by Tonya Kappes
“We are working on fingerprints and hoping to have someone by the end of the day.” That was pushing it, but it gave me a few hours for them to let the information sink in about their daughter.
“Can I see her?” Carey looked up. Her eyes had already grown red around the rims.
Wesley
“You can. Max Bogus has her down at the morgue doing an initial autopsy on her. We will need to you come down to identify her, but you won’t be able to touch her until we make sure there’s no DNA from the killer or evidence on her person.” I put the bag on the ground and took out my notepad from my shirt pocket. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you said something about Mrs. Brumfield. Do you mean Lita Brumfield?”
Lita was an elderly woman in the community that pretty much kept to herself. She’d been on a few committees with Mama when I was a child but had really become quite the recluse as she’d gotten older. She was one of Jolee’s Meals on Wheels customers and I remember Jolee saying how Lita made her leave the food in the old tin milk carrier that sat outside of her door on Hickory Hill. Not that Lita killed Avon, but no stone unturned.
“Our Avon is a good girl. She went to college and ended up a physical therapist. She got her a good job over yonder at the rehabilitation center. She’d stop by every morning for a cup of coffee and when she didn’t show up today, I figured she was running late since she and Lita had that run in last night.” Carey continued to look down at her fingers that were shaking in her lap.
I walked over and sat down next to her on the couch, ignoring Wesley as he paced back and forth. The grieving process for men and women were so different. She needed to be comforted while he needed to work out some anger in his head. As the sheriff, I should remain as professional as I could, but I always felt a need to comfort and it was the Southern gal in me that my Mama raised that made me reach over and put a gentle but firm hand on Carey’s. She looked up at me. Her nose flared, her head shook back and forth.
“What happened last night with Mrs. Brumfield?” I asked.
“She’s always hated that we bought and gave Avon the house for her graduation present. We wanted Avon to live here in Cottonwood and she’s accumulated so much debt from college, we wanted her to have a good start in her career. Wesley had talked to the owners who said that Lita was interested because she was getting older and wanted her son and his family to move there so they could take care of her. We don’t have anything against Lita and her family, but we had to look out for our family. Our Avon.” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her tee shirt. “Lita has given Avon a fit ever since she moved in. Ask Deputy Vincent about it. He stops by there at least once a month on a complaint.”
“I will.” I wondered why Finn hadn’t mentioned that. “What sort of things did Avon do to warrant Mrs. Brumfield to make a complaint?”
It was interesting the dynamics—Carey referred to Mrs. Brumfield as Lita and I referred to her by a proper name.
“Avon parked on the street once and you’re not allowed to do that overnight. Then Avon would have friends over and if they went a minute past midnight, she’d call on them,” she said.
I made sure I wrote everything down. It wasn’t something I recalled Betty Murphy reporting to me in the morning meetings, so I’d have to check with Clay’s Ferry dispatch. Since we were a small town, we didn’t have dispatch twenty-four-seven, so we shared it with Clay’s Ferry. There wouldn’t be a report, nor would their dispatch let us know of a disturbance if it was resolved and nothing had come of it. Which was probably the case.
“What kind of car did Avon drive? And color?” I asked. “I’m sure her car is in the parking lot and I’ll need to get it processed after we get it towed using Graves Towing.”
“It’s a grey Ford Taurus. Nothing special.” Wesley got up. “I’ve got the extra set of keys for it here. She made sure we kept a set just in case she locked herself out.”
“I’m sorry, what were you saying about Lita?” I asked.
“Avon was very respectful to her, but last night when Avon had gotten home from a long day.” Carey paused. “One of her favorite rehab patients had died and his funeral was yesterday.”
“Woody Moss?” I questioned and was met with a confirming nod. “I saw your daughter there.”
Another wave of sobs escaped her. I continued to rub her back. Wesley had found a seat in the chair where he’d buried his head in his hands.
“I’ll go see Lita. But can you think of anyone else that Avon had an issue with?” I asked.
“I thought you said she was robbed,” Wesley said through gritted teeth. His eyes filled with anger.
“We aren’t sure, and I want to make sure we don’t miss someone that could’ve possibly made it look like a robbery.” I knew it was like pouring salt into the wound. “I hate to ask you all of these questions, but time is very important in a case like Avon’s.”
“She had been written up by her supervisor at work last week and she was upset about that.” Carey sucked in a deep breath. “This just doesn’t seem real.” She blinked several times.
There was no need for me to ask the supervisor’s name when I was going to go there anyways.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” I asked wondering if they had anyone to come take care of them.
“No. I’ll call our family.” Wesley rubbed his hands together.
All of us jumped towards the door when a woman bolted through. She stood there looking at Carey in shock. The news must’ve already gotten around town that it was Avon Meyers who was found in the park and friends of the family were already coming to give their condolences.
The women grabbed each other like they were hanging on to a lifejacket, in fear of letting go. The horrible sounds of grief expelled from deep within both of them. Wesley found himself back in the position of the chair, seeking grief in his solicitudes.
“I’m going to leave now.” I took out a business card and gave it to Carey. “I’ll be in touch this afternoon.”
She nodded.
Wesley jumped up from the seat and followed me out the screen door. My insides jarred as it slammed shut behind us.
“I’m gonna kill that old lady,” he warned.
“Wesley, don’t go over there.” I put my hand up to his bare chest. “That’s not a good idea and it’s not going to solve anything.”
“It’ll solve a lot.” His nostrils flared, anger spewed from his body.
“No. It won’t. We don’t know if Mrs. Brumfield had anything to do with it. But it would be helpful if you told me what happened between her and Avon last night.” It was something Carey hadn’t finished telling me.
“Avon loved to work in her little garden. There’s a chain-link fence separating their back yards.” He lifted his hand in the air and brushed it through his hair. “When Avon moved into the house, she planted an apple tree. She’d really nurtured that tree.” There was a faint smile on his face. His eyes dipped. “She makes. . . made,” he caught himself. He paused and choked back tears. “She made the best apple pies.” His bottom lips curled under his front top teeth. “Anyways, that old bat had someone come and cut off the branches that were hanging over the fence into her yard. She couldn’t even reach the branches. Avon had told her she was going to have them pruned back once the apples on those branches had fully grown in a couple of months. But that wasn’t good enough for Lita. She made Avon’s life a living hell there.”
He looked out past the picket fence where people were pulling up to the curb in front of their house. All of them emerged with food in their arms. In a small town, after someone had died, the masses came in droves with food and drinks and anything else the grieving family needed. It was one of the great things that I loved about Cottonwood. In time of need, all the citizens put their differences aside and came together.
“We would tell Avon that old Lita couldn’t live that much longer a
nd to tough it out.” His head jumped back as a bitter laugh escaped him. “Joke was on us.”
He took a step off the porch, taking a hand shake from a man as they exchanged sorrows.
“I’m going to let you do your investigation, but if it’s not to my liking, I will go see Lita,” He warned on my way out.
Chapter Eight
“Kenni Lowry, what are you doing slumming on the town branch?” Tibbie Bell was standing outside of her small brick, ranch-style house with a watering pail. “Oh no, something’s wrong.”
There was more than something wrong. I’d practically balled my eyes out walking down North Second Street to get back into the Wagoneer so I could collect myself. In between the tears, I’d texted Finn that I’d just left Avon’s parents’ house and Avon lives on Hickory Hill next to Lita Brumfield, leaving it up to him to grab the address and get over to the house to block off as a possible crime scene. When Tibbie had called out to me, I was texting Avon’s car information to Sean Graves so he’d come out and tow Avon’s car that was parked along the Town Branch.
“There was a girl found dead in the park this morning.” I pointed across the street to Rock Fence Park. “Her parents live on Stratton Avenue and I just left their house.”
“Oh, Sugar.” Tibbie wrapped her arm around me. “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on. Come inside and have a cup.”
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and noticed it was only ten thirty in the morning when I felt like it was much later than that.
“I could use it.” Noting that usually by this time I’d already have downed at least two pots of coffee.
“Do you know who did it?” she asked once we were in her house.
“No. Shot to the chest.” I noticed as I followed her back to the kitchen, she’d already set up the table in the room off the right with the card tables we used for our weekly Euchre game.
She always hosted it because not only did she have the space, but she was single with no kids and loved ones to entertain. I was sure this was why she was so good at her job as the event planner.
“It looks like a robbery.” I said and sat down on one of the bar stools butted up to her counter, waiting on her to pour the coffee.
“Looks like?” Her right brow rose as did the tone in her voice.
“Nothing is ever as it seems, is it?” I questioned and took the mug of coffee from her.
“Are we still talking about the robbery or you?” She was a smart cookie. “We aren’t good friends for nothing.” She winked over top of her cup as she took a sip.
“You’re right. Last night was a disaster.” I might as well change the subject since I really couldn’t talk about the Avon’s case. “We didn’t even make it to the table before they stormed out.”
“What happened?” Tibbie had already gotten ready for her day. Her long brown hair was neatly parted down the middle and pulled up in a messy top knot in a very stylish way. The taupe eye color really made her hazel eyes pop. She was always so good at putting on makeup and I hardly wore any. She had a bell sleeved chiffon shirt tucked into a flowing skirt with a huge belt around her waist. Though she was a bigger figure, she dressed to the nines and looked amazing.
“Mama had asked Preacher Bing to come bless the food. Finn apparently is Catholic. Though he’s been going to the Cottonwood Baptist Church with me on Sundays,” I mentioned.
“When you go,” Tibbie corrected me. “Which isn’t often.”
“At least I go.” I had to find something good about this conversation. “Anyways, when Mama realized this, she had a conniption and informed them that I’d never be Catholic and in turn Shelby said her grandchildren would never be raised Baptist.”
“Those are fighting words. Your mama is Baptist to the core.” Tibbie didn’t tell me nothing I didn’t already know. “What did Finn say?”
“He left with them. They didn’t even park the RV in front of Mrs. Brown’s house. I’d gotten a call from Toots Buford this morning about an RV parked at the Piggly Wiggly. I assumed it was them.” I took a sip. “Poppa made a good point.”
“Poppa?” Tibbie had a half-cocked grin on her face. “You went to the cemetery about this already?”
“Umm...” I gulped down more coffee. “Yeah. You know me. When I need advice, I go to Poppa’s grave and talk it out.”
Good recovery, I thought to myself.
“What did Poppa whisper?” Tibbie gave a quiet snort in the back of her throat.
“I just had a feeling that I should ask Finn now about how he sees his future. Where he will live,” I started to tell her.
She interrupted, “…in Cottonwood, of course.”
“I thought so too, but when I asked him, he said that he didn’t want to be a deputy all of his life, which means I’m either going to not be sheriff here or he move.” My words met a dead silence between me and Tibbie. “What am I going to do?”
“You aren’t engaged. Maybe you can tough it out until this investigation is over and then you two have a come to Jesus meeting about your future.” Tibbie sighed.
Wesley Meyers told Avon to tough it out. What if I’m toughing it out with Finn when he really doesn’t feel the same way I do? Like Avon, was wasting my life away only to come up dead from heartbreak in the end?
“Our future? Our future requires someone moving to advance in their career. I’m happy staying here in Cottonwood along with my family and friends while serving as sheriff. What man wants to have a wife as his boss, plus he went to school to train to move up the ladder not stay a deputy.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to sell her the idea that Finn had a valid point or I was starting to train my heart to expect a blow when Finn did leave to pursue other job opportunities.
“I think you’re putting the cart before the horse. Taking the deputy job was obviously a step down from being a Kentucky State Ranger.” Her assumption was something I’d never even thought of.
At the time, I just needed a warm body to keep at the department while I investigated the death of Doc Walton. Little did I realize how valuable he was.
There was a moment of silence between us as I pondered what she said.
“Maybe he stayed as long as he has because he’s truly in love with you.” Leave it to Tibbie to always be the romantic. Out of the four of our friends, she was always the one who made us go to a romantic movie night over in Luke Jones’s basement that was converted into the town’s movie theater.
“Or he was willing to stick it out since it was an election year.” I took another sip and decided to take the glass half empty approach to the subject matter.
“What are you talking about?” Tibbie’s lip curled up as if she disapproved of what I’d said.
“Maybe he was sticking it out,” there was that phrase again, “to see if I was going to be re-elected. If so, he could take on more responsibility by dating me because I’m a sucker and the town would see that he was in charge but that my name was on the door.”
“Are you saying that Finley Vincent took the case with Doc Walton to come to Cottonwood because you are a girl sheriff?” Tibbie’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
“Tibbie Bell, you need to come out of all the fairy tales of event planning that you do to realize some people will do anything in politics to get ahead.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Especially in Cottonwood.”
“Thank you very much, but I love living my fairy tale world of event planning because I make people’s dreams come true.” She grabbed the glass coffee carafe and refilled her cup. She held it up towards me, asking if I wanted more.
“No thanks.” I took the last drink from my mug and stood up from the table. I walked over and put the empty cup in her sink. “I’ve spent too much time here already. I’ve got a killer on the loose and I have a feeling this one isn’t going to be as easy to solve on my own.”
“What are you talking about?” She a
sked. “You’ve got more help now than you did a few years ago.”
“I’m thinking it’s high time that Finn took little more of a back seat and let me do the full investigation.” It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I knew how the citizens of Cottonwood were. One minute they were your greatest contributor to your campaign fund. It only took one little thing to make them want you voted out. Of course, they’d claim it wasn’t personal and for the good of the town, but I would take it mighty personal if I was doing a good job and by goodness, I was going to make sure they knew I was doing my job.
“That’s right, Kenni bug.” Poppa trotted alongside me on the sidewalk after I left Tibbie’s house. “You stick with your old Poppa-sa and we’ll keep the duo alive.”
“Poppa-sa,” I whispered with a new gitty-up on my go.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I turned at the corner to walk up Oak Street where I’d parked the Jeep at the front of Rock Fence Park.
“Poppa-sa ain’t too stupid.” He winked and tapped his temple with his thick finger.
I couldn’t help but feel a little better like I did when I was a kid or even up until the day he died. I’d go to him with either an issue with Mama or something in my struggling days at the police academy. He’d always give me sound advice and follow it up with Poppa-sa ain’t too stupid.
Somehow, hearing him say those silly words always made me feel better and fixed a lot of things. I sure hoped it was going to fix what was going on not only with bringing a murderer to justice, but the struggle going on deep within my heart.
Chapter Nine
Before I whipped the Jeep around on Oak Street to turn right on Main Street to head south of town to Hickory Hill, Avon’s house, I looked at my phone where Finn had sent a text back saying he was on his way to the house.
“Where did you go?” I asked Poppa under my breath since I didn’t want anyone seeing me talking to myself.
