“Yeah, I guess that’s thing. So, no names in the article you found?”
“No names, only the initials K.C. which happen to match the initials of the person you asked me to investigate. It could’ve easily been all made up by that jack-leg reporter. Still, when I came across that in light of your investigation and conjecture, I thought it worthwhile to tell you.”
“Anything more?”
“Nothing of substance.”
“I need you to keep digging. Look for a roster of names for the 5th grade class of Athens Elementary, 1984. Teacher was a Mrs. Robertson. I would like to know the names of the entire student class that year.”
“I’ll call you when I have something. And, I suppose, you want me to keep digging until I find the name of the woman who found that child.”
“I already know that. But, it would be good if you could find some evidence to support what I already know.”
“Hot dog, I get to back up your intuition with fact. Always a fun thing. Let me see… if you already believe you know who it is, then that means…. oh, my…do tell. Josephine Starling, I would fathom a guess,” Rogers said.
I was dumbfounded. It’s one thing to take facts and form an opinion or supposition about a subject. It is quite another for a machine with AI to take some data and make a guess. At least it was for my way of thinking.
“I didn’t think computers guessed at all. Facts, only the facts. Like Joe Friday.”
“Who?”
“Look it up. You have the resources. But how did you come up with Aunt Jo?” I said.
“Logical deduction. Besides that, her name came up in a short list of possible suspects.”
“Suspects?”
“I entered the online official documents of the Town of Madison, courthouse records, you know. Found a list of names of people who might have been around at that time for this wild child story.”
“I wonder how she kept her name out of the records,” I said.
“Who you know.”
“She doesn’t have that kind of clout.”
“What kind of clout does she have?” Rogers asked.
At that moment I concluded that Josephine Starling was indeed a clever woman with means beyond whatever the most powerful person around might accomplish. I had no idea how she had helped raise that child without some record of it, but I had the belief that if anyone could do it, she could. Another conversation with Aunt Jo was suddenly on my to-do list.
By the time I had finished my early morning call with Rogers, Starnes was up and Rosey was fixing a full breakfast for the two tired females of the house. It’s always good to have a man around to do some domestic chores.
While we three were wolfing down eggs, bacon, toast, and some grits, Sam meandered into the kitchen no doubt drawn by the delicious aromas circulating throughout the house. He was moving slowly, but at least he showed significant signs of life.
I gave him the rest of my eggs, a slice of bacon, and a piece of toast. I kept the grits for myself. Starnes fed both the dogs some regular dog food and then returned to the table.
“Rosey, I think you can move in anytime you want as long as you promise to be the resident chef of this establishment.”
“Is that a job offer?” he said.
“No money or benefits, but the working conditions are good,” Starnes said.
“So what did you two detectives uncover with your late night escapade?” he said.
“Another body, but this time it was mostly intact,” I said.
“Mostly,” he said.
“Head was nearly severed by something fierce and angry,” Starnes said.
“Animal or man?”
“Our money’s on an animal, at least that’s our working hypothesis for the moment,” I said.
Rosey looked at Starnes to see if there was verification. Starnes shrugged and started gathering dishes to be washed. I joined her at the sink. I was still trying to shake out the cobwebs from my brain. Three cups of coffee were not sufficient as yet. Maybe drying the dishes would bring me to my senses.
“I’ll take the dogs for a morning jaunt while you ladies wash and dry. Be back in less than an hour,” Rosey said as he exited the front door with Dog and Sam leading the way.
“Name the victims thus far,” I said to Starnes while I dried off a plate.
“Rufus Ramsey, Randall Lee Carter, Hack Ponder, and Dottie Higgins. At least for the moment we can include Dottie.”
“Well, we know that Rufus and Dottie are connected, albeit with that 5th grade sputtering romance. Plus, we have that note we discovered at Rufus’ cabin which was very similar to the note we uncovered at Dottie’s place. So where do Randall Lee and Hack Ponder fit into the equation of our murdered victims?” I said.
Starnes washed some dishes without answering. I tried to dry as fast as she washed, but I couldn’t keep up. The dish drainer was filling up.
“Where’s that photograph we found in Dottie’s secret stash?” I said.
“The class picture?” she said.
“Yeah, that one.”
She dried her hands on my dish cloth and left me speechless. My mother would have either died on the spot at such a gesture or scolded her into the next life. I changed drying cloths while she was finding the photo. I finished wiping down the dishes from the drainer and found Starnes studying the photograph in the living room.
“Find anybody you know?” I said.
“Yeah.”
I waited. She was silent.
I sat down on the couch next to her. She handed me the photo and pointed to a gangly youth on the back row standing next to Rufus.
“That’s Randall Lee Carter,” she said. “I missed him when I first saw this picture. But that’s Randall Lee for sure. I chased him through the woods often enough.”
38
Starnes and I were on the road to the far end of Gabriel’s Creek to visit with the strange lady named K.C. Higgins. Rosey agreed to stay behind and keep the dogs. Sam was still a little woozy from his tranquilizer injection and I didn’t want him encountering K.C. so soon after our episode. Sam wasn’t nearly as forgiving as I about such matters.
“You think Dottie had a crush on Rufus back in the 5th grade?” Starnes said.
“Seems like a genuine possibility.”
“You think that scratching out that child who stood between them was more than removing an obstacle?” she said.
“As in prepubescent hatred?” I said.
“Maybe.”
“And now we have connected Randall Lee to that class.”
“Breakthrough?” Starnes said.
“Could be an earthquake, but I’m just not sure how it all fits,” I said.
“Old Hack Ponder is still out there with no seeming point of connectivity.”
“Wow, sounds impressive when you say it that way.”
“Ignorance often is impressive,” Starnes said.
“And I just thought it was a void in my learning curve,” I said.
We parked in front of K.C.’s house when the front door opened and she emerged. She walked towards us as we climbed out of Starnes’ truck.
“You forget something?” K.C. said.
“Had some questions that needing answering. All the commotion stymied our thinking,” I said.
“Commotion?”
“Yeah, when you brought Sam in from the woods in his drunken stupor,” I said.
A faint smile appeared on K.C. Higgins’ face. It faded quickly.
“I’m busy, so ask your questions quickly.”
“May we come inside?” Starnes said.
“We can talk out here,” she replied.
“You’re not breeding any dogs at the moment,” I said.
“Is that a question?”
“Observation. Your dogs are not chattering,” I said.
“Chattering? No, they’re quiet now. My bitch is expecting a litter any day now. I keep her close to me. I can’t take any chances on her being contaminated.”
“That’s right. I have a reputation to preserve. The people who want the dogs I breed expect the best.”
“Still breeding English Sheepdogs with coyotes?” I said.
“Something like that. It’s a little more complicated than what you suggest, but to answer your question, that would be a close proximity to what I am doing.”
“May we see your dogs?” I said.
“For what purpose?”
“Idle curiosity,” I said. “I like dogs.”
“You’ll have to control your curiosity. The dogs don’t need to be disturbed today.”
“Something special happening today?”
A frown appeared on her face but it disappeared rapidly. I must have asked something that surprised her or angered her. I couldn’t tell which it was.
“Any more questions?” she said.
“What were you doing in 1984?” I said.
The question surprised even me. Starnes glanced at me for a moment and then returned her gaze to K.C. Higgins.
“That’s a long time ago,” she said. “I was a little girl.”
“Yeah, a few years back. You recall what grade that was for you in school?”
K.C. Higgins was lost in thought for a few moments. She seemed to be trying to remember what was happening to her during that time of her life.
“I think I was in the 6th grade. I don’t remember. School wasn’t my thing. Why do you ask such a strange question?”
“We’re working a case and we were just wondering,” I said.
“More idle curiosity?” she said.
“You could call it that,” I said.
“One more thing,” Starnes said as K.C. turned and headed back towards her front door.
K.C. Higgins stopped and turned around to face us once again.
“You do some hiking, right?” Starnes said.
“Some.”
“You come across a rather large coyote, larger than the usual size found in western North Carolina?” she said.
“Not yet.”
“Heard anyone mention a larger than normal coyote around lately?” Starnes said.
“No. If that’s all, I have to go now and attend to my dogs.”
K.C. turned and walked away. We watched her enter the house and then we drove back to Starnes’ place. I was trying to decide if we had learned anything from our visit with this cryptic woman. I concluded that we had not.
“That was a waste of time,” I said as we were about halfway back to Starnes’ place.
“Maybe.”
“You learn something?”
“I think so.”
“Well please tell me what you learned,” I said.
“K.C. Higgins needs to practice her social skills.”
39
The early morning fog was rolling in while I was enjoying my first cup of the day. I had retired early the night before and had rested rather well. I was up well before six o’clock, just in time to greet the fog. Despite the fog, it was warm on Starnes’ front porch. Winter weather in the mountains can be so unpredictable. Visibility was limited to a few feet but I wasn’t so concerned about that. My mind was on the four victims and lack of a clear suspect to connect to our piles of bones and one dead body almost intact.
Rogers had not called back with any more information, so I was left to ponder, drink coffee, and wait for my companions to awaken.
I eased through the living room into the kitchen to pour another cup. I could hear no stirring from my housemates, so I went back out into the fog. Even as a child I often found the fog comforting. The dawn was trying to break through the ethereal thickness.
Sam had awakened and had joined me by this time. I decided to walk along Starnes’ road just to get a little exercise before the madness of the day set in. At some point Sam trotted off into the dense white vapors which surrounded me so that I could no longer see him. Now and then I could hear him sniffing as he moved from smell to smell.
“Good morning, Clancy Evans,” the voice from nowhere startled me. It belonged to Aunt Jo.
“You’re a long way from home for this hour of the day.”
“I came to warn you.”
Josephine Starling seemed to be floating in the white clouds in front of me. I looked around for Sam who was nowhere to be seen or heard at the moment.
“About what?”
“You’re getting too close.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. The only thing I was close to was this fog that seemed to be thickening as I walked along this path away from Starnes’ house.
“Your search for the one responsible for the recent deaths.”
“You must be drinking some odd tea leaves, Aunt Jo. I am close to nothing less than frustration on this case.”
“Sometimes you get close without knowing the truth of it.”
“Sounds Zen-like.”
I sipped my coffee, but it was cold by now. I dumped the remainder on the ground beside me.
“How did you get here?” I said.
“Please take my warning seriously,” she said.
That was the last I saw of her. She disappeared nearly as quickly as she had come.
“Aunt Jo,” I called.
No response. The vapors seemed to be thickening around me.
“Sam! Let’s go back to the house!”
Silence. Nothing was penetrating the fog, not even his sniffing noises.
I waited to see if he would come running. There was nothing but me and the white denseness of the morning. I turned in the direction which I thought would take me back to the house.
Time seemed to be meaningless while I was in the almost solid whiteness. I tried to follow the ruts in the road so I could return to Starnes’ place, but for whatever reason, it felt like I was walking on grass. Since I couldn’t see my feet below me, I had to rely on my rather skewed sense of direction.
Both failed me miserably.
Sam returned but I could only see the top of his black shoulder and backside. I reached down to pet him, more to reassure myself that it was him and not some other animal walking beside me. He stopped and I stopped. I felt his nose against my right leg so I rubbed his head. He moaned a little with satisfaction. The familiar sound coming from him provided a little comfort for me.
“We’re lost, friend,” I said.
I could hear him sniffing the air. Then he disappeared from my side. I was left to my own devices in the morning cloud of harsh vapors. At some juncture I remembered the old saying about finding one’s self in a hole and the best solution being to stop digging.
I paused in my blind walk and simply stood still. Perhaps I could wait for the fog to dissipate with the help of some sunshine. There was nothing around me to indicate that the sun would show up anytime today. I remained still for what seemed like several minutes and felt rather stupid in my lost predicament. I had no idea of my location and I was rather confused by having seen Aunt Jo so far away from her place and so early in the day. She had no car or truck. Surely she didn’t walk from her end of the county to this end. Surely.
My wait turned into what seemed like hours. I felt some heat as the fog around me began to slowly evaporate. Little by little, I began to discern the world of nature. I had been correct about the grass as well as the fact that I was not on the road to Starnes’ place. I began to see trees in the distance, then some mountains which were close by.
When the sunshine finally bore through the foggy whiteness of the morning, I laughed at my own foolishness. I was standing in the yard next to Starnes’ house. The fog was now rolling off so that I could see a good two hundred feet around me.
Sam came strolling into view.
“And where have you been?”
He looked at me and growled his early morning greeting. It meant merely that it was too early to converse and that he was hungry.
“Did you see Aunt Jo?” I said to him as we walked onto the porch.
He ans
wered with a short, singular bark which had generally meant yes in our relationship. At least I wasn’t seeing things. Me and the dog. Me and the dog and Aunt Jo.
As I was about to enter the front door, Rogers called.
“Morning sunshine,” she said.
“Hardly that here.”
“I was referring to you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel much like sunshine. Too much thick fog about.”
“Maybe my new data will clear up some of that opaqueness. Found a photograph along with some info regarding that 1984 5th grade class at Athens Elementary in McAdams County. Seems that the 5th grade class was actually the combined 5th and 6th grades that year. The 6th grade teacher became ill suddenly and since the 6th grade was a smaller class, the authorities decided to combine the two instead of trying to find a substitute to fill in for the ailing teacher. The photo I am send to you via email is of the combined classes.”
“Did you find a list of the names of the students in those classes?”
“I did. Randall Lee Carter and Dottie Elaine Higgins were fifth graders that year,” Rogers reported.
“Anyone else?”
“If you are asking if there was a K.C. Higgins listed, then the answer is no.”
“No?”
“Yes, ma’am … as in no such name listed in either of the grades.”
“You’re positive?”
“I’ll ignore that since it is early in the day. You probably need more coffee in order to be fully human,” Rogers said.
“Okay, okay. I’ve only had two cups. I’ll give you that. But I am thinking clearly enough to know that I am surprised that you did not find K.C. Higgins’ name on that roster.”
“Well, I did find a child with the initials K.C. on that roster.”
“Really?”
“No brag, just fact. There is listed a sixth grader named K.C. Starling.”
“Imagine that.”
“Yes, do. You’re likely thinking, as I am, that this K.C. Starling is probably the same K.C. Higgins you are investigating.”
“I am. And, if I am correct, it at least provides a connection between that strange woman K.C. Higgins and the victims… excluding Hack Ponder,” I said.
Outcast In Gray Page 19
