“Thank god Tinkie has some sense,” Coleman said. “I’m on the way.”
There was nothing to do but wait for Coleman, and that’s exactly what we were doing when Elton Cade showed up at the dig. He talked to the college students for a moment, seemingly genuinely interested in their opinions. Then he came over to us. I was struck again by his bearing. He was tall, chestnut-haired, and had a certain elegance. He would have fit perfectly in a Russian or French court. He had that bearing.
Tinkie and I reintroduced ourselves, but Kawania needed no introduction. She gave Cade a big hug.
“I’m so sorry Frank has been … cast in a suspicious light,” Elton said. “I’ve made arrangements for his bail if he needs it.” He made a visual inventory of the timbers that had been moved and the clearly visible cellar door, but he didn’t say anything. “Where is Frank?” he asked.
“He didn’t do anything wrong.” Kawania was quick to jump to Hafner’s defense.
“Of course not.” Cade said the right thing, but something in his eyes told me otherwise. “Look, I want to help Frank, and I want to get this dig into high gear.” Cade looked down into the open cellar. “Has anyone been down there?”
“No, and no one is going until Coleman gets here.” I had to keep the area from being compromised.
“Okay,” Cade said. “I agree that’s the right approach. Now while we’re waiting for the sheriff to arrive, why don’t we talk about this dig. Why is this suddenly a site worth murdering for? This mound has been here for centuries. The Bailey family lived here. They could have excavated the scene at any time, but no one even thought that anything valuable was here. Now we have a dead woman, ritualistically killed. Why?”
The whole time Cade was talking, Kawania edged away from us. I reached out and grasped her wrist. “Tell me about the curses you claim to put on people.”
“Curses?” Cade was mildly amused. “I didn’t realize Dr. Hafner and his students were dabbling in the occult. I thought they were here for serious scientific research.”
“It was a joke,” Kawania said. She was more sullen than scared. “Some of the students were slacking off on their work, sneaking away, generally being worthless. I made up a story about my great-grandmother having powers to lay a mojo on people. Worked like a charm. They got to work like motivated little beavers.” She grinned.
“Why would they be afraid of your grandmother?” Tinkie asked.
“Helen Laveau. She was a descendant of the great voodoo woman, Marie Laveau.”
“Oh excellent. This just gets better and better. A ritual sacrifice of a body, graves unearthed, the Native Americans unhappy, the discovery of a cellar beneath a house that burned mysteriously, ghosts of dead Baileys running around the property, and now a Laveau relative putting curses on people. Can we get any more Gothic?” Tinkie put her hands on her hips. She was outdone.
“My job is to motivate those kids to work however I can. Frank thought it was amusing,” she scoffed. “Delane was furious. She said I’d frightened the students so they didn’t want to work after dark.”
“I guess there’s no Equal Employment Opportunity Commission for graduate students.” Yeah, I was being a smart aleck.
“Those students are working for a grade. There’s no forty-hour week and they knew that when they signed on. We have to excavate and find enough to warrant future grants or the dig will shut down.” Kawania had the financial basics of the dig down pat. I was impressed with the students both Hafner and Wells had brought with them. They might not all be completely devoted to archeology, but they were intelligent.
“That’s all true,” Cade said. “As one of the investors in this dig, I want results. Frank understood that, but he also understood that the integrity of the site was paramount. That’s why I hired him and donated so handsomely to this cause.”
Now was a chance to understand something I hadn’t before. “What results are you after? What is it you hope to discover? Native Americans lived on this land long before Europeans came here. A lot of the burial mounds along the Mississippi River have been examined. What’s so special about this one that you’d invest in the excavation?”
“There have always been rumors of gold and treasure brought north by Hernando de Soto and other explorers from South and Central America. Most archeologists believe de Soto followed the Mississippi River very closely. If anything was discovered by him, it would have been left along the river’s banks. If it’s still here, it would likely be in a protected area. A mound. It makes sense to me that if there was something of great value to the Tunicas, they would have moved it inland to a mound. Like this one. Remember, the Mississippi River flooded hundreds of thousands of acres before the levee system was put in. Moving inland for the most sacred possessions and burials only makes sense.”
It made sense, but what a risk of millions on the concept that a tribe of people hundreds of years ago decided to move away from the river. “This sounds more like risk than investment.”
“As a young boy, I wanted to be an archeologist. I thought I’d find famous tombs and fabulous wealth.” He laughed and there was genuine humor in it. “I wanted to be famous for exploring.”
“All young boys dream of that,” Tinkie said.
“I studied archeology in college, until my father’s death. Then I switched to business and it became apparent that I was very good at it. That and making toys. I focused on my talents, but I never gave up my dreams of participating in a dig. Even if only as an investor. I’ve had a fortunate life in many ways. You could say I never grew up.”
“And this excavation is a chance to reclaim your childhood dream?” I asked.
“Only as an investor. I don’t want to physically participate or interfere. I just want to do something to acknowledge a civilization that was here long before my family came. To learn about the native people who worked this land and lived here. To find the lessons always left for us in history.”
“Do you know Peter Deerstalker?” Tinkie asked. She knew the answer, but it was a little test.
“Yes, Peter and I have been friends a long time. He’s disappointed with me now because I’ve invested in this dig, which he views as a violation. We’ve had good conversations about this and, though we disagree, we respect each other. This will pass and we’ll renew our friendship.”
He sounded very sure of something I didn’t see as a solid fact. Peter Deerstalker viewed the dig as a desecration of his tribe. I wasn’t so sure he’d get over that.
“Elton, who do you think killed Sandra Wells, and why?” I asked.
“Miss Laveau, would you excuse us?” he said. “I know it’s a trudge up and down the mound, but if you could get the food baskets out of the trunk of my car, I brought some refreshments for the students. Take three or four of them with you to help carry the supplies.”
He was fluid and accomplished in easing his way through social situations. I had to give him that. When Kawania was gone, he motioned Tinkie and me over to an old oak tree that offered a comfortable place to sit. We plopped on the roots.
“Sandra Wells was a claim jumper, if you want to use old west gold mine terminology. I didn’t want her on this dig and I made that clear, but the grant sponsors were determined. Frank hated her interference and her determination to speed the dig up for her theatrical purposes. While Frank focused on the integrity of the dig, she was interested only in results. Her students hated her. The people in Zinnia hated her, just ask around. And her peers back at the University of Michigan loathed her. She made enemies everywhere she went.”
“And yet Frank Hafner slept with her.” Tinkie just put it out there.
Elton Cade laughed. “So did I.”
Now that was unexpected news.
“Sandra had a sexual appetite that was … unquenchable. There’s not a man alive who can resist that if it’s pushed in his face again and again. There was nothing tender or loving or even companionable. Sex with Sandra was more like … battle.”
“Then
why…” Tinkie didn’t finish. She knew.
“It’s not an aspect of my character I’m proud of, but it is very much a part of being male. I’m happily married and I love my wife and son. My fling with Sandra had nothing to do with my daily life.”
“Except that’s not true.” I wasn’t a prude or champion of monogamy, but I was a cheerleader for truth. Cheating was, by definition, not telling the truth.
“My wife knows. I told her, which is why I can be so open with you. I know you’re working for Frank, and I want you to prove he’s innocent. I also knew you’d dig up this affair sooner or later. I thought I’d tell you so you’d realize there are no secrets between Lolly, my wife, and me.”
I wondered what Lolly really thought about the affair. Elton Cade didn’t realize it, but we now had another suspect. Lolly Cade couldn’t have done this particular crime—by herself—unless she was Lumberjack Lolly. To hang Dr. Wells’ body in the fashion it was left, she would need help. She had plenty of money—she could have hired muscle or she could have asked a friend. “Coleman is going to want to know all about this.” Elton was looking more like the prime suspect than our client Frank. Tinkie and I exchanged looks—we were on the same page.
“I’ll tell Coleman all of this. I’m the reason Sandra came to Zinnia several weeks early. Let me defend myself by saying her talk about the dig made her seem like an excellent partner. But all that was only talk. She was out only for herself. But I digress. Sandra and I had a thing. The intensity…” He looked away and a distant look came into his face, something sad and shadowy. “It was horrible and wonderful. I’ve never been so … addicted.”
“What made you stop?” I asked.
“Common sense. I hadn’t been to work for two weeks. I didn’t answer my phone. We ordered food sent to the room, and for those days we never left the penthouse of the Prince Albert. I woke up one morning and realized that I’d traded my life, my real life and all I’d worked for and cared about, for a sensation. That was it. I showered, dressed, and went home.”
“Mired in the fog of sex,” Tinkie said under her breath. “You are one lucky man your wife didn’t shoot you.”
“Yes, I am. Lolly is an amazing woman. Now that you know my dark secret, I have to return to work. I just came to check on the students and tell you, or the sheriff, or whoever I found here about my affair.” His face brightened. “Now that’s behind me and I can focus on what I do best. I’ve invented a new game. Initial testing indicates that the four-to-six age group will go wild for this. The good thing is that it involves puzzle solving and physical activity.”
From what I knew about Cade, his toys, and his stores, he did insist that the products he made and sold generated healthy activities for kids. In some stores he’d put in a cross-training track that children—and their parents—had to complete to be able to buy a toy. Everyone said it would doom the stores. Instead, they were one of the few big box chains that gained visitors and sales each month.
“Could we have a number in case we need to reach you?” I asked.
“Sure. And pass this info to the sheriff if you would. Ask him please not to speak with Lolly unless there’s no other way. I don’t want to rub her nose in this, as it were.”
I could see his point. “I’ll pass that along.”
Cade walked back through the students, who were eating the sandwiches he’d had catered from Millie’s and sipping hot coffee or Coca-Cola. Cade was halfway down the side of the mound when Peter Deerstalker joined him. They talked for a moment. Cade held out his hand, but Peter walked away.
“What do you think?” I asked Tinkie.
“Sandra must have had a real action-packed badonkadonk. All she had to do was wag it and the men lost their minds. And I admire Elton. I’ve never seen a man be so forthcoming about a sexual compulsion. Most of them try to rationalize that they’re in love or something.”
“Just plain old shagging and the two-backed beast.”
Tinkie laughed. “I doubt it was that simple, Sarah Booth. But let’s go check with Lolly while we know Elton is out of the house.”
“Good idea. And here’s Budgie to inspect the cellar. He’s packing about a hundred pounds of lights and batteries.”
We helped him carry some of his equipment to the top. When he was ready to open the cellar, he looked at us. “Coleman told me he’d skin me if I let anyone down here.”
“But we called Coleman,” I protested.
“And I’ll call you and tell you everything I find.” Budgie pulled his collar away from his neck. He was not comfortable sending us away.
“Oh, Sarah Booth, take pity on the man. We’ll find out everything, and we have something else to do.” Tinkie motioned me to step away from the cellar. “Probably nothing down there but spiders.”
I didn’t know what she had up her sleeve, but I had to trust her. “Okay. Call us, Budgie.” We made one last trip down the side of the mound and I hoped I didn’t have to climb it again in the next decade.
We whistled up the dogs, who were having a second lunch with the students, and Pluto, who’d become besties with Kawania. She was feeding him shrimp from her po’boy. Never let it be said that Pluto missed a meal of seafood for any reason.
As I opened the car door, the wind kicked up with sudden force. A fast-food bag blew across the parking area and into the edge of the woods. Something moved deep in the trees. I caught just a glimpse of white, like a shirt or a dress, and then it was lost in shadows. But thirty yards to the east, Cooley Marsh came out of the woods. He looked around furtively before he broke into a run toward the mound. Perhaps he’d been answering the call of nature, but he sure acted suspicious. It was something to keep in the back of my mind.
7
The Cade house was well known in Sunflower County. When Elton’s son, James, or Jimmy, as he was known, was in grade school, the Cades had installed a semipermanent fair on the grounds. There’d been a Ferris wheel, bumper cars, a Tilt-A-Whirl, and a small midway with games of chance. All of the children in the county were invited periodically to come and play with Jimmy. The young boy, who had to be in his teens by now, had been beloved by the local kids. He might have been Richie Rich, but he was a kind boy with a generous nature, like his dad.
There was no sign of any of the thrill rides as Tinkie and I turned down the private road that led through apple and peach orchards to the house. Elton Cade had also had a hand in developing the fruit trees that grew well in the Delta climate—normally too humid and hot for most fruit trees. Along with toys, he was deeply into grafting fruit trees.
The house, which expanded from a central front wing into staggered wings with lookout towers and all kinds of architectural fantasy elements, seemed silent, strangely abandoned. It was a huge house for three people. Once it had been the party center for dozens of kids. It made me sad to think that Jimmy had outgrown that little boy who’d been such an ardent lover of fairies, elves, magic, and adventure. The sadness came because it happened to almost everyone. Puff the Magic Dragon knew these things.
“Do you know Lolly?” Tinkie asked.
“No. Should I?”
“She married Elton, but she was from up around Charlottesville, Virginia. She came down to Ole Miss for school and met Elton. She’s a super-sweet person. I can’t see her as a killer.”
“Probably not, but it won’t hurt to talk to her. If she caught on that Elton was sleeping with Sandra Wells, it’s a solid motive.”
“We aren’t going to mention the affair, are we?”
I’d given this some thought while we were driving. “No. Let’s not. Elton says she knows and I believe him. There’s no advantage in trying to shock something out of her. Let’s just talk about the dig and Elton’s involvement in it. Peter Deerstalker was supposed to be at their house when the murder occurred so, technically, they alibi each other. Maybe Lolly knows something useful. Maybe she met someone she thinks is suspicious. I’m sure she’s eager to clear Frank so the dig can continue.”
“Good plan,” Tinkie agreed.
“Is Jimmy going to school in Sunflower County? He would have to be, what, sixteen?”
“I don’t know. Lolly kind of dropped out of the local society clubs. I think she’s writing a book or something. I feel bad I haven’t thought to check up on her.”
“People with money—folks automatically think they’ve got everything covered.”
“And I’m as guilty as everyone else. I just assumed Lolly could buy whatever she needs. I’m insensitive.”
“That’s not true, Tinkie. If she’s writing a novel, I’m sure she’s glad we haven’t been aggravating her. Writers need alone time.”
“Good point.” Tinkie brightened as I stopped near the walk. We got out and strolled to the front door through an alley of beautiful redbuds that were purply-pink—the tiny flowers budding against the gray trunks. The sight was magical. Later, the green leaves would come, but now the flowers were a purple mist against the blue sky.
Lolly answered our knock, and her smile for Tinkie shifted instantly into a hug and kiss. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said. Turning to me, she clasped my hand warmly. “And you are Sarah Booth Delaney. I’ve heard about the detective agency you two run.” The smile faltered. “Are you here on business?”
Tinkie laughed, put her arm around Lolly’s waist, and nudged her toward the front parlor.
I gawked at the interior of the house, which was beautiful. The foyer was lovely teakwood and tiled floors, a vaulted ceiling that included a life-size wooden angel. It flew over the room, protecting all who entered.
In the parlor, a full life Pegasus reared in a corner, his wings spread. I was struck by the magnificence of the creation.
“Elton makes those,” Lolly said. “They function mechanically. The horse can walk and run and the wings flap. He doesn’t fly, though. That was a disappointment to Jimmy when he was young.”
It was the perfect opening for Tinkie. “Sarah Booth and I were remembering the days when Jimmy had his fair on the front lawn.”
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