She was willing to bet that the ME had given him some information. But if he didn’t want to talk, so be it. She stared out the window as they drove across town, her thoughts turning to her father. No one, including Brad, would ever make her believe he had fired shots at her. Her father loved her. She was as sure of that as she was the stars would be out tonight.

  She glanced at Brad. He was gripping the steering wheel like he was ready to fight it. Something wasn’t adding up. When he turned into the drive, she blinked. “What’s my mom doing here?”

  “She’s early,” he said, his voice so low she almost didn’t hear him.

  “You knew she would be here?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You don’t sort of know something like that. Either she called you and said she’d be here or she didn’t. But why?” Fear grabbed her stomach, twisting it.

  “Maybe she decided not to sell the house.”

  “She would have called me if that were the case.” Kelsey opened the car door, not waiting for him to come around. “Maybe she’ll tell me something.”

  She hurried up the steps. “Mom, where are you?” she called. She walked through the open front door and came to a full stop. Memories bombarded her as she stared at the eggshell-blue walls.

  “Kelsey,” Mom said, coming from the kitchen.

  “You never changed the color,” she said softly. Even though she’d been only seven the last time she was inside the house, she remembered the blue walls and how peaceful they had made her feel. It was why her bedroom was painted this color.

  “No. I guess I always wanted to keep it the way it was when we were a family here. Even though we didn’t live here long.”

  “Don’t sell it, Mom. I think I want to live here.”

  “It may be too late for that, sweetheart.”

  Kelsey glanced at her mom. Her eyes were red, and she wouldn’t look her way. Why had she been crying? Kelsey’s chest tightened, making it hard for her to breathe. She wanted to leave. Right. Now.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered.

  Her mom shot a quick glance at Brad, and Kelsey turned to him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” he said and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I have something to tell you—it’s what I couldn’t say at your office.”

  “I asked him not to until I could be with you.”

  “S-Sabra . . .” Kelsey couldn’t get her sister’s name out. “Is she—”

  “No, it’s not Sabra,” her mom said.

  “Then who is it—I know it’s someone.” Her blood pressure was going to blow the top of her head off if someone didn’t tell her what was going on.

  “It’s your dad,” Brad said.

  “He is not the killer!”

  “No,” her mom said. “He’s not. I’m afraid . . .” She swallowed hard, shook her head.

  “He’s dead, Kelsey. I’m sorry,” Brad said. “The bones that were delivered yesterday were his remains.”

  His words sucked the air out of the room. Dad, dead?

  Impossible. He was off somewhere, away from all the pressure. “No . . . no!” She looked up at Brad. “My father is not dead. He . . . he’s in Argentina or Colombia. But he’s not dead!”

  Her mother wrapped her arms around Kelsey. “It’s okay, baby.”

  Kelsey’s arms hung limp in her mother’s embrace. No, it was not okay. She closed her eyes against the image of his body in the plastic bag as her chest ached from the pain of knowing she’d held his bones in her hands.

  31

  BRAD COULD HANDLE A WOMAN’S TEARS better than he could Kelsey’s stoicism. She had listened without a flicker of emotion as he described finding the ring and the dentist confirming that the teeth matched his dental records for Paul Carter. And now, she was encouraging her mother to return home.

  “I’m fine. Really,” Kelsey said. “Go home to Sam. It’s not like I saw my . . . him just last week.”

  She couldn’t say “my dad.” It was the only tell that showed her distress. The look of helplessness Cynthia shot Brad deepened his own worry. “I’ll make sure she gets home all right,” he said.

  With one last look at her daughter, Cynthia walked toward the front door, where she stopped and turned. “If you’re serious about living here, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Perfect.” Kelsey’s smile was brittle.

  Once Cynthia’s car backed out of the drive, Kelsey said, “Do you mind? I’d like to walk through the house while you go to the shed and pick up the files you want.”

  “You sure?” He didn’t want to leave her. She seemed so calm on the outside, but tension radiated from her like a tightly wound coil. “I’d like to see the rest of the house.”

  The odd look she gave him said she knew what he was doing.

  “I’m okay—I’m not going to fall apart.”

  He wasn’t too sure about that, but he honored her wishes and went to the shed, grabbing the box of papers. Once he put them in his trunk, he hurried inside the house. She was standing where he’d left her.

  “That was quick,” she said.

  “Just one box. I’d still like to see the house.”

  Kelsey nodded, and he trailed her as she walked from room to room, her tension increasing with each room. She stopped in a small corner room with windows facing a huge magnolia tree and walked to the window closest to the tree. “This is where my climbing probably started,” she said.

  He joined her and stared up at the top of the magnolia. “You climbed this when you were seven?”

  “Actually I was five and half when I climbed it the first time. Dad said . . .” She took a shaky breath and blew it out. “It was easier to think my father was in some faraway place totally ignoring me than it is knowing he’s dead.” She lifted her chin. “I need to climb.”

  “Not that,” he said, pointing at the tree, suddenly aware of how close they stood when her perfume enveloped him.

  “No. There’s a place I go to climb—the Rock Zone—but you don’t have to go. You can take me back to the museum, and I’ll get my car.”

  “No. You dismissed your bodyguard, so I’ll take you.” Heights were not his favorite thing to do, but he wasn’t leaving her alone tonight. “Do you have your gear?”

  “In my car.” Her face fell. “And it doesn’t make sense to go all the way to the museum for it. I can get a good workout on the bouldering area, and I can do that in these tennis shoes.”

  “Is there a beginner climb? You know, like the bunny slopes?” He had never climbed and had never planned to. He did work out, so maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself too much.

  “Why don’t you just watch? I’m the one who needs to work off some energy.”

  That worked for him.

  When Brad saw the first wall inside the Rock Zone, his gaze traveled up to an overhang. “That thing is straight up.”

  “That’s the climbing wall, and it’s probably fifty feet,” she said and showed her pass, then stopped to buy a bottle of liquid chalk. “The bouldering wall isn’t as high, probably only fifteen to twenty feet. And over there,” she said, pointing across the room, “is another shorter climbing wall. Lily has mastered the first level on it.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Are you sure she’s not your kid?”

  “I wish. What do you think?” she said, nodding her head toward the bouldering area.

  “It’s awfully tall.”

  “Not really. Lily loves it.”

  “Big surprise.”

  “Hey, Kelsey. Good to see you today! Just bouldering tonight?”

  She turned and waved
at a man coming down the wall. “Yeah, don’t have my equipment,” she called to him and then lowered her voice. “He’s an instructor.”

  “The guy standing on the floor with the rope—what’s he doing?”

  “That’s his belay partner. The partner and the rope are to stop his fall when it happens.”

  “Fall?” He looked up again.

  “It is a dangerous sport, you know, but he rarely falls. Come on, the bouldering area is back here.”

  Brad looked over his shoulder as they walked away from the climbing wall. “What do you do when you come to that overhead ledge?”

  “You go over it.” She knelt and tightened the laces on her tennis shoes. When she stood, she said, “Sure you don’t want to try bouldering?”

  “Yes, I’m very sure.” He hyperventilated just thinking about it. When they reached the bouldering area, he breathed easier. The walls were much shorter, with various colored objects spaced across them. A boy Lily’s age was climbing on the wall nearest him and was trying to pull himself over a ledge. Where was the father? He should be waiting to catch him when he fell. “They just turn kids loose here?”

  “His mother is right there,” she said, pointing to a woman on the floor. “And she wouldn’t catch him, just help him fall correctly. I’m going to stretch first.”

  He thought she meant stretching exercises, but instead she pulled herself up on the wall and climbed sideways across it, stretching her arms and legs. Once she reached the far side, she worked her way back to the middle and then began her ascent. There were overhangs at different levels, and Kelsey bypassed the lower ones and worked her way to the one in the middle. There she swung her leg over the ledge and pulled herself up.

  He figured she’d come back down, but instead, she worked her way to a higher overhang, repeating the process until she stood at the top of the boulder. Then she worked her way down and started all over. After the sixth trip, he began to worry. She was visibly tired, and he feared she would make a mistake. At the highest overhang, her pull-up was much slower, and then suddenly she fell.

  With his heart in his throat, he ran toward the wall as she hit the mat and rolled, then jumped up.