She was relieved to find a distinct lack of raccoons, rabid or otherwise, and amazed by the amount of stuff that was simply left behind when the last occupants left. An old chaise lounge stood against one wall, piled high with boxes and assorted debris. It had, unfortunately, been left unprotected inside the attic, and Annie could clearly see mold as well as tears in the fabric. Still, she reckoned that with a little effort (and new fabric) the old thing could be given a new lease of life.
Peeking inside one of the boxes, Annie was surprised to find a phenomenal amount of bric a brac, from tiny glass figurines to chunky wooden ornaments and more. Most items were fairly ordinary, clearly worthless, and hardly even worth a second glance, but a few items struck her as very beautiful, including a pair of cut glass doves and a heavy glass ashtray made from the type of colored glass that had been so popular back in the fifties and sixties.
“There’s probably some fairly valuable junk in here,” Rory suggested, running his hands over the walls as he moved around the room. He was looking for signs of rot or mold, but apart from a couple of small leaks in the roof, the room looked sound enough. It wasn’t a finished attic, but it was close enough. “I don’t think it would take much to finish up this attic,” he said out loud, tapping on the joist above his head. “A little insulation and some sheetrock would make it much more energy efficient.”
A large black cloth hung on one wall, and as Annie pulled it aside, she discovered that it hid a beautiful window. Without warning, the curtain came away from the wall, rod and all, and crashed to the floor in a cloud of dust. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed as Rory pulled her away from the falling rod.
“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded in reply, not wanting to breathe in the dust that was now settling in the bright rays of sunlight that shone into the room.
“Wow,” sighed Devon, “this place is great! Look at these old hats over here,” he held up what looked like a replica tricorn pirate’s hat. “There’s a whole box of them,” he added, digging through gingerly. “There’s also some dead bugs, and--oh, I think that’s mouse poop.” He sat the box back on the floor quickly and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Okay, that was gross.”
His discovery of mouse droppings didn’t seem to quash his enthusiasm, and soon Devon was explaining all the ways in which he would help Rory transform the attic into a teenaged boy’s dream living space. Annie couldn’t help but smile, thrilled that Devon finally seemed excited about something other than his new kitten for the first time since they’d moved down from New York. She listened as he planned his renovations, and she picked through several of the boxes, trying to decide whether to clear them all out at once or just wait until she’d finished with the rest of the house first.
She carried a small glass figurine over to the window so that she could look at it more closely in the sunlight, but her attention was drawn to a book lying haphazardly on the floor. Thinking that it must have fallen out of one of the boxes, Annie bent to pick it up. It was a heavy little book, a journal, by the look of it, and as she opened it, she realized with some small amount of surprise and dread that she knew exactly who it belonged to.
“Rory, look at this,” she said, flipping open the cover to confirm her suspicions. On the front cover of the book, someone had inked in the initials T.A., and a glance at the inside front cover confirmed that its owner had indeed been no other than Thomas Anderson, the very same Thomas Anderson whose skeleton had been discovered in her barn.
Rory let out a low whistle when he saw the name. “So he was up in the attic before he died.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, “I wonder what he was doing up here--do you think he was looking for something?”
Devon dropped a box he’d been holding and scurried over to his mother, peering over her shoulder as she flipped through the book. “It looks like a diary, or maybe a field journal,” she explained, pointing out sketches of what looked like landmarks on the property. Anderson’s spidery handwriting included coordinates and random, cryptic notes, presumably to keep whatever he’d been searching for a secret.
She turned the pages carefully, tried reading the entries by the sunlight coming in the window, but struggled as a cloud passed by the sun. She could see a sketch of what looked like her barn, and one of something that looked like a statue, though she’d certainly never seen anything like that on the farm. Her heart leapt when a single word caught her attention. Rosewood. Thomas Anderson had definitely been looking for something here, on her property, before he died.
Annie peered out the window. The barn stood directly behind the house, on a slight hill. From this vantage point, it was all she could see, though the property extended for a couple of acres past the barn. That land was on yet another small hill, covered with brush, briars, and a few scrubby trees. Annie had yet to explore that area, mostly because it looked like the perfect place to get bitten by a snake. Maybe it was time to take a walk and see if there was anything to this legendary hidden treasure that Anderson had seemingly died searching for.
She passed the book to Rory, who flipped through its pages gently and wordlessly. After a moment, he simply nodded. “I wonder if any of this makes sense to anyone other than the guy who wrote it,” he mused. “I guess we can take a better look when we go back downstairs.”
“Do you think we should tell the Chief about it?” Annie asked, suddenly remembering that he would be at the house any minute.
“Let’s wait and see what he brings you. This could just be proof that a crazy old guy was wandering around in an empty house. If Thomas Anderson died of natural causes, the journal won’t make any difference to their investigation.”
Annie wondered why Rory suddenly had a change of attitude about Thomas. Not long ago he’d been convinced that the man was onto something with his search for treasure, but now that they had actual proof that he was looking for something, Rory seemed to back down from the idea. She decided that she would keep the journal a secret for now, but if there was any chance that it could help the police solve Suzy’s murder, Annie would hand it over in a heartbeat.
Annie was wondering if she had time to go through more of the boxes before the Chief arrived, but the matter was settled when her mother’s voice carried up from the entrance to the attic. “Woo-hoo, Annie! We have company, so you’d better come down here and see to your visitor.”
Reluctantly, Annie and the others headed back out of the attic and down to the kitchen, where Chief Barnes was waiting. The attic would keep until later, but for the moment, Annie needed to know exactly what the police had learned about the two deaths that had occurred on her property, and hopefully she’d find out who might have caused them.
16
An Arresting Development
Emmett Barnes looked nothing like Annie had pictured him in her mind. On the phone, he’d sounded like a cross between Andy Griffith and Wilford Brimley, back in his pre-oatmeal days. The man standing in front of her, smiling politely at her mother and chatting a little too easily, was tall, wiry, and had a bushy white mustache that wiggled when he spoke. Instead of a whittled old man, Emmett, who was still in his prime at sixty-eight years of age, was quite the specimen of health, and he seemed to have a rather healthy interest in Bessie Purdy.
“Why, Miss Purdy,” he purred, charming her with his use of the youthful ‘miss’ and sending a blush straight to her cheeks. “I do believe that this is the best sweet tea I’ve had in ages! My doctor won’t let me partake of the sugar too often, you see, so I’ve been sticking with water, mostly, but I dare say, this would wash down a plate of fried chicken much better than H2O anyday.”
Bessie fanned his arm playfully, and Annie had to restrain herself from laughing. “Oh, Mr. Barnes, you do flatter me! And it just so happens that I am planning on cooking up some fried chicken this evening. If you’d care to stay for dinner, that is, if you don’t have plans this evening--”
Or a wife, Annie added in her head, still stifling a giggle. “Mother, do leave the poor man alone. He
’s not here on a social visit, are you, Chief Barnes?”
Emmett’s smile faltered briefly, and he shook his head. “Not entirely, I’m afraid, Ms. Richards, though I have been meaning to come out here for a while now and take a look around the property. It sure has changed a lot since I was a boy.” He rubbed the back of his head as though he was trying to stir up the memories.
“I don’t recall that barn being there, for a start,” he continued. “Of course, that was more than fifty years ago. I was about fourteen the last time I set foot on this property, and I tell you, I just about scared myself silly that day.”
Annie’s curiosity was piqued. “Did you know the former owners?”
Emmett nodded. “Sort of. It was empty most of the time, but occasionally the owners rented it out to different folks. I don’t know why they didn’t just fix it up themselves and do something with it, but I guess it seemed like too much trouble. One summer a family that had seven kids rented the place, though they moved after about a year. One of the boys was my age, and we used to go fishing in the pond back behind the house.”
Annie nodded. “It’s kind of weedy and overgrown now, but I plan on cleaning it up and offering fishing to guests,” she replied. “Did you see something in the pond that scared you?” Visions of dead, slimy things floating beneath the surface of the brackish water made her squirm.
“No, nothing like that,” Emmett replied. “It was the graveyard that darn near scared me to death.”
Annie was sure that the blood drained right out of her face. “Graveyard? What, do you mean here, on the farm?”
“Oh, yes ma’am,” he responded, glancing from Annie to Bessie as he spoke. “It’s up on the hill past the barn. You can’t see it from here, but if you walk up there a little ways, and move some of that brush and briar patch that’s taken over, there’s a whole little family cemetery, complete with headstones. There used to be some sort of statue up there, but I don’t doubt that it’s crumbled right down since then.”
Just then Rory and Devon appeared behind Annie. She took the time to introduce them to Emmett, who nodded knowingly at Rory. “I believe I’ve seen Mr. Jenkins around town,” Emmett said in way of a greeting. “Anyways, I saw something up in the cemetery, probably just a figment of my youthful imagination, but I hightailed it out of there real quick, and I never went back.” He grinned. “I didn’t avoid the place on purpose, but the family that was living here moved out soon after that, and I didn’t have any business snooping around the property on my own.”
Annie and Rory exchanged glances, neither wanting to disclose their own discovery until Emmett had shown them what he’d found in Suzy’s purse. “Sir, you said Suzy had some sort of a map of my property, and you thought she was looking for something. Could we see what you found?”
Emmett pulled an envelope from his back pocket and approached Annie. He was surprised when Devon and Rory leaned in for a look. Annie explained their interest in the documents, and Emmett grinned. “Got us a couple of treasure hunters, eh? Well, you’re in good company. I like to partake of a little metal detecting in my spare time,” he confided in Devon.
“Have you ever found anything valuable?” the teen asked, cocking one eyebrow.
“Found my car keys once. I’d say that’s pretty darned valuable,” Emmett chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Now, this here’s a map of the current property lines, and this other one was the old property lines. See how this one is much smaller?” Annie knew that the plantation had once included over a hundred acres, but seeing the difference between the two maps really made her spacious ten acres look like nothing.
“I can’t tell, but it looks like these areas here,” he pointed to a spot near the edge of Annie’s property line, “and here,” he continued, pointing to a spot in the middle, across from where the house now stood, “have been highlighted. There're a few scribbles along the edge of the map that I can’t make hide nor tail of, and some numbers.”
“Could it be a phone number?” Annie didn’t understand the odd sequence of numbers on the paper.
“Looks like coordinates,” Rory suggested. “Here, hang on a minute.” He pulled out his cell phone and tried plugging them into his GPS. “Nevermind. There aren’t enough numbers, was this page torn in half?” The paper in the plastic evidence bag was smooth and white, an obvious copy of something else.
“I reckon that Suzy copied her uncle’s map, or maybe she only had a copy of it, and he had a similar one, but they both have these same numbers.” Emmett folded the bag up again carefully and put it back in his pocket. “I reckon those treasure hunters were working with only half the information that they needed,” he said, twisting one corner of his bulbous mustache between two fingers.
“So they only had half of a treasure map?” Devon queried, his eyes glistening with excitement. “Then we just have to find the other half, and we can go get the treasure!”
Emmett let out a friendly laugh. “Well, now, that’s the spirit, son! But first, we’ve got another matter to take care of. There’s still a murderer to be found, and so far, my suspect list is fairly short. Miss Purdy, if you don’t mind, I’d like to step outside with your daughter and Mr. Jenkins for a minute. We need to discuss some things young Devon here ought not to hear.”
Devon opened his mouth to protest, but Annie shot him a look that could shatter glass, so he closed it again, and sat down in the nearest chair. Annie and Rory followed Emmett wordlessly out into the fresh air.
“Well, Annie, I appreciate you having me out here to discuss the things we found in Suzy’s purse, but I think you and I both know that’s not really why I’m here.” Emmett’s friendly demeanor melted away, and his expression became as serious as death. “I’m here because we have two unexplained deaths, one of which happened the very night you moved into this house. In fact,” he continued, stopping beside Rory’s truck, “one of these deaths happened right under your very nose.”
Annie’s insides squirmed, but she tried to keep a calm face. “Chief, I hope you are not accusing me of having anything to do with Suzy’s death. I had no idea that woman would come back here, and my own mother can vouch for my whereabouts the whole night, seeing as we slept in the same bed.” She didn’t clarify that it had actually been an air mattress. He probably wouldn’t give a hoot if she’d been sleeping in a pile of hay.
“I didn’t say that I thought you killed Suzy,” Emmett replied coolly. “But I believe you know who did. In fact,” he glanced at Rory, who remained stone-faced and silent, “I think the pair of you know more than you are letting on about this whole business.”
Annie’s mind went to the notebook they’d found in the attic, but she wasn’t sure if telling Emmett about it would help her or make her look even guiltier. She couldn’t read Rory’s expression; his face was clouded, no doubt by fear. Of course, the ex-con would be singled out in a murder investigation. He had a sketchy past, and the police needed a suspect. It was all too easy, Annie realized with horror, for the Chief to pinpoint Rory as the killer, even if he was completely innocent.
Emmett ran his hand along the side of Rory’s truck, picking at the tarp he used to keep his tools dry in case it rained. “Rory, were you here the entire night that Suzy was killed?”
Rory’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “Like I told your officers, sir, I was asleep in my camper. For the whole night,” he added sarcastically.
“You mind if I take a look inside your truck?” Emmett didn’t offer an explanation as to why he wanted to look in the bed of Rory’s vehicle, but Annie knew what he was looking for.
“Don’t you need a warrant for that?” Her voice raised unexpectedly. Rory put his hand on her arm to calm her.
“Don’t, Annie. Let him look. There’s nothing to find because I didn’t do anything.” Rory’s words calmed her, and for a moment, she thought that perhaps everything would be just fine. Emmett would look, then leave them alone, content to flirt with her mother from afar. They’d laugh about it once t
he real killer was found, and Annie would have this shared experience with Rory that they’d laugh about later on, each recalling how nervous they’d been that the Chief was going to find a murder weapon that simply didn’t exist.
Except, that’s not what happened.
“Well, now, what do we have here?” Emmett had barely begun looking in the jumble of tools when he stopped abruptly and pulled a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket. Using the piece of cloth, he reached into the truck and pulled out a long-handled mallet. It looked like a smaller version of a croquet mallet, but with one grisly difference. Annie could see splatters of a deep claret something on the blunt end of the wooden head. Several strands of very blonde hair stuck to the wood, and Annie had no doubt that they would match those found on Suzy’s head.
“Mr. Jenkins, I do believe I have just located the murder weapon in the back of your truck,” Emmett announced. Rory’s eyes were panic-struck.
“I didn’t put that there,” he said dumbly, shaking his head.
“Is this not your mallet? I mean, it looks like a carpenter’s mallet to me.” Emmett was calm, and he made no moves to approach Rory, let alone handcuff him.
“It is my mallet,” Rory began, “but I’ve never even used it, and I certainly didn’t use it to kill anyone.”
“Couldn’t someone have used it and put it in Rory’s truck?” Annie knew that she was grasping at straws, but Emmett had so far seemed like a reasonable man. Maybe he would see that Rory just wasn’t the type of person to murder someone in cold blood and quietly tuck the murder weapon back into his truck.
“Well, Annie, anything’s possible,” Emmett replied, scratching the edge of his lip where his mustache ended. “But I’m not gonna lie, it looks bad, for both of you.”
Rory shook his head in disbelief. “Why both of us?”
Now Emmett pulled out his handcuffs and gestured towards Rory’s hands. The younger man hesitated, then lifted his arms with a frustrated sigh.
Bodies & Buried Secrets: A Rosewood Place Mystery (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 1) Page 11
