Pecos Valley Diamond

by Alice Duncan

  “No need for that, young lady,” said Sheriff Greene with a condescending smile. “You’ve done your part in this tragedy. Why don’t you go on indoors and help your auntie and Miss Libby do something useful. We’ll take care of this.”

  “I’ll go with the sheriff and tell you about it, Annabelle,” said Phil.

  He would. To be fair, I don’t think he was only trying to act important. And I really didn’t want to see the body again. “Okay.”

  Naturally, as soon as I entered the kitchen, Libby started picking on me. “Where are them eggs, girl?”

  I scowled at her. “Under the chickens, I imagine.”

  “You was supposed to bring ‘em in here.”

  “Darn it, Libby, you know good and well I couldn’t gather the eggs with that body lying there!” My stomach growled. “Let’s just have some cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I’ll gather eggs after they get the corpse out of the way.”

  “Humph,” said Libby. She would. But she also put a plate with a warm-from-the-oven cinnamon roll in front of me, so I guess she wasn’t too mad at me.

  I don’t know where Minnie was during this conversation, but she showed up shortly thereafter, her face flushed, her hazel eyes flashing. “It’s just what Joe said would happen,” she announced.

  “Oh?” Funny. I didn’t recall Joe saying anything about a man being murdered beside the chicken coop the evening before when we’d been playing with the Ouija board. Not that Minnie would consider it playing.

  “Certainly you remember that, don’t you, Annabelle? Why, he said that evil would come to us, and it has.”

  Gee, I didn’t remember him saying that, either. I wasn’t about to argue, though, since I was too busy eating. Finding dead bodies sort of consumes your whole attention, if you know what I mean, and until then I’d forgotten all about breakfast. After I swallowed, I said, “Ah,” which sounded neutral enough.

  “You just sit down and eat your breakfast, Minnie,” said Libby in a more kindly voice than she’d ever used on me. “Annabelle was too busy playing detective to gather any eggs, so you’ll have to settle for a cinnamon bun and some coffee.”

  Darn the woman! I’d have told her that wasn’t fair, except that my mouth was full. She might have been a witch in disguise, but she sure could cook.

  Minnie patted my hand and gave me a commiserating smile. I guess even she could recognize the injustice of Libby’s words. I appreciated my aunt more than usual in that moment.

  A knock sounded on the kitchen door, and I rose to answer it. The sheriff, the chief, Doc Bassett, and Phil trooped into the kitchen. Libby turned to frown at them. Minnie got up, smiled, and waved a hand at the kitchen table. “Do sit down and have some coffee and a bun, gentlemen. Is there anything you can tell us about this dreadful affair?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Blue. Don’t mind if I do.” Sheriff Greene pulled out a chair and sat with a whump. Nodding, Doc Bassett pulled up another chair. Chief Vickers did the same thing, and after giving me a significant glance, Phil also sat down. Libby plopped a plate of cinnamon rolls in the middle of the table and passed out plates to the men. I got up to pour coffee.

  “Mind if I ask you ladies some questions while we have our coffee, ma’am?” Sheriff Greene asked pleasantly.

  “Go right ahead, sheriff,” Minnie said. “But I know what happened.”

  Oh, brother. I, who had been treated to her Julia-Gilbert theory and knew what she was going to say, cast a probably-desperate glance at Phil, who gave his head a slight shake. The shake wasn’t necessary. I’d never be rude to or about Minnie no matter how much I thought she was a minor-level lunatic.

  “You do?” Doc Bassett stared at Minnie. I think he was horrified, as if he expected her to confess to the murder.

  “Certainly. I was telling Annabelle only yesterday that the Gilbert girl’s ghost has started haunting this house, and Joe said something awful would happen, and it has. I’m sure she’s behind that poor man’s demise.”

  The sheriff, chief and dentist exchanged a glance. Doc Bassett opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “Um . . . it’s clearly a case of homicide, Mrs. Blue.”

  Minnie gave him a pitying look. “Well, of course it is, young man!” Doc Bassett was probably in his mid-fifties. “I just told you. That girl’s spirit is behind it. It–the spirit–is evil, and it’s responsible for everything.”

  Doc Bassett stared at her, obviously at a loss. Poor man. I knew exactly how he felt.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “That’s an interesting theory, Mrs. Blue. But you know, ma’am, I do believe a human hand struck the blow.”

  “Did the rock kill him?” I hadn’t meant to stick an oar in, but I wanted to know if I was right about the knife.

  “Stunned him,” Doc Bassett said. He sounded relieved, as if he were happy to be discussing something concrete. So to speak. “It was the knife did him in.”

  I cast a triumphant look at Phil, who looked back at me blankly. I guess I hadn’t told him my notion that the knife had done the final deed. Oh, well.

  Sheriff Greene cleared his throat again. “So, anyhow, Phil here says you heard noises in the nighttime?” He had directed the question generally, so I answered first, believing a dose of sanity would not come amiss.

  “I heard what sounded like somebody moving around. I thought the noises were coming from the cellar, but I guess they weren’t. And then I heard a cry.” Every time I thought about that aborted cry, I shuddered. I did it again then.

  Another glance passed between the sheriff, the chief, and the dentist–well, I guess he had his coroner suit on that day–and the sheriff spoke again, this time to Minnie. “Do you mind if my deputy and I have a look in your cellar, Mrs. Blue? In case there was somebody down there last night, he might have left a trace.”

  The notion of some murdering stranger hanging out in Minnie’s cellar didn’t appeal to me one little bit. “I’ll show you,” said I. And, at that moment, I also determined to find the key to the cellar door and make sure it was locked up tight at night from now on.

  “Thank you kindly, Annabelle.” Sheriff Greene nodded at Libby, who stood before her stove, arms crossed over her chest, frowning at the assemblage. “Best dad-gummed cinnamon bun I ever ate, Miss Libby. Thank you kindly.”

  Libby nodded, not noticeably softened by the sheriff’s words of praise.

  “You want to see this, Willard?”

  Chief Vickers shook his head and reached for another roll. “I’ll let you two do your duty. I’ll have myself another of these delicious cinnamon buns.” Guess a fellow can’t stay fat if he doesn’t overeat. Chief Vickers had a paunch that would have rivaled that of Saint Nicholas.

  I allowed the sheriff and his deputy to precede me down the cellar steps. Just in case. I mean, if there was a murdering fiend down there, Sheriff Greene and Earl had guns and I didn’t. Even if I’d had one, I didn’t know how to use firearms. For the first time in my life, I debated whether or not it might be a good idea to take lessons. Phil could most likely teach me, although he probably wouldn’t want to. Shooting people is so unladylike.

  Earl held a kerosene lantern high, to illuminate as much of the cellar space as possible. I don’t know about the two men, but I strained my eyes to see what there was to see.

  It turned out not to be much. The sheriff and his deputy had more training than I in investigation, but I sure didn’t notice anything that looked suspicious.

  I guess they didn’t, either, because when they came back to the staircase (Sheriff Greene had politely requested that I stay on the bottom step and not go with them, but I knew it was a command) Earl was shaking his head.

  “You didn’t find anything?”

  “Not a thing,” confirmed Sheriff Greene. “I don’t think your noises came from down here, Annabelle. Are you sure they sounded like they were coming from underneath you? They didn’t come from the yard?”

  As I walked back up the stairs, I thought hard. Darn it, they had come from
directly underneath the house. Or at least that’s what they’d sounded like. “Well . . . no. Maybe the sounds got warped or something, but I sure got the impression they were coming from beneath the house.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Well? Now what?” Libby’s question was more of a demand than a request, and it had been directed to the room at large.

  “Now I reckon we’ve got to take the body away,” said Doc Bassett.

  “You can use my truck,” Phil offered. “I mean, if you don’t want to get your car dirty, Sheriff.” He blushed, and I shuddered again, even though the offer was a nice one and his point had been valid. Who wants a stinky, dirty, bloody corpse messing up his car seats?

  “Thanks, son. I do believe I’ll take you up on that offer.” Sheriff Greene turned to his deputy. “Earl, can you and Phil lift the body into the bed of Phil’s truck?”

  “Sure thing, sir.”

  Before the two men headed out the kitchen door, Phil turned to me. “Annabelle, will you ring up Pa and tell him where I am? I was in such a hurry after you telephoned that I didn’t even stop to let him know what had happened.”

  “Sure. Come back after you . . . drop off the body.” That didn’t sound right. I guess you need practice for things like correct conversational forms regarding murdered people if you want to remain polite while getting your point across. “You can tell me about it.”

  “Sure thing. Thanks, Annabelle.”

  “You’re welcome.” And I was going to call my parents, too, and beg to be allowed to come home. What with one thing and another, this place was too darned creepy for me.

  So I called Phil’s parents first. They were shocked, which makes sense. Then I called my parents. I don’t think I’d ever heard my mother scream before. She was generally an even-tempered woman.

  “What did you say?”

  I cleared my throat and brought the receiver back to my ear. I’d removed it in order to spare my eardrums. “Some stranger got murdered last night. Outside. In the yard. Next to Aunt Minnie’s chicken coop.”

  There was a pause. Then Ma said, “Who?”

  My nerves were a trifle rattled or I’d never have been sarcastic to my mother. “It was a stranger, Ma.”

  Apparently she was rattled, too, because she didn’t scold me for my tone of voice. “How?”

  I decided I’d skip the part about the rock. “Knife. In the chest.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “Yeah. So, can I come home now, Ma? I don’t like it here.”

  That request was enough to shake her back into her normal mother role. “Annabelle Blue, I’m ashamed of you! How can you even think of leaving your poor aunt at a time like this?”

  It was easy, actually. I was scared, shocked, and disinclined to stick around where people were being murdered. How could my mother expect me to? “Because I might be next!” I cried, wounded to the heart. “Do you want your own daughter to be murdered in her bed?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Annabelle. Nobody’s going to murder you.”

  “I don’t suppose the guy Phil’s driving to town in the bed of his truck expected to be murdered either,” I muttered, feeling abused.

  “Nonsense. What you need to do is pack up Minnie and Libby and bring them back to town with you.”

  That might work. It wouldn’t be any fun to have the two old bats in our house for however long it took to straighten out the mystery of the murdered man, but it would be better than staying at Minnie’s house. “I’ll ask them, Ma.”

  So I did, covering the mouthpiece of the telephone, just in case somebody said something impolite. Minnie and Libby both looked at me as if I had just asked if they’d like to jump off a mountain.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Annabelle. This is where I lived with your uncle Joe, and I’m not going anywhere without him.”

  Oh, brother. “Um . . . can’t Joe come with us?”

  Minnie shook her head. “The spirits don’t work like that.”

  Thinking fast, I said, “Well, if Julia Gilbert’s spirit can move here from the Bottomless Lakes, can’t Joe go to town with you? Just for a little while?”

  I received a glare from Libby and a look of scorn from Aunt Minnie. “I already told you that Julia Gilbert died near here, Annabelle Blue, not at the Bottomless Lakes.”

  Shoot. The woman was impossible.

  Minnie went on. “I don’t care what you and Libby do.” She sniffed. “I’m not leaving your uncle.”

  “I’m not moving,” Libby announced. “And can’t nobody make me.”

  Okay, that took care of that. My heart sinking, I uncovered the mouthpiece. “They don’t want to move to town.”

  “Well, then, you need to stay there with them, Annabelle. I’m sure you’ll be all right.”

  “I’m not sure of anything of the sort! How can anybody be sure of anything since we don’t know why it happened or who did it?”

  “Fiddlesticks. You’re young and spry. Minnie and Libby need to have somebody young and spry watching out for things.”

  “What they need is a bloodhound or one of those big mastiffs. They need the hound of the Baskervilles, not me!”

  “Annabelle.”

  I recognized that tone. With a deep, bitter sigh, I said, “All right, Ma, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. When Sheriff Greene brings my cold dead corpse home to your door, I hope you regret this.”

  “Annabelle, that’s enough.”

  I didn’t think so. But obviously nobody cared what I thought. With a short, “Good-bye, Ma,” I hung up before she could say anything else. For a second there, I almost hoped I would be murdered. That would teach her.

  What was I thinking?

  When I turned around, Minnie and Libby were both watching me. Minnie’s face held an uncertain expression, as if she felt a little guilty about putting me through this. About time, I thought.

  Libby held out a plate. “Here. Take the last cinnamon bun, girl. You’re going to waste away if you don’t eat more.”

  It was the first time I’d seen evidence of humanity in that massive body of Libby’s. I wasn’t ready to forgive her yet, but I did take the proffered bun. I mean, I was already being punished enough; I wasn’t about to assist the process. Libby really was a superb cook.

  As I munched, the telephone rang. I was about to leave my breakfast and answer it, but Minnie did it for me, bless her. “Addie?” She was clearly surprised. “Why, whatever are you phonin’ me for?”

  I rolled my eyes and wondered why nobody ever scolded old ladies for being rude. If I’d answered the telephone like that, I’d be punished for a month, at least. I gleaned the nature of the conversation as Minnie talked. The only Addie I knew was the wife of Rosedale’s shoe-store owner, Mr. Copeland. My assumption proved to be correct.

  “It was terrible, all right,” Minnie said, responding to a question on the other end of the wire. “Annabelle found it.”

  I continued chewing as Minnie listened. It still astonishes me how news can travel so fast in a small town, even a town that, like Rosedale, wasn’t very up to date.

  “We don’t know who it is. Was.” Minnie squinted at me and shook her head and listened some more.

  I got a glass of milk to wash down the cinnamon roll and sat again. Libby couldn’t fuss at me as long as Minnie was on the telephone, so I took full advantage.

  “Thank you, Addie, but I don’t believe we need anything. It was nice of you to call.”

  Huh. She’d called because she was nosy and wanted to be the first to get the scoop from Minnie’s own mouth, was my interpretation of this unexpected telephone call. Not that I’m cynical. I just know my neighbors. Heck, if I’d been in town when a murder occurred, all of my friends who were able would have flocked to the store to talk to me about it.

  Which pointed out an unhappy fact. Although I’d found the body and was the best person from whom to gather information, if anyone wanted it, I was nowhere near anybody with whom I could share the juicy tidbits. I hoped m
y mother would appreciate this sacrifice on my part. She probably wouldn’t.

  After I ate the last of the cinnamon rolls, I dug around in various kitchen drawers and shelves until I found the key to the cellar and put it in my pocket. During the day that door could remain unlocked, but I was going to make darned sure it was locked up as tight as it could be at night.

  Chapter Six

  After Phil, the police chief, the sheriff, and the county coroner left, and Minnie and Libby and I had told each other (several times) how shocked we were about the affair and that we couldn’t understand how such a thing could happen, I gathered the eggs. As I did so, I tried very hard not to look at the patch of bloody earth where traces of death remained. And flies. Hundreds and hundreds of flies.

  I don’t think I’d ever truly comprehended the nature of death until that day. But the fact is that we mortal beings are basically mere receptacles for whatever spirit makes us human. After that spirit is extinguished, all that’s left is fodder for flies and worms.

  Oh, and vultures. I forgot the vultures, which are a very real and everyday part of life in southeastern New Mexico. I saw about two dozen of them on the fence a few yards off, watching me, waiting for me to go away so they could investigate what was left of the dead man, which was only dried blood by that point. If the man had been murdered even a few yards away from Minnie’s house, out on the desert, they’d be feasting on his carcass right this minute.

  Ew.

  I tried to hurry, but I kept looking over my shoulder to see if somebody was sneaking up on me with a big rock in his hand. Or a knife. I suppose I might be easier to kill than a full-grown man, since I’m only a medium-sized woman. Still and all, I didn’t break a single egg, for which I believe I deserved some sort of commendation. What I got from Libby was a grunt. Figures.

  A little after noon that day, I was stripping dill leaves from their twigs for Libby to make pickles with and wondering where Phil was. It shouldn’t take this long to drop off a corpse, should it? I wanted to know what people in town were saying about this mess. It was always possible that somebody in Rosedale had known the man. Somebody might even have an idea as to why he’d been killed and who could have done it.