A Tangle in the Vines

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “I do remember something about a fire. A child was brought into the emergency room. I didn’t know the family well because they were reclusive. They were odd and kept to themselves and there were all sorts of ridiculous rumors about them when I was a kid.”

  “What kind of rumors?” I asked.

  “That the family was into witchcraft and black magic. Older kids told me not even to look at them if I ran into one of them because I’d turn into a frog or a stone. I don’t know how people resolved the belief in how powerful they were with the rumors that they were doomed because of a curse.”

  “Cursed? Where did that idea come from?” I asked the doctor in amazement. Judy sat up straighter in her chair and leaned in as she spoke.

  “You’re talking about the Watkins family, aren’t you?” she asked Vernon. “I haven’t thought about them in years. When I was around ten years old, I never saw them again. That was long before the fire you’re talking about. If anyone had asked, I would have said they’d left the valley. I thought the curse was on their land because it was sacred to the Wappo tribe.”

  “Yes, I heard about the Wappo Curse, too.” Vernon responded, staring off into the distance as if that’s where the past resided. “That never made sense, either, because most of the indigenous people died or left the area after Mexican Independence. That would have been before we Anglos arrived. Apart from calling the valley ‘Napa’ like the Wappo did, many of the Wappo tribe members had been killed taking their heritage and history with them”

  “Even if they didn’t come into town, Judy, they still lived here since that’s where Dustin was burned so badly and his parents perished in a fire.”

  “I never heard a word about it,” Judy said. “Forty years ago, you were still working at the old Calistoga Clinic and Hospital. Is that how you found out about it?”

  “Yes. We didn’t have the facilities to care for the child, so he was rushed to a burn unit in San Francisco. I lost track of him at that point.”

  “Wasn’t there a scandal that the cursed child of a cursed family was blamed for killing his parents?” I asked.

  “The boy couldn’t have been more than five years old at the time. I never heard anyone say a word about blaming him for the fire. If the man you spoke to is Dustin Watkins, he is confused. Children do blame themselves for such traumatic events.” I nodded since Billie and I had discussed that very thing with the Numbers Man.

  “Did a family member call the fire department? If his parents were killed in the fire how did he get to the hospital?” Judy asked.

  “A neighbor who lived some distance from Watkins’ homestead reported the fire. The boy had somehow managed to get out of the house. Maybe that’s why he blames himself—survivor guilt. Members of the fire department brought him in. They said the house and most of the barn had burned to the ground. I don’t believe it was until the next day that authorities found the bodies of his parents. I don’t recall ever hearing that another child lived there, or that the Watkins had any other relatives.”

  “The crime scene investigators have established that the bodies of a child and her mother were found, together, at the original burial site in the woods. The child’s mother was killed in a fire. All the other victims, including the child, died from a blow to the back of the head. It must be Dustin’s mother and sister, although I don’t understand how they ended up in the woods, or where his father’s body is buried. Most of what Dustin says about his sister getting out of her grave and killing his parents by setting the fire doesn’t make sense, except the idea that she died before their parents did,” I said as I let Judy pour me another glass of wine.

  “That must be true. Her body was found last, which means she was buried first. What if Dustin killed his sister and his parents buried her in the woods rather than report her death to the police?” Judy asked. “They might not have been able to stand the thought of losing both children, even if they knew Dustin had killed her. That would be a reason for him to blame himself or to be afraid her body would rise up and seek revenge.”

  “Maybe,” I said skeptically. “What about all the other murders? How was he able to survive for twenty years in the woods without being seen in town by someone? How did he lure new victims into the woods? Besides, Dustin says he’s never hurt anyone, and I believe him.”

  “Well, the forensics evidence ought to be able to determine if a four-year-old child could have inflicted the blow to the back of his sister’s head.”

  “That would help answer one of my questions,” I said. “I have so many others. Where did Dustin go after he was taken to the hospital in San Francisco if he had no family? I assume members of the fired department investigated the blaze. Did they find out what caused it? Do they keep records that long? If he’s Dustin Watkins, we have a last name. I’ll call Diane Constantine, from Children’s Services. Digging up old information about a boy named Dustin, burned in a fire forty years ago, ought to be a little easier with his last name. You’ve been a huge help.”

  “I’m amazed at how well you’re doing after all that’s gone on in less than twenty-four hours. You may have the name and mien of a delicate flower, Lily, but you’re obviously a steel magnolia like your aunt.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say. I’ll need to be strong now that I’ve promised to look after Billie for a while.”

  “That lawman will be at your side to help, won’t he?” He eyed the ring on my finger as he asked the question. I blushed.

  “It’s a promise ring,” I replied. “At this point, it’s a promise to be best friends.”

  “Then you’re off to a good start. Marriages founded on a deep and abiding friendship are loving and sturdy.” I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I managed to nod in agreement.

  “She’s a strong-willed steel magnolia. You won’t get more out of her. It’s only been weeks since they met, not years, or so Lily keeps reminding me.”

  I didn’t say anything to Judy. I’d said weeks, not months when I reminded her about the short time that I’d known Austin. Promising to be friends by wearing his Grandmother’s ring was a huge step despite all the good feelings I have about the wonderful man.

  “Love runs on a clock that ticks in here,” Vernon said, pointing to his heart.

  “She’ll figure that out. We’ll invite you to the wedding, and that’s a promise,” Judy quipped, squeezing my hand.

  My heart beat so loudly I was sure they could hear it. I spoke, hoping to cover the thumping. I also wanted to change the subject.

  “Whatever happened to the Watkins’ property?” I asked.

  “That’s a legal question. You should ask Lettie’s old friend, Colin Brinkley. He was a practicing lawyer then—one of only two or three in the area. If he doesn’t know what happened, he’ll be able to direct you to someone who does.”

  “Coffee?” Judy asked.

  “Yes, please, or I’m the one who might need to call my old friend, Judge Brinkley. I don’t dare drive after drinking this amazing Chardonnay. If I were a betting man, my money would be on it as a winner this year.”

  “That was one of Aunt Lettie’s dreams. I’d love for it to come true,” I said. “With so many vintners entering the competition, it’s a tough field.”

  We moved indoors, and as Judy and Vernon began asking each other questions about friends I didn’t know, I gave them both hugs. “I’m going to do what you suggested and call Colin Brinkley. Thanks again for lunch and for the life lessons, too.”

  “Call me anytime if you have questions about Billie,” he said as I headed to the reading room to call Judge Brinkley.

  “Judge Brinkley,” I said when the call went through.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Lily, Lily Callahan. I can’t believe you’re in your office on a Saturday. And during a holiday weekend!”

  “If I didn’t come in on Saturdays, I’d never get caught up. Holiday weekends are even quieter. What can I do for you?”

  14 Property Matters

 
; “First, thanks for helping us with Billie Dundee. He’s a remarkable boy.”

  “Lettie used those very words to describe you at about his age. When all this trouble settles down, why don’t you invite me over so we can reminisce about her? I have some stories to tell you about her that I bet you’ve never heard. She was a remarkable woman.”

  “I’d love that! I’m not sure I could have done it right after she died, but it would mean so much to me to hear more about her. I did my best to coax stories from her, but she never liked to talk about herself.”

  “Let’s do it—soon. I’ll bring a photo album I have with pictures from a trip we took together to the Middle East after the Arab-Israeli War. She didn’t tell you about that, did she?”

  “No, she did not, but I knew the two of you were close.”

  “Unfortunately for me, it was all perfectly innocent. Lettie wanted to visit the pyramids and other ancient landmarks before they were destroyed. She needed a male escort to accompany her to many of the places she wanted to go to in Arab countries. We kept it all very hush-hush since we traveled together. Lettie was afraid I’d never end up as a judge if the locals got wind of it.” He sighed.

  “My relationship with Lettie isn’t the reason for your call. I’m sorry about the trouble at your place. I suspected there was more going on with Penney Lincoln and her family. Don’t share this with anyone, but even though I represented Rachel and her husband, I wasn’t sure Bud Lincoln didn’t have something to do with Penney’s disappearance.”

  “You thought he’d killed her?”

  “No. If that were it, I’d have shared my suspicions with the police. I worried that he and Rachel knew more about her disappearance than they were willing to say, or they wouldn’t have hired me. Some of the questions they asked were odd. I’d better leave it at that since I’m still bound by attorney-client privilege, although Bud passed on a few years ago.”

  “Well, I have a question about an entirely different matter. It’s about the Watkins’ property. Doctor Kennedy was here today giving Billie a checkup, and he said there was a terrible fire there years ago. He didn’t believe anyone survived other than a five-year-old boy who was badly burned. Dustin Watkins was sent to San Francisco for care, and I wondered if he later inherited the property?”

  “That was a long time ago—the place burned to the ground in the late seventies or early eighties. I’m sure Vernon told you about the Wappo Curse. I don’t believe provisions were made for anyone to inherit the property. My friend Sam Dickerson was more involved in estate planning, tax, and property matters than I was, but, sadly, he’s no longer with us.”

  “Would it have been sold?”

  “Not right away, I’m sure. No one would have been holding their breath waiting to get their hands on it. It wasn’t cursed, but the land was flat and dry except where it backed up into the woods. There’s an outcropping of granite, boulders, and a spring that’s somehow tied to the Wappo Curse. It’s likely the county eventually sold it for back taxes. The owner’s name should be on a deed in the Recorder’s Office. Do you want me to have a clerk find out who that is?”

  “I hadn’t even thought about looking for information about the property in the county tax records. If someone owns it, and is keeping up with the taxes, the information should be available online.”

  “If you run into trouble, tell me, and I’ll help. Of course, if this is related to the bodies found on your property, Dahlia and Rikki are probably after the same information, aren’t they?”

  “They’re not too interested in what I have to say, but I’ll get the information to them. Hopefully, they won’t bug you again if you decide to take a day off tomorrow.”

  “Lettie would tell you to keep on good terms with the law, even if you don’t always play by the rules.” He laughed. “Don’t forget your promise to sit and talk about more pleasant topics.”

  “As soon as possible. I want you to meet Billie, too.” I ended the call and figured there was no time like the present to look up the Watkins property. I had to dig up an address or a parcel number to search for it. Suddenly, I heard laughter and Billie burst into the room.

  “Good job, Marlowe. He really is a detective. I told him to find Lily and he went straight to you from where we were above the garage. I’m supposed to fetch you for help. We need stuff for the sets—big stuff—but how are we going to get it here since we’re grounded?”

  “I guess we can’t put it off much longer, can we?” When Billie said, “big stuff,” he meant materials for the backdrops that would be used to create the illusion that we were on the set of Not Another Day. Or in this case, Not Another Day, Please!

  Given the short time frame in which we had to work, we’d decided our first theatrical production would be a parody of the soap opera in which Melody and I had performed for so many years. Zelda could not only do hair and makeup, but her comic timing made her perfect as Andra’s rival for the same man’s affections. In true farce fashion, they both had different men in mind, and neither of the men was interested in Andra or Zelda who’d suggested we use her real name in the play—“with a cast of characters from A to Z,” or some line like close to that.

  Melody’s character also had a problem. The two men Andra and Zelda had their eyes on were pursuing her, and she couldn’t drive either of them away. We’d recruited two very funny friends to play the men’s parts. The whole set up made for a modern version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream merry mix up among star-crossed lovers with a few twists.

  Julie had written many of the scripts in which Melody and I had performed, and she’d often played jokes on us during read-throughs by replacing the real dialogue with funny bits. We cut her loose to come up with a script. Julie called right away to get a release from the producers to make sure no one would give us grief about poking fun at our characters. The show was on its last legs anyway, so no one much cared., but I still had her get a release in writing.

  “Finding a way to haul in the “big stuff” would be a problem even if we weren’t grounded. Let’s go! We’ll come up with something.”

  We had an easier time of figuring out the smaller items we still needed to set up the sets. I had lots of unused furniture stored—an entire garage full. Rugs, lamps, paintings, and other accessories.

  We’d figured out what to use for the main setting in which most of the action would take place. A living room with a front door and several other doors for characters to enter and exit, would be perfect for creating confusion. Especially for the hapless gentlemen who would be summoned and then hidden or dismissed by one of three women always seemingly on the verge of hysteria.

  “I’ll see if our jailers will let us start hauling these items over to the stage,” I offered. “We can store some of the stuff in the basement if it doesn’t all fit well enough in the storeroom backstage or in one of the dressing rooms we’re not going to need.”

  “So that brings us back to the problem of what to do for backdrops. We don’t need more than two or three change ups,” Carrie said. “They should look as much like the ones used on the show as possible.”

  “We need the artist’s renderings to fill in the details, don’t we? I should have already asked for those.” Julie was on the phone in a flash. She was spoke to someone for several minutes as she paced around. Then she came running to where we had spread out the set designs Carrie had sketched for us.

  “Are you sure? Squee! Hang on, Mick while I tell them!”

  “Mick Daley just lost his job, isn’t that great?” Julie asked.

  “Does he feel that way about it?” I asked.

  “He will if we hire him for a few months as our set designer and director. Get this, he also says if we pay to have them hauled up here, he can bring several of his old sets from the show’s previous seasons.”

  I’m still not used to having money, so my stomach automatically cramps up when I’m considering major costs like hiring a set designer. When we’d roughed out a budget, sets had been on
e of the biggest ticket items in it. That’s not saying much since we’re all working for free, although I’d forbidden the divas from paying a cent toward room and board. I was still ruminating when Julie spoke.

  “I’ll tell him twenty dollars per hour—full-time work for the rest of the year,” Julie suggested. “Plus, room and board until he can find a place to live.”

  “That’s good for him since he’s got no job and good for us since he actually knows what he’s doing.” Zelda was emphatic.

  I tried to imagine where we’d put him. Two of my friends were already sharing the two-bedroom apartment over the garage, and the others were in suites on the second floor. Since Billie now occupied Lettie’s suite that was usually Judy’s room, she no longer had a room. Melody read my mind.

  “Mick can sleep in the lounge on the second floor if we take the love seat out and move in a bed. It’s got a nice bathroom with a great shower.” Melody paused and then continued after a moment.

  “Here’s an even better idea. Let’s put Billie in there and give Judy back her room. Then we’ll haul your old bedroom set to the theater building and set it up for Mick in one of the small rehearsal rooms in the basement. It doesn’t stink down there, and the room has a window to let in natural light. He won’t have a private bathroom, but he can use the big one that’s down there.”

  “There’s already a mini fridge, microwave, and coffee pot down. What else does he need if he eats meals with us?” Zelda asked.

  “Mick’s going to spend most of his time in the theater building for the next few weeks, so why not arrange it that way?” Carrie added.

  “Billie, is it okay with you if we move you to a different room?” I asked, wondering if it would make a difference to Diane.