Anderson was in his early forties, graying around the temples, with permanently calloused hands from years of work. His son and Cole had played baseball together. Anderson was banned from the field one season for threatening the umpire. He had a temper and he liked being right. Telling him no wasn’t an option.
He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of his desk. He locked his hands behind his head. “So you want to talk about the ginseng market. What do you want to know?”
“How’s the season been?”
He shrugged. “Been better. Like about everything these days.”
I opened my notepad to a clean page and scribbled the date and Anderson’s name, stalling for time. I had no idea where this story was going, or if it was even worth the time. If Anderson Lee wanted to lowball his growers, that was his business. It wasn’t right, but it wasn’t newsworthy either. The poaching was the story and unfortunately, Ed Stinger had his hands all over that.
I chewed on that for another moment, feeling like I was being bullied into a story that wasn’t there. The least I could do was finish the interview since Anderson had agreed to do it in the first place. “Have you heard tales of poaching being a problem again this year?”
“Poaching’s always a problem. Can’t really say whether it’s any worse this season than in the past or not. I don’t really involve myself too much on that end of the business.”
“So you don’t really know where the ginseng comes from?”
He dropped his feet then leaned into his desk, his elbows propped on a grungy desk calendar with pencil smudges and coffee stains. “Look, I know my growers. Once in a while, I’ll have somebody new show up selling roots and when they do, I don’t ask where they dug it from. Not really my business. Understand?” He opened his hands like he was making an offer of the truth, whether I liked it or not.
“Have you had any new sellers this season?”
His lips pulled back into a tight grin. “Now you know I ain’t going to give you names, right?”
I returned the grin and nodded. “Just wondering.”
He glanced out the window at the action on the floor. After watching a moment, he turned back to me. “To be honest with you, Ava, this season has sucked. A lot of my regulars been taking their business to some prick over in Roan Mountain. He’s paying three times what I can give.”
“Can give or will give?”
He grinned again and turned back to the window. “You see those two guys out there loading and unloading? Those are the only two I’ve got left. Used to have ten employees. Even had a secretary. Man can’t hardly afford to stay in business these days.” He turned back to me and for a moment, I felt sorry for him.
“I thought ginseng was a money maker.”
He shrugged. “It is. But if I can’t afford to buy it from the growers, I ain’t got nothing to resale.”
I glanced down at my notepad, knowing the answer before asking. “Do you know the guy over in Roan Mountain?”
“I don’t know his name. But he’s doing business out of some scrap metal place called Mack’s Metals.”
Tiny Cormack. Just like Aster had said.
I pretended to write the name then closed my notepad. “I appreciate your time, Anderson. And I hope business picks up for you again.” I stood to leave and he followed suit.
We walked through the warehouse to the parking lot. At my car, he leaned against the hood. “You asked me about new pickers.”
“Did you have many?”
He shook his head. “Just one. Woman ’bout your age.”
“A woman? That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”
“Not really. Sally Thomas used to be one of the best diggers around.”
“Don’t suppose you have a record with this woman’s name on it you could show me, do you?”
“Would if I could, but she didn’t want to take what I offered. Took her business over to the metal shop.”
CHAPTER 11
After picking up Emma and Ivy from Doretha’s, we went home and I fixed Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes for dinner. It was Emma’s favorite. I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to having Ivy around on a semi-permanent basis. Maybe I was sucking up. Emma was still shell-shocked over Trish’s murder and her current attachment to Ivy was a result. Would she still be as willing to fill that big sister role six months from now? Or would the interest wear off like it often does with a new puppy or a new toy?
Emma was at the table doing her homework while I fixed dinner. Ivy played with a baby doll and stroller she refused to leave at Doretha’s. Cole would be home from football practice anytime.
I turned the steaks, adding a little water to help with the steaming. Turning around so I could see her, I leaned against the counter, shuffling the spatula between my hands. “Hey, Em—I got some news today.”
Emma continued her homework without looking up. “Uh-huh.”
“Grayson’s arranged for Ivy to live with us for a while.”
She stopped writing and looked up at me, her eyes wide and searching mine. “For how long?” Her voice was quiet, unsure.
I lifted my shoulders in a drawn-out shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe for a long time. I mean, if you and Cole don’t mind.”
Confusion spread across her face. “Why would we mind?”
“Well, it’s a big commitment. I want to make sure y’all are okay with it. It’ll be like having a baby sister—one who’s around all the time. One that never goes home.” I lifted my brows, hoping she’d understand the seriousness of the matter. Ivy wasn’t just staying overnight anymore.
To my surprise, Emma leapt up and rushed to me. She threw her arms around my waist and hugged me so tight it was almost painful. “Can she share my room? She can sleep with me until we can get another bed.”
I laughed, stroking her hair. “We have an extra bedroom. You don’t have to give up having your own room.”
“Not even if I want to?”
She was so kindhearted and sweet natured, there were times it worried me. This wasn’t one of them though. “We’ll see. But I’d feel better if she was in a crib rather than a regular bed. At least until she adjusts.”
A smile dominated her face as she walked over to where Ivy was playing. Ivy shoved the stroller and baby doll at her with toddler-like instructions to “play.” Emma giggled as she happily obliged.
“Have you told Cole yet?”
“I’m going to tell him at dinner. But, Emma, he has to agree to it too. Okay?”
Her wide grin told me she wasn’t concerned with the possibility he might object. I wasn’t prepared for the possibility he would.
We were halfway through dinner when Brady’s truck pulled into the driveway. Finn’s ears perked up and Emma’s smile broadened. “Can I tell him?”
Finn barked and nudged the blind over the glass back door out of the way so he could see outside. He continued to bark even after Cole and Brady were inside. Cole stroked the dog and shushed him.
“Y’all grab a plate.” I assumed Brady was staying.
Emma was about to burst but held it in until the boys were seated at the table. Once they were, it poured out of her like water from a spigot. “We’re going to be Ivy’s foster family. At least for a little while. Since we have an extra bedroom, no one will have to give up their bedroom. We’ll have to share a bathroom, but she’s not even potty trained yet so that shouldn’t be an issue—”
“Emma.” I held my hand up to slow her down, or at least quiet her a moment. “Catch your breath.”
Cole looked at Emma then at me. “Are you going to adopt her?”
My chest expanded with a needed breath. I wasn’t sure how to read his question. “Possibly. There’s a lot we need to talk about as a family before any decisions like that are made.”
<
br /> He shoved a bite of steak into his mouth and nodded. Brady looked over at Ivy still happily playing and smiled. “She is kinda cute.”
Finally, Cole shrugged. “So I’ll have two bratty little sisters to pick on instead of one.”
Emma’s smile spread across her entire face. “I told you he wouldn’t care.”
Cole laughed and elbowed Brady in the arm. “You’re lucky, man. No kid sisters to bug the crap out of you.”
Brady smiled at Emma then went back to shoveling his meal. I wondered how long it had been since the kid had eaten.
Cole watched Ivy with more interest than he’d shown since Trish’s death. “So what about her grandparents?”
“Right now, her grandparents aren’t an issue. At least her mother’s parents, anyway. Since we don’t know anything about her father, I guess we’ll cross that road when we get to it.”
“No one knows who her father is?” Brady asked.
“Trish never said.” I grew uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed so I changed the subject. “Thought we might try hiking Porter’s Peak again Saturday if y’all want.”
Cole waved his fork at Ivy. “She got hiking boots?”
I chuckled. “I was going to see if Doretha would keep her for a little while.”
“Bet I can beat you to the top,” Emma said, taunting her brother.
“Ha! You’re on…Noodle head.”
“Noodle head?” Laughing, I glared at him. “Where’d that come from?”
“I figured you’d get pissed if I called her asswipe.”
“Thomas Coleman Logan, Junior—you watch your mouth.”
He elbowed Brady again, grinning. “See what you’re missing?”
Brady watched the goings on with an amused expression. I wondered how long it had been since he and his parents had laughed about something silly. Although I had no way of knowing, my guess was it had been a while. On the spur of the moment, I broke my own rule of family time and invited someone other than family to join us Saturday. “You ought to come with us hiking, Brady.”
The invitation caught him off guard, surprise showing on his face.
“Yeah, you ought to come,” Cole said. “Clear your head, get all those thoughts of girls outta there.”
His blush quickly faded as they fell into good-natured laughter. I laughed along with them, then confirmed how cleansing a good hike could be. “It really does clear your mind. The fresh air, blue skies. Does wonders.”
“Especially after this week,” Cole said. “Not every day you find a dead body.”
“Cole…not at the table, please.” I glanced at Ivy, who, oblivious to the conversation, probably couldn’t even understand the words used. Still, Emma could.
Brady finished his dinner, the blush from the earlier joke long gone. “Rough week, huh? I guess that’s gonna be front-page news?”
A sigh escaped my lips. “Unfortunately, that’s the nature of the business. There’s not too much in this issue, but I’m sure as the investigation continues there will be more.”
All of a sudden, Finn leapt up, letting out an ear-shattering woof, and bolted to the living room. My heart caught between my chest and throat as there was a loud knock on the front door. I steeled my nerves, telling myself if whoever was at the door intended us harm, they probably wouldn’t have knocked. Trish’s killer had taken more than just her life. They had taken my peace of mind as well.
A second knock made me hurry my step. Emma was right behind me, carrying Ivy. Finn was barking and turning circles at the door.
“It’s Grayson.” Cole stood between the kitchen and living room, looking out the picture window. Satisfied his protective services weren’t needed, he went back to his supper.
I finally let out a breath and relaxed when I saw for myself Ridge’s SUV in the driveway. I opened the door as he was about to knock again. “Was beginning to wonder if anyone was home.”
Emma sidled up beside him as he stepped inside and hugged him with her free arm. “Mom told me what you did.”
He tickled Ivy’s cheek then mussed Emma’s hair. “Just did what’s best for the baby.”
I smiled warmly, afraid to let myself say anything. He returned the gesture, then asked Emma, “Would you mind watching her a few minutes? I need to speak with your mom in private.”
Emma glanced at me to confirm her role of semi-permanent babysitter.
“That’s fine. Why don’t you take her in the sunroom where her toys are?”
As she went through the kitchen, I heard her tell Cole to clean off the table when he and Brady were finished and to load the dishwasher. He balked but I couldn’t make out his exact words.
Ridge’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “I do believe you have a mini-me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I prefer to think of it as developing leadership skills rather than being bossy.” I sat down in the corner of the sofa, leaving ample room for him to join me. I assumed he wanted to talk privately, and the wingbacks were too far away to guarantee teenaged ears wouldn’t hear. “So what’s up?”
He sat on the sofa, close enough to speak quietly. “Do you know if Trish owned any firearms?”
My stomach knotted with apprehension. Why would he ask that? “It wasn’t something we discussed, so I can’t say for sure. Why?”
“Just need it for the report. That’s all. And you have no idea who she was with Friday night?”
I slowly shook my head, more out of confusion than as an answer to his question. “Honest, Ridge—I never asked. I respected her privacy. If she wanted to tell me, she would have.”
“How many times have you kept Ivy overnight?”
“Not many. Maybe four or five.”
“Do you know if Trish stayed at home or would she go out of town?”
“No, she always stayed at home. She was too conscientious about being far away from Ivy.”
“What about anyone hanging around her shop? Do you recall seeing the same person on multiple occasions?”
“The few times I was there, she was alone. But the guy next door, the jeweler—he might remember seeing someone.”
“What about Ivy’s birthday party? Do you remember who all came?”
I dropped my face into my hands, hoping the brief forehead massage would stir the memories. “It was us and maybe two or three other people.”
“Do you remember who they were?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Had I been so self-absorbed in my own little world I couldn’t name the handful of people at a child’s first birthday party? It was a small town, for God’s sake. Finally, a spark took hold. “Her clients. There were two ladies there with toddlers. Trish had painted a mural for one and had done some canvas work for the other.”
“Do you remember their names?”
I shook my head. “But I’m sure she kept a client list.” I was still bothered by his original question and didn’t buy his earlier answer. I knew him too well. “Why did you ask about the firearms?”
“Just a routine question, that’s all.”
My mind raced with memories of that morning as I fought to grab an image that might shed some light on the matter. And then it hit me. There was blood spatter everywhere. On the walls, on the closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway. I had assumed it was from the force of the beating. “Oh my God…She was shot.”
His face displayed concern he rarely showed. He took a deeper breath than normal. “Ava—this has to be off the record. Agreed?”
I slowly nodded, more concerned with the information he was about to spill than what I was going to do with it.
“I knew it at the scene, but wanted to wait for the autopsy report. She probably died instantly with the first shot.”
Words stuck in my throat, un
moved by the rapid-fire thoughts shooting through my brain. Finally, I forced them out. “She was shot more than once?”
“It appears so, yes.”
I wasn’t sure how to react. I just sat there, stupid, unsure of what to do. I was glad she hadn’t suffered.
“Ava, the multiple gunshots, the beating—all of that is personal. I need you to think hard about conversations you had with her. Even the smallest details will help. Was she having problems with anyone, even another woman? We don’t have to assume it was a man.”
My mind raced with snippets of talks Trish and I’d had, but nothing grabbed me as important. “I…I don’t know.”
“Think back to your most recent conversations. Did she say anything about having trouble with anyone? An argument, maybe?”
I shook my head. “Nothing jumps out at me. Could someone have broken in without knowing she was home, and she surprised them?”
Ridge ran his hand over his hair. “There was a lot of rage in the way she was killed.”
Reaching for straws, I didn’t want to think anyone could be that angry with Trish. “Maybe they broke in then panicked when she surprised them?”
He shook his head. “It’s a thought, but burglars don’t normally carry a long gun with them. If there was already one in the house, it would be more plausible.”
My heart jumped as a memory exploded in my thoughts. “Her father! I remember her telling me about the country club they belonged to and how they were on some father-daughter skeet shooting team.”
“When was that?”
“It would have had to have been when she was a kid. She went to college at Appalachian and never moved back home.”
Ridge shuffled his ball cap back and forth between his hands. “Yet she didn’t have a close circle of friends. There has to be a reason she stayed.”
Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact she was dead. Nor that she had died from a gunshot wound. Whoever had killed her was still out there, maybe even still in Jackson Creek. I didn’t want to think someone that angry could be that close.
Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1) Page 9