by June Shaw
In the meantime, my sister might have discovered something important to the case. I could check that out.
Eve must have read my mind since she called me the instant I sat in my truck and pulled out my phone. Maybe that was an occurrence with a lot of people, but over our lifetimes my twin and I so often received the same vibe at the same time that our connection was hard to discount.
“Did you learn anything new about Mrs. Wilburn or anyone else?” I asked without the need for small talk.
“I was too exhausted from scattered thoughts and hardly spoke to anyone except to say, ‘Hi,’ or complain because some machines seem to be getting harder to use.”
“I understand. My mind sometimes wears me out without my body doing any exercise at all.”
“Yes, and that’s the way I feel this evening. Anything you want to tell me?” She yawned. A second yawn came louder. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine. You’re tired. Go put your body and mind to bed early. We can talk more tomorrow.” I did a reflex yawn.
“Great. We’ll get together then.”
“Sweet dreams.” I considered getting home and going to bed early, too, since the yawns set me to recognizing my weariness. As I clicked off, something I saw made me reconsider driving away.
From the exit at the far end of the right wing of the building, Jessica, the teenager we met earlier today, walked out. She moved without slowing, even to check to make certain no cars were coming into her path. Ponytail swinging, she moved into a vehicle I couldn’t see since other cars and small trees blocked my view. I considered backing out of my space and hurrying to drive where she was but figured she would see me. Instead, I waited, hoping she would come out this way.
A maroon truck backed from the place where she’d gone and appeared to have two people in it. The truck swerved out of the lot through the far entrance.
Wanting to see whether she was driving or if she was with her supposed uncle, I threw my truck in reverse and shoved the accelerator. The BAM! behind my truck gave me pinched shoulders and a tight neck and forced “Silver Bells” from my suddenly desert-dry throat.
Throwing my truck in neutral, I turned off the motor, swung my door open, and slid out, praying I hadn’t injured or killed anyone.
Chapter 11
Uh-oh, even if the vehicle I slammed against didn’t appear too badly dented, the white color and blue words printed on it told me it belonged to the sheriff’s department. An officer of the law was probably not the ideal person to run into.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” I blubbered while the uniformed driver stepped out of his car, and I felt relieved that he didn’t look hurt. “I backed up without checking behind real well first, and—” I saw the dented corner of his fender. The glass from his left headlight was shattered into splintered pieces on the cement. “I am so sorry.”
He pulled a pad and pen from his shirt pocket, began to write, and jerked his head up to look at my face. “You’re the one that sings Christmas songs all the time.”
I noticed I’d kept up the tune and forced myself to stop. At the same moment, I recognized the young man. “You came to Dave Price’s camp.”
“Yes, I did.” He nodded toward my truck. “I’ll need your license and registration please.”
Just what I needed. My insurance would go up and probably wouldn’t cover everything for his car and my truck. My truck. I hadn’t thought of damage to that. I turned to check it and more lyrics tried to ring out.
The rear bumper on the driver’s side hung like a broken arm without a sling. Its fender crimped like it was trying to become an accordion. That part of my truck was pushed up so that I wouldn’t be able to open the rear gate. I hoped the deputy could still drive his car.
I’d often prayed that no hurricane would slam into our area soon since I already needed my roof replaced and hadn’t been able to afford that. And now this.
“Ma’am, your license and registration.”
I hurried into my truck and was pleased to find that under a few other items, my glove compartment produced my registration papers he wanted. From my purse, I dug my license out of my wallet and automatically took out my phone. Once I gave him the information he wanted, my first instinct was to call my sister.
Before I could do that, the phone rang in my hand. “Excuse me,” I told the officer. “I’ll just tell them I can’t talk now.”
He’d started to write on his pad, giving no indication of what he thought about my comment, but I was pretty certain he wanted my full attention.
“Hello,” I said to my caller. “I can’t talk now, but I’ll call back.”
“No, don’t,” a woman said. “Sunny, this is Georgia Andrews.”
“Georgia, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. I can get back to you soon or come over, and we can discuss the next phase of the job. Your garage looks terrific.” Trying to keep my customer happy, I gave a small smile to the officer staring at me now, also wanting to please him, to let him know I was trying to get off the phone.
His eyes didn’t tell me he liked my time spent with my customer.
“Sunny, I don’t want y’all doing any more work for me.”
Georgia’s word came as hard as a slap, making my body tilt. I stared at the young man who kept staring at me. I turned away from him and gave my full attention to the phone. “What are you talking about? We’ve got so much to do there…unless you and Jeff aren’t going to complete that other work now.”
A silent pause came from her end. “We are having the remodeling done, and I’m sorry, but we won’t be using your company.”
Now I grew quiet. “Why not?”
“We read in the paper about that dead woman in a camp and heard you found her. I’m sure you didn’t kill her….but you understand. Jeff wants to hire somebody else.”
“Ms. Taylor.” The deputy touched my arm.
I glanced at his hand and away from it, full attention still on the phone. “The newspaper said I found her? She wasn’t even in the obituaries.”
“No, a small article said a woman was found dead in a garbage bag inside a camp. More details would follow.”
I hadn’t read the whole paper today. “Did it give my name as the person who discovered her?”
“It didn’t, but this is a small town. Talk in my Young Women’s meeting first thing this morning was all about it. Your name came up.”
“I’m sorry,” the officer standing beside me said, “but you have to hang up so we can take care of this situation.”
“I really am sorry,” Georgia said in my phone. “Jeff and I will pay Twin Sisters for the work you’ve done so far, but—” A long painful pause followed. “Please don’t come around our home again.”
I pressed the button to disconnect, not certain whether she started to say another word. The ones she’d already said hurt too much.
The police officer’s eyes shifted over to my face and toward my hand gripping the phone, making me realize I was holding it with my elbow bent as though I was trying to get it to reach my mouth but could not.
“You’ve never been in an accident before, have you?”
“No, never.” And if my racing heartbeat was any indication of how the body responds to a wreck, I never wanted to be in one again. My heart would certainly blast out of my chest. Of course, Georgia’s news hadn’t helped.
The young man kept nodding, which I figured was a good sign. But then he spoke. “So you only get involved in murders?” He gave a little laugh as though he believed he had made a cute joke, and maybe thought I would laugh, too.
“That isn’t at all funny.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head toward my phone. “What you should do now is call your insurance company and report this accident.”
“Thanks. I’ll need to check out my papers for that, too.” I pointed toward the cab of my truck.
“I can help if you need more information to
give the person you speak with.”
I sucked a big inhale in through my nose, held my breath, and released it. “You are so sweet.” Hope came with more important concerns reaching my mind. “Please tell me what’s happening with the investigation into the woman we found dead at Dave Price’s camp. Are y’all finding out a lot about what really happened or who could have done it? He certainly isn’t a murderer. He didn’t kill my sister’s neighbor or anyone else, and we didn’t either.”
I’d gripped his forearm I noticed when he eyed my hand on him. The eyes he turned up toward my face weren’t so kind. Maybe you weren’t supposed to touch a police officer. I wanted information, and he surely wouldn’t give it to me if I got him mad at me. I slipped my hand away.
His face relaxed from the tension it held. “Detectives take over the case after our initial contact with the perpetrator, so we deputies don’t normally keep up.”
“None of us is a perpetrator.”
“This damage to my car might be more than I’d originally thought.” His tight lips and chin, along with his stern eyes, led me to know I should back off with questions about the death and save them for another person and another time.
An additional squad car pulled into the lot. It parked next to this officer’s, and another young deputy got out. He ignored me and joined his partner, both of them speaking about my crime and all the damage I had caused while I sat in my truck with the door open and connected with my insurance carrier.
Again, I considered calling my sister. Maybe I’d need a ride. I certainly could use moral support. My mother was inside that large building. But she would be eating soon and then going to bed for the night. Learning I’d been involved in a wreck might keep her from getting much sleep. Food might give me comfort. I could pick up a burger or po’boy on my way home. If my truck made it down the road.
I needed to check. Internally crossing my fingers, I turned my key. A smile touched my face when the motor turned over. The smile wiped away once I heard the rattles coming from my rear. The muffler? Bumper? The entire rear end swinging like a happy puppy’s?
The deputy I had backed into appeared in my doorway. “What are you doing? You can’t leave now.” The other cop rushed up beside him.
“I wasn’t trying to leave. I only wanted to see if my truck would still run.”
“Well, it does, but it will probably have lots of rattles until you get this rear part fixed.”
Motion beyond the uniformed men drew my attention and increased my pulse. The two women in dark blue who’d watched me before stepped out from the manor’s main entrance. They stopped walking and looked toward us.
“Can I go talk to those women?” I pointed.
The deputy shook his head. “You need to stay right there.”
By the time he had made his calls, gathered all the information he needed, given me a ticket, and told me I could go, I felt a slight drool from the side of my lips and realized I had fallen asleep. “But lots of broken glass is back there,” I protested.
“It’s been cleaned up,” he said, to my relief. “Our department’s insurance company will be contacting yours and then you’ll see how things go from there.”
They wouldn’t be good if I had to pay for anything. I twisted my upper body to look toward the manor in case I had only dozed a second and those women I wanted to question were still around. I found no sign of them.
“Just be careful when you’re driving,” the deputy said, “and look around real well before you back up.”
I replied with a small smile. Pleased to see his car capable of moving on past mine, I again started my truck. I looked both ways behind me and with a deep breath, took my time creeping back. It wasn’t until I turned my wheel hard that I heard the clatter. Throwing the gears into neutral, I got out and looked at the back of my truck. The chrome that hung toward the ground still quivered from the motion. At least it wasn’t quite reaching the ground, although the folded portion looked like it could never be straightened.
I threw myself into my seat, making sure to buckle up in case this thing stopped in the middle of traffic, and then I drove fifteen miles an hour to my house, hoping all of the back section of my truck stayed attached.
Chapter 12
First thing in the morning, I did what my insurance carrier told me I should do. I rattled along a few streets to a repair shop.
“Phew,” the man wearing a heavy gray jumpsuit and name tag with Larry on it said when I drove up. “I could hear that baby coming two blocks away.”
“That’s better than three blocks,” I said, trying to lighten my spirit he’d just dropped even further. “Could you give me an estimate on fixing it?”
“Are you kidding?” He lifted one eyebrow and stared at me. I hoped he wasn’t getting ready to tell me it should be totally trashed. “Yeah, if you’ll take a seat in the waiting room, I’ll put it up on a rack and see how bad it is.”
Great. I’d rather have him tell me he’d see how good it is instead. I preferred a half-full kind of person.
Four red plastic-covered chairs squeezed together inside the small waiting area that smelled of grease. Each one bore numerous cracks down the seats. An old sewing machine table held a tiny TV with a game show blaring. I found the remote and turned it off.
Taking the chair with the least splits, I made a small list of pending jobs that Eve and I might do fairly soon and said a silent thank you to all the people who would trust us and allow me time to heal. I shifted my left shoulder forward and back. Still no feeling came from that area of my body. The doctor who removed the bullet believed a sliver of bone he couldn’t see in tests might be blocking the nerve endings, but the tiny piece of bone might soon shift so it could get better.
I hoped he was right. In the meantime, I needed to figure out what I could do with limited motion of that arm. I also wanted to determine how to get more information about people connected to the manor. I wanted to see Dave. Eve had called him, and he’d said he was fine but real busy with work, so I wasn’t going to try to contact him. Rather, I hoped he would soon contact me.
The deputy I’d backed into didn’t have any new information about what was going on with leads concerning Eve’s neighbor’s death. I called Detective Wilet. To my surprise, he answered right away.
“What can I tell you?” he asked. “Normally, not much, but since it’s in today’s paper, I can say this. We arrested her killer.”
“Great!” My breaths came easier. “Who did it?”
“The guy that owned the camp, Dave Price.”
My blood pressure spiked. I jumped off the chair. “No, he didn’t. We were with him when you and the others came to see about her body, and you questioned him and us, and you let him go free.”
“But then we found he’d been lying to us. He told me in front of you that he was home alone all of the night before you found that body.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I paced the small room.
“But he was seen driving up to his camp during the night.”
“It can’t be. No. Give the person who told you that a lie detector test. Give—”
“I need to go.” The line went dead.
Pulse thrusting in my scalp, I swallowed to get moisture into my mouth and was ready to call Eve.
Her call came through first. “Dave’s in jail.”
“I know. Oh, Eve, I can’t believe it. We need to prove he didn’t do it.”
“Right, but first, let’s go visit him. Today’s visiting day at the jail. I’ve noticed that when I passed a few times. I’ll come get you.”
I glanced though the dirt-coated small window to the repair area and saw my truck up on a rack, part of its rear bumper hanging like a vulture’s broken wing. “Let me direct you to where I am.”
We agreed to tell each other about what transpired since we spoke last night, and within twenty minutes, she came for me. Larry wasn’t finished inspecting my truck yet, so I told him I ne
eded to go somewhere and would check in later.
I had passed the jail many times and glanced that way, hoping the prisoners inside it soon reformed. The wire fence was tall with spikes along the top. The yards on both sides of the building were small with dogs and guards making certain no one got out. I had never seen prisoners out in that yard and didn’t know what they wore—orange jumpsuits? Or was that only in movies? I knew I dreaded seeing Dave.
“So you went to the manor after we agreed that we’d leave the investigating alone last night?” she asked while she drove.
I scrambled through my mind for a quick excuse. “It wasn’t technically night yet. And I went to see Mom. And whoever.”
“Come on, Sis, you could get hurt. Your truck did.” She reached across the seat and placed her hand on mine, real concern in her tone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She squeezed my hand.
I swallowed. I again felt the anguish I’d experienced when our other sister died beside me and didn’t notice I had begun humming about Christmas being white until it grew louder. “I’ll be careful,” I promised.
With one more squeeze of my hand, she let go and steered us toward the jail, where we were about to see the man we both felt romantically drawn to, only she could easily tell him that, but I could not. At least a visit from us should bring him comfort.
Before we reached the parish jail, I said, “And I have other bad news.”
“More than Dave being in here and you being in a wreck?”
“Fender bender,” I said, believing that sounded more innocent.
“Okay. Get to it.” She watched the road, tight lips pressed forward while she listened, and I gave her a summary of the call I received from Georgia Andrews. Once I grew silent, she turned her face my way. “I hadn’t read the whole paper yesterday or today, but I guess our names are out there now. We are involved in a murder—again.”