Burying Daisy Doe

by Ramona Richards

  I wondered if I looked as disbelieving as I felt. “You think God gave me a gift with cats as a kid to save my life in my thirties?”

  She squeezed my hand. “In a word, yes. But it goes deeper than that, Star. First, a lot of people have an affinity for animals, but your gift with cats is almost bizarre. You don’t see it because it’s just part of your life. Johnny and I were convinced you’d become a vet. But with all that happened with your parents, your daddy being a lawyer, we could see how becoming a police officer was in the works as well.”

  “You believe God weaves all the elements of our lives into one story.”

  “I do. I’ve seen it often enough. God is not some convenience-store guy in the sky who showers us with gifts whenever we ask in prayer. It’s a relationship, up close and personal. We make choices, take steps, and he weaves them into the tapestry of our lives. As hard, as awful as some of these events have been, you are meant to be here, right now, in this way. If there’s a resolution to be had to all of it, you’re the catalyst. It simply would not happen without you.”

  I tried to absorb what she was saying, but I couldn’t quite accept it. “Gran—”

  “Look, when you didn’t show up, I was scared half to death. I just knew you’d jackknifed that trailer and was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. So I prayed. Hard. Then in the midst of it, this sense of peace came over me. An unbelievable calmness. And I knew that whatever was happening, God was with you.” She gestured at my face. “I believe this will have an outcome that will help a lot of people. I’m just sorry you have to go through all this.”

  I put my hand over hers. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’ve been so obsessed about this for so long. And we’re close. Closer than we’ve ever been. I just want it done.”

  “And then what?”

  I blinked, confused at her shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that your whole life has been centered on this one case. Even more than your father ever was. You became a cop because of it. You left that and became a private investigator because of it. You pursued cold case expertise because of it. If it’s done, are you going to keep going in that direction?”

  My mouth twitched. “It’s not like I’m trained to do anything else. You even said you think God brought me here.”

  “Yes. For this case. But will it make you happy if this case is no longer the heart of what you do? Are you going to be open to other directions?”

  Good question. “I honestly have no idea.”

  “Something to think about. Something to pray about.”

  And think about it I did. Maybe even prayed some about it. Through chicken and dumplings and into the evening. Gran left, and I hid the gun in the drawer of the bedside table until after the shift change at 11:00 p.m. I dragged my IV pole to the bathroom and back, fluffed all pillows, then made my nest for the night. Lying flat was still uncomfortable, so I kept the head of the bed raised. It also helped me feel a little less vulnerable to be able to see most of the room. A little less. Lying in a dark room with no lock on the door when someone had tried to kill you was more than a little unnerving. And not a good case for sleep.

  So I pulled the Glock from its case and tucked it under my thigh. I felt silly, but I knew I’d sleep better if it were handy. An old cop habit, perhaps. It was a good justification anyhow.

  But I felt a lot less silly three hours later, when I awoke with the uncomfortable feeling that someone was in my room. I blinked, not moving, expecting to see a nurse working around the room, checking my vitals. Instead, I saw a silhouette against the window, a man. I turned my head to look directly at him, and I slid my hand under the covers. He spoke, the hoarse voice sending a chill straight through me.

  “Hello, Star.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Pine Grove Baptist Church Cemetery, 1986

  ROSCOE BRUSHED LOOSE sand away from the gravestone, then stood back and admired the craftsmanship.

  “They did a good job for you, Daisy. Esther. Esther Renee Spire. It looks really good. I wish we could put your real name on there, but that would put Daddy and our whole family on the hot seat. And from what I know of you, you wouldn’t want that. You fought the crooks from one war. You know what it takes. The sacrifices it takes.

  “By the way, I hear you have a granddaughter. Bobby showed me pictures. She’s a cute little thing. Looks just like you, with those dark curls and big eyes. Said they even named her after you. We couldn’t keep you or Bobby safe, but we’ll do what we can to keep Little One safe.”

  He squatted again and smoothed over a rough patch of ground next to the headstone. “See. They won’t even let me plant a rosebush for you. This is two somebody’s ripped up.” Roscoe’s mouth twisted into an amused grin. “Let see how they like daisies. And just maybe they’ll leave the stone alone, since everybody saw it last week on Decoration Sunday. Now Miss Doris, she’s a smart one. Marched right in my store on Monday and asked if Daddy had done this for you. I fessed up. I thought she’d be mad, but she seemed right pleased. Said it would serve them right for it to be tossed in their faces. She’s got some spunk, that one.”

  He stood again. “We fixed something else for you too. All the paperwork Bobby had. It’s gone missing. Old JoeLee is fit to be tied. He smacked one of his deputies right upside the head, and he up and fired the clerk. What he didn’t know is that the clerk is the one who made it go missing. But we’ll make sure it turns up again when the time is right.”

  Roscoe saluted her and turned to walk away, then stopped. He looked back. “Oh, and that man who did you so dirty, left you with Bobby, then hung you out high and dry to get killed? Well, Abner’s gone too. And he’ll never have a headstone or a rosebush or anyone to pay respects to him on Decoration Sunday. He’s down yonder in the mud, right where he belongs. So you rest, my friend. We’ll take care of this.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Gadsden, Alabama, Present Day

  I CLEARED MY throat. “Ellis.”

  “Surprised?”

  “More surprised that I’m still alive. Y’all are getting sloppy.”

  He made a guttural sound of derision. “My … grandson … can’t seem to focus on the proper outcomes. He has a weird mindset.”

  “Dandridge.”

  He stepped closer. “It should have been Thomas. My eldest. The brightest. But no, he had to get killed and leave me with a boy who can’t even point a gun straight. My so-called heir apparent is weak, incapable of taking over the family business. And then you come along.”

  “The sins of the father, is it? ‘And by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.’” I pulled my knees up at the same time my hand closed around the butt of the Glock.

  Ellis snorted. “You’re one to quote Scripture. Sinner that you are. Dandridge was supposed to kill you, but he wanted to prove himself to me, that he could be just as cruel. He wanted you to suffer before you died, leave a message for those two deranged sisters. But he couldn’t even do that right. He underestimated your resilience.”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t have the right teacher. Why are you here?”

  “To kill you.”

  We stared at each other in silence, the cool darkness oddly oppressive. After a few moments, he chuckled, which made me cringe. He held up both hands.

  “I am unarmed. This may be a minuscule hospital, but it still has cameras. And nurses everywhere. Too many eyes to see me come and go. Even Luinetti wouldn’t miss a gunshot in the dark. Are you still sweet on him? Has he told you about his little perversions? The kind that can make a girl absolutely lose her mind?”

  Every muscle tensed, creating sparks of pain in my legs and back, but my brain fought back. Don’t fall for this!

  “So since you hold everyone’s secrets, what’s yours? I promise I won’t tell. I’ll even take them to my grave.”

  He chuckled, a sound more of cruelty than mirth. “This is why I like you
, Star. You don’t give up.”

  “Who killed my grandmother?”

  He paused, his head tilting in curiosity. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  I waited, and he let out a sigh. “My mother. My dear sainted mother.”

  My eyes widened. “Your mother? Not Abner?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Nope. My father was out of town. Business. He’d already put my mother through hell and back, and when your grandmother showed up on the doorstep, my mother lost all good sense. My brother tried to cover it up, protect my father. You know about Buck Dickson?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, Buck had a weird sense of morality. It’s OK to lie, steal, launder money, but don’t cheat on your woman. And we were all terrified of Buck.”

  “Is that why my father was killed?”

  He took a deep breath. “No, that was business. He and Roscoe Carver were trying to turn the business inside out. He came down here to find out who murdered his mother. But just like you, he had no idea what he was stepping in.

  “You killed them.”

  A nod. “Doc actually shot them. I wanted to make them tell me what they knew, but he wanted it over. To protect the business. In a way I guess Buck was right. If my father hadn’t slept with your grandmother, none of this would have happened.”

  Sins of the fathers.

  “But you’re the one who shot Roscoe.”

  Another nod. “Then Dandridge was supposed to shoot you. But he couldn’t handle that either.”

  “Maybe he didn’t like the idea of shooting his cousin.”

  “You are not—” He stopped, then cleared his throat. “Then that would make him even weaker, don’t you think?”

  “Or maybe you’re just not as important to him as you think you are. Ellis, if you’re not really here to kill me, then why show up in the middle of the night?”

  He lowered his head, examining me. “I just said I was unarmed, not that I wasn’t going to kill you. It’s all about to come tumbling down, thanks to you. You turned over too many rocks, from poor Sowers all the way through Imajean Thompson. Oh yes, I know about her. My people tell me she took a huge tote bag into the sheriff’s office, and about fifteen minutes later the place looked like someone had thrown gasoline on a fire ant hill. Now I wonder what could have been in that bag.”

  “Something you misplaced about forty years ago perhaps?”

  Ellis Patton stood silent, staring. Then he walked toward my bed. “It’s time, Star.”

  I shifted, sliding the gun closer to my side as I pushed up in the bed. My other hand reached for the controls on the rails. “Stop. Don’t come any closer.”

  He did. He looked quickly at my hand on the controls, then back at my face. “You could call the nurse. But what would you tell her? And in the middle of the night, she’ll take a while to get here.”

  With that, he closed the distance, his hands thrusting toward my neck. I brought the gun up under his chin, and his momentum shoved the barrel back toward his throat. It pressed hard into his Adam’s apple. He gagged, and his hands dropped, catching the railing to brace himself.

  “Back. Up.”

  He did, again putting his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed, remember.”

  “Right.”

  “You shouldn’t have a gun in a hospital.”

  “I shouldn’t be attacked in my bed in a hospital either. But it happens.” I switched on the light, and we both jerked, blinking, but I held the gun steady. “Sit!” He sat down, and I reached to call the nurse, when the door opened.

  Mike and Darius stepped into the room, guns drawn but held down at their sides. They stopped, assessing the situation immediately. Darius spoke first, snapping his gun up into firing position. “Don’t move.”

  Not a chance.

  Mike stepped closer to me and holstered his gun. “Is he armed?”

  I stayed focused on Ellis. “Not that I can tell. He says not.”

  “I am not. I give you my word.”

  “Your word is worthless. You tried to kill me.”

  “I tried to hit you. There’s a difference.”

  “Couldn’t tell it by me.” But I pointed my gun at the ceiling and took my finger off the trigger.

  Darius crossed to Ellis, pulled him up, and pushed him against the wall. Mike stepped forward and eased my gun from my hand.

  “See? I told you that you didn’t have to worry about me in the hospital.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What are y’all doing here?”

  “I asked the nurse to call me if any unusual visitors showed up. She called as soon as dimwit over there came around the corner.”

  “Didn’t think I could take care of it?”

  “I was kinda hoping they would give you something to knock you out.” Mike looked at Darius, who had frisked Ellis and was putting handcuffs on him. “Was she always like this?”

  Darius shot both of us a sharp grin. “All the time.”

  Mike focused his smile on me. “I’ll consider myself forewarned.”

  Ellis had been right about what happened after Imajean delivered the plates. Everything had kicked into high gear, and by the time Gran had left with her slow cooker and the nurses made their 7:00 p.m. rounds, the Secret Service had landed in Pine County with both feet. Only by the time they got there, Ellis and Dandridge Patton had vanished. But Ellis had apparently decided running was not worth it after all, not at his age. With the family business about to go up in smoke and no one left to run it, he had decided revenge—killing me—then flipping on his business partners was his best option. After his arrest in my room, he clammed up and stood fast behind his lawyer, waiting on an offer from the DA. Cruel, self-serving, and calculating—that was our mayor, our “man of the people.”

  A BOLO had been issued for Dandridge and his car, but he was still in the wind when I walked out of the hospital the next day.

  I’d arranged for a rental car, and while I waited on the pickup, I knew it was time to let go of Daisy Doe. I needed to drive back to Birmingham and settle things with Gran, then get back to Nashville. I had most of the story, and what was left to complete it would fall into place over time. I’d finish getting the letters from Imajean, and Dandridge would eventually turn up. No one disappeared forever, not in this day and internet era.

  The sheriff’s office had already started working with the cadaver dogs at the end of the Carver’s field road, and a text from Mike that morning told me they had already pinpointed multiple bodies. That was an excavation that could take months, and if the sheriff was smart, he’d ask the FBI for help. But just maybe there were dozens of families in Pineville that could finally have closure on the fate of their loved ones.

  I did want to say goodbye to Betsy and Claudia and to ask if their search of the safe-deposit boxes had turned up anything intriguing. Any relevant evidence would have to be given to Mike or the Secret Service, but I knew they’d be excited over almost anything historic.

  Besides, I really liked them.

  I pulled up and parked in front of the museum, but I didn’t get out right away. I wanted to savor this visit, since I most likely wouldn’t be back. When I’d first arrived in Pineville, my only connection to this town was murder, three of them, now solved. I had developed a number of strong friendships, including Mike, but I had a lot of unfinished business elsewhere. I needed to get back to the rest of my career, and the chances that I’d ever visit Pineville again seemed pretty remote, even though it had wormed its way into my heart on quite a few levels.

  And I had to give myself space to heal, somewhere other than the town that had covered up the murders of my father and grandmother. I needed time and space away from the lies and deceptions, even on the part of a man I’d grown so fond of that I had become wary of my own emotions. Ellis Patton’s cruel manipulations had affected everyone I knew in this town. I needed clarity.

  I would miss them all. Especially Mike. But I had to go.

  I smiled at the misspel
led sign, left up because the art teacher couldn’t yet get to the window painting and the wording on the poster board had been done by a helpful elementary school class. The collection of items in what used to be a dime store display window represented more about what the town—and the museum owners—loved as opposed to true historical remnants. A leather chair from their father’s store, a trunk shipped from Sears, Roebuck & Co. in 1910, a stack of ledgers from one of the first grocery stores, and five quilts draped artfully across and over most of the items. And resting casually on the chair, Ratliff, who still looked more like a bobcat than the Maine Coon that he was.

  I sighed. Time to go pet the cat and say goodbye. I went in. As the bell over the door chimed, I called out a hello. Ratliff looked at me, then stood up and stretched. He posed, waiting, and I almost laughed. I stroked his head and scratched under his jaw. “Where are your mamas?” He chirped, but that wasn’t helpful.

  I looked around but could neither see nor hear any activity. “Claudia! Betsy! Are y’all here?”

  Nothing.

  I scowled. Definitely unlike them, and I moved quietly and cautiously forward, the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention. Ratliff leaped down and followed me as I walked around the checkout area and wandered down the center aisle. About halfway down, Ratliff paused and jumped up on one of the lower shelves, scrambling a bit, then I heard a metallic thud one aisle over. Claudia had told me that he often climbed to the top shelf by leaping across the aisles to the next higher perch.

  I left the cat behind as I checked the office. Empty. “Betsy?”

  I heard a scuffling sound, but I couldn’t tell if it was cat created or just the sounds of the old building. Definitely odd that the sisters would leave the museum unlocked if they had left. I pushed open the back door. Nope, the Lincoln Marquis remained in the back lot. I closed the door and leaned against it, listening. Where could they be that they couldn’t hear me? Did this place have an attic? As I paused there, I sent Mike a quick text, telling him I was at the museum but couldn’t find the sisters. Had he heard anything?