by Dale Young
“Therein lies the rub, Logan. Your grandmother, well…” Harmon cleared his throat and looked at Logan. He desperately wanted his pipe or maybe a shot of bourbon. Either one would make this conversation easier for him.
“Your grandmother was not married, Logan. She got pregnant out of wedlock by a laborer that was working the Shaw land during one of the harvests. Rosemary was furious and threw her daughter out of the house. Or so the story goes. But they never spoke after that. You’re grandmother raised her child, your father, estranged from the family. She left town and no one ever saw them again. Rosemary never forgave herself for it. But she was a traditional woman and in her world, keep in mind this was a long time ago, a woman was supposed to have a husband when they were pregnant and the child was supposed to belong to that husband. But it just didn’t work out that way for Elizabeth.”
Logan was dumbfounded. In the span of just a few minutes he had learned more about his family than he ever had while growing up. Now all of a sudden it made sense to him why his father had never wanted to talk to him about the family.
“Are you alright, Logan?” Harmon’s question broke Logan free from his trance. He had been pondering how it must have been for his father growing up.
“I’m fine. So tell me more, Harmon. What about Rosemary’s husband? I assume I have a great-grandfather as well? Can you tell me about him?”
The same look as before flashed across Harmon’s face. Logan knew he had hit on something again. He waited for Harmon to answer his question.
“His name was Carson Shaw. He passed away in 1965.” Logan watched as a Harmon’s eyes grew dark. “Yes, he died in 1965. The leaf got him, Logan. His lungs, I mean. The leaf got him just like it got Wilfred.”
“Wilfred?” Logan asked.
“Wilfred Burns, my former partner. I just didn’t have the heart to take his name off the firm. The leaf got him as well about five years ago.”
Harmon knew he was only telling Logan half of the truth about his great-grandfather, but he knew Logan didn’t need to know the real circumstances of Carson’s death. At least not right now.
Logan leaned back in his chair and tried to absorb everything he had just learned about his family. It seemed straightforward enough. A baby out of wedlock had broken the family ties, resulting in his father and grandmother growing up outside of the town of Starlight. But despite his belief that Harmon was a good man and was telling him the whole story, Logan still had a feeling that there was more to it. But he was certain that at this point Harmon probably wouldn’t tell him what it was. So Logan decided to ask the next question that was on his mind. He decided to ask about his inheritance.
He could sense what Logan was about to ask. He silently admired Logan for first asking about his relation to Rosemary before demanding to know what his inheritance was. Still, Logan was human and obviously of limited financial means, so Harmon couldn’t exactly blame him for wanting to know what he had inherited from a great-grandmother that he had never met.
“So, uh, what have I inherited, Harmon? I mean, what has my great-grandmother left me?”
Harmon leaned forward and placed his arms on his desk.
“Well, everything Logan. She left you everything she had. You are, like I said, her only living relative. So it’s all yours now – the land, the house and everything inside of it. And a trust fund to take care of all the taxes and expenses for as long as you live.”
What Harmon said suddenly registered with Logan. Not about the inheritance, but about him being Rosemary’s only living relative.
“With all due respect, Harmon, how do you know I’m the only living relative?”
He smiled. He had expected this question and was ready for it.
“Logan, I’m a lawyer. We often hire people to gather information for us. Like I said before, I have been Rosemary’s attorney for quite some time now. Many, many years in fact. We were… very close, Logan.”
Logan watched as Harmon seemed to drift away. After a few seconds he snapped out of it.
“I was instructed by her years ago to find her daughter and grandson and to keep up with them over the years. We have always known they were in Wilmington. But mind you, I was under strict instructions from Rosemary to never have any contact with them. Your father and grandmother, that is. Don’t ask me why because Rosemary never told me why. I simply did as I was instructed. I did what I was paid to do. For some reason, Rosemary decided that upon her death you were to have everything she owned. She may have planned to leave everything to your father, but then you were born.”
“Well he’s…” Logan said.
“He’s dead. I know, Logan. So is Elizabeth. She died before you were born. Like I said, we have people that gather information for us. That’s how I knew where to mail the letter that I sent to you. How’s the car business by the way?”
Logan frowned. “It sucks, to be quite honest.” It was all he could think of to say. Harmon’s question had caught him completely off guard.
He thought about what Harmon had just told him, that he had inherited a house, some land and a trust fund. He didn’t know how excited he should be, and it still seemed inappropriate to be happy about it. His great-grandmother was dead, after all, and he had never even had a chance to meet her. And now everything she owned belonged to him. But what did that mean? She obviously lived alone. What kind of house had he inherited? He decided to ask Harmon.
“So I have a house now. That’s certainly a step up for me. I currently live in a…”
“A trailer? I know. I told Rosemary that about six months ago. For what it’s worth Logan, it seemed to make her very happy that she would be leaving you something nicer to live in than a trailer by an industrial shipping port.”
He wanted to be offended but he knew Harmon had pegged it. Yes, he lived in a trailer by an industrial shipping port, and yes it was a dump.
“So may I ask about the house? Is it close by? I mean, can we go see it?”
Harmon tried his best to hold his composure when Logan asked about seeing the house. He got up out of his chair and walked over to the window. Outside the clouds were growing dark and angry from an approaching thunderstorm. Harmon mused that the same clouds seemed to roll through the area every day of the summer at almost the same time in the afternoon. Then he turned and looked at Logan sitting sheepishly in the chair.
“Logan, have you talked to anyone in town besides me?”
“Well, yes. I talked to a nice girl at the diner.”
“Colby?” Harmon asked as he raised an eyebrow.
Logan was at first surprised that Harmon knew Colby’s name. But then he remembered how small Starlight was and it wasn’t hard to figure out that in a town this small everyone knew everyone.
“Yes, Colby. She was very nice to me. She even asked if I was the long lost relative of Rosemary Shaw. I guess everyone in town knows about me. This is such a change from Wilmington. There I could lay dead in my trailer for a week and no one would even notice. Here in Starlight it’s almost like everyone already knows my name.”
“We do all know each other, Logan. Welcome to small-town life.” Harmon chuckled but his amusement was just for show. He was trying to hide the uneasiness percolating in his stomach.
“That’s why I’m asking who you might have talked to before coming to my office.”
“Just Colby, and like I said, all she did was ask me if I was the relative that they were looking for. By they I guess she meant you.”
Harmon looked out the window again at the approaching clouds. Then he heard the distant rumble of thunder. After a few seconds he walked back over and sat down at his desk. Then he leaned in towards Logan.
“First of all, Logan, let me say that when I tell you that you have inherited a house I don’t mean just any house. Same with the land. Rosemary’s house is one of the largest, if not the largest antebellum mansion in Starlight. The house was built before the Civil War and has been in her, well, your family ever since. It’s quite beau
tiful, Logan. And the land has some of the best soil in the county for growing the leaf. Tobacco, Logan. Tobacco made your family very wealthy.”
Logan suddenly thought about eating TV dinners every night and driving around with little more than fumes in his gas tank. He certainly didn’t feel like he came from money.
“So you’re telling me I’m rich now, Harmon?”
Harmon leaned back in his chair. “We’ll discuss the financials later, Logan. Right now just understand that you are now the owner of a large antebellum mansion and over three hundred acres of prime tobacco land and the government allotment that allows the tobacco produced on the land to be sold at market. They call the land the Shaw Fields, and buyers from across the state damn near fight over the tobacco that is grown in those fields. Like I said, the soil is as close to perfect as it can get. It’s weak and thin and grows perfect Brightleaf tobacco. Why, I’ve even seen the Shaw Fields produce a crop when the rest of the tobacco in the county was killed off by tobacco worms. No one knows why or how, but it just happens.”
Logan wanted to be happy with what he was hearing. But he couldn’t get past the look on Harmon’s face. Something was up, and he was tired of waiting to find out what it was. It was time to ask Harmon to spill the beans and tell him the whole story.
“Harmon, I don’t mean to sound rude but it just seems that there is something you’re not telling me. Why are you concerned about whether or not I’ve talked to anyone else in town?”
His face clouded over. It was a few moments before he spoke again.
“Because of the stories you might hear, Logan. It’s important that you hear this from me. I was just concerned that someone else in town might have filled your head with wild stories about the Shaw mansion and the land. Most of it is just bunk. But there is a story to tell. And you have a right to know what it is.”
He looked longingly at his pipe in the ashtray. Logan could tell the man needed a smoke.
“Harmon, please, light up if you want to. It doesn’t bother me. Pipe tobacco smells a lot better than cigarette smoke. I don’t mind it.”
His face lit up. “Don’t mind if I do, Logan. Thank you for your compassion towards and old chap like me. I do love my pipe.”
He relit his pipe and Logan watched as a look of pure pleasure crossed Harmon’s face as he took a few deep puffs. Now maybe the man would be able to relax and tell him the whole story about the house and land.
“That’s much better,” Harmon said as he puffed on his pipe. “It’ll probably kill me but I do love it so. Now then, where were we?”
“The house, the land… There’s a story behind them.”
His face darkened again. Despite having his pipe it was still going to be difficult to tell Logan the story behind the Shaw land.
“Keep in mind Logan, some of this happened before my time, before I was even born mind you. And I’m not sure I believe some of it. There are people in town that believe one thing, and there are others that believe something else. I suppose I should tell you both versions of the story and let you decide which one sounds more plausible.”
“Fair enough,” replied Logan. He wished Harmon would just get on with it and stop stalling.
Harmon took a long draw on his pipe and tilted his head back. Then he exhaled a cloud of blue smoke that hung in the air above him. He stared into the cloud of smoke for a few moments and then leveled his eyes on Logan.
“Some people say it’s the McPhale family. Generations of McPhales have lived next to the Shaw land for at least a hundred years. Not a damn one of them has ever been worth a pound of dry shit, pardon my French. One school of thought is that they have been behind it all. Maybe they thought over the years that if they could drive the value of the land down to the point where it was worthless then they would be able to buy it on the cheap. And it’s no secret that they’ve been waiting on Rosemary to die for years. Now that she has passed I do have to say that I don’t envy you, Logan. You will probably have to deal with them at some point. The current bunch is led by Chip McPhale and his brother Ethan. They’re the only two remaining other than their father, but he’s in a nursing home near Raleigh and can’t even remember his own name. Very sad. Their mother is gone. But Chip and Ethan are alive and well. Together those two don’t have enough brain wattage to light a two dollar string of Christmas tree lights. But they’re mean, Logan. Beware of them both.”
“They’re behind what? You said some people think they’re behind it all. Behind what, Harmon?”
Harmon cleared his throat.
“The murders.”
“Excuse me? The what?”
He took a draw on his pipe and then sat it in the ashtray.
“The murders, Logan. There is a reason Starlight is not what it once was. Every so often there is a murder in this town. And not just a simple murder like what you might read about on any given day in Wilmington. This is not a case of a mugging or a home invasion gone wrong. The murders I’m talking about are always a most gruesome event, Logan. Often the victim is unrecognizable once the killer is finished with the body.”
Logan was dumbfounded. He had no idea how to handle what he was hearing. All he could do was ask the obvious question.
“And what makes you think the McPhales are behind these murders?”
“I didn’t say that’s what I think, Logan. I said some people think that. Some people in town think the McPhale family has been behind the murders through the years and that they pass on the killing duties from generation to generation. About fifty years ago one of the McPhales was actually caught and convicted of a murder but it turned out to be the result of someone owing the wrong person money.”
“Damn… So it’s not beyond them to commit murder.”
“No it’s not, Logan. But like I said before, their aim is to get the Shaw Fields as well as the house. Either by driving down the value or by just scaring people into doing what they want. But Rosemary refused to leave the house and the land. The McPhales never could get through to her. She was a tough old bird, my good friend Rosemary. She was indeed. God have mercy on her soul.”
He then leaned back in his chair again. At first Logan didn’t think he was going to continue. But then Harmon reached for his pipe, took another long draw and then sat it back down in the ashtray. Then he continued.
“The other theory is that the land is cursed, Logan. I’m an old man and I’ve seen a lot of things in this world. Can I tell you that I don’t believe the land is cursed? Honestly, I can’t tell you that. I’m ashamed to say that if I had to pick a story behind the murders, I don’t think I’d pick the McPhale story.”
“Why?” replied Logan.
Harmon suddenly became very frank. “Because that entire family has always been as dumb as a box of hammers, Logan. I refuse to believe that they would be able to carry out those murders and never get caught. Our sheriff would have caught them by now. Or the sheriffs that came before him would have caught them. The McPhales would have tripped up sooner or later and left a clue, or something that pointed to them. You’ve got to be pretty smart to get away with that many murders over such a long period. And like I said, the McPhales are anything but smart.”
What Harmon had just said suddenly registered with Logan. He frowned and looked at Harmon sitting underneath his cloud of pipe smoke. “Over such a long period?” Logan repeated.
Harmon paused and looked away while the words gathered in his mind. Then his eyes returned to Logan.
“The first murder occurred in 1931, Logan. And there have been more killings since then. They’ve become known as the ‘tobacco killings’. They always occur around the same time of the year, right near the end of the tobacco harvest. And always under a harvest moon. Sometimes there is a murder every few years, sometimes longer. We once went almost twenty years without one, and then one night when the harvest moon rose…”
His mouth dropped open as he slowly inhaled a long breath.
“Excuse me, Harmon? 1931? That’s over
eighty years ago.”
“Exactly,” replied Harmon as he reached for his pipe. “And I’d say we’re due for another one.”
Logan sat quietly for a minute while digesting what Harmon had told him. Then it hit him.
“Harmon, where…?”
“Where do the murders take place? I knew you were going to ask that question, Logan.” Harmon puffed his pipe and then removed it from his mouth. He looked Logan directly in the eyes before answering his question.
“Every single murder has taken place in the Shaw Fields.”
10
Sandy knocked gently and then opened the door to Harmon’s office. She peeked around the door until she saw Harmon and Logan sitting at the desk.
“Excuse me Harmon, but I think I’ll be going for the day. It’s past five thirty.”
“Yes Sandy, by all means. I’ll lock up. We’re going out to the house shortly. Have a nice night, dear.”
Logan thought that calling his secretary “dear” would land Harmon in hot water if he worked at a large law firm in the city. Harmon seemed to be stuck in another era but Sandy didn’t seem offended at all. She was from the same era as Harmon.
Harmon looked at Logan. “It is getting late,” he said as Sandy closed the door.
They had been talking about the Shaw house and land for over two hours. Logan could not believe that just a week ago he was nothing more than a broken-down used car salesman barely getting by and now was the owner of one of the largest mansions in the town of Starlight, a mansion that had murder mystery tied to it. Logan thought about the McPhale story, and the story about the land being cursed. This caused one final question to come to his mind.
“Harmon, you said that some people think the Shaw land is cursed. Why would they think that?”
He looked at Logan and then crossed his hands in his lap. He looked down as he began to rub his thumbs together.
“To tell you the truth, Logan, I have no idea.”
He looked at Harmon’s face. He could tell the old man was lying. But Logan was tired and he had been in Harmon’s office too long. He wanted to leave, go see the house and then find somewhere to stay for the night so he let the question go.
