“Well, I’ve been catching up with the papers since I got here, and I could have told himself not to try to mess with that conservatory as long as Mae-Lula was alive. Course he drinks real bad and some people get mean when they’re drunk, but the way Mae-Lula told me was that he just talked big when he got drunk. She was worried about him and the drinking, cause of her daddy being an alcoholic. She thought it ran in the family, and she wouldn’t touch a drop herself.”
“You two talked a lot?” Taneesha asked.
“Sunup to sundown some days. We both had our own kinds of hard times.”
“You liked her?”
“Oh, I loved her and she loved me, too. We were good friends. She paid me right, too, and paid in my social security right from the start, when a lot of people weren’t doing that. I wouldn’t have ever left her, except my son moved up north and I was missing him and his family, and they wanted me up there. Now I’m feeling like I shouldn’t have left, cause let me tell you, I kept that back door locked and even when it was open I had the hook lock on the screen door. Course I could hear people knocking or ringing the doorbell, and half the time she wouldn’t wear her hearing aid.”
“What about Robin and Claire?” Taneesha asked.
“Well, Robin was pretty much her favorite,” the old lady said, “cause, you know, anybody’d love Robin, and Claire’s just, I don’t know, sort of nervous and stuck-up, hard to get along with. But, the thing is that she was real tight with their mother, Miss Dorothy Hilliard, and a lot of what she did for those two was because of that. You know, Dr. Will and Mae-Lula didn’t get along, but Miss Dorothy, she was the sweetest thing, always remembering to come over with some dinner when I was off work, making a fuss over Mae-Lula’s birthday, making sure the children visited with her, all that kind of thing.
Taneesha saw her uncle poke his head through the door to the sanctuary. Her aunt tiptoed in and sat down near them with a significant glance toward the door.
Taneesha didn’t know if she was getting anywhere at all, and she did see that Mrs. Coleman could probably talk all day.
“I think we’ve both got people waiting for us to finish up,” she said with a smile. “But I just want to ask you one more thing. The girl who found Miss Mae-Lula’s body said that the kitchen smelled like chocolate, and I saw that there were cake pans in the dishwasher, the sheriff looked and found a cake mix box in the trash. Did you ever know Miss Mae-Lula to bake a cake?”
“Well, if she did, it would have had to be from a mix,” Mrs. Coleman said with a little laugh. “What’d that cake look like? Falling over on one side?”
“It wasn’t in the house and we never have found out who she gave it to,” Taneesha said.
“Well, I pity whoever it was, cause she couldn’t cook worth a nickel. ‘Course, she used to love to have me bake cakes to give to people, and she’d remember everybody’s favorite. Somebody’d bring her something good to eat, and the next thing you know she’d be telling me, “Marissa, you know we can’t send this plate back empty. Let’s make a cake to put on it.” She’d never tell me straight out to do anything. It was always ‘let’s’ “
She laughed a little, and then got teary eyed.
As they made their way out of the church, Mrs. Coleman reached out for Taneesha’s arm.
“What I want you to do now,” she said, “is let me know just as soon as you catch whoever killed my Mae-Lula. I get the paper, but it’s about a week late, and I want to know soon as you get somebody, and why they did it, too.”
Taneesha promised.
Chapter 19
“YOU KNOW SHE’S MATCHMAKING, DON’T YOU?” Robin asked Hunter after Miss Rose had urged them both to make themselves comfortable in the living room and scurried off to the kitchen. “She’s even put out her best china.”
“I kinda got that impression,” Hunter said.
“I’ll fix that over dinner.” Robin said. “You know, don’t you, that if I liked girls, you’d absolutely be the one?”
“Thanks,” Hunter said. “this is the second time I’ve been dumped in 24 hours.
She told him the story of her date with T.J., and by the time Miss Rose came to call them to dinner, they were both laughing.
At the table the conversation revolved at first around the passing of food. Smothered chicken. Mashed potatoes. Butterbeans. Squash casserole.
“Now,” Robin said, after their plates were served. “Miss Rose, I have just got to tell you about Aunt Mae-Lula’s will.”
“Are you sure, dear? You know it’s really none of my affair.”
“Oh, I know you’re not a bit curious,” he said, winking at Hunter, “but I’m dying to tell you about it.”
Mae-Lula Hilliard, as Robin explained it, had left the lot on Hilliard Court, the mansion and all its contents to him, along with a “nice amount of money.”
There were some small bequests, he said, even one for Jaybird, but the bulk of the money in her estate went to Claire.
“I won’t talk dollars and cents at the dinner table,” he said. “but I’ll just say that it was a lot more money than we realized she had.”
“Well, did it strike you as fair?” Miss Rose asked gently.
“Absolutely,” Robin said. “Of course, I’ve got to get all that stuff in the house appraised, and see how much work needs to be done to get the mansion ready to sell.”
“You’re going to sell it?” Miss Rose looked shocked.
“Either that or turn it into an Inn. And the good thing is that Aunt Mae-Lula didn’t tangle it all up. It’s mine free and clear, with the provision that I have to sign a quit-claim on the Billy House.”
“You mean where your sister lives?” Hunter asked.
“Right. My dad signed it over to both of us when he moved. Just didn’t want to be bothered with keeping it up or paying the taxes, so it’s been half mine all along. Not that I’d want it with that tacky office stuck on it.”
“My goodness,” Miss Rose said. “What a turn of events this is.”
“There’s more,” Robin said. “I quit my awful job. I’m going to need to be down here for a while seeing about the house and getting appraisals on the contents. My friend Colin is coming down to help me. It’s going to take months. You know they never got rid of a thing.”
“Yes, I do know,” Miss Rose said. “I remember Mae-Lula saying once that her father had so many books that that there weren’t enough bookshelves to hold them, and most of them had to be packed up and put in the attic, and naturally I suggested she give some of them to the school library, and she said,” Miss Rose smiled at the memory. “Well, you never know, one of the children might turn out to be a great reader.”
“Meaning me or Claire?” Robin laughed. “Well, I guess Claire is.”
“And Claire?” Miss Rose asked. “Is she happy with the outcome?”
“I think so,” Robin said. “She really seems to be getting more cheerful. But let me ask you about something else. Has Skeet been over to see you? I heard he hit Jaybird, and I imagine he had good reason, but I was thinking maybe you knew…”
You mean Tamlyn Borders’ husband?” Hunter asked. “He hit Jaybird Hilliard?”
“Oh, Hunter, I can’t believe you hadn’t already heard about that mess,” Miss Rose said, and then she turned her attention back to Robin.
“I’ve talked to Skeet by phone once, and sent some flowers for the funeral, and he said he’d come over as soon as things settled down a little bit. I think he’s having a hard time, Robin, but he’s strong.”
They moved on to dessert.
Miss Rose had made a lemon meringue pie, and waved away compliments.
“Robin, you should taste Hunter’s fudge,” she said. “She’s quite a good little cook.”
“Condensed milk, chocolate chips and some pecans,” Hunter told Robin. “In the microwave, stir and chill.”
“She just won’t let anybody give her a compliment, without brushing it off” Miss Rose said, getting up to clear the table
.
They started getting up to help her.
“No, no,” she said. “You two are company. You just sit right here and talk and I’m going to make some coffee.”
Hunter looked across the table at Robin.
“You said you were going to fix this,” she whispered.
“I am,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to tell her later that I asked you out to dinner and you turned me down.”
“Oh, thanks a whole lot!” Hunter said, but she didn’t have time to argue, because just then the back doorbell rang.
There was a deep male voice, and Miss Rose’s voice rising above them both, sounding truly delighted.
“Why, Skeet Borders! Look at that beautiful baby of yours. Come on in. I just baked your favorite pie!”
Robin talked quietly with Skeet for a minute or two, hugged Miss Rose and slipped out.
Hunter expressed her sympathy and said how much the baby looked like him.
“Thanks,” he said. “She’s her daddy’s girl, all right. You’re the one from the paper, aren’t you? Novena told me about you livin’ here. You know I used to live up in those upstairs rooms. Built those steps too.”
Hunter nodded and smiled.
“It’s great work,” she said, “I’m surprised you’re not in the building business.”
“Well, I may wind up that way. I’m going to have to get some kind of work. Anyway I appreciate your not chasing me around like the others have,” he said. “but now that we’re talkin’ anyway, I’ve been wonderin’ if y’all are gonna put something nice in about Tamlyn the way you did about Miss Mae-Lula. It’d be nice to have something to cut out and show to Madison later on.”
“I’ve already talked with some of her friends, and the preacher over in Cathay and I was going to call you,” Hunter said, “but I was waiting until things settled down a little bit. We’d like to have a picture of your wife, and I’d really like to talk with you a while about her, if you’re willing to do that.
He nodded. She saw behind the dark circles under his eyes, the need for a haircut, the weary look, that he was good-looking. A strong man, too. He carried the baby girl lightly, but he still looked weighed down with worry.
He looked toward Miss Rose, as if for confirmation that this would be the right thing to do.
“Yes, I think you should talk to Hunter,” Miss Rose said. “She’ll do something nice.”
They agreed to meet late the next afternoon, and Skeet said he’d find a good picture of Tamlyn. But how about we meet over here?” he asked, “Not downtown. If I run into another of those reporters down there I might hit somebody.”
“No problem,” Hunter said with a smile.
“Besides,” he said, “If Miss Rose is going to do me the big favor I’m about to ask, I’ll be over here anyway.”
“And what favor is that?”
“You remember my old blue and white Thunderbird that I worked so hard on?”
“How could I forget?” Miss Rose said. “You polished it so much I thought you were going to take the color off! Why?”
“Well, I’ve still got it, and it still runs, too. I’ve been keeping it out in a shed on Jaybird Hilliard’s property out there, and I need to get it out of there, and you know Bo and Arlene don’t have enough room for the cars we’ve got and…”
“If you want to bring it here, that’s just fine,” Miss Rose said, “It’ll be like old times again having that car in the back yard.”
“I don’t think it’d be but maybe a week,” Skeet said. “It’ll sell right fast. I was thinkin’ I’d put an ad in the paper, maybe put a picture of it in the ad if I can find somebody to take one.”
“I can take care of the picture for you,” Hunter interjected. “Will you have the car here by tomorrow?”
“Yeah, by four or so,” he said. “I’ve got some guys helping me. We got to get in through the window and get some tires on it and tow it in.”
“I thought you said it was running,” Miss Rose said.
“Well it would be if I had the keys,” Skeet said. “There’s only one thing missing from the house that I can tell, and that’s the keys to the Thunderbird.”
Chapter 20
MONDAY STARTED OFF RAINY, GRAY AND slow. Hunter knew there wasn’t much point in trying to write a story about the murder investigation until Wednesday morning, because anything could change.
There were plenty of other things that needed doing.’
She went through her in-box, re-writing the few newsworthy press releases that had shown up. She checked the fax. She checked her e-mail and found a press release about a seminar on historic preservation three local women had attended in Perry on Tuesday.
That had to be the one that Claire Hilliard-Harrow was at when her aunt was being murdered.
She could see at a glance that it was two or three times longer than it needed to be. Somebody must have written one long everything-but-the-kitchen-sink story and filled in the names of the locals for each paper it was being sent to. There was a picture attached of two women with an older man, a professorial type, who was pointing out something on a Georgia map as they all smiled at the camera. Claire Hilliard-Harrow’s name was in the story as an attendee, but she wasn’t in the photo.
Hunter frowned. Why didn’t people understand that photos had to have names to go with them? Sure, there were names in the story – Margaret Shane and Marlys Wilberforce — in addition to Claire, but how was she to know which was which in the picture?
Novena and Tyler were both gone, so she took a chance on the phone book and found a number for a James Wilberforce in Cathay.
Two minutes later, she had Marlys Wilberforce on the phone and she explained her problem.
“I got a photo from the Historic Preservation Seminar,” she said, “but it doesn’t have the names in order. Your name is in the story, so I thought.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Wilberforce said. “That was the picture they took of us with Carlton Sedgewick. He was the main speaker. I was wearing a red suit.”
“Great,” Hunter said, “So the other one in the picture is Margaret Shane, right?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure. You know they were just calling us up by county, and I’d never met her before.”
“I think it must be her,” Hunter said, “because the only other name they’ve got listed in the story is Claire Hilliard-Harrow, and I’ve met her and it definitely isn’t her.”
“No it certainly wasn’t Claire,” Mrs. Wilberforce said, “She left right after the orientation. I don’t know why she even bothered to come.”
“But she did attend?” Hunter asked, trying to sound off-hand about it.
“Well, I suppose you could say that,” Mrs. Wilberforce said. “If coming for coffee and picking up the literature is the same as attending. I must tell you though, that I just had to thank my lucky stars that I had been keeping up with the stories in the Messenger about the Hilliard Conservatory battle, because Dr. Sedgewick was very disappointed that Claire wasn’t there to say a few words on the subject, and I had to fill in the best I could.”
She sounded very pleased with herself.
Hunter thanked her for her help and hung up the phone.
What was it Dr. Harrow had said in the kitchen that day? That Claire was at a seminar in Perry, and that he’d have to reach her. And Robin had mentioned that too, that Claire had her cell phone turned off, and that the seminar was over when they called the fairgrounds office, and how she’d arrived home and seen all the crime tape and the cars without any preparation at all.
Hunter checked the e-mail press release, and sure enough, there was a telephone number for one Carlton Sedgewick.
She called him, posing pretty much the same question she had already asked Marlys Wilberforce.
“Oh, yes, I think that was Mrs. Wilberforce and Mrs. Shane,” he said. “Mrs. Hilliard-Harrow was signed up, but she left early. I heard the next day that her aunt was killed, so I suppose that must have been why she
was called away. Such a terrible thing.”
“Don’t even think about saying good morning to him,” Shelley was saying to Taneesha “He growled like a bear at me just because I told him Allison Birchy wanted to talk to him. Anyway, I told him she said it was urgent, and he said that if it was urgent she could call 911, and then on top of that, T.J. came in singing?”
“T.J was singing?” Taneesha asked.
“’Singin’ in the Rain’,” Shelley said. “He’s got a pretty good voice, too. Sam just wasn’t in the mood for singing, I guess. He got up and slammed the door to his office.”
“Hey, Shelley,” Bub called from an adjoining room. “Tell the sheriff Skeet Borders just called and said his house got broke into and tore all the hell up.”
When Sam and Bub got to the house on Old River Road, Skeet and his brother Bo were there with a rental truck, and Bo’s pick up.
“We were gonna clear the place out today, like you said we could” Skeet said, “but I figured you’d better take a look at it before we did anything. I know it got done last night, cause I was out here getting’ the TV and the microwave about six.”
The screen on the dining area window had been cut neatly and unlocked. The glass in the sliding window had been cut with a glass cutter along the metal frame. It had fallen inward and broken on the floor.
“You two stay back and let us make sure nobody’s in there,” Sam said.
“Ain’t nobody in there unless he’s in the toilet tank,” Skeet said. “We already been through.”
“So what’s missing?” Sam asked, stepping inside and looking around at the chaos. “Anything you noticed?”
“Beats me if anything is,” Skeet said. “It’s just all messed up and tore up, like somebody was lookin’ for somethin’. I just want y’all to get whatever you got to do done, so we can get moved out and not have to pay another day on that truck out there. Then I’m getting’ the car moved out tomorrow, and I’m damned if I’ll ever even drive down this road again after that.”
Sam went from room to room with Bub behind him. Drawers were pulled out and emptied on the floor, plastic boxes – the kind that slid under the bed – pushed out, yanked open, emptied, a garment bag unzipped, clothes thrown everywhere. Shoeboxes hurled down from closet shelves. In the hallway between the two bedrooms the linen closet door stood open. There was a mountain of towels and sheets on the floor.
Deep South Dead (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 1) Page 15
