“What about his daughter?”
“Vanessa practiced medicine in Cincinnati for a little while, but she eventually joined her dad at the clinic. Just like him and Hazel, she wanted to help the forgotten people of Sassafras. She learned the ropes from Doc Griffith and took over the clinic after he died.” Stella downed the last of her diet soda. “When we’re finished with Vanessa, we’ll pay a little visit to Earnest.”
“Earnest, the ex?”
“Yes.”
“Is he expecting us?”
“No.” Stella’s eyes twinkled. “But you let me handle that.”
Chapter Six
Maggie tried to refrain from judging anyone’s appearance. From her perspective, people didn’t have much say in the way they looked. Sure, they could make cosmetic changes, but some people couldn’t even do that. Maybe they didn’t have the money to fix crooked teeth or dye their hair. Perhaps an undiagnosed thyroid condition prevented them from losing weight or a recent illness had caused a rapid weight loss that resulted in ill-fitting clothes. She tried to keep those factors in mind and generally suppressed superficial feelings. But when Fallon opened the door, Maggie couldn’t keep a judgmental thought from crowding her mind – she thought Fallon looked like a raccoon. Maggie reckoned Fallon had taken the smoky-eye technique to extreme and felt an immediate sense of sympathy for the attractive young woman. She wondered if anyone had ever suggested Fallon cut back on the dark eye shadow and eyeliner that circled her dark eyes. Yet, despite Fallon’s poor taste in makeup, Maggie didn’t understand why Stella disliked her. She welcomed them into the house, offered them something to drink, and cooperated with Stella’s request to allow Maggie to ask questions. She also stopped her little boy from climbing up Maggie’s legs. In Maggie’s mind, that stood for something.
“You know better than that, Cullen.” Fallon wrenched the toddler from Maggie and sat him on her lap. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s no problem,” Maggie assured her. “Stella tells me you saw Hazel the day before her body was found?”
“Yeah,” Fallon answered as Cullen squirmed on her lap. “She came over to check on things.”
When Cullen started banging an empty ashtray against the kitchen table, Stella held out her arms and asked, “May I take him?”
Before Fallon could answer, Stella scooped up the toddler and took him to the living room. Every so often, Cullen’s laughter and the sounds of plastic toys rolling across the linoleum floated into the kitchen.
“Just so you know, I smoke, but only outside. Cullen don’t need that secondhand smoke around him and Miss Baker didn’t want me smoking in here anyways. She didn’t want me flicking butts onto the ground, neither.” Fallon nodded her head toward the ashtray. “That’s why I have that, but I only use it outside. It’s only in the house cause I washed it today.”
“Your smoking habits are none of my business,” Maggie said. “Now, as for that day, was there a specific reason Hazel stopped by?”
Fallon retrieved a stray spaghetti strap that had fallen down her slender shoulder. “She just did that from time to time.”
“I thought her brother was in charge of taking care of the house?”
“He was. I guess he still is. But Miss Baker, well, she was the type of person who had to check things herself.”
“Did anything odd happen during Hazel’s visit that day?”
The slumping Fallon sat up straight and said, “What do you mean?”
“Did she say or do anything unusual? Did she seem upset, worried, stressed?”
“Let me think.” Fallon started peeling the paper off her Mountain Dew bottle. “No, I don’t think so. She seemed the same. She wasn’t here long.”
“Can you think of anything at all that stands out from her visit?”
Fallon finished pulling the paper from the bottle and said, “No, nothing at all.”
Before they left the house, Stella asked Fallon’s permission to take Maggie on a tour of her childhood home.
“Look at how small these rooms are,” Stella said. “You could pick up the kitchen, living room, and bathroom and place them in Hazel’s kitchen. We did good for ourselves. Of course, in my case, I married well, but I also worked hard to put myself through school and then I worked hard teaching school. Both Hazel and I are self-made women.” They advanced down a short hallway and into Fallon’s room. Stella stopped so abruptly that Maggie had to balance herself on one foot to keep from walking into her back. “She has a new bed.”
A queen-sized cherry sleigh bed took up most of the small room. Maggie decided it was a good thing the closet didn’t have doors or Fallon wouldn’t have been able to access her clothes. As it was, she figured Fallon had to sit or stand on the bed to reach inside the closet.
“I wanted to get the whole set,” Fallon said from behind the two women, “but I only had room for the bed and dresser. Maybe I can get the other pieces someday when I find a bigger place.”
“It’s a wonder Maggie and I can both fit in this room,” Stella said before whirling around to face Fallon, who remained standing in the hallway. “Where is my mother’s bed? I know it was nothing more than an old, small brass bed, but it’s the one she shared with my father until his untimely death. My brother and sister and I slept in that bed with Mother when we were sick. My mother died in that bed.”
Fallon’s head recoiled. “You mean me and Cullen had been sleeping in a bed that somebody died in? Miss Baker never told me that.”
“Where is the bed, Fallon?”
“I don’t know. When I told Miss Baker I was getting a new bed, she had the old one taken out. She offered to let me keep using the sheets. You know, for Cullen’s bed.” Fallon kissed Cullen’s cheek and said, “Mommy got you a big-boy bed that looks like a race car, didn’t she?” Turning to Maggie and Stella, she added, “I went ahead and got new sheets, too. I thought I might as well. A new bed needs new sheets. And I’m glad I bought them. I don’t want me or Cullen to sleep on sheets somebody died on.”
“You had been using my mother’s sheets?”
“I guess so,” Fallon said. “Miss Baker pulled them out of a box when I moved in and asked if I wanted to use them. I didn’t ask where they come from and she didn’t tell me nobody died on them, so I didn’t see nothing wrong with using them. I sure am glad I washed them first. Me and Cullen could have caught some bad disease.”
“Where are the sheets now, Fallon?”
“Miss Baker took them.”
Stella stormed out of the house without telling Fallon and Cullen goodbye and didn’t say one word on the short drive to her brother’s. When she and Maggie arrived at his mobile home, Stella bolted from her SUV and up the steps. When Maggie entered the trailer, she heard Stella asking her brother, “When did this happen? When did Hazel sell our mother’s bed and sheets?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Give me your best guess.”
“A few months ago.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“I don’t know. I assumed Hazel told you.”
“You know what happens when we assume, Dennis,” Stella yelled.
Dennis finally noticed Maggie and said, “Hello. Would you like a seat?”
His quick response startled Maggie, but she recovered and said, “Yes, thank you,” and joined Stella, who had collapsed onto the sofa.
“I’m sorry for my outburst,” Stella said. “It’s just that I didn’t know Hazel had gotten rid of the bed. I know I’m being silly. It was Hazel’s to do with as she pleased, but I would have liked to have known. The bed was so old and rusty and the sheets so threadbare. She couldn’t have gotten enough money out of them to fill up her car with gas. Of course, I also don’t understand the mindset of anyone who would buy or use somebody else’s old sheets, but it’s not my place to judge.” Stella’s eyes settled on Dennis. “Come over here, Brother, and talk to my friend, Maggie.”
Dennis walked to a desk chair, sat down, and crossed h
is arms over his chubby chest.
When neither Stella nor Dennis said anything, Maggie said, “Dennis, I guess Stella told you why we were stopping by.”
“Yes.” Dennis swiveled in the chair as he spoke. “She said you wanted to talk to me about Hazel. Are you a private investigator?”
“Heavens, no,” Maggie answered. “I’m just, uh, I’m –”
“She’s helping us find out who took Sister from us, Dennis.”
“The police –”
“Are wrong.” Stella kept her eyes fixed on Dennis for several seconds before saying, “Maggie, I think you should get started.”
Maggie scratched her head and said, “Dennis, I understand you spoke to Hazel the evening before her death.”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Maggie repeated. “You had a conversation about nothing?”
“I think what Brother is trying to say is that they didn’t talk about anything in particular. You know how it is with your brother, Maggie. You can probably talk to him for an hour and not say anything.”
Dennis didn’t elaborate on Stella’s speculation. He simply continued to move from side-to-side in the chair, an activity that made Maggie dizzy.
“I understand what you mean, but, surely, you talked about something,” Maggie said to Dennis.
“We talked about the house.”
“That’s right,” Stella said. “She had been to the house that day.”
Dennis nodded. “Yes.”
“What about the house? What, specifically, did you discuss about the house?” Maggie asked.
Dennis sucked in his lower lip and said, “The usual.”
“And, what was the usual?”
Dennis didn’t get a chance to offer another short reply. Instead, Stella said to Dennis, “When I talked to her, she said she had gone shopping in Jasper to pick up supplies. She mentioned that she had bought cleaning solution for you to power wash the house. Is that what you talked about? Cleaning the house?”
“Yes.”
For the life of her, Maggie couldn’t understand why Stella had insisted she talk to Dennis. He reminded her of the worst kind of interview subject – the functioning mute. Other than funeral homes that didn’t email obits, nothing about her job irritated her more than talking to a person who agreed to be interviewed yet could do little more than string together “yes” and “no” answers. It made her wonder how such people got through the day.
“What do you do, Dennis?” Maggie asked.
“I beg your pardon,” Stella answered.
“What’s your job, Dennis?”
“I’m a file clerk.”
“Now, Brother, don’t sell yourself short,” Stella said. “He started out working as a file clerk, but when everything switched to computers, he took IT courses, earned his certification, and started working on their computer system. Didn’t you, Brother?”
“I did.”
Ah, Maggie thought to herself, that explains a lot. He doesn’t have much contact with people.
“Well, Dennis, is there anything else you can tell me about Hazel? Was anything bothering her that evening?”
Dennis quit turning in the chair.
“Brother? Was something wrong with Sister that evening?” Stella sat forward.
“Yes, she was upset.” Dennis nodded. “UK lost out on a top-rated prospect. She thought he could have made a difference in the middle.”
Stella relaxed on the sofa, smiled, and said, “I told you. She loved those Cats.”
Between Dennis’ non-answers, Stella speaking for her brother, and the constantly swiveling chair, Maggie had developed a touch of a headache. On their way to Dr. Griffith’s, she chased two Tylenols with water.
“Are you feeling ill, Maggie?” Stella asked.
“Just a bit of a headache, but I’ll be fine.”
“Listen, I know how Brother comes across, but he’s shy. He was the only boy and the youngest child and I’m afraid we might have doted on him a little too much. I’m afraid we didn’t do him any favors. He’s so agreeable, though. He’s such a dear, sweet man.”
“Does he have a developmental disorder?” Maggie knew she was verging on rudeness, but she felt the question needed to be asked.
“No, he’s just Brother. In case you’re wondering, he has been tested. Hazel insisted on it years ago.”
“Has he ever been married?”
Stella took her eyes off the road and smirked. “No, Brother would jump if a woman said ‘Boo’ to him. I’m fairly certain he’s never had a girlfriend, either. That’s so sad because Brother has so much to give, but he’s always been so lonely. Now, without Hazel, he’s going to be even lonelier.”
“At least he still has you.”
“And my daughter,” Stella noted. “She lives in North Carolina, but she adores her Uncle Den, as she calls him.”
Stella pulled into the parking lot of a single-story building that Maggie would have mistaken for a house if not for a sign on the window that read “Sassafras Clinic.” The clinic’s interior, however, resembled other medical facilities Maggie had visited. Patients waited in padded plastic chairs and a receptionist sat inside an enclosure equipped with a window that allowed her to greet patients. As soon as Stella approached, the receptionist said, “Go on in, Miss Stella. The doctor is expecting you. She’s in her office.”
Dr. Griffith sat at her desk, texting away on her phone. She didn’t look up until Stella said, “You’ve got a crowded house out there, Vanessa.”
“I know,” the doctor replied, “These Saturday clinics keep us busy, so I’m afraid I don’t have much time to spare today.”
“This won’t take long,” Stella said. “Vanessa, I want you to meet my friend, Maggie Morgan.”
“You write for the Jasper Sentinel,” Dr. Griffith said. “I’ve seen your picture and your name.”
Maggie didn’t know how to respond to a statement of fact that sounded to her like an accusation. Luckily, Stella responded for her.
“Yes, Maggie works for the newspaper through the week, but today, she’s helping a friend.”
Dr. Griffith didn’t take her eyes off Maggie as she asked Stella, “How so?”
“Like I told you on the phone, I don’t believe the police’s version of what happened to Hazel. I’m determined to get to the truth and Maggie here,” Stella touched Maggie’s arm, “has offered her assistance.”
“What is she going to do?” Dr. Griffith’s focus remained on Maggie.
“She’s going to ask you a few questions,” Stella said.
“I know you’re grieving, Stella, and I’d like to help, but I have no idea what happened to Hazel and, frankly, I don’t understand why you’re here. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since her retirement party and that was months ago.”
Now it was time for Stella to fix her gaze on Dr. Griffith. “Vanessa, you must be mistaken. Hazel told me on the Thursday before her death that she had stopped by here.”
Dr. Griffith hit her forehead with the palm of her hand, “That did slip my mind.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Stella said. “We’re talking to people who had contact with her in those final days.”
“I don’t know how I could possibly help.”
“You never know,” Maggie said. “It could be the least little thing. Do you remember what you talked about that day?”
Dr. Griffith stared past Maggie and Stella. “We made small talk. We talked about the humidity. It was a beautiful sunny day but you could see the humidity hanging in the air. I’m sure I complained about how it makes my hair frizzy.” She pulled strands of her curly hair as evidence.
“That’s all you talked about?” Maggie asked. “The weather?”
“I think so. I’m sure she asked about a few of her favorite patients, but that was just about it.”
“Did she say why she had come by?”
“Just to see how
we were doing. She chatted with the new nurse and the receptionist, too.”
“How did she seem?”
“Seem?” Dr. Griffith repeated the word as the trace of a smile formed on her face. “Like Hazel.”
Stella laughed and said to Maggie, “I love my sister, but she was high strung. But that kind of attitude served her well in her job. Wouldn’t you agree, Vanessa?”
“She certainly ran a tight ship.”
“I’d say so,” Stella agreed. “She kept this clinic running for four decades. Doc Griffith credited her with keeping the doors open.”
“Wait a second,” Maggie said. “I thought Hazel was a nurse.”
“She was,” Stella answered. “She was Doc Griffith’s nurse and his office manager.”
“Talk about multitasking,” Maggie said.
“If that’s all, I really need to get back to my patients.” Dr. Griffith stood. “Stella, you let me know if you need anything. Maggie, it was nice meeting you.”
Back in the car, Maggie said, “Do you think it’s odd that she forgot about seeing Hazel days before her death?”
“Yes, I do,” Stella said, “but I wouldn’t put too much stock in that. Vanessa is busy with the clinic and she and her husband adopted twins a year ago and they’re building a new house. Like I told Earl David, people have their own lives. Well, here we are. This is where Earnest lives with his mistress.”
“I thought they were married,” Maggie said.
“They are. He even adopted her bratty little girl.” Stella leaned toward Maggie and said in a tone that suggested a conspiracy, “Guess what Brandi named that kid?”
“I have no idea.”
“Paradise. As if that’s not bad enough, she spelled it P-A-R-A-D-I-C-E. I don’t know if the misspelling was intentional or if she thinks that’s how the word is spelled.”
Murder at Catfish Corner: A Maggie Morgan Mystery Page 4
