Almost Home

by Caroline Clemmons

  Coy stopped and looked around again. "This is right where I was...and then I walked over to Miz Mitzi. She was a layin' on her side, kind of like she was sleepin', right there by them flowers. Her purse was on the ground by her, kind of tucked under her hand like."

  They continued across the pasture to a spot near a patch of trampled wildflowers. A maze of footprints scarred the ground. Vehicle tracks cut into the grass where the ambulance had driven. Link would defy Sherlock Holmes to find a clue here. Anything not discovered early on was thoroughly trampled by now.

  "Tell me exactly what you did next."

  "I went over to her and tried to wake her up. Her skin felt real funny, all cold like Mama's when I couldn't wake her. It made me remember when Mama died and it scared me. It scared me real bad."

  "You’re doing fine, Coy. Her skin was already cold? Okay, then what?"

  Coy looked back at the way they had come. "I ran back to the fence and went to the house. You know, I told you Sheriff Gary Don got me my own telephone. Well, I dialed that 9-1-1, just like they say to do on TV."

  "Did you wait at the house or come back here?" From their childhood, Link knew that getting this man to tell all of a story took patience. And time.

  Coy looked from the house to where he stood. "Well, I was goin' to wait there so I wouldn't have to see Miz Mitzi like that no more, but then I got to worryin' about them buzzards botherin' her. It didn't seem respectful, so I came back here to shoo them away."

  "That was good of you."

  "Thank you, Link." The pleasure he displayed at Link's small praise turned to bewilderment. "But I couldn't do nothin' about them bugs. They was so many a crawlin' all over her. I just sat on the grass over there and waited. I felt so sorry about Miz Mitzi, I...I cried.”

  Talking about it upset Coy so much a tear rolled down his face at the memory. “I tell you, Link, I just don't know who keeps leavin' these bodies here, do you?"

  Link patted the older man's shoulder. "No, but we'll find out. Why don't you show me where you're living now? You ride your bike on home and I'll follow you."

  Living conditions of the house for which Coy seemed grateful appalled Link. If the clapboard shanty had ever been painted, the paint long ago peeled and faded away. The wallpaper in the three rooms sagged and circles rimmed the peeling strips, testifying to multiple leaks in the roof. Illumination came from a single light bulb fixture in each room.

  Coy indicated a large hole in the sofa with stuffing poking out. "A rat tried to live there. I have me such a terrible time with rats. I just hate 'em, don't you?"

  Link hated this house. "Yes, I hate rats." Two legs or four, and he smelled the two-legged variety now.

  Anger consumed him when he thought of the trim house on Madison Street where Coy had lived with his widowed mother. How could this happen? How could Mrs. Cox have gotten so far behind on her taxes that Coy lost the house?

  And why didn't Coy's mother arrange for him to be taken care of after she died? What was it Coy had said about Gary Don being in charge of him since Mrs. Cox’s death? Link looked around and wondered how this rat hole qualified as taking care of anyone?

  This place would have been condemned if it weren't a few hundred feet outside the city limits. It was a dump and a firetrap, but it was clean.

  "You keep the place real good, Coy. Your mama would be proud of the way you clean up everything."

  Coy's face broke into a genuine smile. "Mama always said it was important to keep everythin' real clean. She always said that, so I try to do like she said even though she's not here no more."

  "You know, Coy, if you want to be closer to town you could move in with Jason and me. There's plenty of room."

  Link spoke before he knew it. He wasn't sorry, though. No one should have to live like this.

  "Thank you kindly, but I can't do that. Mama said I got to live by myself so folks will know I don't need to be locked away somewheres. I sure don’t want to be locked up. I got to live on my own to prove I can."

  Driving away from Coy's place, Link's concern for his simple friend had him searching for answers. Too bad his garage apartment had already been rented or he could move Coy into it today and Coy could think himself independent. Damn. What process reduced the man to this sorry life style? Wasn't he entitled to some benefits from somewhere?

  Link wanted answers to that plus a few more of his questions, and he wanted those explanations soon. But how to get them without attracting suspicion? How could he look at the records he needed without arousing curiosity?

  As if in answer to his question, he remembered the newest attorney in town, also from Dallas, with whom he had come in contact several times over the past few years--the last time only a few months ago. He liked Vincent Bertolli and admired his expertise.

  The picture of Vince in yesterday's Cartersville Reporter had been a pleasant surprise for Link. The newspaper photograph showed a Chamber of Commerce ribbon cutting ceremony to officially open Vince's new offices on the Court House square.

  That's what I'll do. First chance, I'll pay Vince a visit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Early the next morning, Link poured over a detailed county map for possible new sites to observe the compound of mobile homes. He dared not go back to the point he had used the day he was spotted. The men who pursued him would be especially vigilant now and probably had set traps or had someone checking the place he’d used before.

  Link intended to use much of his spare time watching for anything suspicious at the compound. He agreed with Travis that he would eventually see indications of a large shipment of drugs brought in or out. More than that, he hoped to see at least one of the persons in charge of the scheme.

  He spread the large aerial map across the pool table in the ballroom. Billiard balls weighted each corner while Link poured over an area with the aid of a magnifying glass. He'd obtained the map from Travis, a better one than those routinely used by the sheriff's office or state highway department.

  Jason came up the stairs from breakfast and stood beside him. "Whatcha doing, Dad?"

  Link glanced up and smiled at his son. Jason was all scrubbed and clean--just looking at him made Link proud.

  "Doing my homework. You ready for school?"

  "Yeah--um, yes, sir, but you don't need to take me today. Tommy and I are gonna walk together."

  Jason had made several friends in the neighborhood, and Link tried to remember which one could be Tommy. "Do I know Tommy?"

  "Da-a-ad. Tommy Winfield, from around the corner. His dad talked to you about the fence."

  Link remembered the family. William Winfield wanted to put a new fence in their back yard and wanted Link to share the cost of the section separating their properties. That was another expense he hadn't anticipated, and Winfield seemed annoyed when Link told him it would have to wait until at least next month.

  "Right. Sure. Now I remember. Be careful, and come straight home after school, okay?"

  He gave Jason a hug and then a pat. Jason laughed and hurried to the front stairs. Sounded like Jason was sliding down the banister. Link had done the same thing more times than he could count. Even thought his Nana Akridge had pretended to scold him, her twinkling eyes gave her away each time.

  Link smiled then turned his attention back to the map. Of two possibilities for scrutiny, one looked superior. Although it would put him across the river, he would have several good observation points. Yep. He chose that one. Now to figure out who owned it and how he could use it without being spotted by anyone.

  With his decision made, Link rolled the map and slid it into a tube. He left the map in the ballroom bookcase and ran down the back stairs into the kitchen.

  Maggie stood at the sink washing dishes. Today her dress was a small green print. She always wore thick support stockings, and sturdy shoes. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled into a neat bun at her neck.

  After fence repair, next on the list came a dishwasher. Good thing he’d installed that new ho
t water heater. When would it all end?

  Maggie turned when she heard Link enter the room, drying her hands on her checked pink apron. "Are you off on another mission, Lincoln? I'm so glad you're working days now."

  She always called him by his full name, never the shortened version. She handed him a thermos of coffee and sack lunch.

  He swiped a leftover piece of crisp breakfast bacon that lay on a paper towel.

  "Me, too. I'll see you in time for supper. I promised to shoot hoops with Jason when I get home."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anna admitted to feeling a bit defensive about her latest scheme, but she prepared to do battle on this one. “It’s something I really want to do.” She fluffed the roses in the twig-covered vase and centered the container on the center of her table. Jason Dixon had made the container from a soup can and popsicle sticks in Indian Guides this week, then cut pink roses from his dad’s bushes to fill it.

  Vince shook his head, his face a study in bewilderment. “When I suggested you get over your hatred of cops, this isn’t what I meant.”

  She couldn’t believe her own brother would say such a thing. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s certainly not for him. It’s for the little boy, Jason.”

  Her anger evaporated when her gaze strayed to the pages of artwork taped to her refrigerator. Jason drew them for her, and brought her a new one several times a week. He liked her, with no agenda but friendship. How rare was that?

  “He’s the sweetest child and a perfect little gentleman, but not in a sissified way. His dad has to work so much on the old house that he doesn’t have much time to do things with Jason. Plus, that nice housekeeper, Maggie, doesn’t even have a dishwasher, and the plumbing is always breaking down.”

  “So you’ve come up with this phony historical preservation grant scheme?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “Vince, it’s not phony if I actually award the grant.”

  He tilted his head and raised a brow. “Even if no one applied for it?”

  “Well, I can make it an annual grant if that will make you happy.”

  He shook his head then sketched a mock bow. “Anna, I know how much money you give to charity, to people you meet on the street or read about, how much you’ve given to members of our family. As a recent recipient of the Savannah Sophia Zimmerman Benevolence Fund For Relocating Attorneys, far be it for me to complain. I certainly don’t begrudge whatever use you choose for your own funds.”

  She faced him with hands on her hips. “Then what is your problem with this?”

  He tugged at his ear. “It’s true he’s been away a few years, but I’m not sure he’ll believe there’s any such thing as your Cartersville Historic Preservation Award.”

  She sent him an exasperated glare. “Well, you’ve persuaded juries, surely you can persuade one man to accept a gift.”

  He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Okay, let me get this straight. He gets everything on this list. You’re sure?”

  She nodded, feeling as foolish as he thought her. “Yes, but it has to be done in a way to preserve the historic integrity of the house and grounds. Then the cop will have time to play with his son and Jason will have a nice, safe place to live. And Maggie will have more time to enjoy her home and Jason.”

  “I’ll tell him tomorrow and let you know what he says. If he arrests me, you have to spring for bail.”

  She grinned at him. “Sorry, I’d have to consult my attorney first.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Before he left for work, Link and Jason had repaired the dangling shutter on Jason's bedroom window. The centenarian shutter weighed a hell of a lot more than Link had expected. A large gouge on his right shin proved it.

  No doubt about it. He would definitely never be mistaken for a pro, but he had at least half the how-to book memorized. His skill in home repairs had increased, but he hated them as much as ever. Maybe more. He slapped a large Band-Aid over his shin before he left for work.

  As he walked through the duty room, he spotted Virgil Lee cuffed to a chair. Damn that man. What event had him in custody at ten minutes before eight in the morning? Link stopped in front his cousin.

  "What are you here for?" Link figured it was too early in the day for drinking, even for Virgil Lee.

  Virgil Lee ducked his head in embarrassment. "Had me a little disagreement this morning with my boss. You know, Ralph Gaynor over to the airport."

  "A little disagreement?" Link had heard his cousin worked at the small local airport after losing his job at Meacham Field in Fort Worth.

  Drinking problems aside, Virgil Lee was reported to be a whiz at airplane repair and maintenance. In spite of his mechanical ability, his hot temper and fondness for alcohol had lost him more jobs than anyone could count. He’d been fired from all the Metroplex airports and airlines and was now stuck at the small local field.

  "Yeah. He said I missed a day of work last week and left early yesterday so he was docking my timecard. I was counting on a whole week's pay."

  "So, did you miss a day and leave early?"

  "Yeah, but he sure as hell had no right to dock my pay. I worked extra lots of times and didn't get no pay for it."

  Link looked around. The deputy who usually worked this desk was nowhere in sight. "Now what are you going to do?"

  Virgil Lee gave a shrug but refused to meet Link's gaze. "Big Momma's coming up here. She says she's gonna pay my fine and fix everything--get Gaynor to keep me on and drop the charges and all."

  "Virgil Lee, some day Big Momma's not going to be around to tidy up after you."

  Link saw the temper spark in Virgil Lee's eyes. He started to rise, but the handcuffs made it awkward and he sank back in the chair.

  "You think you're so hot? What's so great about being a penny ante deputy in one of the smallest counties in Texas anyway?"

  "For one thing, I'm not cuffed to a chair."

  "Damn you, if it wasn't for your grandma's big house and money, you wouldn't even be back in this one-horse town. You’d be livin’ high on the hog in Dallas. What do you know about being stuck in this shit hole all your life?"

  Link’s anger flared. "You're thirty-four, for crissakes. It's time to get that giant chip off your shoulder and get your life in order."

  Virgil Lee slumped forward and put his head down. "Yeah, yeah." He looked up and his face puckered up as if he might cry. "I know, Link. I've been trying, honest. Damn, but it’s hard."

  The awkwardness of the situation stretched into a deafening silence before Link said, "Well, take care of yourself. I’d better get to work or my boss will do more than dock my pay." He clapped his cousin on the shoulder and turned to go.

  “Link!”

  The anguished cry pierced Link. He turned back to his cousin.

  Tears rolled down Virgil Lee’s face. “What am I gonna do?”

  Link pulled a chair to face his cousin. “You keep hanging out with the companions who suck you back into drinking. Virgil Lee, you’ve got to stay away from them.”

  “I can’t. They’re the only friends I got.”

  A deputy Link hadn’t met came back to the desk and shot Link a puzzled look.

  Link checked the name over the man’s badge. “Webb, this is my cousin. Give us a few minutes here, will you?”

  “Sure, no hurry. I have phone calls I can make.” He grabbed two folders from the desk and moved to a vacated space across the room.

  Link asked, “Do you love Nadine?”

  Virgil Lee’s head snapped up. “’Course I love her. She’s the most important thing in my life. I’m nothin’ without her.”

  “She loves you, though Lord knows why. If you love her, stop drinking. You owe her your best, and that doesn’t include being knocked around or having you drink up your pay.”

  “I know, I know.” Virgil Lee sobbed, “Oh, God, why can’t I act like she deserves?”

  “Seems like Mom said something about you going to rehab?”

  “Twice, but
soon as I get home it’s all for nothin’. Look at me. I’m strong as an ox. I can beat any man—“ he shot Link a wry glance ”—almost any man with my fists. But when it comes to liquor, I can’t fight the thirst worth a damn.”

  “I know it’s tough, but you can do it. Just keep thinking about Nadine and how much she loves you. That ought to help.” Link looked up. “Uh, oh, Big Momma’s at the reception counter. Virgil Lee, you’ve got to break those apron strings.”

  Virgil Lee swiped a sleeve across his eyes. “Yeah, well, you can be the one to tell her.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  One look at Goddard's scowling face and Link knew the man was in no better a mood than he had been the day before. In spite of Goddard's crusty temperament, Link liked the guy. He figured Goddard was as honest as they came and had nothing to do with the security leak.

  But how could he be certain?

  Goddard dispensed with a greeting and barked, "Dixon, I hear you knew this Dunaway woman. You know her relatives?"

  Link thought a moment before he answered. "Sort of. Can't say I know them well. Don't know how close they were to Mitzi, but her aunt and uncle live near me and are friends of my parents."

  "Good enough for a starting place. You take her relatives and friends. Find out who she's been seeing, where, and when." He turned to Eddy and barked, "Wells, you take care of tracking down this ex-husband. Then get with Dixon on the people here in town. I'll tackle the Tarrant County pathologist's office and see if I can speed up the damned autopsy."

  Link took a detour and made his next stop the office of Vincent Bertolli, Jr. A placard identified a cheerful older woman as Jessica Holmes.

  "Good morning, Ms. Holmes. I don't have an appointment, but I'd like to see Vince."

  "Could I give him your name, Deputy?"

  Link pulled out a business card and handed it to her. She disappeared into the next room. While he waited, Link looked over the reception area. Elegance and style, with a blend of antique and traditional furniture.