Murder in the Family

by Ramona Richards

  The remembered pain choked off her words again. She turned to Russell, her eyes pleading for help. He reached out and covered her hands with his, squeezing them hard as he finished the story. “Bird and his boys, Leland and Bobby, had stripped the house almost bare.”

  A low gasp sounded around the room, and Finn mumbled something harsh and unintelligible.

  Russell continued for her. “When they got home, Mickey was on the front porch. He’d tried to stop them, and they’d messed him up pretty badly. They took everything, even the things belonging to Molly and Mickey. Told Molly’s mother that they could have them back only if she signed the house over to Bird.”

  “Blackmail,” muttered Finn.

  Behind her, Greg made a dark sound deep in his throat, and shifted to a firmer stance. He stepped closer to her, an ominous, protective presence, even in his silence.

  Molly swallowed hard. “Gram knew the house was to be Mother’s. She thought everyone else knew that too. We lived there. It was our home. And she was the oldest, so the next of kin too. There should have been no argument.”

  “What did she do?” Linda whispered.

  “She had no choice. She signed over the house. And even then they didn’t return everything. Just the basics. Mickey joined the military. I only saw him twice before Mama died two years later. I haven’t seen him since. I have no idea where he is. Mama was a nurse, but she’d only been working part time to help out while she took care of Granddaddy and Gram. We moved into this onebedroom place down by the railroad.” She looked up at them. “You know the houses owned by the Hammonds?”

  “That line of shacks next to the tracks?” Finn demanded.

  Molly had to smile at his indignation. “That was more than twenty years ago. They were not too bad back then. Just small. And noisy.”

  Russell squeezed her hands again and leaned back. “Why didn’t you move in with Liz?”

  Molly paused, her mind caught in memory flashes of that tiny house, where she’d slept with her mother and spent the winter huddled next to a space heater to finish homework. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Not for sure. I know Aunt Liz asked her to, but I think Mama felt she’d never get Gram’s house back if she did. She planned to find a way to get it at first, but never really had the will to pursue it. Her brother’s betrayal just took it out of her. She stopped talking. She never laughed. She couldn’t think straight.” Molly’s eyes clouded with tears. “I stayed with Aunt Liz a lot the last year because Mama was so tired all the time. The night I graduated from high school was the last time I saw Mama smile. Just after that, she caught something at the hospital she couldn’t shake off. I guess her immune system was full of holes from the stress. She died in June. I called the funeral home, gave them almost all the money we had. I took the rest and caught a bus for Tulsa.”

  Russell scowled. “Why Tulsa?”

  Molly smiled. “That’s as far as the money would take me. I got a job in a diner, then started working my way through community college, then university. For a long time, I knew if I ever saw Bird again, I’d kill him. I didn’t dare come back. But slowly the wounds healed.” She paused. “Although I don’t mind seeing him suffer a little bit.”

  Finn slapped the table. “After the run-ins I’ve had with the man, I’d like to see him suffer a lot. And I ain’t even seen half what you have, dear Molly.”

  Linda got up and came to Molly. Startled, Molly stood as well. Greg, who’d moved even closer, stepped back. Linda grabbed her and gave Molly a hug so tight, Molly coughed and started to giggle. So did Linda, but when she held her at arm’s length, tears glistened in Linda’s dark eyes.

  “You must be made of steel, girl.”

  “She is,” Russell said.

  “Mostly I’m just stubborn. I refuse to let that old bugger get his way again.”

  They all laughed, but as Linda released her, she shook her head. “It’s more than that. And it explains a lot about why Liz ended up as she did.”

  Molly sat down again. “How so?”

  “It became about holding everything and everyone close,” Russell said evenly. “You remember your side of it. But for Liz, she lost her father, her mother, and her sister all within five years. She threw Bird out of her life as much as she could. You and Mickey left. Liz felt lost and abandoned.”

  Molly felt a twinge of guilt for the first time in twenty years. “I couldn’t have stayed.”

  He nodded. “She knew that. She understood. But it didn’t make it any easier on her feelings. In a way, her sister’s death and Bird’s betrayal laid the foundations of the hoarding. If she couldn’t hold people close …”

  “She’d keep their things close,” Molly finished.

  “Exactly.”

  “She had Mickey’s teddy bear,” Linda said.

  “She had what?” Molly’s eyebrows arched.

  “His teddy bear. She kept it on a shelf next to her bed. She said it made her remember good times with all three of you to see it there. It’s next to a picture of you with a big white dog.”

  Molly pressed hard on her upper lip. “Jezebel.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Finn said.

  Linda laughed and punched him. “Not me, you old fool. The dog.”

  “I’m not old.” He peered at Molly. “You really named a dog for the most evil woman in the Bible.”

  A laugh burst from Molly. “Gram did. It was a family joke. Granddaddy had a thing about white German shepherds. Bird knew where he could get one, but made Granddaddy promise to name it Sweet Pea, which was Bird’s nickname for Nina.”

  Finn made an odd gagging sound. Linda slapped his arm. “Hush.”

  Molly laughed. “Granddaddy promised, but forgot to tell Gram. Or he claimed he forgot to tell her. Gram dubbed her Jezebel the minute Bird took her out of the truck. Mama later told me she thought it was a conspiracy between them to let Bird know how they felt about his future wife. Bird was … not happy. He refused to say the dog’s name. Never did, as long as that dog lived.”

  “What happened to Miss Jezebel?” Finn asked.

  “Aunt Liz kept her for a while after I left, but Bird kept threatening to shoot Jezzie. That dog hated Bird. Growled and snapped at him every time he was around.”

  “A dog after my own heart,” Finn said.

  “Aunt Liz finally gave her to a farmer up on the mountain. She spent her last years chasing rabbits with a ten-year-old boy.”

  “A good way for a dog to go,” Finn agreed, then stood. “And so should I. Miss Sheila will be most miffed if I don’t at least help clean up at the house.”

  Molly joined him. “I should go as well.”

  Linda protested. “At least stay for supper. Fried chicken. There’ll be plenty.”

  Despite the temptation, Molly shook her head. She picked her camera off the table and slung the strap over her shoulder. “I need to take care of some things. Lots to do before Monday.” She gave Linda and the other ladies hugs, and they all filed out the back door, which slammed behind them, making Molly laugh. Linda shrugged sheepishly.

  Russell and Greg followed her toward the Explorer. Twilight had settled over Maple Street, and the last of the sun cast long dark shadows over the lawns. Molly stopped, watching the neighborhood. The squeals and laughter of kids spread over the area. Some of the street lights had popped on, and clouds of night bugs knotted around the domes. Fireflies dotted hedgerows and bushes, and a light breeze stirred, bringing with it the sweet scent of honeysuckle.

  “This is nice,” Greg murmured.

  “It is.” She looked at him. “Thanks for this afternoon.”

  He nodded once. “Welcome back.” He touched her arm lightly and headed back to his cruiser.

  Molly opened her car door, but realized Russell still stood in front of the SUV, watching the kids. She grinned, but took the time to put her camera back in the bag before joining him.

  “Sweet memories?”

  “Liz loved this time of day. She’d sit on the porch and rock
, listening and watching. It made her happy.”

  “It would most people,” Molly admitted.

  “But not you?”

  She hesitated. “Please don’t push.”

  He remained silent. “What do you have to do before Monday? Can I help?”

  “Can you take that bag to your office tonight?” When he nodded, she went on. “It’s clear that this is not a quick turn. I’d honestly thought this might only take a couple of weeks, then I could get back to my life. But this is going to take a lot longer, if not most of the summer.”

  Russell got it. “Your busy season. This is going to cost you a lot of money.”

  “Yep. Plus I carry the medical insurance on both my partners, through an LLC I set up. It won’t break me. I do prepare for lean times. But it will mean seeking out some of the worst weather this winter, which is also not cheap, but it makes the most dramatic—and sellable—pictures. I also left my computer behind. I need to find a laptop, move to an extended stay hotel with wifi, and start making some arrangements.”

  “There’s a StayLodge between here and Gadsden. Long-term rates and free wifi. And let me take care of the laptop. I know we’ve got a couple around the office we can spare.”

  “Thank you. I won’t argue.”

  “If you’ll meet me at the office tomorrow before church, say about nine, I’ll get you set up.”

  “Perfect.” She got the bag out of the SUV and removed the journal. She showed the first page to him.

  “Yeah, that’s Liz. If she was going to do this to you, she’d want you to be armed.”

  She closed it and dropped it on the front seat. “You want a ride back to your car?”

  He tucked the bag under one arm. “No, I need to stretch my legs. See you tomorrow.”

  Molly watched him stride away, hoping she looked as good when she reached his age. She glanced left to see Finn tossing a baseball back and forth with a teenage boy whose red hair had the same wild look. Unlike Russell, Finn moved with a limp, although it didn’t seem to hurt or slow him down in the least. An old injury? Sheila watched them from a perch on her porch rail, her face sweet and fair.

  At the house in between, a young woman herded three preteens back into her house, while on the other side of the tent, Linda put two fingers in her mouth and blasted a whistle that would peel paint. Her kids responded with catcalls and teases, but made their way in her direction.

  “Well, whoever ends up with the house will have good neighbors.” She got in the Explorer and backed away from the tent. At the intersection, she checked traffic and started to pull out when she noticed Russell standing next to the big Mercedes in a parking lot on the other side of the boulevard. He paced, speaking rapidly into his cell. She circled around and turned in the parking lot, pulling up next to his car. He spotted her and threw one arm wide, then pointed at his front tire.

  A huge gash sliced into the rubber near the rim. Molly stared as she realized all four tires were flat.

  She parked and got out, just as Russell snapped his phone shut. “Can you believe this?” he bellowed.

  Molly circled the car. One brake light had also been smashed. “Bird?” she asked quietly.

  The fire went out of Russell. He sagged against the car and crossed his arms. “My money is on one of the grandsons, LJ or Eddie. Probably while Bird tried to get the tent down.”

  Molly’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s rough. And risky. There were a lot of people at the house. Someone could have seen them.” Molly paused and squatted next to one of the tires. She ran her fingers over the gash, which was about four inches long. Whatever had done this had been extraordinarily sharp and wielded with strength. As she stood up, a deep chill settled on her spine. “I expected them to come at me, but not this. Do you really think the people who support me in this could be in danger?”

  Russell took a long breath and let it out slowly. “After all this started, Kitty let it slip to Shirley that Bird considered his sister’s action a betrayal of the highest order. Treason, even.”

  “As in, ‘this means war.’”

  Russell nodded.

  Molly shook her head, then ran her hands through her curls. “I swear, I just can’t get past the part where this is over possessions. Things. Stuff. Objects that mean nothing in the long run. You can’t get them in the casket with you.”

  “You’re one of the lucky ones, Molly. Most people rely on their possessions. Security. Status. Comfort. A place to relax. Different reasons. But most people don’t take it to the extreme. Bird has migrated to a whole new level of greed that not even the most voracious Wall Streeter could claim.”

  “Only he doesn’t have Wall Street money.”

  “So he has to use other methods.”

  “No matter who it hurts.” She pointed at the tires. “You call Triple A?”

  “And Greg, to report it. Triple A is going to haul it to the Benz dealer in Birmingham, which is the closest. They’ll have it back by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So you need a ride home.”

  He shook his head. “To the office. A couple of my associates are there this afternoon finishing up some casework. We’ll get the bag into the safe and go ahead and get you set up with the laptop. One of them can run me to my condo.”

  “I hope Triple-A shows up soon. It’s going to rain again tonight.” She looked down at the tire again. The four-inch gash seemed to be spreading. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

  “Mollybelle, this is just the beginning.”

  7

  The ant wove a jagged, erratic path across the bottom step, in that way ants do, as if looking for food or water in every direction, all at once. It found the one drop that had not evaporated from the baking concrete and paused at the edge of it. Molly couldn’t tell if it were drinking, or if so much time had passed since it had seen water, it wasn’t sure what it stared at.

  “Have some more.” She shook her sweating glass and another drop fell, landing not far from the ant. “Better get it quick.”

  As if listening closely to the advice, the ant scurried to the new drop, pausing there. Neither drop lasted long, scorched to steam by the heat of the steps and the white-hot July sun. Molly clung to the edge of a shade cast by an old mulberry tree. The parched corn in the field next door crackled in a light, dry breeze.

  Molly ran her glass of iced tea over the back of her neck, feeling the icy drops sliding underneath her dress. Trickles of short-lived relief. She raised her gaze heavenward. “No storm yet, but this heat could bring one on. He couldn’t have died in winter? You had to take him in the middle of the hottest summer in years?”

  “Squirt. Who ya talking to?”

  Molly took a long drink of iced tea before deigning to answer her brother, who stood behind the screen door of the house. The sweet, frigid liquid chilled her throat, but not much else. “God. You gotta problem with that?”

  Mickey snorted. “Like I thought. Talking to yourself again. What are you doing out here?”

  “Couldn’t stand the crowd inside anymore. Everyone wants to pat my cheek and tell me how sorry they are.”

  “Mama wants to know if you’re ready to go.”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Gram’s looking for her gloves. Then they’ll be ready.”

  Molly downed most of the tea. “Gloves,” she said to the ant. “Craziness in this heat.” She turned the glass up and poured the last sugary drops on the step. “Here. Dessert.”

  She stood and brushed off the back of her skirt. She arched her shoulders, annoyed by the rivulet of sweat that slipped down her spine. Molly headed back into the house, pausing inside the screen door to let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. In the spacious farmhouse, Molly could see straight through to the back porch, which looked like a bright beacon at the end of several darkened rooms. The west-side drapes were already drawn against the afternoon sun, tied back only enough to allow a breeze through the almost-lowered windows. The house buzzed with the sound of
window fans and the dozen or more cousins who’d come to offer hugs and casseroles in exchange for a ride to the funeral.

  “They aren’t all going to fit in the car,” Molly murmured.

  “They just want to be seen arriving with the widow.” Mickey sat, spraddle-legged, on the couch.

  Molly frowned. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “They think it’ll put them in line for more stuff.”

  She brushed a fly away from her face. “Stuff? What stuff? Granddaddy died, not Gram.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Gram isn’t going to keep the farm going, so she won’t keep all his things. I already heard Mother on the phone, taking offers on the tractor and the attachments, and fighting with Uncle Bird because she wants to sell it instead of giving to him.”

  “That’s just wrong. He already has a tractor. A nice one. And Granddaddy’s not even in the ground yet.”

  “Grow up, Squirt. People like stuff. They want it, they want more of it. And if they think they can get it free, they’ll cluster around dead folks like flies on a hog.”

  “That just ain’t right.”

  “Ain’t a matter of right or wrong. Just is.”

  Molly rolled the glass between her palms. “I won’t ever want anything that much.”

  Mickey stood up and locked the front door, then sauntered out of the room. “Then you’ll be one of the lucky ones.”

  Molly followed him, his words stuck on repeat in her mind. In the kitchen, she dodged through a cluster of relatives so she could set her glass in the sink. She tried to escape out the back door, but a maternal hand grasped her arm. Molly waited patiently while her mother smoothed her black dress with her hands, then ran her fingers through Molly’s unruly brown curls.

  “I don’t know why I bother,” her mother murmured, her voice a bit shaky. “Your hair always does just what it wants to.”

  “And has for the past fifteen years.”

  “Just like your daddy. Do you have a brush in your purse?”

  “Not carrying one.” Molly looked over her mother’s face, her heart aching at the sight of bloodshot eyes and blotchy makeup. “Mickey said you were selling the tractor.”