Over Troubled Water: A Hunter Jones Mystery

by Charlotte Moore

  “But you didn’t go back to work?” Sam said.

  “I had told my supervisor it was a problem at my house, and he said to go ahead and take off until after my mother’s funeral, so I didn’t need to go back.”

  Under questioning, he said that he had lunch at the Waffle House, then watched three movies in a row at the Twin Lakes Cinema, and had supper at Waffle House. He pulled the ticket stubs out of his pocket and said that he had paid for his Waffle House meals with his credit card.

  When asked, he said that he hadn’t listened to any cell phone messages after he left work and that he turned the phone off after it rang the second time at Waffle House.

  Sam decided to move ahead.

  “Have you ever heard of a letter writer who calls himself Abomination?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Andy said.

  Sam repeated the question.

  “No,” Andy said. “Who would call themselves something stupid like that?”

  Sam decided to let that wait.

  “How would you describe your relationship with your late mother?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Andy said. “We had things worked out.”

  “So you got along pretty well?”

  “Yes,” Andy said. “She didn’t bother me much.”

  “Could you explain to me why you had a lock installed on the outside of one of the rooms you were using?” Sam asked.

  “To keep people out,” Andy said as if the answer were obvious. “Sunshine must have told you about that. She went into the house, didn’t she?”

  “Who were you keeping out of the room?” Sam asked.

  “Everybody.”

  “Was that so they wouldn’t see your rifle?” Sam asked.

  Andy Chapman stared at him, gripped the table, turned red, and exploded with a storm of curse words.

  Taneesha moved toward him, but Jeremy shook his head and patted Andy on the arm.

  “Lower your voice,” he said. “Control yourself. You don’t have to answer the question.”

  “Who’s been in my study?” Andy said to Sam. “Was it Sunshine?”

  And then he wailed.

  “She didn’t bother my computer, did she?”

  Sam had a sinking feeling that he had just wasted an entire day and half the night.

  Sam and Taneesha stepped outside to talk while Jeremy consulted with his unhappy client.

  “Are you letting him go tonight?” Taneesha asked.

  “I don’t have enough to charge him with anything,” Sam said. “The weapon has never been fired. Even if he wrote the Abomination letter, which I doubt, we don’t have any proof.”

  “Sounds like he’s calmed down in there,” Taneesha said.

  “Well, he’s probably about to explode again,” Sam said wearily.

  Later, Sam would say he had never had anyone curse at him longer and louder than Andy Chapman did when he learned that his computer was in the hands of the GBI. Sam finally left the conference room so that Jeremy Hays could get Andy calmed down.

  Taneesha sat at one end of the conference room table watching her husband deal with an exhausted and shaken Andy Chapman at the other end of the table.

  Jeremy said, “Don’t worry about the computer. We’re going to get it back to you. Nobody’s going to steal your writing, and Sunshine didn’t have anything to do with their taking the computer.”

  “Why did they take it if they didn’t want to steal what’s in it?” Andy asked.

  “They were looking for something else,” Jeremy said. “Now, let’s talk about where you’re going to sleep tonight. Your sister had the locks to the house changed today, and you need a new key to get in tonight.”

  “Why’d she do that?” Andy asked.

  “Because she needed to be able to get into the house,” Jeremy said, “You wouldn’t let her come in, and you had changed the locks so her key wouldn’t work.”

  “Yeah,” Andy said wearily.

  “Anyway, she knows you need to get into the house,” Jeremy said “So she has authorized me to give you this key to use provided you will agree to meet with us tomorrow morning in my office to discuss your mother’s will.”

  “My mother had a will?” Andy asked.

  “Yes, and I was her attorney,” Jeremy said. “So, if I give you this key and drive you back over to your house, do you agree to be at my office tomorrow morning at nine a.m.?”

  He held up the key, along with his business card.

  “What did she say in the will?” Andy asked, looking worried.

  “That’s what we’ll discuss in the morning,” Jeremy said. “I’ll give you the key if you’ll agree to be my office at nine tomorrow morning. Do you agree?”

  “Whatever,” Andy said.

  “That’s not good enough,” Jeremy said with a good-natured smile. “I need a ‘yes.’”

  “Yes.” Andy said and held out his hand.

  “Great,” Jeremy said, handing him the key and giving Taneesha a quick glance and a wink.

  “May we go now, Lieutenant?” he asked politely.

  “Yes,” she said. “Sheriff Bailey says he may have more questions later, but Mr. Chapman is free to go.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “So,” Sam said to Hunter over breakfast, “It looks like we spent all day and half the night chasing down a would-be novelist. He was way more worried about his computer than his rifle.”

  “I can see that,” Hunter said. “I’d be furious if somebody took my computer away with all my stuff in it. I wonder if his novel is any good.”

  “It’s science fiction, and it’s a good thing it’s set on another planet,” Sam said. “I don’t think Andy Chapman knows much about life on Earth.”

  “I hope you’re going to get his computer back soon,” Hunter said. “He might have withdrawal symptoms if you don’t. If it’s really as long as they say, he’s probably been spending all his spare time working on it.”

  “I’m sending Skeet and Aaron over there to pick it up this afternoon,” Sam said. “And I wish you would stop sympathizing with him. That’s half his problem, right there. No matter how badly he behaved, his mother put up with it and now his sister makes sure he has a lawyer and gives him a key to get back in the house.”

  “You’re in a bad mood,” Hunter said. “I hope you’ll get a break this weekend.”

  “There are two funerals tomorrow,” Sam said, sounding gloomy.

  Taneesha smiled at Jeremy over grits and eggs at R&J’s.

  “You were really good at handling that lunatic last night,” she said. “I was impressed.”

  “Thanks,” Jeremy said, “but I may have to call you and Sam after I tell him what the will says.”

  “If he actually shows up,” Taneesha said.

  Andy Chapman did show up at Jeremy’s office promptly at nine. He acknowledged his sister with a curt nod and sat on the other side of the room.

  Twenty minutes later, he stormed back out yelling that he wasn’t signing anything and he’d get his own lawyer.

  “Well, we tried,” Sunshine said.

  “He’s not going to get anywhere contesting the will,” Jeremy said, “but he could hold up the sale for a while. You want to go over your options now?”

  “No,” Sunshine said. “Not now. I need to talk to the pastor about the service and go sign some things at the funeral home. And I think I’ll just leave him alone for a while. That was a bad shock for him, especially after his being so upset about his computer and all that. He needs some time to take it in. I just hope he’ll come to the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Miss Chapman,” Jeremy said, pointing to his copy of the Last Will and Testament of Annie Chapman, “This will is what your mother wanted. “

  “I know,” she said. “But she probably thought she wasn’t going to die for years and years, and I just feel sorry for Andy.”

  She paused and added, “I’ve always felt sorry for Andy.”

  T.J. Jackson called Sam to get an update on the Chapman interview.
After he had heard the whole thing, he said, “That’s bad news, and I’ve more. Our District Attorney is already setting up a media event for four this afternoon on the steps of your courthouse.”

  “There’s nothing new to say,” Sam said. “That’s a waste of time.”

  “I’ll see if I can stop it,” T.J. said, lowering his voice. “But it’s not just the case really, Sam. It’s politics. You know he’s got this local lawyer who’s been talking about running against him in the primary, and he’s been counting on getting a lot of publicity out of this case.”

  “Maybe he could show up at the funerals tomorrow,” Sam said with a touch of sarcasm. “I’m sure there’ll be cameras there.”

  “Well, that’s one reason he wants to be there today,” T.J. said. “He’s got a funeral down here tomorrow.”

  Aaron Twitchell got to the Catfish Shack in Cathay at lunchtime. He thought he could fry better catfish himself, but the hushpuppies were first rate, with plenty of onions, and mainly he was there for the talk.

  Ike Morey and his wife Lena owned the Catfish Shack and the Shape-Up Shack, which weren’t shacks at all, but were side by side in Cathay’s one strip mall. Ike, who was a short man, but all muscle, ran the Shape-Up Shack, which was a gym with an emphasis on body building, while Lena, who was short and plump, ran the far more successful catfish restaurant.

  Marlin Hicks, who always had a conspiracy theory, was of the opinion that the shootings on the Foxtail Creek bridge had been done by the federal government.

  “They’re taking over,” he said. “This is just the start.”

  “Oh, hush, Marlin. You spend too much time on the internet.”

  That was Marlin’s wife, Willarene, who zoomed in on Aaron.

  “I heard you found ’em,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It was awful.”

  They all waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He didn’t like talking about it, but more to the point, he was there to listen.

  “I think it was just some crazy nut, probably somebody got off I-75 just to shoot people and then got back on,” Willarene said. “Wasn’t any reason to kill those particular folks. They were all good people.”

  “You say that,” Tina Morey said, coming up closer and lowering her voice, “But that Ricky Richards ain’t no saint. Coulda been somebody after him. You know they musta meant to kill him, too.”

  “That ain’t nice. What you. got against Ricky?” Herbert asked Lena, “Except him being competition for Ike?”

  “Ike’s fixing the place up,” she said with her hands on her ample hips. “We’ll see who’s competition for who, but I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about him – you know, thinkin’ he’s God’s gift to the ladies.”

  “He’s a flirt, I’ll tell you that,” the waitress, Dolly, said, backing her boss up as she poured more sweet tea. “Thinks he’s the George Clooney of Magnolia County. That Sasha has to keep a close eye on him.”

  “Well, not now she doesn’t,” Willarene said. “I heard he ’bout got his leg shot off. How bad was it, Aaron? You were there.”

  “It was bad, but I hear he’s gonna be okay,” Aaron said, reaching for another hushpuppy and wishing Willarene would just let Dolly and Lena keep talking about Ricky.

  In the big house on Clearview Circle, Andy Chapman was pacing around, feeling anxious. He was worried about the house and the will, but he was more worried about his computer. He wished that he hadn’t yelled at the Sheriff and at Jeremy Hays because they were the people who knew where it was and how to get it back to him.

  He was used to writing on the weekends. He wondered if he could write on his mother’s computer, figure out her e-mail, and send it to his computer when he got it back. He went downstairs to her den and turned her computer on.

  The chair was too small, though, and the screen was filled with all kinds of folders and documents, and things to click on. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He flung himself on her sofa and considered driving to work. He had a computer there. They might not mind if he used it on the weekend. Or, he thought, he could buy one of those laptops.

  The front doorbell rang, and he started to ignore it, but then he heard a loud male voice calling, “Mr. Chapman!”

  It was two of the men from the Sheriff’s office, and they had his computer.

  Andy led them to his room upstairs, and they worked with him to get it hooked up and plugged in. The one named Skeet insisted that he turn it on and make sure everything was there.

  Andy said, “I will, but stop looking over my shoulder.”

  Relief flowed over him as he saw that his work wasn’t lost.

  He signed the receipt they had on a clipboard and went back downstairs behind them to make sure the front door was locked.

  “Looks like he coulda said thank you,” Aaron said to Skeet on the way back to the courthouse.

  “I guess he coulda,” Skeet said with a grin, “But we’re the ones who took it away to start with. I was just glad he didn’t ask about his rifle. Sam’s thinking he’s got a good argument for not returning it.”

  “Like what?” Aaron said, sounding dubious.

  “Like he’s crazy,” Skeet said. “He’s been known to curse at the Sheriff of Magnolia County with a recorder running.”

  They both laughed.

  At four-thirty that afternoon, the front yard of the Magnolia County Courthouse was packed with reporters and cameras, and District Attorney Sanders Beale had already spoken fifteen minutes too long.

  Sam and T.J. had brought him up to date, but there wasn’t much news to offer the media, and the media was catching on to that. Sam saw one television reporter whispering to her camera operator. Will Roy Johnston had set up his radio equipment and seemed to be more interested in the box of fried chicken he had brought over from R&J’s than in what Sanders Beale was saying. Mallory Bremmer had taken some pictures and was holding up her recorder with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other.

  Beale picked up on the boredom. He had plenty of courtroom experience with the consequences of losing his intended audience and made a sudden decision.

  He banged his fist on the podium Skeet and Bub had hauled out from the County Commissioners’ meeting room.

  “And it’s not just the lives you’ve heard about,” he said, studying his notes for a moment. “Not just the senseless murders of Annie Chapman, Jim Jordan, and China Carson, but another life too. When this murderer is caught, and he will be, he’ll be held accountable by me personally for still another life – the life of the unborn child of China and Russell Carson.”

  “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to make that public yet,” Taneesha said angrily to Sam as they made their way back to his office, leaving Beale to answer any questions that might be hurled his way.

  “I did, too,” Sam said. “But he wants a new headline.”

  Just before seven, India Jackson sat down on the sofa in her childhood home, pulled off her sneakers and rubbed her feet, one at a time. She was relieved that the visitors, and even her brother and his family, were gone and that she had gotten through a day that included dealing with Russell and his sister Rondelle without saying an unpleasant word.

  They had met at the funeral home, and Rondelle, who should have known better, had brought in one of China’s oldest dresses that was four sizes too big. She said it was “Russell’s favorite.”

  India had waited until later to take one of her own best dresses to the funeral home director, and if Rondelle and Russell didn’t like it, that was just too bad, she thought. As far as she was concerned, once the funeral was over, they were no family of hers anyway. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but she had never thought Russell was good enough for China, and she knew Rondelle hadn’t thought anybody was good enough for Russell.

  A moment after she picked up the remote control and turned on the evening news, she found herself staring at the Magnolia County Courthouse and then at a stout man in an expensive suit who looked
a little familiar. He was talking about the shooting. She wondered if they were announcing something new and turned up the volume. It seemed to be more of the same. The camera cut away to the crowd, and then back to the speaker who had hit the podium with his fist and raised his voice. She caught the last part of the sentence.

  India sat straight up, stunned. The screen shifted again, and a young woman with a microphone was talking to the man.

  “District Attorney Beale, can you confirm that China Carson was pregnant at the time she was shot?”

  He looked sad as he said, “Yes, the pathologist’s report established that she was in the early stage of pregnancy. I believe this would have been their first child.”

  India threw one of her shoes at the television set.

  Her phone rang a minute later. Seeing that it was her brother, Harley, she answered.

  “Did you see on TV that China was pregnant?” he asked. “Did you know that?”

  “I did not,” she said, “And she must not have known it herself, or she would have told me. Who was that guy?”

  “The District Attorney,” Harley said. “India, this is so sad. All that time she wanted so much to have a baby, and finally she gets pregnant, she doesn’t live to…”

  “I’m sure she didn’t even know it,” India interrupted. “She wouldn’t have gone on any 14-mile bike ride if she’d known it.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “The next morning at ten, Sam gathered his team at the courthouse.

  “I’m going to both funerals,” he said. “We’ve got China Carson’s service at eleven at Friendship Baptist, and Annie Chapman’s at three at First Baptist. Skeet and Bub, I need you at both funerals. Skeet, you keep an eye on the family members. Bub, it’s your church, so you keep an eye out for any strangers.”

  Taneesha spoke up.

  “Sam’s not telling you that Rondelle Carson called and said I’m not welcome at the funeral because I told Russell we didn’t need to make China’s pregnancy public unless somebody was charged, and then the District Attorney went and told the whole world.”