Farraday Road

by Ace Collins

  “Well, did you get the information you needed to free her and make me look like a fool?”

  “Nope. But I’m just getting started.”

  ARKANSAS 9 WOUND ITS WAY THROUGH THE OZARK foothills like a gray ribbon batted about by a kitten. In places it almost met itself coming and going. As with most things in the northern Arkansas Ozarks, the shoulderless asphalt had changed little in fifty years. The scenery along the highway was so tranquil it was hard to believe that a murder had taken place just off this stretch of road. But as Lije motored the Cord past Farraday Road, which was now closed, the peace of the morning was shattered by haunting images sucking the air from his lungs and the strength from his resolve. To bury memories he could neither accept nor change, Lije spent most of the thirty-minute drive down Arkansas 9 to Melbourne talking with Kent McGee on his cell phone, updating him on his conversation with Heather. He was only a couple of miles from Jim’s Diner when he finally snapped shut his phone and followed Curtis’s Crown Victoria into the parking lot.

  He switched off the motor and eased back into the soft fawn-leather seat. He let his mind drift a moment. Then he saw Curtis was waiting for him. He sighed and got out of the Cord and closed the door. Then he leaned forward and rested his arms on the roof of the car and waited for her to join him.

  “Diana, I want you to consider this.” Though it hardly seemed the wise thing to do, Lije told Curtis what Heather had told him.

  “She’s clearly guilty,” Curtis assured him. “This explains the motive.”

  Lije shook his head. “This Sutton obviously is preying on families who’ve lost loved ones in the war. I’m sure he’s done his homework, knows who Heather is and who she works for. So when she was having problems coming up with the cash, he might well have seen an opportunity to soak her for even more money. Probably figured Heather would get some business insurance payoff if he could get my wife and me out of the way. Then, instead of picking up another twenty grand, he could probably stretch things out and collect a whole lot more.”

  The look on her face indicated Curtis might be considering what he was suggesting. Still, when she didn’t respond, he doubted he’d gotten her to change her mind.

  “Has anyone found out anything about Mikki Stuart? ” he asked.

  “No, the trail’s gone cold.”

  “The fact that you have Heather but can’t find Mikki is kind of strange. Do you really think that Heather, in her state of mind, had the ability to find and hire a hit man and arrange for the investigating officer to disappear? I don’t. I think pulling off something like this had to involve some planning and brains.”

  He was trying to push Curtis into a corner, but she wasn’t falling into his trap. “I don’t care what you think about her state of mind,” she said, “Jameson’s a smart girl. She was desperate. You just told me she believed time was ticking down for her brother.”

  “Diana …” He said the name as if they were friends, which he was now sure they weren’t. “If she was as smart as you say she is, then she would’ve seen through Sutton’s con.” Lije knew he was the last line of defense for Heather, so he refused to give an inch. “You want to make this case fit, but if you look closely at every facet, you’ll see there’s no solid evidence.”

  “Do you want to go in with me to get the coat or not?”

  Lije leaned back against the rear driver’s side door. The last thing he wanted to do was go inside the last place he and Kaitlyn had visited before her death. “No. If you aren’t going to be gone long, I’ll stay here.”

  “I’ll make it fast.”

  As he waited, Lije studied the small building of native stone, which was common for the area. He knew from what his parents had told him that the building had always been a restaurant since its construction in the 1920s. In the three decades he had been stopping here, very little had changed. Even the tables were the same ones he had sat at with his parents. Yet he would never again be able to look at the third window on the left side and not remember the last minutes he spent with Kaitlyn. It was almost as if he could see her sitting there now, looking out into that fatal night’s dark rain. He remembered her calm. He had wanted to rush out to the car and drive through the downpour, but she convinced him it was smarter just to wait it out. “What’s the hurry? ” she had asked.

  Then she had smiled. “We have our whole lives ahead of us, you know.”

  “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, LIJE?”

  “Nothing.” He was not ready to admit he had been staring at a memory that looked more real than Curtis did. “Did you get the coat?”

  “It’s in the bag,” she said, holding up a paper sack. “I need you to identify it.”

  In truth, he wasn’t interested. Seeing that image in the window had weakened his resolve for freeing Heather Jameson. Yet the coat somehow played into the case, so he nodded.

  “You’re going to have to put on gloves.”

  Curtis opened the rear door of her car and retrieved two pairs of latex gloves from her kit. She put on her gloves, handed the other pair to Lije, then pulled out the coat from the bag.

  “I looked at it in the office of the diner. I didn’t see anything of note except for cleaner’s marks written inside the left pocket.”

  Holding it at arm’s length, Lije studied the coat for a few seconds, glancing at the label. He opened the pockets and looked at the numbers written on the inside of the left one—2765-17.

  “It’s not mine. My coat, as I told you earlier, was made by the Westchester Clothing Company. The label says this one came from Holland Clothing. Looks like someone else got mine that night. There were several on the rack when we came in. The one I thought was mine was the only one hanging there when we left.”

  “Well,” Curtis said, “another dead end. We’ll let the lab guys go over it and see what they find.”

  Curtis slipped the coat back into the bag. Lije smiled. Kent would be able to use this against the prosecution. He’d point out that the way the coat Lije was wearing that night was ripped off him meant the killers were after the coat or something in it. With more than two coats in the mix, it would cast doubt on the case against Heather.

  Curtis stepped away and started talking on her cell phone in a hushed tone. She didn’t look happy, and Lije was sure that if she was talking to the ABI director, they were both upset by this new turn in the case.

  As he got back into the Cord, he looked again at the third window of the diner, hoping … and then he saw her … Kaitlyn looking out as if there were again rain falling. He sat very still, not moving, not wanting to lose sight of that beautiful face that would forever be at a distance.

  LIJE WALKED UP ON THE FRONT PORCH OF THE DEAN residence, a modest farmhouse about three miles west of Mountain View. His 1936 Cord had taken a beating on the poorly maintained dirt road leading in. Anyone driving by would think the red car was brownish gray. It seemed he had managed to find the bottom of every pothole as he wound through the mud and puddles.

  Though the home and outbuildings needed major repair, the tree-covered property was beautiful, peaceful. The small frame home sat on a hill beside a huge oak. Large pines stood off to the right and a small creek had cut a channel at the slope’s base. With some work, this out-of-the-way farm could become a gem.

  But he had a job to do. And it was time to focus on the mission. He walked purposefully to the front door. Just before ringing the bell, he glanced over his shoulder. For the first time he wished Curtis were with him. She’d probably be much better at uncovering evidence than he was going to be. Yet this was now his baby and he had to rock it for all it was worth. Raising his hand, he rapped on the wooden door. Would it bring him luck?

  A heavyset, middle-aged woman opened the door, a diet drink in her left hand and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. “What do you want?”

  Lije had met pit bulls with a friendlier bark.

  “Mrs. Dean? I’m Lije Evans. I called you this morning.”

  “Yeah, I’m Mable Dean.�
� Her gruff reply was followed by a series of muffled coughs. Pulling the cigarette from her mouth, the woman wheezed a bit, cleared her throat, and glanced back toward the door. “You said you’re from Salem?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  She waved her hand, leaving a trail of smoke as she did. “You said you wanted to ask about my husband and that cursed piece of land.”

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Lije replied.

  “I’ll be happy to tell you what I know. Ain’t got nothin’ else to do. You can come on inside or we can talk here on the porch. Got some comfortable chairs around the corner on the south side.”

  Lije shifted his eyes to his left. He didn’t relish breathing in smoke. “It’s a pretty day. Let’s take advantage of it.”

  “Fine with me,” Mabel replied. “You go around and get comfortable. I’m going to grab a pack of smokes and my lighter.”

  As his hostess disappeared into her home, Lije worked his way to the place Mabel had pointed out. He chased two cats and a mongrel dog off an iron lawn chair and sat down.

  To his right were three old cars partly concealed by tall weeds in the back yard. Beyond the cars was a jumbled pile of weathered boards that once might have been a barn. He was staring at the pile of wood when Mabel Dean returned.

  “Yep, the old barn finally fell down in that storm. Of course, it was leaning pretty good for years. Micah didn’t care much about fixing anything while he was alive, and since he’s been gone, nothing has been done. I’m just not healthy enough.” She waved at the wood. “That’s the place where he died. Killed inside that old building.” Then, as if the thought of her husband’s death meant little to her, she pointed to another part of the yard. “Guess I need to sell those old cars, but then where would I keep the chickens?”

  Just then a yellow hen half flew and half jumped out of a broken rear window of a dark blue Chevy.

  “I see what you mean,” Lije said.

  The bird scratched on the trunk of the car for a moment before hopping off into the weeds.

  Lije turned back toward Mabel. “Mrs. Dean, I didn’t come here to waste your valuable time, so I’ll just get to the point of the visit.”

  “Cut to the chase, as Daddy used to say.” Mabel laughed, pushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face. “But sweetie, I’ve got lots of time.” Then she looked at Lije and winked. “And though it may not look like it, I’m a pretty rich woman.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he replied, ignoring her flirting. “Anyway, I came over to ask you about—”

  “Swope’s Ridge,” the woman said, taking a long draw on her unfiltered smoke.

  “That’s it,” he answered.

  “I was never so happy in all my life to get rid of that place. I absolutely loathed it.”

  “And why’s that?”

  Tossing her cigarette down on the porch and snuffing it out with her tennis shoe, Dean took a seat in one of the vacant chairs, pulled a pack from her pocket, and lit a fresh Camel. She savored a few puffs before looking back at her guest.

  “Micah was obsessed with that place. We were married for more than thirty years, and for most of that time, it was all he talked about. Other men had hobbies, took vacations, watched TV, but not him. No, he just looked at maps of that place. The few times he did talk to me, it was about that cursed property. Really, Swope’s Ridge was his mistress.”

  After taking another long draw on the cigarette, she said, “For the first twenty-five years or so, the German who owned it wouldn’t let Micah on the land. I remember one night, about a decade ago, he took a canoe down the river and snuck onto the property. He thought he could explore the place after dark. Ah, the German was watching. They say he was always watching. Took a shotgun and pumped Micah full of rock salt. I was picking it out of him for days.” She grinned. “I thought it was kind of funny.”

  She paused, laughed a bit, and took another puff. “You know, up until the German died, Micah had a good job working down at the water department. He was the supervisor. But then everything changed.”

  As Mabel turned her attention back to her cigarette, Lije waited impatiently for the story to continue. It would be a considerable wait. Mabel finished her smoke and lit another before she picked up her tale. While he waited, he considered her late husband’s obsession with a piece of wooded riverfront property. Other than the view, what could be there worth dying for?

  “When the German died,” Mable continued, “Micah took all the money he had been saving and tried to buy Swope’s Ridge. The lawyer handling the estate told him the German had left all his property and personal belongings to his great niece, who lived back in the Old Country. I hoped that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t. A few weeks later, the lawyer called, said the woman wanted to sell. The old fool accepted the asking price. Didn’t even make a counter offer. Imagine, more than a half million bucks just flying out of the bank like a wild bird headed north for the summer.”

  “A half million? ” Lije asked. He was shocked Micah Dean had been able to save that much cash.

  “Yep, half a mill.” Taking another drag on the cigarette, Dean smiled. “You’re probably wondering where he got that kind of money. Well, I’ll tell you, he never spent a cent on anything. He saved every dime he made. About twenty or so years ago, he was left a piece of nice property down toward Conway. It’d been his father’s. My, there was a beautiful home on that place. I wanted to move there, but Micah sold it. When I started setting up a howl, he gave me a thousand and told me to spend it. I did, bought some new clothes, but that was all I got. You know, I don’t even have any kids because he claimed we couldn’t afford them. Kind of lonely now.”

  She suddenly seemed melancholy, as if remembering a sad moment. But it didn’t capture her mind for long. Soon she was again weaving her tale.

  “Should have left him. Should have never married him to begin with. You know, you might not guess it by looking at me now, but I was pretty once. Had my share of guys too.”

  “I can believe that,” Lije said. By her smile, he sensed he had her momentarily charmed. “Why did Micah want Swope’s Ridge?I’m guessing it wasn’t so that he could move there.”

  “Heck no.” The woman laughed. “I never even saw the place. I’m not sure he was ever even in the German’s house. If he was, it was only once. For Micah, it was all about that darned old family legend.” She tossed the spent cigarette onto the dirt and pulled out a replacement.

  “Legend? ” Lije asked, his voice showing both curiosity and confusion.

  “You familiar with the property, Mr…. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your last name.”

  “Evans. It’s Lije Evans.”

  She stopped, as if trying to recall something, then took another long draw on the cigarette. “Your wife’s the pretty thing who bought that place from me. She had kind of an Asian look about her.”

  Lije felt a jab of pain. It was all he could do not to show the grief that was suddenly rushing over him. “That was her.”

  “I heard she was killed a few days ago.” Mabel’s tone hadn’t changed, as if death meant little to her.

  He nodded.

  “I’m so sorry. I tried to warn her.”

  WARN HER? WHAT DID SHE MEAN? LIJE LEANED forward, suddenly alert. “Why did you warn her?”

  Taking a nervous puff on the smoke, Mabel shivered as if overcome by a chill. She got up from her chair and walked to the edge of the porch. With her back to Lije, she looked off toward a large elm tree. “I need to get this place fixed up. Got peeling paint everywhere, and look at the yard.”

  He got up and walked over to her. “What do you mean, you warned her?”

  Mabel tossed the cigarette out onto a patch of dirt and went back to sit in her chair. “I had to have the money. I’d spent what was left in the account. I would’ve sold the place even sooner than I did, but Micah’s will was really messed up. It took almost two years for me to get my name on it, all legal, so I could even put that propert
y up for sale. I didn’t advertise or nothing. The lawyer who handled the will and everything, the same one who worked for the German, put me in touch with your wife. We settled it in twenty minutes right here on this porch. But afterward I felt guilty for doing it, so I tried to get out of the deal. I called her back the next day. I told her the property was cursed, had been for more than a century, but she didn’t believe me. Didn’t even ask me about the curse. So the deal went through. When I heard she had been killed, it cut through me like a knife. I remember thinking the old Cherokee claimed another soul.”

  None of this made any sense. Lije wondered how an old Indian curse could still affect people today. Following the woman’s ramblings was confusing. It was as if she was speaking in a riddle. “You knew there was a curse on the land. Then I take it you didn’t want Micah to buy the property?”

  “Of course not”—she almost spit as she spoke—“but he wouldn’t listen to me any more than your wife would. That property just sucks you in. It’s—what do those scientists call it?—a black hole. It’s a damn black hole.”

  Nothing he knew about the place fit with what he was hearing. “Why is it cursed?”

  “It’s no secret, the old-timers all know. Old Swope killed an Indian in a dispute over who owned the place. That’s when the medicine man put a curse on the land. Swope was sick from that day on, and a few years later he fell into the river and drowned. The next owner died in the Civil War. It kept happening. If you look back at the history of the place, most folks who’ve owned Swope’s Ridge have died violently. Even Micah. The German was the one exception. He died of old age, but he was completely alone and folks said he always looked like he was haunted. They said he saw things. He claimed there were ghosts after him.”

  Lije couldn’t figure out why Micah, who knew about the curse, would be so obsessed with owning the land. Or didn’t he believe in the curse? “Why did your husband want the place?”