I growled, “I’m getting mad at Marigold all over again. Why couldn’t she have plainly said what she was trying to convey? Told me in person at the dance?”
I glanced at the lyrics again and admitted feeling a pretty tangible relief when I couldn’t find anything tying Nic to Chasm. I took another bite of my sundae, but its sweetness nearly made me gag when I caught the words in one line in the chorus.
Nic nodded before I had a chance to speak. “I see it, too, Bebe.” ‘Nightmare battles day.’ Marigold did love her word play.” Battles. As in ‘Joshua fought the battle at Jericho?’”
“It’s awfully obscure.”
“No comment, since that would refer to me.”
“Nic, could there be something to all this business about spice dreams or the steal seasons line?” I groaned. “Oh no. I just had this awful thought. Almost worse than going through the list. Could she have written more lyrics on some scrap of paper hidden in her room or somewhere else at Junie’s?”
Nic said, “I doubt it. Whatever Marigold was trying to imply was right here. The mystery comes in finding out who she’d been in the process of railing against. Might not even be a guy. Could ‘seasons’ or’ spice’ possibly be Saffron? Rivals in music; rivals in love? ‘Rivalry to lust.’”
“Well, the last part could even refer to me if she was envious of my relationship with you. My head is spinning. Perhaps we’re wrong all the way around and this was one of Marigold’s more vivid attempts at composing lyrics to sound like a self-made nightmare.”
My cell phone rang before any brilliant thoughts hit.
“Hello.”
“Bebe?”
“Junie?”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m m sorry to call you away from your peace and quiet . . .” What peace and quiet? “There’s been, um, there’s a develop . . . I can’t . . . Reece could you talk to her?”
My breath stopped. A development. Not a good one. I wanted to run out of the diner screaming but I waited for Detective Harrison to take over the fractured conversation. “Bebe, Reece here. I’m so sorry for the call. But it’s important and Junie would feel better if you could come back to the house.”
“Detective? What’s going on? Another break in?”
“I wish. Sorry. No one is very coherent right now. In a nutshell, the Georgetown Police have just . . . found a woman.”
“You mean a woman who’s not alive? Is that what you’re trying to say? Oh no! Arianna. Is it Arianna? Is she dead?” My hands shook so hard Nic grabbed the phone before it fell into my sundae.
“Detective? It’s Nic. Did y’all find Arianna?”
“No. No. I’m truly sorry. I’m not putting this well and this is normally part of my job. Notifications. I hate them. They found the skeletal remains of a young woman.
Nic quietly repeated what the detective had told him.
I looked up at the ceiling of the Dairy Barn, then back at Nic. “Nic. Ask him. Is it Marigold? It is, isn’t it?”
Nic repeated the question to the detective, then turned to me. “The forensics team is gathering hairs from Marigold’s room at the Blume house for DNA comparison. Also from Clifford Black since Daria lived on campus so her room is long clean . . .” Nic’s voice trailed off.
I whispered, “As the niece of Professor Clifford Black, I guess there should be some trace of a familial match?”
Nic nodded, then spoke into the phone again. “Reece? Bebe and I are leaving right now. Tell Junie we’ll be there as fast as my van can make it. We can send someone for the Chevy later. We’ll be coming together.”
Chapter 29
The Blume mansion had turned into Crime Scene Central even though the crime had occurred several miles away. I spotted at least five Georgetown Police cars and three Travis County Sheriff’s Department vehicles. I’d refused to leave Junie’s Chevy at the Dairy Barn. Instead I’d consequently followed Nic to the Blume house, parked the car in the massive garage and then stayed by myself for a few moments, breathing deeply in an attempt not to become hysterical. Junie didn’t need a crazy Bebe. No one did. Not today.
“Bebe. Nic. Thanks for coming back so fast.” Junie said.
I hugged her. Junie’s eyes were bloodshot and dark-rimmed and her hands were ice cold even in the Texas heat.
Reece Harrison gently inquired, “Bebe, how are you doing? I’m so sorry. This is all quite a shock.”
I gave the detective a tiny smile. “I’m hanging in there. Can you tell us what you found? Or wait, not what I meant. I mean, can you tell us where or how? I’m not sure we’re ready to hear any graphic details. Not now. Probably not ever. But what’s strange issheturned up now.”
“Have you ever been over by the old cemetery near Jonah?” Reece asked. It’s down the road from Taylor about five miles or so.”
Nic nodded. “I’ve passed by it. Doesn’t it primarily consist of graves from the early Eighteen-hundreds?”
“I’ve never been there,” I added.
Reece quietly said, “Well, a couple of kids from Southwestern were over there this morning taking some rubbings of headstones. They had their dog with them. The pooch goes off and comes back with . . . there’s no easy way to say this. A bone. Human. Probably a femur.”
I sank down into the nearest chair and hastily poured a cup of tea and drank half of it without tasting. I pushed back my desire to scream at Reece to stop. I wanted to go back an hour and pretend this wasn’t happening. But Reece was continuing with the story. “The dog was sitting by the edge of the cemetery near the woods. The college kids kept calling him but he wouldn’t join them. Finally they walked over to where the dog was stationed, almost as if he was guarding something. Their word. Guarding. They discovered a grave, which wasn’t part of the cemetery. There were skeletal remains close by and in the grave itself.”
“Was anything written on the coffin?” I asked.
“No coffin. Only a grave. Whoever was buried there was done so without ceremony and doubtless with great haste. There was a plastic sheet and several heavy blankets wrapped around the body. I imagine with the rains over the years, the grave gradually eroded and all the rain lately took care of the rest of the dirt. Otherwise the bones would have been scattered more and farther away. Although, most animals don’t care to . . . never mind. There’s no need for any of you to hear those kinds of details.”
Junie had disappeared into the kitchen during the beginning of Reece’s explanation. I supposed she’d already been through the tale of the discovery. She returned with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of scones for several hungry officers who’d found their way to the Blume kitchen.
“Reece? Did you tell them the rest?”
I shivered. “There’s more?”
Reece nodded. “We found scraps of wood, as though someone had tried to erect a marker over the grave. It was in surprisingly good shape, although it had snapped in two.”
I shut my eyes for a second, shivered, then asked, “Was there a name legible?”
Reece glanced quickly at Junie, who nodded. “Tell her, Reece. I’m okay.”
“Three letters. A.R.I. My people are still out scouring the area for the missing half of the marker.”
“A.R.I.,” I mused. “Not terribly helpful for identity. It could be part of Marigold’s name. Or Daria’s. Or Arianna’s I suppose, except you said the . . . remains . . . are too old.” I downed more tea and tried to keep images out of my head. “Um. Does anyone else find these letters as disturbing as I? It’s too bizarre a coincidence to actually be a coincidence.” I glanced up at Reece and Junie. “I’m truly sorry. For you and for Clifford and Arianna’s parents. For us all. It’s frightening how so many lives can be so cruelly affected by one sick mind.”
No one spoke. There wasn’t anything to say. A blue-uniformed kid, probably not much older than Arianna herself, addressed Reece, “Sir? We’re going. Looks like we’ve collected everything we need to take to the lab. You coming with us?”
The detective rose, loo
ked at Junie, then reached down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Junie, I’ll call the instant I hear anything. DNA won’t be in for quite awhile, but we’re checking dental records for a faster match.”
“Thanks. Thanks for the support too. I mean everybody. This is just so awful. Uh. Reece? If you can, come back tonight for some dinner. Please?”
He flashed the shadow of a grin and accepted. I inwardly smiled. At least something good might be coming out of all the horror of the last few days. Of the last ten years.
Junie began to wash up some of the dishes lying in the double sink. Reece was about to exit the kitchen door. Instead he turned, put his finger to his lips and motioned for Nic and me to follow him. We did. We stood outside on the small porch and gazed in silence out at the lush Blume grounds. Junie had done her own landscaping and the results were nothing short of an artist’s dream. Hedges with three different species and colors of roses lined the back driveway toward the garage and then circled to the front to offer visitors a beautiful path to the Blume house.
Reece didn’t say anything at first. He just kept staring at the lawn. Finally, I tapped his arm. “What did you need to tell us, or ask, that you couldn’t say in front of Junie?”
The detective’s expression was more than grim. “I’m sorry. I felt Junie might be hanging on by a thread or sheer willpower today and I didn’t want her going through any more anguish than necessary. My officers found something else at the gravesite; only a few yards away in a small shrub.”
I felt Nic tense beside me. He reached for my hand. “Please, go on.”
“It was odd. It was an old silver spoon, like something from a nice flatware collection.”
“Oh, crap.” I knew what was coming.
Reece said, “There were initials engraved on it.”
Nic took over. “M.C.B. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Marigold Columbine Blume. ”I sighed.
“I assume so,” the detective admitted. “Although I’m a bit confused as to why those initials would be on cheap silver. Wasn’t Marigold engaged to Cameron Felsen?” He tried to smile. “I assume she might not have wanted to take Mr. Felsen’s name but still wanted a set of silver as a wedding gift? Sheer speculation on my part and probably nonsense.”
Nic responded with “The spoon is hers, but it had nothing to do with the proposed marriage. I’m honestly not sure what Marigold planned to do about her name after she and Cam were married, partially because she was having second thoughts about even getting married. But, putting that aside, this spoon wasn’t from any wedding set.”
“What was it for?”
Nic answered, “Marigold always loved the band Fleetwood Mac and their song Gold Dust Woman. For years fans have argued over whether one of lyrics meant using a silver spoon to snort cocaine. Which, sadly, was something Marigold had done more often then I think any of us knew. Marigold bought a spoon as an odd reminder of how cocaine can kill and put her initials on it. She told me once she felt it had kept her alive through some bad moments.”
“When did she last have it with her? Any idea?”
Nic shook his head. “Sorry, no.”
“Bebe?”
I shut my eyes and tried to conjure up Marigold’s bedroom from ten years ago. “I’m pretty sure she kept it on top of her jewelry box. She apparently kept her drugs inside the box during the times she was using, so it was a double reminder to break the cycle.” I looked up into Reece Harrison’s kind brown eyes. “I’m assuming you didn’t want Junie to hear about this because . . . because the police believe this is proof Marigoldwhat? Shared a grave with Daria? Or it was Marigold’s grave and she was moved? Or the killer dropped it when he was burying Daria and it doesn’t give any clues as to where Marigold’s . . . body ended up?”
“All of the above. I’m left with more questions without answers. But I’m going to do my absolute best to make sure we get this guy.”
“Well, any help we can provide, we will.” Nic told him about the song, Chasm, and some of our various theories.
“You two may have something there. Keep working on it. I’m sure you will anyway if only for the creative process of the song itself, but if something strikes you as important, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? Either of you.”
Reece hailed the waiting police car, gestured to the young officer who was behind the wheel to slide over to the passenger seat then climbed into the driver’s side and took off.
Nic and I headed back toward the Blume kitchen. I tried to compose myself as much as I could. But the vision in my head was too horrifying to allow any calm.
“I see it too, Bebe. I’m sorry.”
I sighed. “If you’re also seeing a silver spoon, caked with dirt and what may well be dried blood, lying next to Daria’s grave for ten years, I wish we’d both find a happier image.”
We found Junie doing the dishes by hand instead of loading them into the dishwasher, and I obscurely thought how glad I was she was occupied and hopefully not being bombarded with mirages and illusions which refused to stop flashing in front of Nic and me.
I felt drained and way beyond tired. “Folks? I’m going to go take a nap” I yawned. Only then did it hit me. “Oh, crap. We’ve got rehearsal tonight. I don’t feel much like singing but I guess we made a commitment, didn’t we?”
Junie and Nic both nodded. Junie spoke first. “Yes, you did. And singing tonight might help keep your mind off some of the truly nasty and gruesome things we heard about this afternoon. I’m done with the dishes, so I am about to go tackle the greenhouse and deal with massive amounts of compost. Nic, I’d appreciate it if you could hang around the house the rest of the afternoon? If you’re as exhausted as everyone else, you’re welcome to use the attic guest room and take a nap. The bed’s always made up.”
Junie headed toward the back of the house to play with her plants and flowers. I grabbed a newly baked zucchini-cranberry muffin and realized I had no desire to sleep in either Marigold’s room or the other guest room down the hall from Junie.
I said as much. “I am exhausted but not comatose. I can’t see sleep offering much comfort at the moment. But you feel free to take Junie up on the offer of the attic if you want. I’ll be fine.”
Nic said, “Right. Excuse me while I cry ‘bullshit.’ Listen, I’m staying and I suppose I’m acting as some kind of guard but I’m not in the mood to rest.” He grinned at me. “This is crazy but how about hitting the basement?”
“It is crazy but I don’t care. We could use a major distraction. Let’s go.”
Nic took my hand in his and we wandered downstairs into the space, a combination playroom, exercise facility, and rec room. Junie had set it up as all the above right after Marigold had been adopted.
One side of the room held an entertainment center of showroom quality. The TV screen mounted on the wall was new. Sixty inches with surround sound speakers attached on top. Other speakers dotted corners of the room and on the floor across from the only piece of real furniture a sofa that by rights should have been in an antiques store. The follicle remains of every dog and cat allowed into the Blume household still clung to the seat cushions. A combination CD/Mp3 system underneath the TV, had been hooked up to the speakers and computers. An old record player for vinyl albums was tucked snugly between two enormous racks containing those vinyls, plus cds from artists as diverse as Benny Goodman, Beyoncé and the Beatles.
A pool table had long ago been placed between the entertainment area where we stood and my favorite spotthe Ping-Pong table. I’d never been much of a pool player and after a few attempts with Dusty, Stone and Cam trying to explain the geometric intricacies of “English” and “sucking the ball with massive draw”all of which ended with me poking holes in the expensive felttopI’d cried, “Uncle!” and let everyone else twirl the sticks, chalk and rack ‘em.
Ping-Pong was another story. My old neighborhood in Laredo had boasted more than one bar complete with pool tables for the ad
ults but Ping-Pong in the back away from the booze for the kids who hadn’t reached drinking age. My mother used to deposit me by those tables before promptly heading for the barstools to start her drinking. I was tall enough to see over the net and I loved having the activity.
I now stared at the two paddles that still lay neatly crossed on the right side of the Blume’s table, and the basket of tiny white plastic balls in the far corner, which was full.
Nic grinned. “Do you suppose anyone’s played since our famous match?” His cell phone rang. “Hang on.” He checked the caller ID. “Oh, hell. It’s Hank in Dallas. Didn’t he understand my ‘not back 'til a week from Monday’ three hours ago?”
I gestured at the phone. “Take it. I’m not going anywhere.”
He took the phone upstairs for better reception. I glanced around the room. It seemed as though it was eleven years ago. The day the members of Pieces realized I had a personality and wasn’t just the new kid who could swing from classical as a mezzo or rock as an alto. The day Nic admitted he’d noticed I was far more than a voice.
Chapter 30
Marigold had been pacing, bored and ready for action. “Bebe? You up for a game?” she asked. “The guys want to watch Woodstockagain. You may not mind yawning for the next three hours, but I have zilch desire to listen to Country Joe and the Fish ask me ‘what I’m fightin’ for’ for the fiftieth time.”
I’d nodded before tentatively asking, “Can we make it Ping-Pong instead of pool? Your mom is going to kill me if I rip up the felt on the table one more time. Or send one of those balls sailing into Nic’s head. I doubt he’d be very happy with me.”
Nic had been singing along with Richie Havens in the opening minutes of the film. He glanced up, smiled and then called out, “Ping-Pong? Hot damn! Maybe our baby girl will have better luck. And at least if one of those flimsy little plastic balls comes flying my way it won’t give me a concussion.”
Pick up the Pieces Page 18
