Murder in the Family

by Ramona Richards

  We’ll meet you at the house. Stay on guard.

  Will.

  When no response came back, Molly dropped her phone back in her purse. Until that moment, she had no idea what she’d do next, but stopping in at the feed store made all the sense in the world. And the text chat had left her calmer and breathing normally again. Can’t hide behind a gas station forever. She put the Explorer in gear.

  Carterton Hardware and Feed had been in the same location since 1932, after the store down the road a bit, built in the 1800s, had burned. When the road through town had been paved in the late 1940s, they had graded through the small rise where the new store sat, leaving it to look out over the new road and the stores across the street like a castle on a hill. The road cut had been reinforced with sandstone and concrete, adding to the stately feel of the store’s presence. Molly eased the Explorer up the hill and parked near one end of the building. For once, she hoped that something in Carterton had not changed in twenty years, and she opened one of the double doors leading inside.

  Memories flooded back. The scent of the store remained a pungent blend of dog food, dried corn, and oil with a hint of rubber. The concrete floors were shiny black from age and thousands of boots and bare feet. As a kid, Molly had often run up and down the aisles barefooted, the floors cool on her summer-heated toes. Just called “the feed store” by the locals, it had always carried much more than the usual hardware and farm supplies. Fifty-pound sacks of flour lined the shelves, along with stocks of tools, overalls, work shoes, and seed packets. A freezer case at the front held homemade meat pies and ice cream. An ancient Coke case stood near it, the chest kind containing bottles that hung down from metal racks. Molly had begged Gram for a bottle many times, more for the fun of sliding one along the racks into the release mechanism and removing the bottle by giving it a great tug upward than for drinking it.

  “Molly? Molly McClelland?”

  Molly stared at the older woman who stood behind the horseshoe-shaped counter at the front of the store. Wiry, over-dyed brown hair had been forced into the curls of a 1950’s hairstyle and a shift-style apron covered an ample bosom and balloon-like hips. A pair of reading glasses with cheetah-print rims perched on the end of her nose.

  “Betty?”

  “Lord a’ mercy, girl. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Get yourself over here and give me a hug.” Betty Holcomb waddled out from behind the counter, an image frozen in time, unchanged from Molly’s remembrances. A few more wrinkles. A few extra pounds.

  Molly trotted toward her, and they grabbed each other in a hug Molly had been missing for twenty years. Molly closed her eyes and leaned her head on Betty’s shoulder as the older woman rubbed her back. When they parted, Betty held on to Molly’s forearms, peering at her over the top of the cheetah glasses.

  “I’d heard you were back in town, figured it had something to do with Miss Liz’s passing. Don’t tell me she left you that nasty ol’ house.”

  Molly didn’t try to hide her surprise. “You knew about the house? About the hoarding?”

  Betty tipped her head to one side in a half-nod. “Honey, everybody in the county knows about that house. And ever since the sheriff’s men showed up to keep Bird and Nina out, rumors been flying about what kinda treasures she had buried in those walls and who she left it to. But, Lord, I never thought it’d be you. We all knowed how you felt about that, ever since what Bird did to your mama.”

  “It did come as a shock.”

  Betty let out a throaty laugh that bespoke of thirty years of cigarettes. “I bet it did! Come on back here and set a spell.” Betty headed back behind the counter, motioning for Molly to follow. “These old legs don’t like standing in one place too long.” She slid one hip up on a tall wooden stool, then braced against the counter to complete the process. She gestured toward another stool.

  “I am surprised you’re open on a Sunday afternoon.” Molly hopped up on it and looked around. “The store hasn’t changed much.”

  Betty’s smile held a bit of sadness. “Nope, unlike the rest of Carterton. We did update the inventory system. Open Sunday ’cause I need to cast a bigger net these days, what with the competition. And I don’t much like being home alone.” She paused, her voice dropping half an octave. “You know Whit passed on a few years back?”

  Molly nodded. “Aunt Liz mentioned it in one of her letters. I’m sorry. He was always good to me.”

  “He thought the world of you, girl. Used to say, ‘that Molly, cuter than a spotted pup under a little red wagon. Wish I could be her daddy. She needs one.’”

  Molly pushed down an abrupt wave of sadness. “He pretty much was, you know.”

  Betty patted Molly’s arm. “He hated what happened. But he understood, we all did, why you had to leave, you and Mickey. Didn’t blame you in the least. But he sure did miss you both. We knew Liz tried to stay in touch, but we figured y’all needed to get away from all of this.”

  Molly tilted her head to one side. “Did she write Mickey as well?”

  “Tried for a while. What about you?”

  “You know he joined the military when he bolted from here?”

  Betty nodded. “The Marines, if I remember.”

  “Yeah. Mama wrote him before she died, but I stayed angry with him for a long time, for leaving us both. No idea what happened after that.”

  “Liz had an APO address for him, and I think they corresponded for a while. Once his time was up, I’m not sure what happened. He visited a couple of times … then just … nothing. No more Mickey. I told her the military might help find him if she were next of kin, but she waved me off.” Betty peered at her over the cheetah rims again. “You’re his next of kin.”

  Molly shook her head. “Too late. And he didn’t exactly try to keep up with me.”

  Betty sat a bit straighter and let out a long, drawn out sigh, one of an exasperated mother. “Stubboner than a deaf mule, the both of you.”

  Molly laughed. “Maybe so.”

  “So did you drop in just to catch up, or …”

  Molly hopped off the stool. “Not just. I need help getting that house taken care of.” She counted off on the fingers of one hand. “I need four of those tent-like picnic shelters—”

  Betty pointed. “Pavilions. Very back of the first aisle.”

  “Cleaning supplies and heavy-duty garbage bags—”

  “All that’s midway down this aisle here. Make sure you include some baking soda. And some vinegar. They’ll help with the odors.”

  “Gotcha. Some big boxes …”

  Betty paused. “Oh, I’ve got some castoffs from the last shipment of overalls in the storage room in the back. Sturdy ones.”

  “And some poster board and markers for signs.”

  Betty shook her head. “Probably will need to get those down at the Dollar General. We try not to compete with them and the Walgreens on things like office supplies. Doesn’t do any of us any good to do so. But you’ll need a hammer?”

  Molly raised an eyebrow.

  “Not for Bird. For the tent pegs.”

  Molly laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Tools are on that far left aisle over there. Although from what showed up on the Facebook, you don’t need much to take care of yourself.”

  “You have a Facebook account?”

  “Best free marketing there is. I’m on all the Carterton pages. And I always knew you were feisty, but heavens, girl. You took down the town’s biggest bully after Bird.”

  Molly closed her eyes, the heat rising in her cheeks. “She shouldn’t have posted that.”

  Betty’s laugh echoed off the walls, and she clapped Molly on the shoulder. “Are you kidding? We’re all loving it. That crew deserves to have their butts handed to them. Did you know the other one was out there too?”

  Molly froze. “What other one?”

  Betty looked surprised. “You didn’t know someone caught it on their cell? Several folks actually. They end with you shouting for them to get off your l
awn?”

  Molly sank hard against the counter. “No. I didn’t. How bad is it?”

  Betty tilted her head again, a quizzical look on her face. “Girl, it’s not bad. This whole town is thanking God for you. Like I said, we all loved Liz. You have to remember, she taught at the elementary school for more than forty years. Most of the folks here had her for fifth grade. She was beloved like no one’s business. Ever’one was worried sick Bird would steal her blind. That you are handing it back to them in spades has made you a local celebrity.”

  “But it may be putting me in their sights.”

  Betty sobered. “Yep. It will do that. But if anyone’s up to it, it’s you. You’ve already proved it.”

  “Not going to make this any easier.”

  Betty pulled her into another hug. “Why in the world should it be easy? This is a wound that’s been festering for twenty years. Lancing it is gonna burn.” She squeezed Molly one more time, then pushed her back. “Now. Where were we? Lawn chairs? We got some of the cheap ones in the back. About eight bucks.”

  “Betty, what would I do without you?”

  “Pshaw! Stop. Do you need lawn chairs or not?”

  “I think Finbar is going to loan us some.”

  “So you’ve met Mr. Finn, have you?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Betty took off the glasses and tucked them into her ample cleavage. “They’re good folks, Finn and Sheila. Grieved him a’mighty for Liz to go the way she did, before anyone could really help her. Just about broke his heart. Poor man wailed almost like he’d lost his own mama.”

  “So I can trust him?”

  “More’n most. Oh, I think you already know who you can’t trust around here, missy. Most of Carterton is not like your uncle and his sorry kin. Whoooo-ee!” Betty whistled. “If one of ’em gets arrested for murder, no one would be surprised.”

  “Murder? You serious?”

  Betty paused. “Nah … probably not. Maybe. Anyway, no one around here will have anything to do with ’em. You know what happened to Mr. Russell’s car, right?”

  “Too bad no one got that on video.” Molly suddenly shivered, imagining what might have happened had Russell arrived too soon.

  Betty shook her head. “Even if they did, no one would snitch on them. LJ and his stooge Eddie are fearsome.”

  “Why haven’t they been arrested?”

  Betty shrugged. “What is it the cops always say? One thing to know it, something else to prove it. They always make it hard to prove anything. And even if people know what’s happened, by the time it gets to the sheriff, it’s all hearsay. So we all know …”

  “But nothing can be done.”

  “Yep. You need any help loading?”

  “I got it. You ring it up, I’ll load it.”

  Molly headed toward the first aisle, pausing at the Coke machine. She glanced back at Betty. “Still work?”

  Betty’s grin turned lopsided. “You know it, hon. Service guy comes once a month. It’s become a point of pride for him to keep it working.”

  Molly laughed and turned down the aisle. She’d get the drink before she left. Thirty minutes later, the back end of the Explorer bristled with equipment. She paid, chunked a Coke out of the machine, hugged Betty, and headed toward the StayLodge, where she checked in and left most of her personal belongings. She stopped at Dollar General long enough to get the poster board and markers, then headed back to Aunt Liz’s house.

  She stopped in the driveway, staring up at the puffed out tent for a few minutes before getting out. A sheriff’s car sat on the roadside in front of it, and after a few moments, Russell and Greg got out as she did, questions on their faces.

  Greg spoke first. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Molly smiled. “I just spent an hour with Miss Betty. She makes all things right.”

  Greg chuckled. “That she does.”

  Molly looked Russell up and down. “I thought your car would be back by now, and you’d be off playing golf or fishing with a judge. You look more like golf.”

  Russell gestured to his polo shirt and khakis. “Too dressed up for fishing. But I forgot and left the clubs in the trunk of the Benz.” He checked his watch. “They’re probably delivering it to my condo as we speak. My garage guy will sign for it. What are you up to?”

  “Putting a plan in motion.”

  “Yeah?”

  She waved an arm toward the front yard. “After they take down the tent, the cleaning will start. I’ve contacted an agency in Birmingham, but I’m not sure they’ll be interested. Anyway, we’ll start by dragging everything out of the house that can be easily dragged. Obvious trash goes in the dumpster.” She pointed toward the boxes sticking up over the tailgate of her SUV. “I’m going to set up four pavilions. One for things that need to be cleaned and returned to the house. Stuff that’s good enough but not part of the inheritable distribution will be divided into ‘Free’ and ‘Two Dollars.’ The last tent will be for resting and refreshments.”

  Greg crossed his arms. “Your uncle will not be happy.”

  Molly shook her head. “Don’t care. If they want to pick through kitchen utensils and old clothes, they can do it somewhere else. I’m sure there are families around here that need stuff like that more than they do.”

  “I’ll still keep a man around.”

  “I appreciate that. I’m sure Bird has more patience and vigilance than I ever will.”

  Russell glanced at the equipment. “Want some help?”

  “Absolutely!”

  They went to work, and once again the activity on Liz’s lawn drew the neighbors out of their houses. Two of the local teens joined in, and the five of them made quick work of setting up the pavilions. Finn wandered over, chatted for a bit, complimented her on her self-defense techniques.

  She winced. “So has everyone seen that video?” Molly couldn’t believe it had spread so fast through the town.

  Finn nodded vigorously. “And they’re loving it. Don’t fight it, Miss Molly. You may get a lot of help because of it.”

  Molly licked her lips. “Then I’ll be grateful.”

  He held up a finger. “Hang on with them signs. I got something that’ll help.” He headed home and returned with a grommet punch and fishing line so the poster board signs could be hung more securely from the front of the pavilions. He also negotiated rights to the refreshment tent, assuring Molly that anyone actually working in the house would be given free drinks and food.

  “Ever thought about buying a McDonald’s franchise?”

  Finn scowled at her, shoving his cap back on his head. “Of course not. Making it real work would take all the fun out of it. Besides, Miss Sheila likes me home weekends. Hey, boy, let me help with that.” He called over to his son, who was trying to hold one of the pavilions upright and still hammer the peg into the ground.

  Molly felt Greg behind her before he spoke, his low baritone quiet, for her ears only. “You know, when Amanda started filming that, she thought she was going to catch LJ doing something vile. She had no idea she was about to catch Carterton’s latest hero in the making.”

  “Oh, stop.” She turned. His smile was kind, and a spark in his eyes made them shine. “I honestly had no idea I was going to do that.”

  “No, but it was a good move all the same. And it was obvious that you prepped for a fight, the way you packed up and tucked everything away.”

  “I was preparing to run.”

  He chuckled. “But you didn’t. He expected you to back down. People always do when he goes at them like that. You didn’t. That’s what has people talking. No one has had the nerve to stand up to them.”

  “I’ll probably pay for it later.”

  “Probably. They’ll try.”

  She looked around the yard for a moment. “I don’t want to keep fighting them, Greg. I need to find a way to get in front of this, and not keep reacting to them. Any ideas?”

  He looked at her, his eyes pensive. “I’ll put my thinking cap on.
”

  “Please do.” She crossed her arms. “So did you get Lyric off to her dad?”

  “I did. And I don’t know why what you said worked, but she was like a new person by the time she left, chattering to her dad about getting a job, and about some guy she’s crazy about. I’d never heard of him, but she kept talking about him being so sweet and caring. Her dad was eating it up. Different from Kitty as daylight and dark.”

  “High school sweethearts gone wrong?”

  “Way wrong.”

  She laughed, and he touched her shoulder gently. “Seriously. Thanks for helping with her today.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They fell silent a moment, just watching each other, and Greg let his hand drop. “I have to keep reminding myself you’ve only been in town since Friday.”

  “Me, too. Of course, I’ve got history here.” She hesitated. “Just not with you.”

  “Not yet.” He grinned.

  She laughed and turned to check on the new setup. Greg stepped closer, resting his hand on her back, a comforting, protective gesture that made Molly feel secure and grounded.

  For the first time, Molly felt as if she truly had a plan in mind to handle the house. She just prayed she wasn’t deluding herself, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that all of this would get a lot rougher before it got better. That feeling of being grounded wouldn’t last. But it was a place to launch from.

  That night, she had a brief email from Jimmy that underlined the idea that this was going to be one of the longest darkest journeys of her life.

  The swelling is down; they’ve stopped the meds that kept her in a coma. But she’s not waking up. They aren’t sure yet why. You should also know that her father has called a lawyer. He plans to sue you. This has changed my prayers, but not much. I just want her to wake up, to come back to us, even as peaceful as she seems.

  Molly shut down the computer, lay across the bed, and stared at the ceiling. The flickers of a silent news station reflected off the ceiling and walls, a mirror of the chaos in her soul.

  God, you promised you’d give us the strength to get through whatever life dumps on us. I hope that’s still true. I’m going to need a lot of it.