Burial Plot (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 1)

by R. Lanier Clemons

  As they passed the emu’s pen and headed toward the Conservation Station, Tankersley described how several Vice cops covered the front and back of the house. He explained that at two in the morning they broke down the front door and herded four kids and six adults into police vans.

  “Wait a minute. You said six adults? That’s an awful lot of people for this kind of business, don’t you think?”

  Tankersley nodded. “Four of ‘em were customers.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Did you get all the kids?”

  “All but two. The others were out on so-called dates at the time. We got their names and descriptions and picked them up about an hour later. After talking to the kids, we got an idea of how the operation worked and soon discovered it was a little more sophisticated than most.”

  “Sophisticated how?”

  “First off,” Tankersley said, “the perps rented the house through a reputable real estate agency. Second, although the place stood on the fringes of a lower-class part of town, it was in a quiet area, and they took good care of the property. Average-looking house, with two levels and a basement on Poplar Street, not far from the saloon where the hit-and-run driver killed your husband.”

  Jonelle stopped walking. The detective turned and faced her.

  “You know the area?” he asked.

  “I’m kinda familiar with it, yes. Do you have the names of the other people involved in this so-called business? Did one of them have the last name Manross?”

  The detective squinted at Jonelle. “Manross? No, that name’s not familiar. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, just wondering. I know a few people who live around there.”

  They stopped and watched a zebra nuzzle the dirt.

  “What else about this made it stand out from your other cases?”

  “Usually, you get that many people in one place, with strangers coming in and out at all hours, you’re asking to be noticed. But neighbors didn’t complain, and these guys apparently didn’t care who did, or didn’t, see them.”

  Jonelle smiled. “Why should anyone complain if they’re keeping the place clean? It’s not like drug dealers are hanging out on the corners. After all, how many patrol cars actually go in and out of that area? I’m willing to bet there are no beat cops around, either.”

  Tankersley shrugged. “Guess you’ve got a point there. When we finally got inside, the place looked spotless. I mean, my wife could get some pointers—that’s how clean this house was—and she’s no slouch.”

  Jonelle lightly tapped a finger on her forehead. “Makes sense. Think about it. The cleaner you keep a place, the less likelihood there is for disease to spread. Cuts down on trips to the doctor, which could raise questions.”

  “Hadn’t thought about it like that.” Tankersley’s smile went all the way to his eyes. “Anyway, there were three large bedrooms upstairs, each one partitioned off down the middle,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

  Jonelle frowned. “Why? What’s the point of that?”

  Tankersley reached into his pocket, pulled out a foil-wrapped square, and popped the contents into his mouth. “Nicotine gum. Been trying to quit for a while. Thing is, now I think I’m addicted to the damn gum. But back to the house. Apparently the staff didn’t wanna sleep where they worked. So on one side was the, uh, working area, and their personal bedroom was on the opposite side. All told they had room for six kids, and four adults and they were at capacity. The beds that weren’t occupied were made military style. I mean, you coulda bounced a quarter off those sheets.

  “Downstairs in the kitchen, there was a chalkboard with names on it. Someone wrote a list of chores next to each name.”

  Tankersley paused, gazing out in the distance.

  Jonelle wasn’t sure she heard right. “Did you say chores? Like what?” She stared at the detective in disbelief.

  “Normal stuff,” he said, shrugging and giving her a lopsided grin. “So-and-so empty the trash, so-and-so clean out the refrigerator. That kind of thing.”

  “Jeeze,” she mumbled. A zebra wandered over to where another was standing and bit him on the rump. The bit zebra took exception, and the two trotted off, snapping at each other.

  Jonelle watched for a moment then turned back to the detective. “Del was meticulous about keeping track of everything. I think he’s even got a copy of the first tax form he ever filed. Did you guys find any records or documents of any kind?”

  “No paper records were found. We confiscated two computers set up in an office off of the living room,” Tankersley said. “We’ve got techs analyzing the computers’ hard drives to see what’s on them. If I didn’t know what was going on in there, I’d have thought we stumbled into a large, well-run family. Except maybe for all the digital cameras in the basement.”

  “Cameras?”

  The detective worked the gum in his mouth before responding. “Apparently, from what our source told us, the three adults got into a huge argument about expanding their business. Seems like two wanted to get into recording and distributing the videos over the internet. They’d already set up a toll-free number and planned to charge whoever called a hefty fee for ordering the recordings. There’s still a huge market for pornography, especially when it involves kids. Your husband was the lone holdout. He didn’t want to go that route.”

  Jonelle sighed. “That’s something, I guess.”

  Tankersley touched Jonelle on the arm. “For what it’s worth, the kids repeatedly told us that whenever someone tried to get too rough with one of them, Del would jump in and stop it. They said sometimes it seemed as if Del was embarrassed about the whole thing.”

  “Who were the other adults involved in this scheme?” she asked quietly.

  “Well, the white guy’s last name is Chasson, first name Ted, and there’s a black woman. Her name is… name of a movie star. Or used to be movie star. Now what is it?”

  Tankersley turned around, his back to the zebras, and leaned against the railing. He stared up at the cloudless, blue sky.

  Jonelle waited.

  “She was in some of those old beach party movies. The movie star I mean, not the perp. Now what’s that name? Damn, must really be getting old.”

  Jonelle decided to help. “Was it Annette something? Had dark hair, dark eyes. Italian name, I think.”

  Tankersley shook his head. “Naw, it was a blonde lady. I remember when I heard it, thinkin’, how weird is that? Got it! Sandra Dee. Woman’s name is Sandra Dee Montgomery.” He looked over at Jonelle with a twinkle in his eye.

  She returned his grin. “I guess they’re both in jail now, right?”

  The detective pushed away from the railing and started walking again.

  “Not exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “They lawyered up pretty quick. And since neither one had priors, they were both released on bail.”

  Goosebumps prickled Jonelle’s arms in spite of the warm morning.

  “Isn’t it possible that Chasson or Montgomery or both of them killed Del in the so-called hit-and-run?”

  Tankersley stopped walking and stared at her. “So-called? Are you thinking it could be something other than an accident?”

  Jonelle shrugged. “Maybe one or the other noticed the police surveillance and thought Del might have snitched.”

  The detective ambled over to another bench and sat down.

  “Seemed accidental to us. More a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, kind of thing. We did ask Sandra Dee and Chasson where they were that evening, and they both said they decided to go out and catch a movie.”

  Jonelle sat down next to him. “And you guys checked and verified the movie?”

  The detective nodded, an amused look on his face.

  “Listen, if they alibied each other, then they’re probably both lying,” Jonelle said. “Sounds to me as if Del may have had a few morals left, and it could be they didn’t like it. Could you have someone check again?”

  “Hmm. Could do. I suppose it wouldn’t
hurt.”

  Tankersley lowered his voice. “Tell me something. Keep looking at me. Is there any reason someone should be following you?”

  Jonelle’s eyes widened. “Someone’s following us? Are you sure?” She clutched her bag.

  He smiled at her. “Stay calm. After twenty-nine years, eleven months, eighteen days, and,” he looked at his watch, “two hours, I know when I’m being followed. What I don’t know is why. You got any ideas?”

  “Is it a skinny, light complexioned black guy?”

  “Looks more like a middle-aged white guy to me. About six feet tall and some change, some gray in the dark hair with serious combover. Medium build. He’s got sunglasses on, and I’m willing to bet they’re prescription. White shirt, navy slacks. Overall, pretty average looking.”

  The detective turned away from Jonelle. “Nod your head a few times, like you’re agreeing with what I’m saying. Good. He’s trying too hard not to look at us. Smokin’ up a storm, too. In the past ten minutes he’s smoked three cigarettes.”

  The desire to turn around and see the man’s face made Jonelle squirm. “Can’t I sneak a peek? Maybe I know him or can place him somewhere.”

  “Better if you can glimpse him out of your peripheral vision. Ah, damn, he realizes we’re on to him.”

  Jonelle turned to see the back of a white man disappear into a guided tour group. She rose from the bench.

  “Hurry, let’s go after him,” she said, not waiting for the detective to respond.

  Jonelle kept the man in sight as he moved swiftly through the crowd. She watched him wedge himself between two women with strollers. Once clear, he broke into a slow jog.

  She ran after him. Her shoulder bag with the pistol nestled in the bottom, thumped against her thigh with each stride.

  A group of elementary school children milled about on the path in front of her.

  Jonelle watched the man deftly sidestep a small girl and sprint toward the parking lot. As her eyes locked on his retreating back, she nearly collided with an elderly woman in a wheelchair.

  “Hurry, I think he’s getting away, Detective. Detective?” Jonelle stopped, gasping for breath. She turned around. No sign of Tankersley. “Well, damn it all.”

  When she turned back around, the man she’d been following had disappeared, and Tankersley was coming toward her from the front.

  “I thought you were behind me,” she said, exasperation in her voice. “He got away.”

  “I cut across the upper path to the right.” He indicated a curving path that wound around and through a line of trees.

  Tankersley took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Whew. One of the great things about a zoo is, you can go six different ways and still end up in the same place. Our friend was getting into a black Mercedes as I made it to the main lot. Unfortunately, he had plastic sheeting over the license.”

  “Aren’t those things illegal?”

  “Yep, but just try to enforce it. Since the car was moving fast away from me, at that distance, well I couldn’t quite make the whole thing out. Maryland tags for sure, with letters H-F something. I believe I saw a two, five, and an eight, or it coulda been a three, but that’s it.”

  Tankersley put his hand on Jonelle’s shoulder. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked, as the two made their way out of the zoo’s main entrance. “Marvin and I go all the way back to Desert Storm. I know you’re like a daughter to him.”

  Jonelle watched a yellow bus unload another group of schoolchildren. She debated how much to reveal to the detective.

  “I went to the saloon where Del was killed. Maybe someone told whoever followed me that I was asking questions, and he didn’t like it.”

  Tankersley gave Jonelle a curious look. “Marvin did say you never believed it was an accident. Your husband have any enemies the police don’t know about?”

  They walked deeper into the lot in silence. Finally, Jonelle stopped and turned to the detective. “I thought I knew him,” she said. “But apparently there’s a lot about the man I married that I don’t know.”

  Jonelle followed Tankersley to a dark green sedan.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “When I get back to the precinct, I’ll give what I know to a homicide detective who’s a real good poker-playing buddy of mine. See maybe if he could take another look at what happened in that saloon parking lot.”

  Jonelle flashed him a smile. “That’d be super.”

  “I’ll have the detective give you a call.” He leaned in closer to her. “Anything else, Jonelle? Be straight with me now.”

  She remembered something her young neighbor Kenny told her. “Well, there is one other thing. Did you happen to get close enough to our mystery guy to, uh, smell him?”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed. “Smell him? Like he’s got a bad case of BO? Don’t know that I can identify somebody by whether or not he showers and uses deodorant. Besides, I didn’t get up that close and personal.”

  Jonelle waved it off. “Never mind. Just a thought.”

  Tankersley opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. “Hop in and I’ll take you to your car.”

  Jonelle shook her head and pointed a few feet to the left. “My car’s just over there. I’ll be fine.”

  She reached inside her bag, nudged the pistol aside, and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbled down her cellphone number and handed it to Tankersley.

  “Here. I’m not gonna be home for a while, so if you talk to your friend, please tell him to call this number.”

  After holding her gaze for a few seconds, he took the paper from her hand and looked down at the number, then back at her.

  He leaned over and reached into the glove compartment. “This is my card, and I’m writing my home number on the back. If you need my help with anything, and I mean anything at all, you call me, you hear?”

  Jonelle took his card. “I promise,” she said. “Gotta run. Thanks for meeting with me, Detective.” She hurried away.

  “Hey,” he called after her.

  Jonelle turned back around.

  “At least call me Gordon, okay?”

  “Will do, Gordon.” She waved at him. “Thanks, again.”

  Once inside her car, Jonelle wondered if Manross and this mysterious white guy were somehow connected. Absently, she started the car, pulled out of the lot and onto the Parkway. The radio was tuned to WNEW, all news all the time. A breaking news bulletin interrupted the traffic and weather report.

  “Holy crap!” She slammed on the brake. Behind her came a loud screech and an angry car horn. Jonelle signaled “sorry” with her hand to the driver and pulled over onto the shoulder.

  The late-breaking news story caused her heart to lurch in her chest. She turned up the radio’s volume. The last words of the report filled the car, “… Perpetual Rest church. The man’s body was found in a shallow grave in a quiet part of the church’s cemetery. The police are saying he worked at the cemetery but are not releasing his name at this time, nor manner of death, pending notification of next of kin.”

  Jonelle turned off the radio. For several minutes she sat motionless, listening to the car idle.

  CHAPTER 19

  “What on earth!”

  Adrienne crept past what looked like half the county police force blocking one side of the street in front of the Perpetual Rest Cemetery. Blue and red lights flashed a universal warning as she found a spot on the other side of the street and parked.

  Determined to carry out her assignment from Jonelle, she grabbed a bouquet of pink and white carnations from the passenger seat and walked up the sidewalk that ran perpendicular to the church.

  A small, yet growing crowd congregated on the sidewalk approximately thirty feet from a path that led up to the church. The gathering reminded her of ants descending on a drop of spilled honey. To the left of the church, yellow and black police tape snaked through the bars of a wrought iron fence and gate.

  Adrienne squeezed through three g
ray-haired ladies with a terse, “’scuse me” and approached a uniformed police officer, standing by himself, his back to her and blocking the path.

  She tapped him on the shoulder. “Pardon me, Officer, can you tell me what’s going on here?”

  He turned to look at her, taking in her tight black capri pants and white lace top.

  “There’s been an unfortunate incident here, Miss. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.”

  Adrienne wagged the flowers in front of his face. “Well, I’m here to visit a relative and pay my respects. I won’t stay long, so if you’d just let me through.” She attempted to go around him.

  He stepped in front of her. “Afraid I can’t do that just yet, Miss. So, if you’d please, kindly move back.”

  “Well, how long am I supposed to wait out here? I just stopped by to pay my respects on my way to work.”

  The officer shrugged. “Can’t really say.”

  “Well, thanks for all your tremendous help,” she said. Adrienne peeked around the young officer’s broad shoulders. From her position, she could clearly see the front of the church.

  On the church steps stood a woman dressed in a green skirt and matching blouse. Next to her were two men. One wore a dark suit and the other was overweight and bald and carried a notepad. The woman kept wringing her hands and the dark-suited man kept patting her on the back. Occasionally, the heavyset man jotted something down on the pad.

  The cop frowned at her and pointed toward the crowd.

  “Fine. I’m going, already.” Adrienne took a few steps backwards, her eyes glancing at the police tape. As she wandered back to the edge of the crowd near the curb, a few more uniformed cops called out to the officer Adrienne had been talking to. They waved him over. At about the same time, the ambulance that had blocked the street pulled away. While everyone was distracted, Adrienne scurried up the walk toward the church and took refuge behind several large azalea bushes. She scanned the area. No one paid any attention to her. For all the activity taking place, the area was strangely quiet.