Dooley Is Dead

by Kate Merrill

  “What’s happening?” Ginny wondered.

  At the same moment, Trevor glanced back at Ginny and their eyes locked in what Diana would describe as an intimate embrace. It all happened so fast, the spectators never had a chance to be seated.

  The judge stood and raised his hand. “Listen, folks, it looks like this whole sorry mess was a false alarm. Case dismissed. Sergeant Major Dula, you are hereby cleared of all charges, you are free to go.”

  The audience froze in momentary disbelief, and then pandemonium broke loose. The veterans cheered and pumped their fists in victory. Ginny hugged Diana so hard her ribs ached. Maynard Dula, who still seemed in shock, turned to his wife, Paula, and wryly said he reckoned she could put away her checkbook now.

  Trevor was stunned, but a tentative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shook hands with his lawyer. Gradually they moved down the aisle to freedom.

  “Way to go, Trev!” his buddies yelled.

  Paula stumbled across three sets of legs to be the first to hug Trevor. Next Ginny trampled Diana’s feet to be next in line. Ginny gave Trevor a big kiss on the cheek. Finally, Diana and Maynard offered their congratulations, and the relief in the room was palpable. No one wanted to condemn a war hero.

  “I guess we’ll never know if the lawyer still stutters,” Diana muttered stupidly, but no one heard her.

  At the same time, Lieutenant Sokolsky and the Iredell deputy came up behind them. The deputy planted a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “May I have a word, Ms. Troutman?”

  “Later…” Ginny shrugged off his hand. “Can’t you see we’re celebrating? Maybe next time you dumb cops will get it right.”

  “Yeah, maybe we will,” the deputy said. He yanked the set of cuffs off his belt, held Ginny’s wrists together, and suddenly she was his prisoner.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Diana intervened.

  Sokolsky stepped forward. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s arresting her for Lori Fowler’s murder.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  About Ginny’s character…

  Tears blinded Diana as she tried to drive. The scene at the courthouse had been intolerable as the deputy read Ginny the Miranda Warning, then dragged her away as she cried to Diana for help. Trevor had lost his temper, calling the young officer every obscene name a Sergeant Major could conjure. Maynard and the lawyer tried to reason with the deputy, and only Paula stayed calm. Diana hadn’t seen Paula offering to pull out her checkbook on Ginny’s behalf.

  She drove into Matthew’s driveway, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, took multiple deep breaths in an effort to compose herself, and wondered how in heaven’s name she could explain all this to Matthew. Eventually, she opened the car door and stepped shakily onto the gravel. Only then did she notice the Iredell County Sheriff’s car parked a discreet distance down their road. Maybe the explaining had already been done.

  God help them all. Diana started up the walkway, entered the kitchen, then moved towards the muffled voices coming from the living room. Matthew was seated in his chair facing a big man on the couch. Matthew climbed to his feet, opened his arms, and gathered her into his embrace. She felt the heavy beating of his heart and the defeated slope of his shoulders as he held her tight.

  “Oh, Matthew, I’m so sorry.” Clearly he had heard the news.

  He returned her hug in a feeble attempt to comfort them both, then he wordlessly turned to their visitor. “Wayne was kind enough to come here and give me an update.”

  “Hello, Wayne.” Sheriff Wayne Bearfoot was a longtime friend. Over the years, the physically imposing Cherokee lawman had supported them through some difficult situations and socialized with them in the good times. Today he was somber and unsmiling, and because he wore shorts and a casual shirt, Diana knew he was there unofficially, working off the clock.

  “Where’s Lissa?” Suddenly Diana was worried about the child.

  Matthew nodded out to the lakefront, where Lissa was blissfully throwing tennis balls into the shallows. Then Ursie would gallantly retrieve them, gallop through the grass, and drop them at her feet.

  “Does she know?”

  “Of course not.” Matthew was firm. “And for now, all she needs to know is that her mama’s staying with some friends.” He guided Diana to sit beside Bearfoot, then returned to his chair.

  “I’m so sorry, Diana.” Bearfoot’s dark eyes were sad, his angular jaw and high cheekbones betrayed his tension. “I hate being the bearer of bad news, but Sokolsky gave me a heads-up. He knew we were friends, so he suggested a face-to-face.”

  “Sokolsky’s a jerk,” Diana muttered. “The man can’t seem to get anything right.”

  Bearfoot stared at his large hands, weighing words before he spoke them. “I can’t help but agree. I’ve never met your daughter, Trout, but considering the family she comes from, I can’t imagine Ginny would be capable of such a crime.”

  “And I was with her that morning,” Diana interrupted. “Ginny never entered Lori’s house, never had time to stab that girl. I say again, Sokolsky’s crazy.”

  The sheriff ran his long fingers through his raven black hair. “Sokolsky’s ambitious, but he’s not crazy. He jumped the gun with Trevor Dula, but he feels he’s gave us enough to bring Ginny to trial.”

  Diana felt sick. She glanced at Matthew, who had aged ten years since she left that afternoon. His habitually tanned face was pale, his warm brown eyes glazed with pain. “Has everyone gone mad? Where’s the evidence?” she demanded.

  The men glanced at one another. Neither was willing to speak first, but at last, Matthew cleared his throat. “We have a problem, Diana. Ginny lied. She outright lied to you, to me, and to the cops. She did enter Lori Fowler’s home that morning.”

  His words hit like a sucker punch to her stomach, and suddenly she felt slightly dizzy. “But that’s ridiculous. How do you know?”

  “I’m afraid Ginny left fingerprints,” Bearfoot said. “They found a bottled water on Lori’s counter. Ginny had taken it from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, and taken one sip. Her prints were on the fridge and the bottle.”

  Diana was unconvinced. “No, I don’t believe it. How do they know they were Ginny’s prints?”

  Matthew broke in. “Yeah, how the hell could they tie those prints to Ginny? She’s never been in any serious trouble.”

  Again Bearfoot hesitated, seemingly lost in watching little Lissa toss balls. While they waited for a response, Diana listened to the incessant ticking of Matthew’s grandfather clock.

  “Okay, here’s the story, folks,” Bearfoot said. “I don’t love Sokolsky, either, but he’s efficient. Before we took over the case, his crime team ran all the prints found in Lori’s house through the National Database, and Ginny popped up with big red flags beside her name. Seems she got into trouble out in Las Vegas. While she was working in a casino, she stole some old lady’s slot machine winnings---a bag worth close to six thousand dollars. Security caught Ginny hiding it in her locker. It was an ill-conceived theft, considering they have cameras all over those casinos. Long story short, Ginny was convicted on a felony theft charge and served some time. She has a criminal record.”

  Diana and Matthew were speechless, staring miserably at one another. “Did you know about this, Matthew?”

  “Not until this moment.”

  Diana noticed a little vein throbbing beside Matthew’s eye and realized his initial shock was being replaced by anger. As she considered Ginny’s lies, Diana’s dizzy sensation turned to frustration. “What was Ginny thinking? What happened to Lissa while she was in prison?”

  Wayne Bearfoot lifted a file from the floor near his shoe and began to read. “Believe it, or not, I can actually answer that question. Like I told you, Sokolsky was thorough. At the time Ginny was arrested, she had divorced her husband, Charles Harkin, and had been employed at the casino only two months. She claimed she stole the money out of desperation to support her minor child. The file says Ginny showe
d extreme remorse, and oddly, Miss Washam, the old lady she stole from, took pity. Miss Washam owned a Bed and Breakfast in Vegas and convinced the authorities to allow Melissa to live with her during Ginny’s brief incarceration…

  “Oh, and here’s a foot note. After she was released, Ginny also stayed at Miss Washam’s for several years, and they became good friends.”

  “That’s a strange story,” Diana said.

  Matthew agreed. “Doesn’t the fact that Miss Washam forgave Ginny and took her in make a difference? Doesn’t it say something positive about Ginny’s character?”

  Bearfoot shook his head. “Not really. It says something positive about Miss Washam, but Ginny still did the crime. Ginny still left her prints at the scene of Lori Fowler’s murder.”

  “And Ginny lied,” Matthew added. He looked as grim and angry as Diana had ever seen him.

  Diana understood. If Ginny had been nearby, she’d have cheerfully wrung her stupid neck. On the other hand, she refused to believe Matthew’s daughter was a murderer. “But what about Trevor’s Jeep in Lori’s drive, and what was Ginny’s motive?”

  Bearfoot closed his file. “You’re right about the Jeep, Diana, no one’s got a handle on that yet. But the police psychiatrist interviewed Trevor backwards and forwards, and she believes he loved his fiancée and did not kill her. The military provided Trevor’s history, and while he has some problems with PTSD, those shrinks still insist Trevor is not a psychopath capable of murder.”

  “Were any other suspicious fingerprints found in Lori’s house?” Matthew asked.

  “Nothing in the Database. Of course, Trevor’s were everywhere, but since the guy practically lived there, that was to be expected. The knife itself had been wiped clean.”

  Bearfoot turned back to Diana. “And I promise you, our department still has Trevor under surveillance. Worse case scenario? Ginny and Trevor planned and executed the crime together, in which case it would be premeditated murder---subject to the death penalty. It would be better for Ginny to plead an old-fashioned crime of passion.”

  “Except she didn’t do it.” Matthew rose abruptly and left the room.

  Diana knew Matthew had redirected his fury at Bearfoot. He wanted his old friend to presume Ginny innocent, but that was asking too much. Even Diana realized the case against Ginny was damning, and she suspected the cops had discovered some sort of a motive. But Diana didn’t ask, didn’t want any more bad news. Instead, she thanked Wayne for coming and requested the particulars---where had they taken Ginny, and what came next? Once he had answered all her questions, she walked him to his car.

  “This is hard on Matthew, Wayne. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you.”

  Matthew had refused to bid his friend goodbye. He had gone down to the lake, where he was now tossing balls with Lissa. Diana and Bearfoot watched them playing for a long, silent moment.

  “What’s Matthew going to do?” Bearfoot was at a loss.

  Diana swallowed the lump in her throat. “Right now, I suspect he’s trying to decide how to tell that little girl why her mommy’s not coming home.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The legend…

  Lissa finally fell asleep, but not until Diana read her three chapters of Alice Through the Looking Glass. They had promised to rent the new movie “Alice in Wonderland” next time they visited the video store, but Diana had some doubts. The entire story---pot-smoking caterpillars, the evil red queen, the horrifying Jabberwocky---these characters scared Diana, so what would they do to a six-year-old?

  True to his word, Matthew had concocted a story for Lissa about Ginny staying with some old friends for a few days. They made sure she didn’t see the evening news, which most certainly covered the arrest, and they basically let her eat too much ice cream. For the moment, Lissa was satisfied, but kids were smart. Eventually she’d question all the extra attention, sense something was wrong, and they’d have to share some version of the truth. At least that was Diana’s assessment.

  But Matthew was either in denial about his daughter’s predicament, or unable to discuss it. Or maybe he feared his anger would explode if he let it out, causing collateral damage to both Diana and Lissa. Diana appreciated he was a man of few words, who wanted to shield his loved ones from hurt, who was uncomfortable with emotional excess. So she wasn’t surprised when he got restless listening to the details Bearfoot had laid out and commented only when Diana mentioned they might have to post bail.

  “If it comes to it, I have money, Diana. I’ll mortgage the damned house, if necessary.”

  Matthew was seldom profane, but when he was, Diana knew to steer clear. Their great experiment of living together was exactly two weeks old. Matthew had set aside that block of time as a vacation from his store, hired extra help, but was scheduled to return to work Monday morning. Looking back, the entire time had been the honeymoon from hell.

  After showering and changing into her nightgown, Diana tiptoed into their bedroom and found Matthew pretending to read a mystery novel. But the book was still open to the same chapter he’d been reading her first night here.

  She crawled in beside him. “How are you doing?” She kissed his cheek. He grunted something welcoming, but did not put his book away. Okay, two could play that game. She reached into her bedside table and brought out the little paperback about Tom Dooley she’d bought two weeks ago at Whippoorwill Village.

  Unsure she could concentrate, she started to read, and a half hour later, she felt like Alice---like she had fallen down a rabbit hole, backwards through time, to a place that mirrored her own recent life.

  “Matthew, do you believe history repeats itself?”

  Another grunt.

  “No, seriously, listen to this---The Legend of Tom Dooley, or Dula, the historically correct name. Doesn’t it seem weird that we now know Trevor Dula, an ancestor with the same initials? Tom was a Civil War hero---Trevor is an Iraq War hero.”

  “Please, Diana. I told you there are dozens of Dulas ’round here. Plenty of veterans, too.”

  “Yes, but Tom came home from the war and got engaged to Laura Foster---almost the same name as Lori Fowler, Trevor’s fiancée. Then Laura was murdered, remember?”

  “Sure, Tom killed her and got himself hanged.”

  “But did he do it? Everyone back then had doubts. There was also a woman named Ann Melton involved. She was Laura Foster’s cousin, married to an older man, and she had an ongoing affair with Tom.”

  “Are you trying to compare this cousin to Lori’s cousin, Paula? And I suppose the ‘older husband’ is supposed to Maynard?”

  “Maybe I am comparing them, because the story is so much the same. I’ve always sensed that Paula was attracted to Trevor. Maybe they were sweethearts before the war, just like Ann Melton and Tom Dooley?”

  “That’s a boatload of maybes.” Matthew closed his book, and then his eyes

  “But listen to this…” she persisted. “Ann actually confessed to stabbing Tom’s Laura, and Laura was pregnant with Tom’s child.”

  “Please give me a break.” Matthew yawned. “Lori Fowler wasn’t pregnant, or else we’d have heard all about it on the news. And even if history were repeating itself, where does Ginny fit in?”

  Diana paused. She was somewhat surprised that Matthew had even been listening to her Twenty-First Century conspiracy theory based on a Nineteenth Century murder. She read on. “Okay, here it is. Another woman was involved with Tom. Her name was Pauline, and she was another of Laura’s cousins…”

  “Stop right there.” Matthew grabbed Diana’s wrist. “Shouldn’t this Pauline person be compared to Paula Dula? Their names are almost the same. By your reasoning, my Ginny should be the Ann Melton character. After all, Ginny loved Trevor before he went away to Iraq. Then she got herself married to a much older man---that Charley guy. Aren’t you putting Ginny square in the shoes of that adulteress who confessed to the murder? You don’t want to do that, do you, Diana?”

  “Please hush up, Matthew, you’r
e giving me a headache.” She closed her book. His reasoning had put her off track, yet the Tom Dooley legend remained a compelling parallel. She’d go back to it in the morning.

  Matthew turned towards her and ran his hand up under her gown. His finger lightly circled her bellybutton, then traveled up the center of her chest to her breasts. As he cupped each mound, then teased each nipple, Diana felt her anxiety melt away.

  “Do you still have a headache?”

  “Nope, all gone,” she told him.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The dream…

  After they made love, Diana fell into a deep sleep. But then the dream materialized in the early morning hours, and the ghost of Tom Dooley came to haunt her. She was transported to 1866 and that misty morning when Tom lured his fiancé away on horseback and into the mountains. Laura believed he intended to marry her and become a father to their unborn child. They galloped through foothills alive with rhododendrons and mountain laurel, but Tom was thinking of Ann and Pauline, the other two women in his life. He carried the pickax he had borrowed from a neighbor, and when he returned home, he came alone.

  Tom refused to join the search party. Instead he ran off to Tennessee and changed his name. Finally acting on a tip from Tom’s married lover, Ann, the searchers climbed higher into the mountains. One of the horses scented blood in the weeds, and sure enough, they found Laura’s corpse in a sad and shallow grave.

  That fall, Tom was located and brought back to Wilkes County in chains. Both he and Ann were indicted for murder. Then two long years later, Tom alone was hanged for the crime, and the mystery of who may actually have committed the murder lingered through the centuries and into Diana’s dream.