When Blood Cries: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 6)

by M. Glenn Graves

  I stood in her doorway before entering. Something made me stop and listen. She was crying softly. Now and then a sob would erupt, but mostly it was gentle and fragile and heart breaking. I waited there in the doorway until she stopped crying and went to sleep. I entered the room, took a tissue from the box beside her bed, wiped the tears from her cheeks as easy as I could, and then left her room. It was close to six and I was a little hungry. Before I could eat, I needed to check in with my adversarial computer.

  “I thought you had completely forgotten me,” Rogers said when she answered the phone.

  “First real chance I’ve had to call. Been busy asking questions.”

  “Infuriating folks, no doubt.”

  “You think you know me.”

  “You have suspects?”

  “One or two, but nothing substantive,” I said.

  “Usual fare for you.”

  “Yeah. I need you to search for whatever you can find on Cain and Lucinda Frieda Bradshaw Gosnell. I want to know everything that is knowable about those two. Oh, also do some checking on Abel Gosnell. That would be Abelard Justin Gosnell.”

  “Cain and Abel, huh?” she said.

  Even with her brand of intelligence, call it artificial or otherwise, I could detect the incredulity in her question. Her ability to process information and relate it to other kinds of information was quite exceptional, even if I did help my Uncle Walters create her. Perhaps I will one day have him explain it to me; but then, I’m not sure I would understand all that he might tell me. Despite my computer science studies, there is so much regarding computers I simply do not comprehend.

  “Yeah. Go figure that one.”

  “Is it a case of biblical proportions?”

  “Is that humor?”

  “Moί?”

  “It gets worse than that,” I said.

  “Adam and Eve are the parents,” she said quickly.

  “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” I said.

  “I read the papers, even the small presses in and around Asheville. Starnes is making the news a little. You, not so much.”

  “Better that way.”

  “Yes, it is. At any rate, I do have some info regarding Cain and his former wife, Lucinda.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Say, why are you talking with me at this hour of the day? Where is Starnes?” Rogers asked.

  “Asleep. She had a few shots of vodka and she is sleeping it off.”

  “That is no way for you two to be solving a murder case.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Starnes has had a bad day. She had to put her father into a nursing facility. He has some mental issues and needs round-the-clock care.”

  “Tough.”

  “It is. Starnes is taking it hard.”

  “So would you,” Rogers said.

  “Yeah. I already thought about that,” I said as I waited on Rogers to tell me what she had uncovered regarding Cain and his estranged wife, Lucinda.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning Starnes and I were sitting at the breakfast table in the tiny kitchen drinking coffee. The house was excruciatingly quiet. Starnes even commented on that. No television was blaring. No questions were being asked about me and why was I there. It was bleak. Even the sun was reluctant to show itself. A sadness pervaded the Carver valley. Like a pall. I could feel it, so I know Starnes could sense it. I even noticed that Sam was sitting by Spud’s chair in the living room with his head resting on his front paws. He seemed somber as well. Funny how animals can be like that when an occasion dictates such.

  “My head hurts,” Starnes said.

  “Could have been worse.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You could have been alone in the bar and consumed a lot more drinks,” I said.

  “How many did I have?”

  “You don’t recall?”

  “No.”

  “Three,” I said.

  “Just three?”

  “Yep. Just three.”

  “So why is my head hurting so much?”

  “Two too many,” I said and smiled.

  “I can’t remember three drinks,” she confessed.

  “You’re not ready to become a heavy drinker just yet.”

  “I guess not. What about AA?”

  “It’s around the corner. You might want to be careful,” I said, not really joking.

  “I never touch the stuff, you know,” Starnes said.

  “I got that. Listen, it’s okay. I’m glad I was here. You wanna talk?”

  “About Daddy?”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “What’s there to say?”

  “You didn’t have much choice.”

  “That doesn’t help the pain.”

  “Life can be a bitch,” I said, knowing what that had meant for me years back.

  “I read that somewhere. Mom’s death was the tip of iceberg.”

  “More like the beginning of it for you. And, happy note that I can tell, it can get worse.”

  “Damn, aren’t you the cheery one? I’d rather not go there,” she said and smiled.

  “Sometimes we have no choice. We just walk down the road and it happens. Your dad will either adjust or create havoc from now on. I’m guessing he’ll adjust. It may take some time, but he’ll get there.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He’ll forget where he is and who put him in there.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t considered that.”

  “Yeah. It’s in the mix. In fact, the next time you see him, I suspect it’ll be different. He’ll likely ask you to take him back home, that he’s not sure where he is; but, at any rate, it’ll be different from what happened yesterday.”

  “You promise?”

  I smiled but didn’t answer her.

  “Different, but still painful,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Plenty of pain left.”

  “Is this supposed to encourage me?” she asked.

  “It’ll get better. Believe me.”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Go take some aspirin or something. We have work to do.”

  Starnes finally ate some lunch and the pain was letting up a little. At least that’s what she told me. You would have thought that she had consumed two or three bottles of the hard stuff, not three shot glasses of vodka. At least her drunk was inexpensive when considering alternatives.

  It was raining. What began as a heavy mist soon became an all out downpour. I stood at the front window watching the rain descend as the wind blew in gusts. The world was a serious gray at the moment. Sam came over and stood by me. Together we watched the dreariness of a November storm. It’s what friends do sometimes.

  After an hour or so the rain subsided a little. I told Sam that he would need to sit this trip out. He accepted his fate with the usual aplomb that I am used to from him. I waved my hand for Starnes to join me at the Jeep.

  “Where’re you taking me?” Starnes asked.

  “We’re going to visit your cousin,” I said.

  “Which one?”

  “Yeah. I forgot where we were. We’re going to visit Lucinda Bradshaw Gosnell.”

  “She doesn’t live around here.”

  “I know that.”

  “You know where she lives?”

  “No, but you do. Let’s go. You give me the directions and I’ll take us there,” I said confidently.

  “Why on earth are we going to see her?”

  “You neglected to tell me some details about the breakup between Lucinda and Cain.”

  “I told you everything I know,” Starnes said.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t think it was important, so you took your own time getting around to it.”

  “I’m a scientist, a technician. I work in a lab most of my days, or in the field, you know, collecting evidence. I don’t do interrogations.”

  “You’re the acting sheriff of the county.”

  “I’m a scientist who is the acting sheriff of t
he county.”

  “Yeah, I got that. So, from now on, you tell me every sniveling detail you can think of as it relates to anyone we have questioned, suspected, or found dead.”

  “I think you’re serious.”

  “You bet your test tube I am.”

  “You’re more like me than I thought,” she said.

  “That’s a bit scary. How so?”

  “You are disgustingly thorough.”

  “Relentless and fearless, too,” I said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took us an hour to drive from McAdams County to Erwin, Tennessee. It’s a majestic drive across and through the mountains using I-26. I was beginning to understand why the people who loved the mountains loved the mountains. Even in a dreary, rain-soaked November day, the mountains were majestic. At least those we could still see. There were several peaks peeking through the fog or the low-lying clouds all around us. Still, what we could see was noteworthy for a girl raised in central Virginia currently residing in Norfolk. Tends to catch your breath.

  Lucinda Gosnell and her three children had returned to her home state of Tennessee after the breakup with Cain. She had come back to a place she knew as a child in order to begin again after her turbulent divorce. Thirty minutes out from Erwin, Starnes and I talked about what I had learned from Rogers.

  “You knew that her oldest son, Seth, was a freshman at East Tennessee State?” I said.

  “As a matter of fact, I didn’t know where he had finally decided to go. You researched that?”

  “The benefit of a computer program that permits me to enter questions and the computer does all the work,” I said to satisfy her inquiry and yet keep her in the dark as to Rogers’ unique abilities. My assumption was that the fewer who knew of Rogers’ skill-set, the better I would be in the long run of public sentiment. Awareness of artificial intelligence might tend to rotate reality as we know it. Maybe that goes without saying.

  “You check out the other two kids, Bonnie and Rachel?” Starnes asked.

  “Yeah. They’re both in high school this year and doing well. I’m sure the move back to Tennessee and the breakup of the parents was difficult for them,” I said.

  “Not sure about that,” she answered. “One might suspect that, but I never thought the girls were very close to their father. Just a feeling I got from being around them back a few years. What’d you dig up on Lucinda?”

  “She’s a receptionist for a dermatologist. Seems to have landed well after the rough departure. What I couldn’t find was the story behind the details,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, that’s hard to find in somebody’s database.”

  “You know anything about it?” I said.

  “I know the family was embarrassed and angry and … well, you can imagine all the stuff that surfaced once the affair became public.”

  “Yeah. But it’s a motive.”

  “You think Lucinda could have killed her former lover?”

  “We’re all capable of murder given the right circumstances,” I said.

  “I suppose so,” she said with some hesitancy.

  “You doubt the voracity of my opinion.”

  “I’d like to think that even in the worst circumstance I could control myself sufficiently to keep from killing someone in cold blood.”

  “Spoken like a true scientist-mindset. Logic.”

  “It’s who I am and how I think,” she said.

  “What about a killing with passion?”

  “I’m passionate about science, not people,” she said without much emotion.

  I glanced in her direction and could tell that she meant what she said. Her face reflected a resolute calmness. Then again, that was a normal facial revelation for Starnes Carver. The only time I had ever seen emotion from her was the recent fight with herself over placing her father in a home away from home. Her drunken tears before she fell asleep were the singular emotional experience I had known to exist in her life. Not even her mother’s death had caused such an event, as far as I knew.

  “Cain still loves her,” Starnes said.

  “You get that from intuition or a laboratory experiment?”

  “He’s acting out his anger and hurt just like he used to in high school before she came along.”

  “But she does not love him, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “How long was the affair?” I said.

  “Don’t know for sure, but guessing and trying to recall what I heard those few times I came home during the crisis, it seems that the affair had lasted at least a couple of years.”

  “A good while.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “So, tell me, why didn’t she marry Abel?”

  “Word I got from inside the family, some of my outlaw cousins, was that Abel didn’t want her.”

  “Two years of secret sex, then public knowledge comes along and he doesn’t want her.”

  “That’s about it,” she said.

  “Stand up guy.”

  “Pure quality. And I share some of that gene pool.”

  “Any kind of reason surface regarding that?”

  “Three kids too many, I was told.”

  “Yikes. We’ll have to check that out, you know.”

  “I know. Won’t be easy.”

  “You don’t think she’ll talk with us,” I said.

  “Oh, she’ll talk, but she may not tell us much.”

  “You think she’s pining away for Abel?”

  “We’ll see about that. Word I got from the dark side of the family was when she left McAdams County, she swore she would never come back. Didn’t feel any pining coming from that sentiment.”

  “Perhaps not; but, that could be anger and hurt on her side as a reaction. How is it you have such good contacts on the dark side of the family, as you call it?”

  “My side of the family. We’re the ones who are considered the outsiders.”

  I decided not to pursue that. I’d save it for another time, another place.

  Starnes directed us to Lucinda’s house on Oak Street. We knew she would be at work, but we thought it important to get the lay of the land before we stopped by her place of employment. We then drove over to the dermatologist’s office to see if she would in fact talk with us later that evening. I was hedging my bets, but since she and Starnes were cousins, I figured that she would grant us an audience. Starnes agreed with my hunch.

  The medical office was packed. We sat in the corner and waited for nearly an hour until the flow of people subsided and we felt it safe to speak with Lucinda without interrupting a scheduled appointment. Didn’t want to get in the way of medical health concerns.

  “You’re here because of what happened to Abel aren’t you?” she said to Starnes. “I heard you were back. I just don’t have the time to run over, you know, the girls take up a lot of my extra time. High school stuff, sports, other things. You understand. But, it’s good to see you.”

  “Good seeing you as well,” Starnes said. “Need to talk with you if we can. How about we come over to your house this evening?” Starnes said.

  “Seven o’clock okay?” Lucinda offered. “Gives us time to eat something and clean up. I would invite you to supper, but the house is a mess and I haven’t bought groceries in a couple of weeks. I do apologize.”

  “No apology necessary,” Starnes said. “We’ll find a place to eat.”

  “Are you sure seven o’clock is good for you?” Lucinda asked.

  “That’d be good. By the way, this is Clancy Evans, a friend of mine.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lucinda,” I said.

  “Same here. So how’s it going with your new job as sheriff?” Lucinda said.

  “Murder is not a good baptism.”

  “Beg your pardon?” Lucinda said as if she didn’t understand what Starnes meant.

  “Tough starting out this way … the murder and all,” Starnes explained.

  “No, I guess not. Anyway, see you both later this evening. I need to
get back to work.”

  We had a few hours before we were to meet up with Lucinda Gosnell, so we drove over to Johnson City to find something to eat. I spotted a Chinese restaurant in the mall there.

  “You like Chinese?” I asked.

  “Some.”

  “Let’s throw caution to the wind and see what we can find here.”

  “I’ll follow you,” she said.

  It was a buffet so we had plenty from which to choose. I filled my plate and found us a corner table so we could discuss what we knew and did not know about the murder of Abel Gosnell. Starnes showed up with barely enough food to feed a hungry bird.

  “You still feeling puny?” I said.

  “My head’s hurting.”

  “Next time, go for two shots. That third one did you in,” I said.

  “No more next times,” she said confidently.

  “Don’t say that,” I countered. “In my experiences with life, there will always be a next time. They often jump up from nowhere and bite you before you can even process rationally.”

  “Cross that bridge at the time,” she said.

  When the attendant brought over our drinks, I asked her if she had anything for a headache. She smiled, nodded what I thought was yes, bowed politely and walked off. Several minutes went by and I decided that I had misunderstood her gestures, so I set out to find her and see if I could explain myself once more. We met near the beverage center. She was coming towards me with a cup of something that looked like hot tea.

  “This help,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “No English word,” she said, smiled, and handed me the cup and saucer.

  I decided to trust her tradition and my instinct that she was offering a kind gesture for head pain. It smelled exotic and appeared to be hot tea, so I took it, thanked her, and set it in front of Starnes at the table.

  “Here, drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “I’m not drinking that,” she said.

  “Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “I could throw up all over my supper,” she explained.

  “You didn’t throw up after you were inebriated recently,” I said.