Murder in the Family

by Ramona Richards

  Molly sniffed. “Did you know that Aunt Liz was part of a knitting and crocheting group?”

  “No. Did Linda tell you that?”

  Molly nodded, wiping a sudden spill of tears from one eye. “She said Aunt Liz came over to their house every Thursday evening. The women of the neighborhood gathered, as Linda described it, ‘to knit and gossip.’ Aunt Liz liked making caps and blankets for the premature babies at the Gadsden hospitals. And shrouds for the ones who didn’t make it, so they would have something to wear when the parents said goodbye.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I could do something like that. I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about the babies.” She paused again. “There’s just so much about her I didn’t know.”

  Russell squeezed her forearm. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, then the pump motors on the tanker truck grumbled slower and shut off, leaving an unexpected silence in the air. Molly turned to watch as Taylor checked a few things on the pumps and gave her a thumbs-up.

  “That’s it?” she called.

  He approached her chair. “That’s it. We’ll wind the hoses back up and check the seals once more. We’ll be back Monday morning to start the aeration and take down the tarps, which won’t take that long.” He gestured to his men, who had taken up residence on the far side of Finn’s truck with hotdogs, Cokes, and three of the young ladies. Their sense of teamwork returned as they retrieved the hoses, double-checked the rolled and clipped seams, and posted warning signs on all four sides of the big tent.

  A low-key community cheer went up as they got in the trucks and revved up the big diesel engines. The crowd parted and began disperse a bit as they edged their way through and out to the street, moving cars so the trucks could exit. As the rumble of the trucks faded away, the pleasant murmur of the milling crowd took its place. Some of the neighbors headed home, but others hung about. Two teen boys started tossing a football back and forth. Joined by others, a game of tag football broke out. A cluster of girls huddled, whispering and watching the boys. Moms chatted, bemused at the age-old ritual. The smells of charcoaled burgers and hotdogs lingered, even as Sheila and Finn showed signs of closing up shop.

  Molly took several photos, tracking from one scene to the next, slowly aware that Russell watched her closely. She lowered the camera. “Yeah, this is nice. I admit. I miss this.”

  “It’s a good neighborhood.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m staying. This is just the lull before the storm.”

  “You sure?”

  “Believe me, Russell. I know storms.”

  He glanced around before asking, “What did you find?”

  “A hundred grand in cash.”

  Russell choked on his soda. “Are you serious?”

  “In a tote bag under the mattress. It’s locked in the Explorer right now.”

  “Anyone see you come out with it?”

  “Just the pest control boys. Why didn’t she put it in the bank? She left a note and said it was for me to use on the house, but she had to know it’d still be considered part of the estate. I can’t just start spending it.”

  “No idea. Maybe she thought since it wasn’t part of the ‘official’ finances, it wouldn’t matter. Or maybe she thought you’d be willing to keep it under the table.”

  “Then she didn’t know me very well.”

  Russell leaned closer to her. “Liz could be strange about money, sometimes wise, sometimes … not so much. She’d make big investments and not touch them for years, then turn around and play with penny stocks and keep large sums in the house. As a result, there’s about five hundred grand in an investment account, and another eighty thousand in savings.” He gestured at her SUV. “And now this.”

  Molly gaped at him. “She was a teacher! Where did she get that kind of money?”

  “Like I said. Long-term investments. Back in the ’60s she bought stock in Coca-Cola. Then in the ’80s she bought Apple stock. Never sold either, despite all the ups and downs, until a few years ago.”

  “You think this was something she cashed out?”

  He shrugged, paused, then shook his head. “No. I took over her finances, just as she started selling all her stock. She was too afraid of your family, and knew I’d keep her straight. In fact, she was terrified Bird would find out exactly what she was worth. I thought I knew everything, but I don’t have a clue where that money came from.”

  An angry, hooting bellow from down the street echoed over the yards.

  “Speaking of storms,” Russell murmured.

  “That sounds remarkably like a bull moose I once heard in Montana.”

  Russell snorted. “The moose would have better manners.”

  The bellow sounded again, much closer. This time it faded into a shout. “You can’t do this!”

  Russell stood and turned toward the approaching injunction party. Finn and Sheila wandered closer, as did some of the neighbors. The teens stopped tossing the football and closed in. Finn clutched a long-handled fork in a menacing manner. Molly stood slowly, glanced at Finn and Sheila, then returned her focus to her relatives. She raised the camera and took several pictures of their approach.

  Bird marched up the drive, pointing furiously at the tent, his hand shaking wildly. Kitty and Lyric trailed him, their faces red from the effort of trudging up the street. Sheriff Greg Olson strolled in behind Bird, his expression placid and noncommittal.

  Finn barked a laugh and stepped in behind Molly. “Ever heard Gillian Welch’s song ‘One Monkey’?”

  Molly thought she’d swallow her tongue trying to keep a straight face. Instead, what emerged was a choked grunt.

  Russell held up his hand, halting the party. Bird continued to sputter until he got out, “Show them, Sheriff.” He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms, a distinctly self-satisfied look on his face. “This tent has to come down. Now.”

  Greg offered up the injunction, and Russell took it, unfolding it slowly.

  Molly raised the camera and took pictures until Kitty threw up a hand to block her. “Stop that!”

  Molly lowered the Canon, eyebrows raised. “I promise it won’t steal your soul.”

  Finn snorted. Molly realized that the crowd behind them had drawn closer, and she wasn’t the only one taking pictures.

  Russell cleared his throat. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Morrow, that you’re too late.” He pulled his reading glasses from his pocket and perched them on his nose, scanning the paper.

  “No. The judge said—I mean, that paper prevents—this has to stop!”

  Russell folded the paper and handed it back to the sheriff. He took off the glasses and smoothly returned them to the pocket. “You are correct. That paper is worded quite specifically to prevent an action. However, once the action is underway, the injunction no longer has any sway. You’ll need a differently worded injunction to get it to come down. And legalities aside, this kind of fumigation process, once it’s underway, would have to be halted slowly and the house aerated properly. It’s not as if we can just take down the tarps this instant. By the time you got another injunction, this will be complete anyway. Basically, what’s done is done.”

  Kitty made a squeaking noise. “This is wrong!”

  Bird scowled. “This is dirty. That judge did it that way on purpose. You gotta judge in your pocket?”

  Greg cleared his throat. “Careful, Morrow. You don’t want to be making accusations like that in front of an officer of the court.”

  Lyric whimpered. “Mama?”

  Kitty made a shushing sound at her before turning her wrath on Molly. “You can’t treat us this way and get away with it!” She took a step forward, but both Greg and Finn closed ranks with Molly.

  “You, too, Kitty,” Greg said softly. “Don’t threaten her in front of me.”

  Kitty stopped, staring in amazement at both of them. “How dare you! She’s a stranger! You don’t know her, have no idea what she intends for any of this! She could mean to do much worse with the estate t
han we ever would. She’s an outsider!”

  Molly winced and her muscles tensed. She was an outsider now, but her roots in this place, as painful as they were, ran deep. She’d loved Liz, and, once upon a time, the people of this town. These people had destroyed more lives than just hers.

  Greg didn’t budge. “And I will enforce the law for everyone involved. If she breaks it, I’ll arrest her. You as well. If you violate the law, I will arrest you, no matter how long any of you have lived here.”

  Russell’s bass voice deepened and grew in volume as he pulled three legal documents from his coat pocket. “And this is legally Ms. McClelland’s property, outsider or not. Hers to do with as she wishes.” He handed a document each to Kitty, Lyric, and Bird.

  Bird took his grudgingly. “What’s this?”

  “Restraining orders.”

  The level of indignation skyrocketed, as the three became incoherent, stuttering through their rage. Behind Molly, Finn muttered something that sounded like “manky gits.” A low stir of curiosity murmured in the crowd.

  Russell continued, his voice as even as a teacher explaining simple instructions. “You have provided ample evidence that you intend to continue to harass and badger Ms. McClelland, as well as trespass on her property, as you are doing now. These court orders preclude you or anyone representing you from coming within one hundred feet of the property or Ms. McClelland’s person without her stated permission. Violation of these orders can result in arrest, fines, and/or imprisonment.”

  Bird ignored Russell, jerking his fist toward Molly. “You’ll regret this! I promise you, you’ll pay for this.”

  Greg cleared his throat again. “Morrow,” he growled, “don’t make me take action.”

  Bird glanced at him, then back at Molly. “This is just the beginning.”

  Molly’s eyes narrowed. She’d had enough. “I have no doubt. Some things never change.” Her words clipped hard in the air. She stepped toward him. “Twenty years ago you broke Aunt Liz’s heart and turned my mother’s to stone.”

  Her voice rose in volume with every sentence until her words echoed over the crowd. She jerked her hand toward him for emphasis and moved closer, forcing him to back up. Molly’s entire body quivered as fury consumed her. “You left my brother—your own nephew!—bloodied and bruised. Your love of possessions ripped this family apart and put my mother in an early grave. It drove Mickey and me out of our home! Your greed cost me everything! You destroyed everything I cared about!” She jerked her arm toward the house behind her. “Greed did this. It killed the only decent person in this family. Your greed did all of it. But not this time, Thomas John. Not this time! This time I’ll make sure Aunt Liz’s wishes are granted. Not mine. And definitely not yours. Now get off my lawn!”

  Behind her, a cheer, complete with applause, reverberated off the tented house.

  Bird and Kitty, their faces almost purple with fury, turned and stalked away. Lyric hesitated, her eyes wide. She stared at Molly, unmoving, until Kitty turned and snagged her arm, dragging her away.

  Finn shook his head. “Gah, that girl’s a sandwich short of a picnic.”

  Molly watched the three as they retreated, the rage flowing out of her. She hugged herself to stop the shaking. “Either that, or I said something she’s never heard before.”

  “You said something none of us have heard before.”

  Molly jerked around to see Linda Allen standing behind Finn. “What?”

  “Why you and Mickey left so abruptly after your mother died. Was it really about Bird cleaning out your grandmother’s house?”

  Russell and Finn turned to Molly as well. “They should know,” Russell said quietly, motioning toward the neighbors who had clustered around them. “They loved her too.”

  The crowd dispersed in bits and groups. The teens returned to their ballgame. Sheila gave Finn a quick hug and pushed him back toward the folks who followed Linda and Molly toward the small house to the left of the big tent. Kids flooded around the adults, rushing in and out of Linda’s back door as if they all lived there, although Molly finally figured out that only three of them were actually Linda’s offspring.

  The kitchen—yellow, frilly, and sunny—smelled like cinnamon and peanuts, warm bread and fried okra. The house rang with the laughter of scurrying children, as a half dozen or so poured fruit juice and snatched cookies from a plate on the counter. Linda shooed them out the back door as the adults, mostly the four members of the “knit and gossip” group, along with Molly, Russell, and Finn, settled around a scarred wooden table polished shiny by use.

  Molly sat her camera on the table in front of her and settled into a straight-backed chair. She toyed with the edge of a knitted yellow-and-brown placemat as the children scattered to the winds, the screened back door slamming behind them.

  Linda winced. “I’ve tried,” she said with a shrug. “But they forget.”

  Molly smiled. “I slammed a few in my time.”

  As the last of the children scampered out, Greg came in, dodging around a preteen boy in a football jersey. He nodded at Linda, then took up a casual stance near Molly’s chair. Linda looked from Greg to Molly, who glanced once over her shoulder, smiling at the stoic sheriff.

  Linda smiled brightly, then pulled a tray from a narrow cabinet, set it on the counter, and lined it with ice-filled glasses. “Who wants sweet tea?” All hands went up, and she took a brimming full pitcher from the fridge and filled the glasses. She smiled over her shoulder at Molly. “It’s my grandma’s tea. She always got the sugar just right.” Linda placed the tray in the middle of the table, then settled in at the head as everyone reached for a glass.

  “Molly,” she said softly, “I know you don’t know us from Adam, even though we may have some blood kin amongst us. My husband was a cousin, I think.”

  “David. On my daddy’s side. Liz talked about y’all some.” As Linda nodded, Molly glanced back down at the placemat. “Daddy died when Mickey and I were still little. I don’t know many of his people. Most of them were from up on Chandler Mountain, near the lake, if I remember.”

  “Sure were. David and I moved down here when he got a job at one of the distribution plants.”

  “That’s when you met Aunt Liz?”

  “She was the first one to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

  “She didn’t mind when the houses started going up around her?”

  Russell took a sip of his tea. “I think she was glad for the company.”

  General murmurs of agreement circled the room. “We also got to know Bird about that time,” Linda grumbled. “He kept insisting that we brought down the value of her house, since ours were smaller and cheaper.”

  Molly sniffed. “That’s rich. I have a specific memory of Aunt Liz complaining to Mother that he was driving her crazy, wanting to know how she could afford that house on a schoolteacher’s salary. Kept insisting she had a hidden source of income we needed to know about.” She glanced at Russell, but he remained stone-faced.

  Linda giggled. “Yep. One time we got to kidding her that she must be a kept woman. She thought it was a hoot.”

  Russell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Molly thought it might be a good time to change the subject. “My uncle has the word ‘more’ tattooed on his brain. He’s always wanted more, was always scheming about how to get more, and if you had more he wanted to know how he could get some of yours.”

  “Why is he like that?” Finn asked. “Liz wasn’t. You aren’t. It’s not from your family.”

  Molly hesitated. “I honestly don’t know. Mama once said he’d been really hurt by someone, but she didn’t go into any details. Truth is, I didn’t care. To me, he was just always like that. It’s who he was and we just had to deal with it. And he obviously hasn’t changed. He cares more about things than people. That’s pretty much what’s killed our family.”

  Nodding soberly, Linda asked, “You said it drove you and Mickey away.”

  Molly took a sip, then leaned b
ack in her chair. “Mama, Bird, and Aunt Liz grew up in the big farmhouse over on Cottonwood Road, the one my grandfather—their daddy—built.”

  “Where Bird and Nina live now?” Greg asked.

  She glanced back at him. “Yes. And when my daddy died, Mother moved us back in there with my grandparents. Mickey and I mostly grew up there too. Mickey was eight. I’d just turned four. I really don’t remember where we lived before that.” She nodded at Linda. “I don’t remember Daddy at all. Just pictures Mama had.”

  Molly realized she’d started to slump and straightened. This was harder than she’d expected. A deep ache began to build just below her heart. Too much past pain. “Aunt Liz already had her house, and Bird and Nina lived over at the foot of the mountain.” Molly stared at her tea, swirling the ice around in the glass. “That old farmhouse was a great house to be a kid in. Strange nooks and crannies. Closets that seemed to go on forever.” Her smile turned sad. “At least when you’re five or six, they go on forever.”

  She cleared her throat and looked around at the people at the table. “Granddaddy got sick when I was fifteen. He died that July. His funeral was on the hottest day ever. Middle of a drought. The fight for his equipment started right away, since Gram had made it clear she wouldn’t continue farming. It got ugly. Mama and Bird almost came to blows over it. It set them against each other for the rest of her life. When Gram died just a year later—”

  Molly’s voice clogged. She looked back down at her tea glass, watching twin drops of sweat slip down one side. Russell put his hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath to shake off some of the pain. “Right. Yes. Gram died in her sleep. Mama called the funeral home, then Bird and Aunt Liz. Aunt Liz came over right away, and was there when the funeral home people came to get Gram’s body. Mother, Aunt Liz, and I followed them back to the funeral home to make arrangements. We left Mickey eating breakfast, to wait for Bird. He was supposed to tell Bird which funeral home, what time we left, and to bring Mickey with him. They never showed. It took about three hours at the funeral home. Mama and Aunt Liz had a hard time picking a casket. When we got home …”