Down Home and Deadly

by Christine Lynxwiler

  I shrugged. “Maybe he just wanted to have Debbie as insurance in case things didn’t work out. Debbie said they ‘told themselves they were just friends.’ So technically, they weren’t dating. Maybe J.D. was just keeping his options open. And I’m sure he didn’t want to lose his job.”

  “Or maybe he had planned to manipulate the situation in some way but died before he could,” Carly mused.

  Before I could answer, cold water sprayed us.

  “Whooo!” Carly rubbed her hand across her face. “You sneaky girls splashed us on purpose!” Our blue and white paddleboat rocked as we turned and pedaled furiously to try and catch the twins.

  “Y’all looked like you needed to have a little fun,” Hayley called, grinning over her shoulder at us. “Hurry, Rachel, they’re gaining!”

  “I’m going as fast as I can,” Rachel yelled.

  “We’re getting too old for this.” Panting, Carly looked over at me and grinned. “Besides, they’re lighter. They can go faster.”

  “No kidding.” My muscles burned as I pedaled harder. “Youth wins again,” I declared dramatically as the twins beat us by inches to the dock, our finish line.

  “No more splashing us,” Carly told the giggling girls. “Let’s just relax and paddle around for a while. That way I may be able to catch my breath.”

  As the girls paddled their boat across the lake, Carly and I leaned back against our seats and tried to slow our pounding heartbeats. Carly kept an eye on the girls’ boat as we talked.

  “I can’t even imagine what it would be like if something happened to one of them.” She nodded toward the twins. “Poor Harvey and Alice.”

  “Yeah. I feel so sorry for them. I wish we knew exactly what happened.” I leaned back and stuck my hand into the cool water. “I hate it that Marge didn’t tell me not to mention J.D. to them.” I trickled water down my sweaty face. “And Marge won’t tell me anything else.”

  “Did you ask Mama?” Carly fanned herself with her hand. “She would know.”

  “No.” I filled her in on Mama’s plea for me to stay out of this case. “So I’m trying to keep a low profile.” I relaxed against my seat. “Besides, I need an unbiased report.”

  “I think most of the people involved are pretty biased,” Carly said dryly. “Too bad we can’t just google it. But I’m pretty sure something that old won’t be on the Internet.”

  “The archive room at the newspaper!” I turned to Carly. “As soon as we can, we need to go to the Monitor office. All we have to do is find the paper with the article in it.” I didn’t mention that there were forty years of papers to go through. No need to scare her off before we even got started.

  “Sounds easy enough.” Carly guided us up to the dock. We levered ourselves out of the boat and motioned for the girls to come on in.

  While we were waiting for them to get out of their boat and join us, Daddy came toward us with fishing poles in one hand and his tackle box in the other.

  “Is it okay with you if the girls and I fish for a while?”

  Carly nodded. “Jenna and I need to run an errand, anyway.”

  Daddy offered the poles to the giggling twins. “Let’s see if we can catch some supper.”

  I glanced at the watch on Daddy’s wrist. It was a little after five. Most of the Monitor employees should be gone. “Can the girls stay with you until we get back?”

  “Of course they can. We may be out here an hour or more, anyway.” Daddy rigged a pole for each of the girls, and they sat on the dock with their legs hanging off. “We’ll take our catch up to the house when we finish.”

  “Pretty sure we’ll catch some, aren’t you, Grandpa?” Rachel said sassily.

  “He knows I will,” Hayley spouted off.

  Daddy laughed, and Carly and I exchanged a grin. “They’re growing up,” she murmured. “Before I know it, they’ll be grown and gone.”

  I stared at her as we climbed into my vehicle. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and stared out the window at the lake. “Just realizing how quickly things can change.”

  I frowned but concentrated on pulling onto the highway. Was Travis about to come barreling back into our lives? I wanted to ask. But I’d promised myself I’d wait until she got ready to tell me. And I would.

  *****

  The parking area behind the newspaper office was empty when Carly and I pulled in.

  “I’m glad no one is here. I’d rather not have to explain what we’re looking for to anyone.” I unlocked the door. “Even Tiffany.”

  I flipped the light switch on in the archive room, and Carly gasped. “Just find the paper with the article in it? I think this may be harder than I thought.”

  I explained that they were in order by date and that Marge had given me the month and year. So after narrowing our search to that one small area, we began to read.

  After about fifteen minutes, I slapped the table. “Pay dirt!” I read the headline aloud to Carly. “Local Teen Killed in Drag Racing Accident.”

  “Drag racing? No one mentioned that, did they?”

  I shook my head and continued reading. “ ‘Fifteen-year old Sara Coleman, daughter of Harvey and Alice Coleman, was the victim of a fatal automobile accident. Coleman was a passenger in the car driven by Jimmy Finley, age seventeen, of Lake View. Witnesses said Finley lost control of the car when it hit a bump in the road while traveling at a high rate of speed. It then went airborne and flipped several times before landing in a ditch. Finley reported only minor injuries. Police have not yet determined whether alcohol or drugs were involved. The accident occurred off County Road 44.’ ”

  “Wow,” Carly said. “I’d envisioned something like a hit-and-run or maybe he was drunk and hit her car.”

  I laid the newspaper to the side. “So she chose to be there.” I mulled that over for a few minutes.

  “That probably makes it worse for her parents,” Carly pointed out. “If she were a totally innocent victim, it may have been easier on them.”

  “I wonder if he was her boyfriend.” I set the newspaper in its place. “Or if she did it on a dare.”

  “Maybe she just loved to go fast,” Carly said.

  We found another article dated two weeks later. The headline read, Local Teen Pleads Guilty in Fatal Accident. I read the article aloud. “ ‘Jimmy Dean Finley pleaded guilty to vehicular homicide in Lake View District Court on Thursday. According to police, Finley and passenger, Sara Coleman, were involved in a high-speed drag race, when Finley lost control of his car, which went airborne. Miss Coleman was thrown from the car and killed instantly. Alcohol was a factor.’ ”

  “Do you think there are any other articles about this?” I glanced at Carly.

  “We’re almost finished with the month. Let’s go on and look through the rest of these.”

  A few minutes later, Carly said, “Oh, here’s one!” She started reading. “Parents of Dead Teen Sue Property Owners Where Accident Occurred. Harvey and Alice Coleman filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Bob and Wilma Pryor after the death of their daughter, Sara Coleman.’”

  She stopped. “Bob and Wilma? What in the world?”

  “Keep reading,” I urged.

  “The lawsuit alleges that the Pryors knowingly provided alcohol to minors while on their property.”

  I gasped. “I don’t believe it.”

  She glanced back at the article. “Believe it. Listen to this: ‘According to unnamed sources, there have been numerous complaints from other parents about underage drinking and drag racing on the Pryors’ property.’ ”

  We looked at each other. “There has to be more. At least the trials of J.D. and of Bob and Wilma,” Carly said.

  I nodded. “And I have to see how they came out.”

  We began looking through the newspapers for the next month. But it wasn’t until December that we scored.

  “ ‘J.D. Finley has been sentenced to a year in Juvenile Detention,’ ” Carly read aloud.

  A minute later, I f
ound the rest of the story. “ ‘Local residents Harvey and Alice Coleman have dropped their wrongful death suit against Bob and Wilma Pryor.’ ”

  “Hank kept those last two uncharacteristically short, didn’t he?” Carly said.

  I nodded. “Marge said she begged him not to print anything at all. I suppose he just put what he felt his journalistic ethics required.”

  “So that’s why Bob gave up the hippie life. . . .” Carly carefully put the newspaper back where it belonged. “And why everyone is suddenly remembering the past.”

  I nodded. “The question is, did someone remember the past vividly enough to kill because of it?”

  *****

  *****

  Chapter Thirteen

  Never miss a good chance to shut up.

  “Miss Jenna.” Marco gave me a serious look. “If that woman comes in and pinches my jaw again, I will have to look for another job. Miss Carly will fire me, because I will be rude to a customer.”

  “Tell you what, Marco. I’ll be on the lookout. When Jolene comes in, I’ll be sure Harvey seats her in my section. Deal?”

  “Thank you. Yes, it is a deal.”

  Consequently, when Jolene made an appearance toward the end of the noon rush, Harvey seated her at a table in the corner, and I took her order.

  “I must be getting back to my roots or something,” she commented as I set her sweet tea on the table. “I had that all the time when I was at my gramma’s when I was a kid.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from? Sometimes you sound like you’re from Mississippi, and sometimes from New York or somewhere up there.”

  “Keeps you guessin’, don’t it?” She winked. “Actually, you ain’t far off. I spent the summers in Texas with my gramma, but my folks lived in New Jersey. Then when I was old enough to make my own way, I went wherever the spirit moved me, from Florida to California and points in between. My trusty Mustang takes me wherever the good times are. I usually find me somebody to hang out with for a while, and then I move on. I’m a pretty good waitress, so I can work about anywheres.”

  I eyed her short, low-cut dress and stiletto heels, trying to picture Carly hiring her to work at the Down Home Diner. Nope. Couldn’t see it.

  “Now, let’s get down to business. We’ve gotta hit the funeral parlor and figure out how much a buryin’ is gonna set me back. Once me and the mortician come to terms, we need to set a date and get this thing done. I ain’t one for havin’ a long drawn-out grieving. Jimmy’s dead. Let’s get him in the ground and get on with life.”

  Once again, I found myself riding shotgun in the red Mustang. We pulled into the drive of the local funeral home and got out. Jolene checked to make sure her dress wasn’t hitched up—or maybe to make sure it was. Then she pranced on her tall, thin heels into the building. I almost ran to keep up. I wanted a glimpse of Tom LeMay’s face when he saw her. The plump, bald, middle-aged man met us at the door but took Jolene’s appearance in stride.

  “May I help you ladies?” His voice was calm and courteous.

  “You betcha boots,” Jolene answered. “We wanta bury a guy. What’s the cheapest funeral we can have in this fancy place?”

  Tom looked at me, and my face turned red. I fought the urge to turn and walk out as if I’d never seen Jolene before. Instead, I shrugged slightly and introduced her.

  “I got a paper right here that says I’m the executor of Jimmy’s will, so I got to do my duty and see him in the ground. I want it done decent, but I don’t want to be ripped off, neither. You understand?” She wagged a pointed red fingernail under Tom’s chin.

  “Yes, ma’am. We aren’t in the habit of ripping people off. Now, if you will follow me, I will show you our selection of caskets.” He turned, and we followed.

  An hour later, we emerged. Jolene was torn between exhilaration and gloom, because even though she’d talked Tom down on the price of his cheapest casket, the funeral was still going to ‘eat a hole’ in her inheritance.

  “But that’s okay,” she assured me. “Jimmy had a big wad in his bank account, and it’s all mine. Whoo. . .” She shook her head. “It just goes to show. I never dreamed I’d be an heiress. I may just have to help them rube cops find the killer.”

  “Speaking of killers, have you thought any more about why someone might have shot J.D.?” I hated to question her outside the funeral home, but I needed to know. “I mean, what was he like? Did he leave enemies everywhere he went? We have very few murders here in our small town. And with him not being from here, I wondered if maybe he brought his killer with him, so to speak.”

  “Well, honey, if you’re hintin’ I offed him, you can get over it. I didn’t even know where he was ’til that lawyer dude called me. And he said he had a whale of a job locatin’ me.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything about you, Jolene. Sorry if it sounded that way.” She looked menacing when she was angry, though. I could imagine that snake tattoo shooting its fangs out at me. I hurried to soothe her. “I just thought you might give me some insight into J.D.’s character. But you don’t have to.”

  “That’s okay. I fly off the handle a little fast sometimes. Jumpin’ to conclusions and missin’ as my old gramma used to say.” She sent me a forgiving grin. She mused for a minute then continued, “Wonder when Jimmy took to callin’ hisself ‘J.D.’ Sounds right fancy, don’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  She ignored my answer. “Now that I think about it, he did make a few folks mad. You know, my best girlfriend back then—Melody was her name—she married herself a rich old man. Took her forever to find one, but she did.” She shook her head in wonder. “He was an old coot—bald-headed and didn’t have his own teeth. But he was loaded. That’s the best kind of man, you know.” Wink, wink.

  “Well, I—”

  She cut off any Dear Pru advice I might impart with a wave of her hand. “So, one night Melody and me have a girls’ night out, and we meet this guy, a real hunk. I don’t know how she does it, but before the night’s over, she gets him to give her his number. The rest of the night, she’s all braggin’, you know, how she could pick up men without even tryin’. I kinda lost my cool and blubbered to Jimmy, wantin’ him to tell me I was prettier’n Melody—which I was—but the next thing I know, he’s callin’ her and threatening to blab to her husband if she don’t let him borrow her fancy car.”

  “So she was mad at him?”

  “I’ll say she was. Mad at both of us. Even though I was innocent as a newborn baby. She wouldn’t speak to me for a long time. In fact, as long as Jimmy and me was together. She come around after I showed him the door, though. Should we put an obituary in the paper? Sort of let folks hereabouts know when the funeral is?” she asked without ever taking an audible breath.

  “I’ll take care of it. The editor and I are friends,” I answered.

  “I knew you was the right gal to take up with soon as I laid eyes on you.” She slapped me on the back. Not lightly. She dropped me off at the diner, and I left her to her Mustang and musings and went home to get ready for work at the health club. On the way, I called Marge at the Monitor, and together we came up with an obituary for Jimmy Dean Finley.

  *****

  I stuck my head into Bob’s office. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to come by tomorrow night for a couple of hours and see what all needs to be done.” I thought it might be easier if I had some time by myself to get reacquainted with the running of a health club.

  “Sounds good. Let me get you a key.” He motioned me to come inside. “Got a minute?” He made a pushing motion toward the door, so I shut it.

  Poor Bob. He’d aged so much in the last few days. “Of course.” I sat down. And tried not to think of how often I had dreamed of owning this place. And how aggravated I’d been at Bob and Lisa when I quit. Time to put those thoughts behind me.

  He pushed the key across the desk toward me. “I guess you heard that they may arrest Lisa any minute now. I know it’s the talk of th
e town.” His shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world rested on them.

  I nodded.

  Bob leaned forward. “I think she’s being framed, Jenna.” He lowered his voice. “Some stuff happened a long time ago. And ever since, Harvey has hated me. Remember how he and Hank Templeton teamed up on the zoning board to keep my business outside of town? I think he did this just to get back at me.”

  “Killed an innocent person just to get revenge on you, Bob?” I wondered if self-centeredness was an inherited trait.

  “No. . .” Bob suddenly looked very uncomfortable, as if he hadn’t thought this far ahead.

  I considered telling him I already knew, but I couldn’t think of a tactful way.

  “The thing is. . .J.D. was involved back then, too. In the stuff that happened. So Harvey hated us both. This way he killed two birds with one stone.” He studied the framed picture of Lisa and Fluffy. “Killing J.D. and setting Lisa up for it settles the score with both of us.”

  I nodded. In some twisted way, I could see his logic. If Lisa were found guilty, it would be worse for Bob than if he, himself, were sent to prison.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  I looked up into Bob’s questioning eyes. I didn’t see any reason to deny it. “How could you tell?”

  “I’d braced myself for your questions. I knew as soon as I hinted at the past, you’d want to know it all. But you didn’t ask me anything.”

  “I just didn’t want to make it any harder for you than it is already,” I said quietly.

  He spun his chair around, turning his back to me. When I heard his voice, thick with tears, I knew why. “Wilma and I, we’d just moved here from California not long before all that. She wanted to settle down, but I liked the fact that the kids all thought I was cool.” His voice broke. “They made me feel young. I didn’t see any harm in it.”

  I stared at his shaking shoulders.

  He shook his head and didn’t speak for a minute. Even from the back, I could see he was struggling to keep any composure at all.

  “We didn’t know about the drag racing, but if I could go back and live that part of my life over, I would. We both told Harvey and Alice how sorry we were. And they seemed to forgive us to some extent. Dropped the suit, which you probably know. But when Lisa was born a couple of years later, all the old feelings of hate boiled up again. They both looked at us like we had no right to have a daughter when they’d lost theirs because of my stupidity.”