A Tangle in the Vines

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Marlowe loves to play. Darjeeling tries hard to keep up, but she’s not much bigger than the tennis ball. I’ve never seen a dog that small. Melody says she’s a teacup Yorkie and Darjeeling is the best tea ever grown. Great name, huh?”

  “It is,” Diane agreed.

  “Julie told me Marlowe’s named for a detective in books written by a guy named Chandler who wrote about the mean streets of LA.”

  “Oh yes, Philip Marlowe. He was a character in a wonderful old movie I’ve watched many times The Maltese Falcon,” Diane responded.

  “Yes, I know. A part played perfectly by a man I never heard of before—Humphy Bogart. No, that’s not right—Humphrey Bogart. Melody says it’s a classic movie even though it’s not in color. She says we’ll watch it and she’ll show me how you don’t need color because of the light and shadow. Can you believe that?”

  I was enthralled by Billie’s enthusiasm, but I forced myself to step away. After all the coffee I’d had, no way was I going to get through an interview with the police without a stop at the bathroom. When I stepped out into the hallway, I ran into Austin—literally.

  “Whoa, slow down there, little lady.” I rolled my eyes at Austin’s corny comment.

  “Give it a rest, lawman, or my posse will come after you for calling me a little lady, which I’m not. I may send them after you anyway for keeping secrets from me.”

  “Me? When were you going to tell me you remembered who Aunt Lettie’s old friend was and planned to call him about Penney Lincoln’s disappearance? The Numbers Man already has his eye on you. Why do you want to attract attention by running around town asking a bunch of questions?”

  “Do you believe the man Billie described is capable of carrying out surveillance?”

  “No, but he doesn’t have to be the one doing the surveillance, does he?”

  “Does that mean the authorities are considering the possibility that someone other than, or in addition to, the Numbers Man is involved in the murder of Lydia Wainwright?”

  “Yes, although officially, no one has even said she’s dead. What I don’t understand is if there’s a tie-in to Billie’s story about having told her about the Numbers Man. When Billie gets to that part of his interview, we should ask him where they were at the time and who else was around.”

  “I agree, although I don’t want Billie to feel that by confiding in his teacher, he’s responsible for her murder. We need to ask the question in a casual way. Billie said his teacher promised to help, so maybe she went to wrong person for help. Who knows where she was when she called Billie’s parents? Someone could have overheard her when she was on the phone with them.”

  “Yeah, you mean the way an all-too-curious twelve-year-old snooped on her aunt’s phone call?”

  “I admit I was curious. She was speaking to a man in a sweetie-pie way. Why wouldn’t I be concerned about who he was? That’s enough about me. Why are you leaving town?” He didn’t have a chance to answer.

  9 Billie’s Bombshells

  “There you are!” Judy said. “Billie looks like he’s been sent to detention. Get in there and support him. The rest of us are headed to the theater building.”

  “Don’t you want to support him?” I asked.

  “We aren’t invited. Besides, with the best man and the best woman he’s ever met in the room with him, who else does he need?” Judy gave us both a little shove toward the dining room doorway and left.

  When Austin and I sat down next to Billie, he let out an enormous sigh. I reached over and patted his hand. It was as cold as ice. The balance in the room seemed to have shifted now that the four of us sat across the table from Rikki, Dahlia, and Jim.

  “Billie, do you understand why you’re here?” Rikki asked.

  “Yes. Lily explained it to me last night. The Numbers Man might have done some really bad things, and you want me to tell you about him.”

  “That’s correct. Take your time, and if you need a break, tell us. Can you start by telling us the first time you saw him?”

  “Last summer, when I was in the woods. He was sitting on a rock with his head bowed, like this.” He demonstrated what he meant. “I thought he was asleep, and I didn’t go any closer because I didn’t want to wake him up. Then I heard him counting—by twos that night.”

  “You mean like two-four-six-eight?” Dahlia asked.

  “Yes, only he kept counting and counting. I listened for a while until, off to the side, I heard a stick breaking like when you step on it. He jumped up to see if someone was coming. That’s when he started talking like an old man.”

  “What was he saying?”

  “‘You’re going to get it now, boy.’ There was more, but it’s hard to remember because I was nervous. I was afraid he was talking to me until he ran off in the other direction. As soon as he did that, I ran all the way home.”

  “Can you describe him for us?”

  “Austin asked me to do that already,” Billie said glancing at us as he answered Rikki’s question. “Like I told him, it was dark. The man wore a jacket with camouflage material, boots, and a hood on his head that was a dark color. It wasn’t part of the jacket. Maybe a sweatshirt like my new Angels’ hoodie, only it was gray or black instead of red.” Billie glanced at me and I nodded reassuring him that I understood what he was saying.

  “That’s good. I’d like you to try to go over it again. Start at the beginning and run it like a movie in your mind. Look at where he’s sitting and what he’s doing. Is it completely dark or is there moonlight? What do you see or hear? Even if it’s a small thing it might matter. Is he wearing a ring or a watch or is there a label or tag on his clothes? Is anything lying on the ground around him?” The room went silent for a few moments as Billie did as Rikki asked.

  “It’s smelled a little smoky, like maybe he had a fire before I got there. The moon was bright when it wasn’t behind the clouds. His boots were old and worn out. I don’t think there were real shoestrings in them—string, but not regular string, because it was thicker. Oh, yeah, he had a band tied around his arm—a black one. Here,” Billie said pointing to his upper arm.

  Funerals for police officers or fallen soldiers immediately popped into my head. The funeral director had the option on a list for mourners when I made funeral arrangements for Aunt Lettie.

  “Did he always wear it?” Rikki asked.

  “No, but I might not have noticed since I didn’t remember it until now. That night, when he thought he heard someone coming, he stuck the black band under the rock he was sitting on. His chewing gum, too.”

  “You mean a pack of gum or are you talking about chewed gum?” I asked.

  Can you get DNA from chewing gum? I wondered if they could find the gum he’d spit out. I’m not sure how much DNA mattered. If the Numbers Man was a recluse, no one was likely to have his DNA on file. Not unless he’d been in trouble years ago. Maybe it could be used to tie him to the victims.

  “He spit out the gum he was chewing and covered it in the dirt with his boot. Then he put a pack of gum under the rock.” Billie turned to Austin.

  “The rock I’m talking about is near where the tent is set up. It’s big enough that you can sit on it and there a few other rocks next to it.” I saw Jim Brady jot down a note. I’m sure the investigators had been all over the area by now, but they might not have checked under the rocks.

  Then Rikki and Dahlia took turns asking him questions trying to get more details. Where exactly was he the first time that he saw the Numbers Man, and what route had he taken to get there. What time was it. How far it was from where the tent was set up and other questions like that.

  “Okay, thanks, Billie.” Rikki smiled warmly. “Your testimony is very helpful. If you remember anything else tell Lily or Ms. Constantine, okay? Otherwise, we’d like you to keep this between us for now.” Billie nodded solemnly. Diane fidgeted in her seat. I hoped she wasn’t considering placing Billie elsewhere—like several counties away or in another state.

  �
��When the movie was running in my mind, I kept getting mixed up. It was hard to keep the stuff I’d seen on other nights from slipping in. He carried a pencil stub and a little black book with him in a jacket pocket. I’m not sure what he was writing in it—maybe numbers. On other nights he didn’t just count out loud, he put rocks or sticks on the ground and made shapes out of them. Then, he’d mess it all up. Sometimes he was angry when he did that and used curse words—like he did last night. I can’t remember for sure when he did that and when he didn’t, but it was scary.”

  “Why did you go back?” Dahlia asked.

  “I like it in the woods. It’s peaceful and quiet—no one is yelling or stomping around and fighting. Most of the time, there’s no one around at night. The next time I went to the woods, he wasn’t there. I hoped maybe he’d left—gone somewhere else, but I found numbers on a piece of wood not too far away from the rocks. A piece of charcoal was on the ground, so I figured that’s what he used to write the numbers. That’s when I decided to call him the Numbers Man.”

  “Do you remember what numbers you saw?”

  “They were kind of wiped off, Lily, but I’m pretty sure there was a five and then a number I couldn’t read. After that a nineteen and two more numbers I couldn’t read.”

  “You mean four numbers together like a year—nineteen something-something?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure if I thought that then, but another time the numbers looked exactly like a year—1999.” A ripple moved around the room as folks shifted in their seats. I tried not to react. Penney Lincoln had vanished that year. Diane appeared puzzled, but everyone else had connected the dots.

  “Were there other numbers with it that time?” Dahlia asked.

  “There could have been. I can’t remember exactly because I was so nervous. I think that was the time he walked right past me, staring at the ground, and counting backward. I froze. After that, I was always jumpy, and tried never to make any noise because he was jumpy too. I scared him away once when I kicked a rock.”

  “What made you decide to get a picture of him?” Rikki asked.

  “After I watched him a few times, I heard him talking in different voices—not just like an old man. Sometimes he talked like a woman. He cried and talked like a baby, too. I could tell he was in big trouble when he called himself a stupid idiot, or other bad names, and punched himself.”

  “When was that?”

  “Earlier this summer. He was almost always angry and upset, which wasn’t that bad because it was easier for me to know where he was. It also made it easier for me to follow him when I tried to find out where he lived.”

  “When you followed him, where did he go?”

  “Toward my house and the Hayward’s place. Then he took a path in a different direction and disappeared into the woods. The next time, I was waiting for him closer to where he went into the woods from the other path. The woods are thicker there. He blended into the shadows, and he was gone again. The last time I tried to follow him was a couple of weeks ago. He must have spooked a deer and when it came running toward me, I tried to get away fast, and I got lost. It was almost morning by the time I found my way back home, so I decided not to try that again.”

  “If you were worried about him, why didn’t you tell someone so they could help him?”

  “Lily already asked me that. I told her that I tried to get Mom and Dad to help. Mom told me to stay out of the woods and Dad told me to mind my own business. Dad said the woods are a good place for a crazy, homeless guy. When I said the police ought to investigate, my dad got it into his head that I made it all up to get attention. I got whooped.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” Dahlia said. Before she could ask her next question, I asked one of my own.

  “Who else did you tell?” I was curious to hear what he had to say now that I knew Ms. Wainwright wasn’t his teacher. Billie had a puzzled expression on his face. I braced myself for the bomb that was about to go off.

  “I told you that already too, Lily.”

  “I know, but when you told me you’d asked a teacher to help, I didn’t understand you were talking about your sixth-grade teacher. Where were you when you told her about the Numbers Man?”

  “Ms. Wainwright was in the hallway by the office at my new school. I was glad to see her, and I asked if she was going to be a middle school teacher now. She said no, and that she was at the school for a meeting.”

  This time, a jolt rather than a ripple, made its way around the room. Diane squelched a gasp, trying to pass it off as a cough. Billie’s smart though, so he knew something was up. His puzzled expression had turned to suspicion.

  “That was before classes started, right?” Austin asked. When Billie answered Austin’s question, he spoke slowly as if trying to read our reactions to each word.

  “Yes—a couple of weeks ago, right after I got lost in the woods tracking the Numbers Man.”

  “What were you doing at school?” I was glad Dahlia asked that question since Billie hadn’t shared that with us.

  “That’s what Ms. Wainwright wanted to know. I told her I was going to the library to read about what it means when people talk to themselves in different voices. She wanted to know why, and I said I was worried that this old guy in the woods was in bad shape. When I explained about the Numbers Man, Ms. Wainwright promised to help, and told me not to go back there again. By the time I got home she’d called my parents and I got whooped again.”

  “Was anybody around when you spoke to her?” I asked, which is what I hoped to get from the retelling of his story—could anyone have overheard them?

  “Maybe. I wasn’t paying attention because I was so surprised to see Ms. Wainwright. There were people in the office when she opened the door and said goodbye to me. Mr. Dees was in there.”

  “The principal,” Diane interjected.

  “Yes, and Mr. Dees’ secretary, Ms. Anthony. She was standing at the desk, talking to Coach Durst. He came out right after Ms. Wainwright went into the office. Coach asked me if I was going to the gym to practice my skills. When I told him that I was going to the library, he said that was too bad since practice gives you a head start on the season. I wasn’t sure what to say, so he left.”

  “Okay, so you went to the library. Did you speak to anyone about what you were doing?”

  “Not at first, Marshal Rikki. I asked the librarian where the section on mental illness was.”

  “Ms. Hope or Ms. Teaberry?” Diane asked, taking notes.

  “The old one with glasses hanging on a chain around her neck.”

  “That’s Gladys Hope,” our rep from Children’s Services said aloud, as she added the name to her notes. Dahlia did the same.

  “You used different words when you asked the librarian your question,” I remarked.

  “Yes, that’s because Ms. Wainwright told me that’s what it means when you talk to yourself. The Numbers Man has a mental illness and I was right that he needed help.”

  “Did the librarian tell you where to find the books?” Billie nodded and gulped down half a glass of water before answering Dahlia.

  “Yes. She walked me over to the shelf. Then she asked if I planned to be a psychiatrist someday. I said no, and that I was worried about an old homeless man in the woods. When I told her where I saw him, she got upset and told me the woods near Calla Lily Vineyards are part of a preserve. Then she asked what was wrong with my parents—didn’t they teach me not to talk to strange men? I told her I never talked to him because he talks to himself.” I stifled a laugh.

  “How did Ms. Hope react to that?”

  “She told me homeless men with mental illness are not a child’s problem, and I should leave it to the adults.”

  “I wonder if she or Ms. Wainwright called and reported him to anyone.” I looked around the room, but only Diane responded.

  “That’s a good question. I can check with adult protective services to see if a call came in. It would help to have a more specific date.”r />
  “I checked out a few books. They’re in my room at home, um, in a box under my bed. The other librarian was there when I left. She put the information into the computer, put a stamp in the books, and told me not to forget to bring them back by then. I guess we should go get them, huh?” He drained the remaining water from his glass and seemed fidgety.

  “Billie, would you like to take a break?” I asked.

  “Yes, please. I need to use the restroom.” As he stood up to leave, he dropped another bomb.

  “I’m sorry I can’t remember more about the numbers and the dates and stuff the Numbers Man said. If I had my notebook with me, it might help.” Dahlia choked on the coffee she was drinking. Rikki pounded her on the back as she spoke.

  “Billie, is the notebook under your bed with the library books?” Rikki asked.

  “No, after I got into so much trouble with my parents, I stuffed it inside my mattress.” Then he asked very politely to be excused—like he was in class. Rikki got up and closed the door after him. Then she checked the door leading into the butler’s pantry.

  “Do you believe him?” Dahlia’s eyes were still running from strangling on her coffee. She managed to croak out those words.

  “Believe him about what? Several of us saw someone fitting the description of the Numbers Man here on the property. If what you’re asking is, do I believe the guy Billie’s been tracking is capable of being your serial killer? I’m dubious. To figure that out, you’ve got to catch him. One way to validate at least part of what Billie’s saying is to get the library books and his notebook,” I snapped. Diane spoke up, too.

  “There are plenty of people to question—isn’t that how you do it? The librarians, the coach, and Billie’s parents. My bet’s on Gladys Hope as the person most likely to have reported that there was a disturbed homeless man roaming around in the preserve area. The question is—who would Gladys have called? If you don’t have a record of a call about him, maybe she called a mental health hotline or contacted a homeless shelter. As I’ve already offered to do, if you get me the date Billie checked out the library books, I’ll see if Adult Protective Services received a report. I’d tell you to ask Ms. Wainwright, but by your reactions, I’d say she’s not only missing but dead.”