A Thousand Generations

by Traci DePree

  “She’s a pastor’s kid too,” Rebecca went on. “From New Mexico instead of Texas. Her parents live upstate now.”

  Kate’s kids still considered the Lone Star State their home, since they’d spent all their growing-up years there.

  Rebecca was still talking. “She caught the acting bug like I did in high school. She even played Laurie in Oklahoma!”

  “Have you talked about what happened with the play?” Kate asked, referring to Melody being fired.

  “A little. She said her boss wouldn’t let her trade shifts at work, and that was why she was always late for rehearsal.”

  “So why didn’t she just quit when she got the role?” Kate asked. “I mean if acting is her priority.”

  “It’s hard,” Rebecca admitted, “to trade a sure thing for something temporary. You really have to be all in, and I’m not sure that she really is.”

  The conversation faded for a moment.

  “The only thing is,” Rebecca went on tentatively, the joy in her voice tripping ever so slightly, “while we were at the coffee shop, her boyfriend Todd showed up.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know. He seemed nice enough, I guess...I just got this vibe from him.”

  “Like he’s the one responsible for the bruises?” Kate guessed.

  “I don’t know if it’s that so much as the way he looked at me...like leeringly. I hate it when guys do that. It creeped me out.”

  “I’d be careful if I were you,” Kate cautioned.

  “I haven’t jumped to any conclusions yet”—Rebecca said—“but I’d hate to see Melody with someone who doesn’t deserve her.”

  THE NEXT DAY, after a morning of helping out at Phillip’s shop, Kate and Phillip headed to the historical society in Pine Ridge again to see if they could find out more about Jack Leonetti. They hadn’t had nearly enough time to get through the myriad of materials available the last time they’d been there. Kate wanted to see if there was something else that would shed light on the relationship between Jack Leonetti and Horace Hanlon. She’d told Phillip he didn’t have to come, but he’d insisted.

  “I’m kind of enjoying this,” he said. “Digging into history always was one of my favorite things to do. It’s part of why I’m an antiques dealer.”

  Kate smiled as she wove her Honda along the streets of Pine Ridge. Phillip seemed in a better mood, as if he’d been able to lay aside the worries that had troubled him the previous week. She suspected their prayers had much to do with his change in perspective. Prayer had a way of doing that.

  “It is interesting, isn’t it?” she agreed. “Seeing what happened before we came on the scene.”

  Lila Paisley was the only one in the research room when they arrived. She sat at the long table, her auburn head bent over an old volume on Harrington County history. Its pages were yellowed and curled with age. Lila lifted her face.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” she said, her gaze drifting to Phillip and lingering there a moment.

  “We didn’t mean to interrupt,” Kate said.

  “Don’t apologize.” Lila got to her feet. “Did you want to read more of that book on Leonetti?” she asked. Since there was generally only one copy of any given item, people weren’t allowed to take them home.

  “No,” Kate said with a glance at Phillip. “I think we’re done with that. But we’d like to do some more digging in the files, if that’s okay.”

  Lila said, “Be my guest,” then returned to her own research.

  Phillip and Kate pulled out two new boxes from the archive section on 1930 that they’d begun looking through the day before and resumed searching through the faded newspapers.

  “What are you looking up?” Phillip asked Lila as he laid a tall stack of newspaper articles in front of him.

  She raised her head, and Kate noticed that the woman was quite pretty. She also couldn’t help but notice that Lila’s green eyes seemed to sparkle when they landed on Phillip.

  She hesitated, then said, “Promise not to laugh?”

  “Why in the world would we laugh?” Phillip’s brow furrowed.

  Lila glanced at Kate, then confessed, “There’s an old story in my family about my great-grandfather sailing with Captain Morgan.”

  “Captain Henry Morgan, the pirate?” Phillip said, his tone disbelieving.

  Lila quirked a pale brow, and her face flamed.

  “Sounds interesting,” Phillip said with a smile.

  Lila’s shoulders relaxed, and she chuckled.

  “So you’re trying to find out if Captain Morgan pirated any ships out of Harrington County?” he said. “A little landlocked, aren’t we?”

  “See, now you are making fun!” She fluttered her lashes and met his gaze.

  But Phillip looked away and her face fell.

  Her expression had clearly been one of flirtation, yet Phillip seemed oblivious. Kate wondered if he would ever have eyes for anyone but Ginny.

  After a good two hours of filtering through papers, Kate came upon an article that recounted the circumstances surrounding the robbery she’d read about the day before—how the thieves posed as actors and directors and pulled the bank employees into their scheme. She began to read silently:

  The details of last week’s armed robbery at Merchants National Bank continue to come in from all sources. It seems the notorious gangster who held up the bank under the guise of filming a movie had deceived more than just the bank employees.

  Earlier in the week, Rory Wilcox of Wilcox Shoes claims the man came into his establishment in Copper Mill to shop. “I didn’t realize it was him until I saw the Wanted posters,” Wilcox said. “But it was Leonetti all right. My twelve-year-old son saw him first...”

  Several store owners both in Pine Ridge and Copper Mill claimed to have served Jack Leonetti in the days leading up to the bank robbery.

  One source who has asked to remain anonymous claimed to have seen someone bringing canvas bags to Hanlon’s Boutique in Copper Mill in the early morning hours right after the robbery. One can only assume the bags contained the stolen money.

  Though these claims have yet to be confirmed, police say they are looking into all possible leads.

  Kate’s heart pounded in her chest. Someone had seen a suspect bringing canvas bags into the store? What could be more incriminating than that?

  Phillip must have heard her intake of breath because he said, “What’s up, Kate?”

  She handed him the article and waited while he read it. His eyes grew to the size of saucers.

  “This doesn’t look good,” he said.

  Kate nodded, remembering her words to Paul that they might not like what they found. She moved across the room to page through the thin phone book that lay alongside the landline on the desk. She needed to know more about Wilcox Shoes.

  In the phone book, she found several Wilcox listings, though the shoe store was no longer in operation. Kate reached for a pad of paper and a pen and wrote down the information for each listing. Then she paged through the rest of her stack of documents, looking for more articles, but she found nothing.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to close up,” Lila said, rising from her chair.

  Kate glanced at her watch. It was three o’clock. She turned to Phillip. “Do you need to be anywhere?” she asked. “I want to stop at the records office in the county courthouse, but I can drop you off at the store first if you don’t want to come.”

  Phillip gave a slight grimace and said, “Drive all the way back to Copper Mill, then turn around and come back to Pine Ridge? I’m supposed to meet with the head of the chamber of commerce for supper. Any idea how long we’d be?”

  “It’s hard to say,” Kate admitted. “I want to see what I can find out about this Wilcox guy, see if he’s still alive or has family I could talk to.”

  “I can take you home,” Lila chimed in.

  Both Phillip and Kate glanced at Lila. The woman’s face turned beet red. She cl
eared her throat. “I mean...um...if you need a lift.”

  “You don’t mind?” Phillip said.

  “Not at all.”

  “That settles it then,” he said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The seat of justice in Harrington County was housed in an antebellum-style building, one of the town’s historical treasures, with its combination of white Grecian columns and tall Federalist windows. Having been used as a Union hospital during the Civil War, the courthouse stood on the Pine Ridge town square. Visitors could still see graffiti scribbled on the walls by the soldiers.

  Kate climbed the wide steps that led to the main entrance, then moved past the sheriff’s office to a back stairwell, which smelled faintly of lemon cleaning solution and cigarette smoke. Kate thought about stopping in to talk to the sheriff about the investigations, but she needed to get to the Register of Deeds’ office before it closed for the day.

  The office downstairs was quiet save for one live soul at a desk when Kate made her way inside.

  Eleanor Sedberry was the Registrar of Deeds at the Harrington County Courthouse. At least seventy-five years old, she had liver-spotted hands and a severe expression on her face. She wore reading glasses.

  She sat at an ancient metal desk, devoid of any paperwork save a crossword puzzle that looked to be half done.

  She sighed when she saw Kate, then moved to the tall counter.

  “How can I be of assistance?” Mrs. Sedberry said, her voice slightly monotone.

  “I’m looking for records on someone.”

  “You need a birth certificate? Death certificate?” She gave Kate a piercing look.

  Kate hesitated, unsure if that would be the best way to search. Finally she said, “Probably both. Is there any way I can look at census information from the 1930s too?”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Sedberry said, more like the sound of clearing her throat than like a word. “What was the name and birth date?”

  “Rory Wilcox. He used to own Wilcox Shoes. I’m not sure about his birth or death dates.”

  The older woman scratched her forehead. “I can get you a census,” she said, “but without the dates, you’re out of luck on the birth and death certificates.”

  Kate nodded, and the woman curtly gestured for Kate to follow her as she shuffled out the door and down the hallway. Records at the courthouse were not computerized, especially from the early part of the last century. They were housed in rows of gray filing cabinets in a large storage room on the same subterranean level.

  Kate and Mrs. Sedberry meandered through a series of dimly lit corridors until they reached the storage room. Kate followed her into the room and waited patiently as the registrar moved slowly from one file cabinet to the next, rummaging through them in search of the information Kate sought.

  After a good fifteen minutes, Mrs. Sedberry returned with the needed file and handed it to Kate. “You can’t take it, but I can make photocopies for you if you’d like.”

  “I appreciate that,” Kate said.

  They wound their way back through the maze of corridors to the office, where Kate took a seat on the long bench along the wall opposite the counter. She opened the thin file, hoping it would at least yield the names of children or relatives.

  The handwriting was slanted, and at first Kate found it difficult to read, but after a few minutes, deciphering came more easily. Kate was surprised at the level of detail in the chart—it included “place of abode,” name, relation, home data, description, including ethnicity and languages spoken, education, citizenship, and occupation.

  The first listing under “Name” was Rory Wilcox. Rory’s wife, it seemed, had died before the census had been taken. Under children there was one name: Lucas Wilcox. Kate glanced at the list of Wilcox names and phone numbers she’d jotted down at the historical society. Sure enough, there was Lucas Wilcox. Still in Copper Mill on South Sweetwater Street.

  Kate debated whether to try to find Lucas Wilcox right away or wait until morning. Eventually her curiosity won out, and she headed straight for South Sweetwater Street. The house was on the far side of the railroad tracks, outside of Copper Mill proper by a mile or so. It was a quaint little place with a white picket fence surrounding a large pasture off to the side of the red barn, though there weren’t any horses in sight.

  An elderly gentleman was out front kneeling over a patch of brightly colored begonias near the walkway to the house. When Kate pulled the car to a stop on the gravel driveway, he stood, hands on hips, then ambled toward her. His gait was strong, and his head tilted to the side in obvious curiosity at Kate’s arrival.

  “Good afternoon,” he said when he was alongside the car. “Not often I get pretty womenfolk stopping by.”

  He rubbed his gloved hands together to loosen the dirt before taking off his gloves, then tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. Kate noted that he wore canvas loafers. She introduced herself, then climbed out of the Honda to shake hands.

  “I’m hoping you can help me,” Kate said. “I’m doing a bit of research into a bank robbery in Pine Ridge in 1930.”

  “Now there’s a story!” he said, his face lighting up.

  “You know about it?”

  “Sure I do.” He considered her for a moment, then said, “How did you find me? I was just a boy at the time.”

  “I was reading some articles at the historical society and came across your father’s name. Rory, right?”

  He nodded. “That was my dad, all right.” He stepped back and examined Kate for another long moment, then said, “Well, it’ll take a bit of telling if you want to hear the whole story.”

  “Do you mind?” Kate asked.

  He grinned. “Not at all. Would you care for iced tea? I’ve got a fresh pitcher in the house.” He started walking, and Kate found herself rushing to catch up.

  “I read that your father met Jack Leonetti before the robbery took place,” Kate said as the older gentleman held the screen door open for her.

  “Not just my dad. I met Leonetti myself.”

  The interior of the house was dark at first, and it took a moment for Kate’s eyes to adjust. The entryway was piled with coats and coveralls. Lucas led the way to the back room, a small kitchen that smelled of fried eggs.

  “Looks like you have a green thumb,” Kate said, her gaze traveling to a kitchen window with potted Christmas cactuses in various sizes on the sill. A game of solitaire seemed to be in progress on the dining table.

  “Just water and sunshine,” he replied with a chuckle.

  He opened the refrigerator, pulled out the promised pitcher of tea, and set it on the counter. Condensation ran in rivulets down the side. The old man pulled down two amber-colored glasses from the cupboard and poured them each a tall drink. After returning the pitcher to the refrigerator, he handed one glass to Kate and took a long sip from his own.

  The tea was strong yet sweet, with a hint of lemon. Kate savored it as she met Lucas’ gaze and offered a smile. Then he motioned for Kate to follow him.

  When they were settled on the front porch’s twin rocking chairs, he said, “Now, what were we talking about?”

  “The bank robbery,” Kate reminded him. “You said you met Jack Leonetti before he robbed the Pine Ridge bank.”

  He lifted an index finger and mouthed Ah, then went on. “I was a lad back then...impressionable.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with a cloth handkerchief from his shirt pocket. “Twelve years old and helping out at the store as best I could after my ma died. It was hard work...long hours.” He smiled as if the memory of the difficult times were a friend he missed.

  “I was there that day.” His bushy eyebrow went up, and his pale green eyes met Kate’s. “I seen Leonetti with my own two eyes. He seemed nice enough at first, but he had dark intentions. You could feel it emanating from him. He came in and walked around the store, threw the display shoes on the floor, laughing and carrying on. When I asked if I could help, he made fun of me.” He shook his head, chuckling. “I
was ready to slug him...Didn’t matter to me that I was only twelve. But my father intervened.”

  Kate smiled at the story.

  He took a long sip of his tea, and Kate did likewise, realizing she’d been so lost in his story that she’d forgotten to drink. He was what Kate’s mother would have called a character, no doubt with many tales to tell. Yet he seemed honest enough and was very likable. Kate imagined him as a boy ready to punch a notorious gangster.

  “Well,” Lucas went on, “when he told us he was a movie producer, it kind of made sense, the way he was acting, like he owned the world. So we got to talking all about the movies. He said he’d produced some pretty big shows, and of course we bought it hook, line, and sinker.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Gullible, that’s what we were!”

  “So, did he buy any shoes?”

  “Indeed he did! He bought three pairs of the nicest, most expensive Hamilton-Browns we offered. It was a big deal for my father in those days. People were really pinching pennies.”

  “So, when did you discover that he was the same man who robbed the bank?” Kate lifted the tea and took another sip.

  “When we saw the Wanted poster.” He rubbed a finger on his bristled chin. “It was probably a day or two after the robbery. The sheriff and his deputies in town had been out door to door, looking for any bit of information they could gather. I still remember seeing my father’s face go white—a boy doesn’t often see his father that way.”

  He breathed in through his nose and exhaled sharply.

  “Is something wrong?” Kate asked. She leaned toward him, worried that she’d upset him somehow.

  He lifted his gaze to her. His eyes looked moist. “No, ma’am. Just nice to have company. Had two visitors this week, you and some man looking for a woman. Still, it was company.”

  “A man?” Kate probed. But Lucas seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  The elderly man was lonely. Kate’s heart went out to him, and she made a mental note to ask if he’d like her to sign him up for the Faith Freezer Program at church, a daily food program that provided hot meals for those who had a difficult time cooking for themselves. At least then he’d have people stopping by his house on a regular basis to say hello and bring nutritious meals.