The phone ringing woke me up. Seeing Kim’s name worried me and I sat up, expecting the worst.
“What’s up?”
“You sound groggy. Were you still asleep?”
“Yes. Why aren’t you? It’s not even 8 o’clock yet.”
“I know. I set the alarm to get up to call you. Do you guys have plans today?” She sounded like she was in a good mood and excited about something. I wondered…
“No. Why?”
“Marty and I were out last night and heard some people talking about a Lawrence Stories who’d been murdered.”
“What?” My loud response disturbed Brett’s sleep. He stirred and opened his eyes. I put the phone on speaker.
“See, I knew I’d get your attention. There’s some kind of informal Civil War re-enactment near North Shore today. Apparently, there’s a group of closet historians and Civil War buffs in the area. Trust Marty to be in touch with them. Every year they get together and re-enact some battle. Like a war game.”
“Was there a battle fought near North Shore?”
“No, though apparently there were a number of battles fought in Virginia, more than I knew. They pick a battle and a place. The man who was answering all our questions, Linc Grantly, explained they want to have a little fun and an excuse to get together and talk about the war and history. He said there are too many people at the bigger, official re-enactments like at Gettysburg.”
“Interesting. I wonder if they do one here? Of course, this is where Lee surrendered, so perhaps not. What did they say about Stories?”
“Stories was one of the closet historians. Funny you mentioned Lee’s surrender. They originally planned a different battle, but in Stories’ honor, they are going to re-enact that battle complete with Lee’s surrender. Linc explained Stories was very active in their group, albeit with loyalties on the Union side.”
Hearing Marty’s voice explained a little how Kim was awake and talking so early, and about history no less. “Hi Marty. So are you a Civil War enthusiast too?”
“It is a very interesting part of history. I’ve never been to a re-enactment, so it has some appeal for a unique way to spend a Saturday. We wondered if you and Brett and Maddie wanted to join us. Maybe learn something about Stories at the same time.”
Brett had been listening for most of the conversation. “Let us check with Maddie and see if we can sell her on the idea. What time does this thing start?”
“Hey, Brett. They have a meet and greet beginning about 9 o’clock. Linc said there’s coffee and pastry and lots of milling around. Then the soldiers get in their costumes and the park is turned into the site of the battle. The speech honoring Stories is set for 11 o’clock right before the action. The battle is fairly short and then everyone has lunch.”
“Any bloodshed with diverging opinions? I’ve had enough excitement this week with Whistklan.”
“Geesh, nothing like that. Not from what he said at least. In fact, no one gets to choose which side they’re on. They draw a card, either blue or gray with their role, and that’s the army they serve in for the day. And they don’t draw the card until they register on site.”
“Interesting. Hopefully, we can convince Maddie.”
The timing didn’t leave us with room to spare and I jumped out of bed and headed for the kitchen as soon as the call disconnected. Definitely needed some caffeine. It was the morning of surprises and Maddie wandered in while I was still drinking my first cup.
“Nedra called and invited me to go to her house and hang out, go swimming, and stuff. Can I go? Please?”
Brett walked in and I caught his eye. “Let me check with Melina on times and be sure she’s okay with it. Unless you’d rather come to a Civil War re-enactment with your dad and me?”
She grimaced and then caught herself. “I think I’d rather spend time with Nedra if that’s okay.” Brett nodded and I called Melina. I explained we’d be back late afternoon and she was fine with it.
***
Breakfast and showers done, we dropped off Maddie and headed to meet Kim and Marty in North Shore. I’d printed out directions and inputted the information for Waze to direct us. I was not sure how to get there from Appomattox, and my sense of direction was pitiful. It was a pleasant drive and we soon saw signs directing us to the park. My neck was feeling better and when we got there, I left the collar in the car.
We made our way toward the event site. People milled around, friendly – most obviously knew each other. Not a large crowd. I’d checked online about what to expect, and this was definitely on a smaller scale than other re-enactments with only about 40-50 participants. They were easily identified by the gray or blue card hanging around their neck, with a few already in uniform. There were about as many spectators, all engaged in conversation. To my surprise, not everyone was southern white. There was a smattering of African Americans, Asians, and Hispanics. From the snippets I heard, the common thread was their interest in the Civil War. We smiled as we walked toward the coffee and snacks to find Kim and Marty.
I spotted a poster of Stories and his family. It was the first time I’d seen a picture of him or Lila. He was a handsome man with light brown hair, what some might call mousy brown, and brown eyes. His nose looked like it had been broken at some point in time, I imagined fighting for his causes. He was smiling, eyes hooded, his attention on Lila, not the camera.
Lila was striking with chiseled features, and milky white skin, blue eyes and long strawberry blonde hair. She wore a simple sheath of pale green that hugged her curves.
One of the boys was in uniform. I realized this picture must have been when he entered the service or graduated boot camp. All three boys had their father’s brown eyes. Two had his light brown hair; the shortest had strawberry blonde hair and favored his mother more than the other two. It made sense they would be here given Stories was being honored.
We continued to walk and I spotted one of the sons ahead of us. “Brett, he looks like the middle son.”
We continued to walk in the same direction and the son veered toward a trash can. Brett held my arm and we stopped. Brett turned as if to kiss me as the young man gave a furtive glance around. Then he reached into a pocket and dropped something into the trash. With another quick glance, he took off at a much brisker pace.
“Definitely the middle boy from the poster.” Suspicious, Brett made for the trash can to check it out.
“Do you have a napkin or something I can use?”
I handed him the napkin from around my cup. He pulled out what looked like a cell phone. Brett looked around and then pulled out his cell and punched in a number.
“Chief Peabody? Brett McMann here. Do you still have the number for the phone that called in your last anonymous tip? Or any of them?”
“You do? Someone threw a cell phone away where I am. May be nothing, or not related to the case at all, but can you call that number?”
Immediately, the phone he’d retrieved from the trash sounded the standard ring tone.
“Hear that? I have the phone and I know who dumped it. I just need to get a name for you. We’re in North Shore right now and so is the phone and person.”
Brett nodded as he listened to the Chief’s reply.
“We’ll be back in Appomattox by 4 o’clock, if not sooner. We can bring the phone and make a statement when we get back to town.” He looked around as he put his phone away. “I don’t suppose you have a plastic bag or something in your purse?”
I shook my head. “Lots of stuff, but no baggies. Can you wrap it up with more napkins? Put it in the zipper section in my purse?”
“Zipper. Hard to tell if there will be any usable prints, but at least we can try to not wipe the phone clean.”
Handing him my almost empty coffee cup, I emptied the makeup and stuff out of the zippered section, letting it all fall to the bottom of the purse. He gingerly set the phone in and I zipped it closed.
“Okay, let’s go find Marty and Kim, see what else we can un
earth.” I took a last gulp of coffee and tossed the cup. Anyone who saw us would think that was why we stopped at the trash can.
He took my hand and we wandered some more.
“Sheridan, over here.” Marty’s voice pinpointed where they were. We joined them with hugs all around.
“You’re walking around without a cup of coffee? We need to fix that. And wait until you try the cheese pastries. So good.” Kim linked her arm with mine and started walking.
She turned around only long enough to add, “Come on you guys, we need to get some food and seats before 11 o’clock.”
CHAPTER 19
Not intended for a stage, chairs were arranged in double rows to form a rectangle in the most open part of the park. The ground wasn’t flat and I wondered which side got the advantage of not having to fight uphill. Men in faded uniforms of gray and blue gathered in the middle, carrying old style rifles. I recalled reading about a re-enactment where someone substituted real bullets with dire results. I shuddered at the thought. Kim tapped my arm.
“There’s a woman in Union blue. For sure not authentic to the Union army.”
I nodded as Marty chimed in. “And the African American man fighting for the Confederacy has to create some internal conflict for a few of these folks.”
As I looked around, I spotted the tattered Confederate flag and a similar vintage Union flag. One man in gray and one in blue wheeled an antique looking cannon onto the field. I couldn’t spot the higher in command in blue. In gray, a man sported a beard and had a vague resemblance to pictures I remembered of General Lee. Musing about the motivation of the participants on the field was cut short by a trumpet blare.
“Welcome to our annual civil war re-enactment. I’m Lincoln Grantly, the leader of the Civil War Enthusiast Club here in North Shore. As I’m sure most of you know, one of Virginia’s biggest enthusiasts, Lawrence Stories, died recently. I’d like to introduce his wife, Lila, and their three sons, Ryan, Joshua, and Tyler, who are here with us today. Before we begin, I’d ask all to bow your heads for a moment of silence for Stories.”
As their names were called, they nodded. Ryan wore his dress blues, while his brothers wore jeans and sport shirts. Clearly, it was Joshua who dumped the phone. The park was amazingly quiet for the minute.
“I’m still having difficulty realizing our friend and fellow enthusiast will not again be with us. As a man, he was a champion of those not always championed –minorities, women, the disabled. He was most known – and probably disliked – for his outspoken rhetoric against the confederacy and NRA. Best time we had was when he pulled a gray card. He manned up and played the role he was dealt. Today, in his honor, we will re-enact the battle when Lee surrenders, not for the accuracy but the outcome of the battle. We’re pretty sure Stories would appreciate it. Places everyone.”
I’d never been to a reenactment. The participants ran to their positions and then plowed forward in mass. Lots of rifle fire, smoke, and people falling down. And then it was over, more Union soldiers still standing and impinging on the Confederate line. Behind me, a man critiqued the re-enactment from the number of soldiers to the distance between the armies and the time it took before Lee surrendered. Obviously, it fell short of his expectations, but others clapped and cheered as the players all stood up and took a bow.
Linc took the microphone. “I hope you enjoyed the show, though somewhat shortened due to the sudden change in the battle chosen. While we are all Civil War enthusiasts, we cannot forget the downside to this or any war. Families are torn apart and young soldiers lose their lives, or worse, their ability to move past the war. As with every occasion, I’ll ask for a minute of silence as we remember the lives lost in this battle and all battles, on all sides.”
Again, the park became silent. After a pause, he ended with, “We’ll give these folks a chance to clean up and lunch will be served shortly.”
Everyone talked at once and the noise level rose. I noticed the Stories family had disappeared at some point in the festivities. The four of us walked a distance from the crowd.
“Interesting, huh? What did you think, Sheridan?”
“Interesting for sure, Marty.” Reflecting on the side bits of conversation I’d heard, I added, “I never knew there were this many people interested in discussing theories as to why Lee’s strategies didn’t work and how he lost the war.”
“Me neither.” Kim agreed.
“I’m actually more surprised though how well those who favor the confederacy so easily socialize with those who oppose them and vice versa.”
Marty shook his head. “For these folks, most of them anyway, this is an intellectual exercise, not an emotional one. These are mostly historians, with a few romanticists still enthralled with ‘Gone with the Wind’ and the hype of the southern plantation. This is about history, not politics.”
“History aside, I’m all for the present and future. Let’s grab some lunch. Then Brett and I need to get back.”
***
Brett called Peabody from the car. He described what we’d observed and identified Joshua as the one who dumped the phone in the trash. Back in town, our first stop was the police station to turn in the phone. We watched as Joshua and Lila were ushered into the station. Peabody took them into his office, but left the door partly open.
“Now, Joshua, we received a report from a reliable source you dumped a prepaid cell phone into the trash today. Funny thing, the anonymous tip we got about your cousins came from that phone. Can you explain it to me?”
“My dad knew they were dealing drugs. I heard him trying to get them to quit, offering to get them help if they had a habit. He threatened to turn them in if they didn’t get straight. I heard what they said after my dad was killed – he had envelopes of money, drug money when he was killed. Luke and Caleb. They must’ve planted those on his body after they killed him. They’re always above the law. Someone had to get their drug business out in the open.”
His voice got louder as he spoke and I thought I heard Lila gasp.
“Now calm down, son. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. I called Caleb’s number from the sheet of family phone numbers using the prepaid cell phone. Told him my name was Jonas Blackwell and I needed a score, didn’t care how much it cost. He gave me what I can only guess was a high price. I acted desperate, said I needed it ASAP. He agreed to the time and place. All I had to do was make an anonymous tip and wait. The police can’t do that. I can. I did. Then I dumped the phone in North Shore. How’d it end up here?”
“Someone saw you drop the phone, Joshua. Wondered why you’d ditch the phone. You sound like you knew Caleb was involved in drugs. What can you tell me?”
“I never hung out with him or Luke. Well, or any of the cousins much. Not Mark or Michael either. They all seemed pretty close though and with the word around school they were into drugs… Mom and Dad discouraged it.”
“What did you hear, Joshua? It might help us figure out who killed your dad.”
“Mostly, just to stay away from them. Caleb’s a little on the odd side and Luke has a love ‘em and leave ‘em rep. They’re bullies and they make up stories about anyone who slights them. Once last year, Caleb made a snide comment about my parents. Ryan stopped me from letting him have it. I kept my distance and made sure Tyler did too.”
“Okay. Thank you both for coming in.”
As we heard chairs scraping the floor, we moved over to the other side of the room and waited for them to leave. Once they were out the door, Peabody waved us in, shaking his head.
“Nice catch, McMann. At least we have confirmed who made this tip and can prove it wasn’t police entrapment. Not going to go down well with the Buchanans that it was one of their own.”
“What’s the status on Caleb and Luke now?”
“Both home, under parental control.” He snorted. “Judge is third or fourth cousin I think. Anyone else, they’d be my guests. Blake Buchanan? I heard he’s gathered his sons
together for a meeting. He told Brandon he was going to get to the bottom of this. I hope he’s not too upset by what he finds. It’s not smelling too pretty from my perspective.”
“Where’s that leave Maddie and Alex?”
Peabody smiled. “Pretty sure we all agree they were set up. Checked with all Alex’s teachers from last year. No problems, everything glowing, a good kid, responsible, model citizen. No indication he ever used. No unexplained money to suggest he dealt. Just these envelopes that keep showing up. My guess is either Caleb and Luke made up the money from their own coffers or their supplier is wondering where the money is.”
He stood and we followed suit. At least part of the mystery was resolved.
CHAPTER 20
On the way home, we stopped at Seafood Grill & Deli for take out. Brett took a call and stayed in the car, while Maddie and I went in to get the food. She was chattering away about the great time she had with Nedra and suddenly stopped. She grabbed my arm and stiffened as a tall young man approached us. He was in jeans and a t-shirt, slim with muscles evident through the thin material. He reminded me of the posters of California surfers with white blonde hair, blue eyes, tan, and a swagger.
“Hi Maddie. Missed you at camps.” He leered first at her and then at me. “Nice.”
Ignoring him as best I could, I tsked. “Maddie, I forgot what your dad wanted. Can you go ask him please?” As she ran for the door, I added, “Thanks!”
I turned my back on him and pretended to study the menu, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. He moved next to me and leaned in, invading my personal space.
“That wasn’t real nice of her. She never introduced us. I’m Luke Buchanan.”
“Nice to meet you.” I tried to catch the waitress’ attention and moved my body away from him. “Sally, when you get a chance?” She nodded toward the back of the deli where a group of men were engaged in conversation.
“Yeah, Sally, we need some ice tea back there. My grandfather sent me to tell you.” He shifted his attention back to me. “You must be new around here.”
A New Place, Another Murder Page 9
