“I think I need to concentrate on how I plan to approach Manross.”
“Wait around a little longer, and I’ll go with you.”
“Oh no. I’m going to the cemetery myself. Del was my husband. This is my problem.”
“Aren’t you at least going to call Marvin and let him know where you’ll be in case things get a little hairy when you start accusing the man of body snatching?”
Jonelle laughed. The two doctors who’d been standing just a few feet away turned and looked at her. She ignored them both.
“I’m going to put on my best Miss Manners face and just ask him a few questions. I don’t plan on accusing him of anything. At least not unless he gives me reason to.”
Liz motioned for Adrienne. The two doctors gathered their papers, nodded to the women, and made room for them at the counter as they walked past.
“Listen, give this to the registrar for me, please.” Liz handed a large manila envelope to Adrienne. “Hopefully IT will fix our server so we won’t have this mess to deal with the rest of the week.”
Adrienne took the packet from Liz. “Hope so, too. See you tomorrow.”
Liz nodded, waved Adrienne away, and gave Jonelle a weak smile as she turned and faced her next set of white coats.
“That didn’t take long,” Jonelle said, then abruptly stopped on the top step. The two doctors she’d noticed inside were engaged in what looked like a heated conversation. The tall, white doctor, Hammond, abruptly stopped talking and lit a cigarette.
Jonelle nudged Adrienne. “Would you look at that,” she hissed as they made their way out of the building, down the steps and past the men. “Since when do doctors smoke?”
Adrienne glanced back. Both doctors were staring at them. “From what Liz tells me,” she whispered to Jonelle, “what some of these doctors do would straighten you hair.” The two women giggled.
“Oh-oh,” Adrienne said, hurrying as fast as her heels would let her. “I felt a drop. Come on already.”
“Hey, wait up. You’re not gonna melt.”
At the Administration building, it started drizzling. “You’re not still going, are you? It’s raining!”
“So what?” Jonelle hollered as she hurried on. “I think my rain gear’s in the Jeep. I’ll call you tonight and tell you what happened.” Jonelle waved to her friend and ran to the security staff’s parking lot. As she opened the vehicle’s door, it started to pour.
***
The cloudburst was over by the time Jonelle pulled into the church lot at the Perpetual Rest cemetery.
At this hour, Jonelle had no idea where to find Manross, or even if he was still there. She headed up the path toward the church, the cemetery on her left, and paused at the gate. Was it possible she did forget where Del was buried? She shook her head. Nope, I got it right the first time. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look again.
The wet headstones and still overcast sky gave the cemetery a more ominous look than on that first sunny day she discovered her husband had disappeared. She made her way to the familiar spot. Maude Goodson was still there.
Jonelle decided to make this the starting point and systematically walked a clockwise circuit, reading names on the headstones as she went along. The construction equipment she’d seen before was gone. Eight stones away and to the right of Maude on the second pass, Jonelle stopped at a small marker, flush to the ground. She studied the name. “Dalton Street - Born May 3, 1979 - Died August 6, 2014.”
The age was about the same as Del’s, and Dalton Street died the day before Del. Is it possible that maybe whoever moved Del dug up the wrong body? “Another question for good old Manross,” she said to herself.
She finished her search with nothing else drawing her attention and went to find the cemetery worker. She exited the cemetery the way she came in and headed toward the church. A walkway led down around and to the left. Trees lined both sides of the narrow path and, combined with the cloudy day, shrouded it in darkness. Jonelle hurried down and around a curve that opened up somewhere behind the church. At the bottom of the path stood another, smaller gravel-covered parking lot.
Three vehicles rested near the front—a dented brown pickup with the church’s name printed in white on the driver’s side door, a dark gray sedan, and a late model SUV. A man dressed in work clothes stood next to the sedan, ready to get in.
“Hey,” Jonelle shouted, waving her arms. “Hold on a minute.”
The man turned and stared. As she got closer she saw it wasn’t Manross but his co-worker, the Hispanic guy. She couldn’t remember his name. Was it Jose? No, not Jose. Jorge sounded right.
“Boy, am I glad I got here in time. A few minutes later and I would’ve missed you.” She smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back. “Help you?”
“You probably don’t remember, but I was here the other day. I’m the lady who can’t find her husband. Um, sounds weird, I know, but I came back ‘cause I need to talk to Manross. Is he still here?”
Jorge stared at her. It hit her that maybe he didn’t get what she said, so she began again. “I said. Do you. Know. Where Manross. Is? I need. To…”
“I unnerstand you lady. Doan shout.”
“Sorry. Is he here?”
“Yep.”
They both stood there, looking at each other.
She sighed. “Okay. Do you know where I can find him?”
“Nope.”
Jonelle rolled her eyes up to the sky. “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m not leaving here ‘til I talk to him. So if you know where he is, tell me now, or we can just stand here playing this silly game. Comprende?”
Jorge smirked. “Doan know exactly where he is at. But thass his car.” He tilted his head over at the SUV. “Now, I gotta go. Tenga cuidado.” He pointed at her, laughed, and got in his car. The tires kicked up gravel as he sped from the lot.
“What is the matter with these stupid people?” she muttered to herself as she watched him go. She walked over to the SUV. “No sense in me looking for him. If this is his car, he’s gotta be coming this way.” She looked around. Not seeing anyone, Jonelle peered in the front seat. On the passenger side, what looked like a jumble of racing forms occupied most of the seat and spilled onto the floor. The dates weren’t visible but judging by the sheer volume of papers, it looked like several days’ worth.
“Well, well, well. Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser.” Jonelle knew of two racetracks in the area, Pimlico and Laurel. She stepped back and gave the black vehicle a closer look. How can a guy working as a gravedigger, and a gambler to boot, afford a late model Lexus?
She peeked into the back window but couldn’t see anything because the tint was too dark. As she continued around the vehicle, a loud beep sounded, the car’s lights flashed, and the engine started. Jonelle jumped back and almost screamed in surprise. She looked up as a figure hurried in her direction.
“What’re you doing around my car?” He stopped when he saw her. “Ah, it’s you. Had a feeling you’d show up again.”
Manross’ eyes bored into hers, his expression calm.
So much for the element of surprise. Jonelle took a deep breath.
“Okay, here’s the situation,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “I buried my husband here, and now he’s gone. And don’t give me any bullshit about this not being the right cemetery. I’m not senile. I was only married once, and the man I married was buried here.” She jabbed her finger toward the ground. “Just now I walked around again, and you know what I found?”
“Do tell,” Manross said, in a voice tinged with sarcasm.
“There’s someone named Dalton Street buried near where Del would’ve been if he hadn’t been moved.”
Something flickered in Manross’ eyes. Jonelle saw the reaction and continued, convinced she’d hit a nerve.
“See, here’s what I think. I think you meant to dig up Mr. Street and dug Del up by mistake. Am I getting warm?”
Ma
nross reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and reached in his pants pocket for his lighter. He flicked the Bic a few times before it caught and lit the cigarette. Jonelle noticed a slight tremor in his fingers as he brought the cigarette to his mouth.
“Look lady,” he began, blowing smoke in her face.
“The name’s Jonelle. If you’re gonna go around snatching people’s husbands from their graves, we might as well be on a first name basis, don’t you think?”
“Okay, Jon-elle,” he said, stretching out her name. “Now let’s take a look at the situation we got us here. You’re accusin’ me of somethin’ that could cost me my job.”
He walked around her. She followed his movements.
“Now you appear to be a smart lady, so let’s see what we got. First,” he said, cigarette tucked in the side of his mouth, left eye closed, “I can’t let you jeopardize my job. Second,” he kept walking and looking off in the distance, “you and I are the only ones here. And third, this lot is kinda remote, so…”
“Are you threatening me?” Jonelle swallowed the panic rising in her throat. “Let me tell you something. Everyone I know, knows where I am and why I’m here,” she lied. Only Adrienne knew, but Jonelle figured that telling Adrienne was kind of like sending out an all-points bulletin.
Manross stopped. “There ain’t no reason for me to dig up somethin’ I already buried. Frankly, I don’t give a damn what happens to the bodies around here.”
“So then why do it?”
“Look, I already told you…”
“So, who else could it be? Jorge? That’s not what he told me.”
Manross removed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground. He stubbed it out with the toe of his work boot. “You sayin’ Jorge said I had somethin’ to do with your husband’s body being missing?”
“I’m sayin’ Jorge and I had a conversation before you got here. That’s what I’m saying. So, Cor-ne-li-us, why don’t you come clean and just tell me where Del is, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”
Manross stared off in the distance. He looked at his watch and pulled keys from his pocket. In a quiet voice, he said, “I got somewhere to go. I ain’t got time for this shit.”
He got behind the wheel of the Lexus.
“Say, where’s a guy get a great car like this on your salary, huh? And with your gambling, uh, issues?”
Manross opened the window, leaned out, and sneered at Jonelle. “Don’t push it, Jon-elle. Just don’t fuckin’ push it. You got no idea what you’re dealin’ with here.”
He gunned the engine. She stepped back to avoid the car hitting her as he raced from the lot.
The reaction in Manross’ eyes convinced Jonelle he knew what happened. She just needed to know why and how.
Jonelle trudged back up the path, wondering what to do next. Raindrops started falling again. Hurrying along, she ran around the church and down the path to the lot where she’d parked her Jeep. One feeble overhead light illuminated the area, placing her car in shadow.
From several feet away, Jonelle sensed something wrong. Her nerves tingled as she approached her car. The only sound in the lot was the crunch of her shoes on the gravel. Walking closer to the jeep, she saw the right front tire lying flat as a pancake on the ground. Stooping to take a closer look, Jonelle gaped at two slash marks, one beside the other.
“You lousy bastard,” she said.
CHAPTER 8
Jonelle poked her pinky finger in the longer of the two slits.
“Nothing I could’ve run over caused this,” she murmured to herself. Jonelle stood and walked around the vehicle, examining it closely for any further damage. With the exception of a dent in the bumper made when she had backed into a lightpost at the shopping mall and the scrape along the driver’s side caused by some asshole with a key, she saw nothing else wrong.
Focusing on the ground around the car, she noticed but ignored the small shards of glass and aluminum flip-top rings littering the small lot. Several cigarette butts were scattered around the area, disintegrating in the dampness caused by the brief rainstorm. Except for one. Jonelle bent and picked up a half-smoked cigarette, holding it carefully between her thumb and forefinger. Unlike the others, this cigarette was dry. She took a tissue from the box on her Jeep’s dashboard, wrapped it around the butt, and put it in her shirt pocket.
Eyes glued to the ground, Jonelle walked over to the main road and back again, repeating the process until she’d covered the whole parking lot. Nothing else caught her attention.
She headed back to the Jeep. Jonelle looked over at the dense line of maple and poplar trees and overgrown shrubbery. This small area of woods bordered the lot and shielded the church from the neighboring houses on the right side.
With senses on high alert, Jonelle wandered over to the trees. She stood on tiptoe, and strained to see into the dimness, but couldn’t. Jonelle walked a few more feet ahead. Her breath quickened. She stopped. She inhaled several times and moved forward again. There are no doors, no windows. Nothing to trap me in here.
Though the rain had cooled the air, sweat popped out on her forehead. She wiped damp palms on her pants.
Damn. She backed up to the edge of the lot. Gun is in the lockbox. She shook her head and forced herself to continue taking deep, rhythmic breaths and again moved forward, willing herself deeper into the trees.
A multiflora rose bush snagged her jeans and pierced her fingers as she tried to get away from the annoying sticker bush. A tightness welled in her chest. You’re being stupid, she scolded herself. This is not a closet or a cramped elevator. You can still see the sky, for chrissake.
She walked a few steps farther in, looking for some kind of path, but there was none. Arms in front of her, Jonelle touched each tree she passed, trying to convince herself they weren’t closing in on her.
Breathe in through the nose, breathe out through the mouth. A soft breeze tickled the back of her neck. Something moved in front of her. The leaves of a wild blackberry bush swayed. Was it a rabbit? A squirrel? Or something much bigger?
A sharp snap! Jonelle spun to her left.
“Who’s there?”
She felt as if tiny bugs were crawling from her shoulders down her arms and onto the backs of her hands. She rubbed the nape of her neck and up and down both arms. Something’s in here. Her “ooo-wee” button screamed bloody murder. Aunt Teresa warned her never to ignore the feeling in her gut that twisted her insides like a rampaging tornado. Jonelle turned and stumbled back to the open lot.
Jonelle strained to pick up any sound other than her own breathing and footsteps. She kept turning to stare at the woods as she scurried back to her car.
It took two tries before her fingers stopped shaking enough to allow her to open the back of the Jeep. Jonelle sat on the bumper until her heartbeat returned to normal. She paused and selected a key from the ring and opened the lockbox. She lifted the 92FS pistol from its case, loaded the magazine, snapped it into place, and put it on the bumper. Calmer now, she seized the yellow work light, positioned it near the wheel, and turned it on.
Careful to keep the gun within reach but far enough so that it was out of the way, Jonelle loosened the tire’s lug nuts, a skill learned early in her teens. She never wanted to be the type of woman who needed to call someone to fix basic things. As long as she didn’t have to do it in a fully enclosed garage, she could change a tire, change the oil, and perform a simple diagnostic whenever the vehicle made more than its usual clunks and clanks.
Three times she stopped what she was doing, cocked her head, and listened for anything more than normal street sounds. Nothing. Periodically she glanced over at the woods. Again, nothing.
The tire changed, Jonelle checked her watch. Only six thirty. It seemed later because of the overcast sky. The sound of a motor much louder than the ambient noise in the distance caught her attention.
A sleek gray sedan with a black convertible top turned into the
lot. Instinctively, she ducked behind the Jeep and grabbed the gun. She heard the gray car approach and nearly fainted from relief as she recognized the Saab.
“Jonnie! What’re you doin’ behind there?”
She stood and smiled at the driver.
“A better question is what are you doing here?”
“Covering your butt, that’s what. Hey, I made a rhyme. Actually, I tried calling your cell, and when you didn’t answer, I thought maybe you had some kinda problem at the cemetery. So I decided to take a quick detour in this direction, see if your car was still here. Low and behold, here you are, hiding behind your car like you’re playin’ hide and seek.” Adrienne pulled her car next to Jonelle’s and got out.
“’Covering my butt’, huh. Well, considering you’ve barely got your butt covered in that outfit you’re wearing…” Jonelle pointed at her best friend.
Adrienne’s eyes narrowed. She nodded at Jonelle. “You plan on shootin’ somebody with that thing?”
“Ohmigod, I’m sorry.” Jonelle quickly unloaded the gun and put it back in its box.
She reached for the tire. “Can you help me with this? These things are heavy to lift.”
Adrienne wrinkled her nose. “Good thing I don’t have a date. What’re those marks?”
Going back over the events after she left the university, Jonelle told Adrienne everything, including the confrontation with Jorge and Manross and her brief trek in the woods.
“Who the hell is Jorge?”
“He works here, too. I think he’s Manross’ assistant.”
“So, by my count you’ve got, what, three or four people pissed off at you? To the point that one of them slashed your tire? From where I’m standin’, Jonnie, them ain’t such good odds.” Adrienne squinted at her friend. “Look, if you’re determined to investigate this thing without Marvin or help from the police, you can’t do this alone. What can I do? I don’t want you in over your head.”
Jonelle shrugged. She couldn’t ask Marvin because he’d try to head her off and handle it himself, saying it was too risky and dangerous. The police? They’d drag their feet, maybe think she was crazy. But Adrienne?
Burial Plot (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 1) Page 4
