Jewel of a Murderer

by M. Glenn Graves

  “Odem died while he was serving a prison term in New Jersey. The report I received came out of that investigation several years ago,” I lied. It seemed like the thing to do at the moment. I wasn’t all that comfortable with my position. It wasn’t an out and out lie; however, it was bending the truth so much that I could hear it break.

  “Oh, it was a police investigation,” he said, more of a question than a statement.

  “Yessir,” I agreed. “I’m trying to find out if there was more of a connection between Odem and my murdered victim than just their prior friendship.”

  “And how would I know that?” he said.

  “You probably wouldn’t, necessarily. But you might know something that could help me.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, if you have no idea, then I certainly have no idea. I don’t know why you came to see me,” he raised his voice again.

  “I just need you to clarify a handwritten note of which I was made aware of,” I said, halfway pleading at this point. I was hoping that what little I knew about his scribbling might jog his memory.

  “Oh,” he said. “What did I write?”

  “You must have noticed something about Pearl’s uterus that made you raise a question, a question you couldn’t answer. But, in the margin you wrote the word forceps with a question mark following it. Then underneath that, you wrote the words fistula formation with a question mark after those two words. Do you recall that?”

  He chuckled to himself. He then looked at me as if for the first time. He smiled. I had a bad feeling about his memory as much as I did about his reticence to tell me what he meant by what he wrote if he could remember at all. I was thinking of patient confidentiality.

  “You have beautiful hair,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “My wife was a blonde,” he said.

  I nodded since I had nothing to add to that statement that came from somewhere in the archives of his memories.

  “She left,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said in a natural sort of response. It was all I could think of to say at the moment.

  “I miss her.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I know what it’s like to miss someone who has left.”

  He looked hard at me.

  “Someone you loved now gone from your life?” he said.

  “Lost my father years ago. He was shot in the driveway of our home. I was eleven.”

  “Damn, lady. That’s a hard way to lose somebody. My wife just died. Never been sick a day in her life and she up and died on me. She left…,” he stopped in mid-sentence and turned to look at Reddy.

  “It’s been a while, Doc,” he said.

  “How long, Mister Reese?” Bernstein said.

  “Twelve years.”

  “Makes little difference,” Bernstein said. “Time is meaningless now.”

  Chapter 44

  We were all standing at the door saying our goodbyes. Dr. Samuel Bernstein couldn’t recall anything about those marginal notes. Too many patients, too many years of medical practice, and likely too many medical reports written with marginal notes. I counted myself lucky that he recalled Pearl Higgins at all. I had learned practically nothing. At least I had learned nothing that I considered helpful with the investigation.

  Jane and Reddy hugged him and asked if he needed anything. He claimed that he was fine and that he appreciated their visit. He told me that he was glad to meet me. Imagine that.

  “Whose dog is that?” he said as we walked down the front steps.

  “The black Lab is mine,” I said.

  “No, I mean the white one, the one with that patch over his eye,” Bernstein said.

  Reddy and Jane stopped on the steps. I continued moving toward the two dogs.

  “That’s Butch, Doctor Bernstein. He’s your watch dog. He’s a good one, too,” Reddy said.

  “I don’t remember having a dog. Butch, you say?”

  “Yeah, call him,” Reddy said.

  “He’s not my dog,” Bernstein said.

  “Butch!” Reddy called out to the dog. The dog looked up from his continuing negotiations with Sam, jumped to all four feet and came running over to the steps. He nudged Dr. Bernstein’s legs and sat down on his haunches as if waiting for Bernstein to pat him on the head or say something.

  “Maybe you better take him with you, Mister Reese. I don’t need a dog around here. I don’t know who left that dog, but he’s not mine.”

  Reddy looked at Jane and she shrugged. I think they were at a loss. I approached my two human colleagues while they were figuring out something to do with this turn of events.

  “Butch can ride in the back of the pickup with Sam. They’re BFF’s and we’ll find a place for Butch to stay. Besides, the doctor here might change his mind in a day or so,” I said.

  “I doubt that. Never have been a dog person, at least not until…she left. Butch, you say? That has a familiar ring to it. Butch. Seems like I know that name from some place. Well, you go on and take the dog with you, Mister Reese. Let me know if you find a place for him.”

  We turned and headed towards the archway. The two dogs were ahead of us running as fast as they could. Butch likely enjoyed having a playmate. Sam, too.

  As we arrived at the archway, Dr. Bernstein hollered at us.

  “Wait a minute,” he said and came down the steps and walked over to us quickly. “I remember that Pearl developed a problem some time after her first childbirth. I didn’t deliver her first child. He was born in Asheville, I think. It was a hard delivery, at least I think I recall her telling me that. Much like the time when Odem was born. I had to help her with that one. Very difficult. I don’t remember what it turned out to be, that scribbling you asked me about. But she did have two boys, I do remember that. Maybe that’ll help you. I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like much to me…oh well.”

  He turned and walked away without another word. He entered the cabin and I heard the door shut hard.

  We were headed down the mountain to Reddy Reese’s place with two dogs in the back. I had little information for my efforts. Sometimes that’s the way a lead works out. You do what you do and hope for the best.

  “Wasted trip, Clancy Evans?” Reddy said.

  “Likely, but…who knows? I’m one of those plodders. I don’t ever give up and I don’t exactly know when to consider something a dead-end.”

  “Similar reputation as a bulldog has, huh?” Reddy said.

  “Something like that.”

  “I’m a little like that,” he said.

  “You’re a lot like that,” Jane said. “This man will work himself to death to fix something that somebody has either mistreated or broken down. He’s miracle worker, if you ask folks in the mountains. That’d be his reputation. He never gives up.”

  “Don’t flatter me when we’re among strangers,” he said to Jane and laughed.

  He pulled into the front of his shop and stopped. He left the motor running.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with, Clancy Evans?” he said. I had the feeling I was being unceremoniously dumped off here at my car so I could be on my merry way. Efficiently polite. Asking me to leave without asking. Clever man.

  “I think you’ve been more than a little helpful. I owe you for the chauffeuring as well as the negotiating. I shall remain in your debt until you’re accused of a crime you didn’t commit. Call me when you’re knee deep in trouble.”

  I climbed out of the cab and removed the sweatshirt Reddy had loaned me for our trip up the mountain. It was then I realized why he had left the motor running.

  “Reddy, I can take Jane back to her place of business,” I said.

  “Naw, you don’t have to do that. I need to get some more of those delicious sweet rolls for breakfast tomorrow. Thanks anyway.”

  As I was about to close his truck door, a loud bell rang. Its sound was excruciating. The noise was coming from the loudspeaker moun
ted on the outside wall of his garage. Irritating gadget.

  “Rats,” Reddy said. “That’s the signal for a phone call. I guess I’d better take that, Jane. Might be an angry customer.”

  “That’s doubtful. But, if you don’t mind, I’ll let you get the phone and I’ll take Clancy up on her offer to give me a lift back to Billy’s.”

  As Reddy was running inside to answer his telephone, he stopped and looked back at us.

  “We forgot about Butch,” he hollered and then ran inside.

  “Oh, yes, the dog,” Jane said. “As I recall, taking the dog with us was your idea. You good with taking him back to Norfolk?”

  “Wasn’t my thinking,” I said. “I had in mind that Reddy could keep the dog until the doctor remembered that Butch belonged to him.”

  “Yeah, better idea,” she said, “but sometimes these memory lapses last for several weeks. Butch could end up here for quite a spell. Don’t know how Reddy would take to that.”

  “How about you and Billy?” I said.

  “No way, honey. Not in my lifetime. No dogs or cats in my cupboard. Billy would not only fire me, he’d divorce me.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” I said. “I guess we’ll have to wait to see what Reddy will do.”

  Reddy emerged from inside and motioned for me.

  “Call’s for you,” he said. “Doctor Bernstein remembered something else. The phone’s on the wall to the right of my work desk, over to your right.” Reddy pointed the direction I needed to head.

  “You and Jane can decide about Butch,” I said as I passed by him and moved towards the telephone.

  “Yeah, thanks for that,” he said.

  I picked up the receiver and spoke.

  “This is Clancy.”

  “It was Garnet’s baby. I didn’t deliver it. It was during my early days in the county. I came down here from New York, you know. Meant to stay a few years to pay off the cost of education, not cheap studying to become a doctor. Didn’t turn out much good,” he said.

  He hung up.

  Bernstein gave me no opportunity to question him. Nothing like having to interview a former New Yorker with a fading memory. Hard to recall things, but when he does, it’s abrupt and to the point. At least it’s to his point. Maybe not mine. And yet I had a morsel of a clue. Garnet Stone Connelly was the father of both boys born to Pearl Higgins.

  When I returned to Reddy and Jane, Reddy was horsing around with Butch. He was throwing sticks and Butch was retrieving.

  “There’s your answer,” Jane said.

  “Yeah. Good match.”

  Sam was watching the retrieving when I called him to get into the car. I then gave Jane a ride to Billy’s. We left Reddy and Butch playing fetch.

  I parked in front of Billy’s and turned off the engine.

  “You mind if I ask you a question?” I said.

  “I don’t have to answer.”

  “True enough. Why did Reddy want you to go along on this excursion to Doctor Bernstein’s place?” I said.

  “Fair question. When Sam Bernstein came to town years ago, I worked for him. I think it was a five- or six-year stint for me. Then Billy opened this place and, well, you can guess. I enjoyed cooking and baking more than answering the phone and scheduling appointments. I wasn’t trained to do anything except be pleasant and treat the folks with some decency.”

  “You were good at that, I suppose,” I said.

  “If that’s a compliment, I’ll take it. Thank you. I’d rather bake and keep Billy on his toes.”

  “So, Reddy wanted you along in case he couldn’t get through to the doctor.”

  “Well, something like that. What I didn’t say was that when Sam Bernstein came to town, he was single, and I was single. We dated some. He had a thing for me, and I didn’t have anything for him. I liked him, but not romantically speaking, if you know what I mean. Nice guy but not my type.”

  “But Bernstein didn’t say much to you,” I said.

  “Eye contact. He saw me. He knew me, too. I guess old flames die hard. Reddy and Billy both knew that. If Reddy couldn’t get through to him, then they both knew I could. I was what you might call plan B.”

  “Thanks for going along. Enjoyed meeting you.”

  “Same here, Clancy Evans. Did you learn anything that might help you or provide another clue or lead, as they say in your business?”

  “I know more than I did when I got here, but not much more. I now know that Odem had a brother. You know anything about him?”

  “You mean the older brother, I suspect. No, not much. More gossip and reputation than anything of substance. He was a troubled youngster. Never did amount to much as a kid. Stayed in jail about as much as he stayed out of jail. Ran away when he was a teenager, I guess it was. Yeah, he was still a teenager, an older teenager. That’s about all I know.”

  “Bernstein didn’t give me a name.”

  “That older brother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All I remember is that he was called Stone.”

  She climbed out of the car and then told me to hold on for a minute. She said she wanted to give me something. She was gone about a minute. When she returned, she handed me a paper sack, told me to be careful, and said I was welcomed at Billy’s anytime. Nice to hear.

  My curiosity got the better of me. Less than five miles toward Norfolk, I grabbed the sack and looked inside. She had stuffed several sweet rolls in the bag. Sam noticed my treasure as he was looking over the seat into the bag along with me. I would likely have to share those delights with him, but definitely limit his quantity.

  Turned out to be a delicious gift.

  Chapter 45

  As I was driving through Dan River, I thought of two things. The help of Cliff Hodgins in locating Sammy Wagoner, the estranged father of Candace Glover, was the first thought that came to me. The second was that Cliff Hodgins was the brother of my old boss and friend, Captain Thomas J. Wineski. When Wineski came to mind in that context it reminded me that I needed to check in with him. Always good to connect some dots.

  It was late so I found him relaxing somewhere away from his office.

  “You know what time it is?” his gruff voice sounded too familiar. It was a sound that I had grown used to after our years of working together. It resonated as a comfortable sound for me. I generally ignored his gruff nature when I could.

  I looked at the phone and saw the time.

  “Yeah, I know. Why?”

  “Why are you calling me so late?”

  “Checking in.”

  “You got something important?”

  “Not that I would write home about. But, it’s information.”

  “So, you know more than you did when you left here, but you’re not any closer to discovering who killed those three people and attacked you?”

  “Sums it up well,” I said.

  “Time and money down the drain.”

  “My time and my money, as I recall you commanded me at the outset of my trip.”

  “Smart me.”

  “McGrady and Andrews got anything?”

  “Nothing yet. Still on the trail. Sniffing here and there. Nothing that they have reported so far. You haven’t been gone that long.”

  “If I’m right, and the three are connected, they won’t find much.”

  “So, you’re still holding to that theory, all three people are related somehow or at least they are connected to the killer?”

  “Holding.”

  “And you know that Drew and Jeffrey Goodall were…,” he hesitated. “Friends.”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “And you also know that Jeffrey and Candace were brother and sister.”

  “That, too.”

  “Any strong connection between Drew and Candace?”

  “Nothing on that.”

  “And the link from New Jersey only affected Drew, with that…ah…Ahab kid?”

  “You mean Odem?”

  “Odem. Yeah, right. Odem. Did h
is mother like him?”

  “It’s a bit unusual, but he’s named after a precious stone that’s found in the Old Testament, a stone in the breastplate of Aaron’s priestly garments. Odem probably means red from the Hebrew language.”

  “Are you pullin’ my leg here, Clancy?”

  “Not in the least. Comes from tenacious research. I deal only in facts.”

  “Along with trivia and some supposition from time to time, and a smidgen of somebody’s breast plate from the Bible…that means little to me. Oh, and let’s not forget you still insist on linking the three murder victims together,” he clarified.

  “Yeah, some supposing, I guess.”

  “But this Odem name…is…what, you said?”

  “Hebrew of origin. Kid also had a middle name of Stone.”

  Then it dawned on me what Jane had said was his brother’s name – Stone. It was the name he went by. I needed to have Rogers check on his full name. Likely enough that Pearl Higgins named both of her boys. Both had the Stone middle name. Consistency.

  “Did you hear me?” Wineski said.

  I hadn’t heard him say anything. My brain was on that tangent notion of the name Stone.

  “Sorry, my mind was wandering.”

  “Stay with me, kid. I asked if you were coming home after your dubious mission in the mountains.”

  “En route as we speak.”

  “You and the dog.”

  “Me, the dog, and a sack with only two sweet rolls left to munch.”

  “Sweet rolls?” he asked with his inquisitive tone.

  I thought I detected the sound of Wineski smacking his lips.

  “And you thought it was a wasted trip.”

  “I did do an initial search to see if Odem Stone Higgins had a brother, but nothing popped.”

  “Yeah, that was mostly my fault. I should have had you search in a different direction.”

  “And what direction would that be?” she asked.

  “I think I intended to have you search the name Stone Higgins or Stone Connelly independent of any connection to Odem. But I completely forgot to do that. In fact, it is only now as I am telling you what happened on that trip and that phone conversation with Wineski that I remember I had failed to have you do some checking.”