Neither woman spoke as Jonelle drove the short distance to the row of shops.
Inside the carry-out, three people stood in line ahead of them. Jonelle eyed the rows of deli meats, cheeses, and salads displayed under the glass cases that ran the length of the store. She sniffed at the harsh, yet sweet smell of onions that hung in the air.
“What would you like?” Jonelle asked.
“They do the best reuben around here. I’d like that, if it’s okay.”
“No problem. How about something to drink? And what about chips?”
“A diet soda would be fine. No chips, but I usually get two pickles.” She glanced at Jonelle, eyebrows raised.
Jonelle grinned. The little voice inside told her to order a green salad, but hunger overruled common sense. She asked the man behind the counter for a reuben with extra pickles, a grilled ham and swiss with onion and tomato, and two diet colas.
After Jonelle paid the cashier, they picked their way back outside. The two found a recently vacated white plastic table and sat on folding chairs facing each other. An artificial red rose in a plastic bud vase served as a centerpiece.
Jonelle took a bite of sandwich and a few sips of Coke and waited until Marcia had tasted the reuben before she spoke.
“It’s pretty awful what happened today. I heard it on the radio and rushed over to see what was going on. Manross and I had been in contact with each other recently, and I feel as though I was beginning to know him.”
“You and Cornelius became friends? I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, no, not friends, really. He and I were having, uh, conversations as to what he thought could’ve happened to Del’s body. That’s all.” Jonelle didn’t want to tell Marcia of the run-ins she’d had with the groundskeeper. The last thing she needed was to have the cops come knocking on her door asking questions about a dead man.
“Tell me this,” Jonelle said, quickly changing the subject. “Does anyone at the church know if what happened today was an accident? Or something else?”
“Mmm,” Marcia said, picking up some sauerkraut that had fallen onto her paper plate and shoving the pickled cabbage in her mouth. “The police will only say that it looks as if it wasn’t an accident.” She stared off in the distance.
Jonelle noticed the clerk looked older than she remembered. Wispy brown hair, laced with gray, was pulled back in a ponytail at her neck. Tired looking bangs tried in vain to hide a too broad forehead. Even in this heat she wore stockings with her sensible black walking shoes.
“They said the hole he was found in was too shallow,” Marcia said between bites. “The most that could’ve happened if he’d fallen in by accident is that he might’ve ended up with a sprained ankle.” A few glops of Russian dressing filled the corners of Marcia’s mouth.
Jonelle picked up a napkin, hoping the clerk would do the same. She didn’t.
“Why was there a hole so far up away from the rest of the cemetery?” Jonelle rubbed her mouth vigorously with the napkin.
Marcia frowned. “That’s what the pastor and I were trying to figure out. There were no burials planned for way up there. Fact is we didn’t even know about the hole until Jorge came running to tell us he found Cornelius.”
“I heard there wasn’t much blood. Did the cops say anything about that?”
For the first time since they arrived at the deli, Marcia’s one good eye looked directly at Jonelle. “I didn’t know that. Nobody said anything about that to me or the pastor. Where’d you hear that?”
Jonelle shrugged. “It’s just something a few people in the crowd in front of the church were saying. I suppose it coulda been just a rumor or speculation.”
“Well, that’s news to me. I don’t think Cornelius had any health problems. In fact, we used to tease each other. He’d brag about how strong and fit he was for a guy his age and how he could still attract the young ladies.” Marcia munched on a pickle.
“How is Jorge handling this?”
Marcia made a face. “You know Jorge, too?”
“Not really. I just know he and Manross are, sorry, were, close. Napkin?”
The clerk nodded. “Thanks.” She wiped her mouth and ate more pickle. “Jorge didn’t talk much to anyone except Cornelius. I think they hung out together sometimes.”
“So Jorge isn’t someone you could go to for a nice, friendly little chat, huh?”
Marcia shrugged. “He just isn’t as outgoing as Cornelius was. Jorge is the type who only speaks if you speak to him first. Tell you the truth,”—she leaned in closer to Jonelle—“the pastor and I were hoping Cornelius would have a good influence on Jorge. Jorge likes his liquor a little too much, you know?” She mimed tipping a bottle to her mouth.
“Is that right?” Jonelle mentally filed the fact away. “Did you notice anything strange about Manross in the last week?”
The clerk frowned. “What do you mean by strange?”
“Maybe strange isn’t the right word.” Jonelle played with the soda bottle cap. “Was he acting differently or doing anything that was out of the ordinary for him? Something that might have caught your or the pastor’s attention?”
Marcia dropped the pickle and frowned. “Why are you asking all these questions?”
Not wanting to antagonize the woman, but needing as much information as she could while she could, Jonelle had no intention of stopping now. “Because my husband’s still missing and one of the last people that came in contact with his body is now dead.” Jonelle held Marcia’s gaze.
Marcia nodded. “Well, lemme think.” Marcia took a large bite of her sandwich and leaned back in the chair. “You know, now that I think about it,” she mumbled, her mouth still working on the reuben, “Cornelius was acting a little… what’s the word?” Marcia swallowed. “Preoccupied. Yeah, that’s it. He seemed preoccupied lately.”
Jonelle stopped with the bottle of Coke halfway to her mouth. “In what way?”
Marcia picked up the last pickle. “Once I saw him just standing around, staring at the headstones near where you said your husband was, uh, missing from. When I came up to him to tell him the pastor needed him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he yelled at me, shouting that I should never sneak up on him like that. He never did that before. ’Course, he apologized later.”
“Any other times when he seemed preoccupied or nervous to you?
Marcia glanced at the people walking around on the sidewalk. “Well, lemme think.” She opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head. “No. Can’t think of anything else right now.”
Jonelle felt the clerk knew something else but didn’t want to push the issue just yet and risk further upsetting the woman. Instead, she gathered up the paper plates and napkins and threw them in the waste bin.
“Thanks for the lunch,” Marcia said. “I feel much better now.”
“You’re welcome. Glad we had this little chat. I’ll be happy to take you home.”
Marcia looked at her watch. “Looks like I’ll be getting there just in time for my programs.”
“If you think of anything else about Manross, could you give me a call?” Jonelle reached in her bag and took out a business card. “My cell is on all the time, so feel free.”
Marcia hesitated to take the card Jonelle held out to her.
“Why? Why are you so interested?”
“Just curious, is all. That’s a problem I have, always needing to know the why of things. I read an old saying once—”
“Curiosity killed the cat?”
Jonelle grimaced. “Uh, no. Jeez not that one. ‘Curiosity is lying in wait for every secret’ is what I had in mind.”
Marcia smiled sheepishly. She took the card from Jonelle’s hand. “Well, guess it wouldn’t hurt to let you know if I hear anything else.”
A thought occurred to Jonelle when they reached the Jeep. “Say, do you know a guy named Calvin?”
“Calvin?” Marcia’s brow furrowed. “What’s his last name?”
Jonelle shrugged. “Don’t
know his last name for sure, but I think he’s a groundskeeper, too.”
Marcia got in the car.
After buckling herself in, Jonelle continued, “I’ve seen him with Manross a few times and just wondered if you knew anything about him.”
“We don’t have anyone named Calvin working at the church.”
“I think he might work at a different cemetery. Wears work clothes similar to the ones your cemetery workers wear, only his are dark blue. His skin color is darker than mine, and he’s got a beer belly.”
Marcia turned in her seat and faced Jonelle. “Oh, I do remember seeing somebody like that hanging around a few days ago. I noticed him following Cornelius when I went out to help one of our elderly parishioners place flowers on his wife’s grave. When I told Cornelius the pastor needed him, the guy gave me a dirty look. He was real creepy. Do you think he had anything to do with—?” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“I don’t really know. But call me if you see him hanging around again.” Jonelle started the car.
The trip to Marcia’s took less than ten minutes. As Jonelle let her off in front of a small bungalow, she remembered Marcia saying she usually walked home on a path through the woods. Jonelle drove on a few yards, turned right at the corner, parked next to a bungalow similar to Marcia’s, and got out. On her left several feet of mowed grass ended flush to the street. Just above that, a tree line began.
She strolled up along the grass and wandered cautiously along the edge of the woods. The trees looked like wooden soldiers waiting to close in on, and squeeze the life out of, whomever was unlucky enough to get stuck in their midst.
Jonelle felt her heart thumping in her chest. Her breath came in rapid spurts. “Oh, boy. Calm down.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “If you can survive being locked in a dark shed, a lotta wood and leaves are nothing to be afraid of.”
She opened her eyes. After her breathing slowed to normal, Jonelle looked for the path Marcia had mentioned.
The sound of heavy footfalls on the ground stopped her. Voices up ahead caught her attention. A group of five riders on horseback came out of the woods ahead of her and turned away up the side of the road. After the last rider rode out of sight, Jonelle rushed to the spot from where they emerged. There it was. Nestled between two large oak trees, and no more than twelve feet wide, a bridle path led farther into the woods.
CHAPTER 21
Jonelle stared at the trailhead. In order to reach the far end of the cemetery where Manross’ body was found, she needed to follow the path all the way up. Up into dense woods. Dense, dark woods.
Slowly she turned around and looked back where her car sat parked on the street. Over there familiarity and safety beckoned her to forget the whole thing and go home. She backed away from the trees.
It’s getting late. Maybe I should come back tomorrow. And bring someone with me.
“Gotta get past this,” she said out loud. She breathed deeply in and out, in and out, and turned toward the woods. “Okay, here goes.”
Jonelle started walking. The first several feet of the dirt path were wide enough so that three adults could walk side by side. The trail cut through large oak and elm trees. She wondered what it would be like to climb up and sit at the very top. The air would be cleaner, purer. Up there, she would be above all of the ugliness down below. But how long could she stay there? Eventually reality would intervene and call her back down to earth. Pushing the daydream aside, Jonelle marched along at a comfortable pace and concentrated on keeping her breathing regular.
As she made her way along through dappled sunlight, Jonelle thought of Manross. His odd behavior that first meeting at the church was what triggered this whole series of events. He seemed more scared than indignant that she was accusing the church, and him, of removing Del’s body.
She trudged on. So many pieces of the puzzle lay scattered around in her mind that she needed some way of bringing them all together so a picture of what happened to Del would emerge. A sense that something obvious lay below the surface nagged at her as she continued up the trail.
Several yards farther on, the path curved around to her right, and the angle increased by about twenty degrees. At this point, the track narrowed and the way darkened as the trees grew more closely together, blocking most of the direct sunlight. Now, no more than two skinny people could walk abreast. Jonelle’s pace slowed. Her breath quickened.
“No, the trees are not closing in on you. This ain’t the Wizard of Oz. There’s no wicked witch in here.” At least she hoped not.
She shushed the words in her mind and strained hard to listen. Birds chirped and twittered somewhere above. Insects buzzed around her head and flew at her eyes. She swatted them away.
As she walked, Jonelle wondered about the white man at the zoo. Why was he following her? Were he and Manross somehow connected? Or did he have something to do with Del’s past? Detective Tankersley told her the man at the raided house made bail. Jonelle made a mental note to ask the detective for a physical description of Chasson and ask Marcia if someone fitting the description was seen hanging around the cemetery.
So many questions remained about Calvin and Jorge, and she had no answers. Jorge worked closely with Manross. Marcia said they hung out together, and Jonelle knew that co-workers who saw each other day in and day out often confided in one another. Manross probably needed help in removing and disposing of Del’s body. Jorge seemed the most likely accomplice.
But what about Calvin? Jonelle frowned. Calvin made her skin crawl. “He knows something about Del. I can feel it,” she mumbled. With Manross dead, Jorge and Calvin possessed the answers to most of her questions, and of the two, Calvin posed the greatest threat.
Engrossed in thought about Calvin and Jorge, Jonelle didn’t watch where she was going, tripped over an exposed tree root, and fell on her hands and knees.
“Dammit!”
Jonelle rolled over and sat on the sandy soil. She didn’t care if her pants got dirty. She didn’t care what kind of creepy-crawlies slithered around in the dirt, waiting to take a bite out of her exposed flesh.
“What the hell am I doing this for?”
Gazing up at the cloudless sky above the trees, Jonelle remembered. She remembered the single red rose Del gave her on the fifteenth of every month, celebrating the day they were married. She remembered him cleaning and cooking when she lay in bed with the flu. And the offer he made to pay for her mom’s plane ticket from California to celebrate Marvin’s sixty-third birthday—an offer her mother refused. Del never hassled Jonelle about her weight, and most important, he didn’t laugh when she said her life’s dream was to become a police officer and ultimately a detective.
“That’s why I’m doing this. Getting locked in sheds and falling on my ass and all that shit. That’s why.”
Jonelle got up and brushed the dirt from her clothes. A quick examination revealed scraped palms but no blood. She soldiered on, paying more attention to where her feet came in contact with the ground.
The path narrowed again and continued its gentle incline, doglegging first right, then left. Ferns and weeds invaded the trail, and Jonelle had to focus on keeping the worn path from disappearing from view.
A heavy, rotten smell brought her up short. Jonelle sniffed the air and looked around. There it was up ahead.
“What the? Oh, ick.”
A clump of fresh horse manure sat in the middle of the trail, still steaming. Careful not to step in it, Jonelle noticed that in a few places horse’s hoofprints were clearly visible and in other places fallen leaves covered the path. Anyone who came this way would have no trouble covering their tracks.
Jonelle struggled up along the trail, keeping an eye out for more manure. Every few feet she brushed low hanging branches from her face. She tried to avoid snagging her clothes on the prickly bushes that lined both sides of the path.
Her breathing became more labored as the rise increased. While the sun’s rays between the tre
es barely reached her, the cooler air remained heavy with moisture and did nothing to stop the sweat from breaking out on her forehead and trickling down into her eyes.
Jonelle paused again and used the end of her shirt to wipe sweat away. She checked the time. Only twenty minutes had passed from when she dropped Marcia off at home.
A rustling sound up ahead and to her left prickled the hairs on the back of Jonelle’s neck. Leaves swished and crackled around her. She held her breath. More sounds of movement, then nothing. There it was again, directly up ahead. Moving cautiously, Jonelle stopped when she made out what stood on the path.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
Jonelle smiled and continued on. The doe that had been staring at her intently, bounded deeper into the woods, white tail flashing.
Jonelle plodded along, avoided more manure plops and skirting fallen tree branches. She zeroed in on staying mentally relaxed. As she thought of how hiking this trail every day, as Marcia did, would definitely keep a person in shape, a soft murmur caught her attention. She stopped and peered through the trees.
Not seeing anything, she crept on. The voices grew louder but were still indistinct. The going became easier as the path flattened out and widened again. Here, near the trail’s end, the beginning of an open field with lush green grass spread out before her like a blanket.
She crept closer. Two figures circled around a pile of loose dirt about fifty feet away. Both had “Crime Scene” written in white on their navy blue shirts. Conscious that her light-colored clothing advertised her presence if anyone turned to look down the path, Jonelle quickly stepped off the trail and stood behind a large tree about twenty feet away from the opening. From this vantage point, she could see the two men clearly and hear most of what they said.
One man, the shorter of the two and the one closest to the trail, wiped his right foot frantically back and forth on the grass. The taller man had dark hair and stood closer to the pile of dirt.
“Hey man, you shouldn’t be doing that here. You’ll spoil the scene,” he said, laughing.
“Screw the scene. I gotta get this crap off my foot. Damn horses. If I gotta pick up after my dog, then these people oughta pick up after their horses. I’m not going back down that stupid path until somebody tells me I hafta. That guy coulda had a heart attack, all we know.”
Burial Plot (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 1) Page 14
