Digging Up Bones (Birdwell, Texas Mysteries Book 1)

by Aimee Gilchrist

  He didn't trust people he'd been friends with since his diaper days, but me he trusted. I couldn't wrap my brain around it, since I couldn't remember anyone placing that kind of faith in me. Everyone had always treated me like either I shouldn't have any responsibilities, therefore there was nothing to trust me with, or I was too capricious and high-strung to be truly trustworthy. Which may or may not have been true, since I had never been tested.

  Either way, I was touched by his faith in me, and it made me feel like I really was capable of helping. I once had a philosophy professor who told me that a person who has someone to believe in them could do anything. Now I could see how that might be true. "Agreed."

  "Good." He nodded slowly. "I'll meet you downstairs in twenty, and then we'll go check out Penny's place."

  "Okay." I shut the door softly and stood there for a few moments considering my new status as a reliable person. At least in Aodhagan's eyes. And his opinion of me may have been the first that I'd ever cared about. That, more than any of those other things that I felt about him, told me how very dangerous he could be.

  When I got downstairs, he rushed me through breakfast and into the Jeep. "What's the hurry?" I demanded, still struggling with one of my shoes when he was already turning the ignition.

  "I paid a guy from Lubbock to bring up my car this afternoon, and I have to be here when he comes."

  "It's already done?" In Manhattan, despite the exorbitant cost to maintain my residence, it would sometimes take weeks to get the super to stop my faucet from leaking. I couldn't imagine anyone doing extensive bodywork in less than, oh say, two or three months.

  "You can't imagine the power of the words, 'I'll pay whatever it costs.'"

  Actually, I could imagine. I had learned the power of those words at my parents' knees.

  He pulled out onto Main Street and pointed left. "Look, there's the Bird Well. It's what the town was named after."

  I stared at the landmark as we crawled past at the speed limit, twenty miles an hour. "It looks like a big hole in the ground with a cage around it."

  "It is a big hole in the ground with a cage around it. That's so the kiddies don't fall in. Back in the 1800s, it was the only source of water around here."

  "Why the Birdwell and not, like, the Dogwell or whatever?"

  "Because it was discovered by Thomas Bird, and apparently he was pretty proud of himself about it."

  I pointed to the window facing Penny's house in the rickety house next door. "What about these people. Did they see anything?"

  "Abandoned." He parked next to Penny's Fairlane, still resting resignedly on its cinder-block bed. "That's how it is with a lot of homes around here. I hope that you won't let Penny's house sit around like that. She wouldn't like it."

  I didn't respond to that, and he didn't seem to expect me to. As we got out, I noticed a random orange tomcat rolling around in the dusty yard next door. When it saw us, it ran away. "Oh, no. Penny's poor stupid cat probably starved to death."

  "It's okay. I've been feeding it."

  I glared at him, even though he didn't deserve it. "Of course you have. You never forget anything." He raised one eyebrow but didn't say anything. Thankfully, since I was just letting off steam.

  On the porch, he gave me the keys, although I had no idea where he'd gotten them. Dooley, no doubt. Were we supposed to trust Dooley?

  The memory of Aodhagan's cryptic warning from earlier gave me sudden chills, even though it had to be already ninety. Or maybe it was just the thought of going back into the house. Even though the murder had occurred in the shed, I knew the killer had been in her house, and the distinction didn't make me feel any better.

  "Okay, here we go." Taking a deep breath, I turned the key and pushed the door open. Inside was dank and unlit. Lucky emerged from somewhere in the region of the bathroom and began twisting in between our feet and meowing in desperation. Aodhagan absently patted his head while I stared around the room. "What exactly are we looking for anyway?"

  Aodhagan stood and brushed his hairy hands off. "I don't know, really. I guess anything that looks out of place or weird. You probably wouldn't know if anything was missing."

  The only thing that I knew was missing was Penny, but that was enough. "I don't think so. I hadn't seen her since I was still wearing braces. Dooley would have known better than either of us, and he didn't find anything."

  We methodically picked through every room, looking for anything that was amiss. Of course the entire place was trashed, and we found several bizarre things. Those included, but were not restricted to, a ceramic pig head, a pseudo lamp made out of Styrofoam cups, and a long string of Bavarian sausages strung up from one end of the hall to the other.

  I was pretty sure that all that stuff had belonged here, in effect anyway. Penny had meant them to be here. I wasn't sure if that particular combination of things actually belonged anywhere.

  Depression crept up on me, seeing all of these things. In a way, this had all been abstract. I hadn't seen Penny in years. I hadn't heard her voice. I hadn't seen her body. It was almost as though it hadn't happened. Or, at least, not to anyone I knew. Now these things were reminding me of her, and I was a kid again. Although I wasn't on the verge of tears, the lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. Aodhagan went downstairs to the rec room and then into the spare bedroom, which was being utilized like a giant closet, full of dusty boxes, and I went into her bedroom.

  It was done up in early bad taste, but it smelled like her, and the nubby orange carpet had familiar burn scars. I went through her dresser, growing more nostalgic every minute at the sight of all her Lycra tops and Rockies jeans. There was nothing in her dresser but clothes and nothing under her bed but a rusted ThighMaster and dust bunnies. I moved on to the closet. The only things on the floor were two pairs of shoes with impossibly high heels and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots that I had an absurd urge to take back to Aodhagan's with me.

  In the far corner, I spotted an ancient shoebox. I grabbed it with high hopes that it would contain all the answers to the universe. Instead, all it contained were a few odds and ends. A paper rose, some old movie ticket stubs, a couple of bullet casings that I didn't suspect had a sinister origin, a couple of faded seashells, and the old yellowed obituaries of both Norma Jean and Frank Lundgren.

  I put it all back, careful to not upset anything too much. Not that anyone was going to object to it, now. As I was putting the seashells back, I remembered I'd given them to her. It'd been the summer I was eight. In her own gruff way, she'd reacted with enthusiasm far beyond what my offering called for.

  Pulling in a deep breath, I prayed for calm and went back to work, rifling through her hangers, taking in dozens of short black dresses. I had almost no more clean clothes and certainly nothing that was appropriate for a funeral. I had only three dresses. I had avoided bringing black things in the interest of being cool under the hot sun. I picked out the dress that looked the most circumspect amongst her little black dresses and laid it out across the bed.

  I looked around the sparse room one more time. There was nowhere else to look. Nowhere she could have hidden something. My eyes moved across the walls. She had blown up and framed the very picture that Aodhagan had mentioned just last night.

  I was five years old, and it was my first summer in Port Victoria where Penny had come along. Slowly, I walked over to it and took it down off the wall. I was hypnotized by the image. I was wearing a red polka-dot bikini with ludicrous ruffles and had the unfortunate Dorothy Hamill bob that Aodhagan had remembered. My grin was missing both front teeth on the bottom, and I was way too tan for a five-year-old kid. Penny was crouched down next to me in acid-washed Daisy Duke cutoffs and a pink halter top. Her blonde hair was teased to nearly Thelma Sue proportions, and she had one of her ever-present cigarettes hanging precariously between two smiling red lips.

  I couldn't hold it back. Not this time. The tide of emotions was too strong for me to pretend it didn't matter anymore. Tears welled
and spilled, and I collapsed on the edge of Penny's bed. I was quiet—I knew I was—but somehow Aodhagan still materialized by my side. He stood aside for a moment, while I hid my face in my hands, not wanting to share any weakness.

  "It's okay to cry, Helen." His voice was smooth and soft. "When something is sad." He sat down next to me, but didn't touch me.

  Maybe I had subconsciously been waiting for someone's permission to mourn Penny. Maybe I just hadn't been able to face it alone. Whatever it was, tears came in earnest. The dam broke, and hysterical sobs flowed free. I struggled to breathe. To speak. "I really loved her."

  "I know." His voice cracked.

  If he was surprised when I propelled myself into his chest, he didn't show it. Instead, he put his arms around me and his chin on my head and let me cry it out, making comforting murmurs of sympathy. After a while, I began to suspect that I was crying over other things that I had never gotten around to mourning, just because I had such a good shoulder. So I pulled myself together and wiped my wet, swollen cheeks.

  Aodhagan handed me a couple of tissues. I blew my nose loudly. Now that the hysteria was over, embarrassment was creeping in. I scooted away from him. "I'm sorry." The words came out stiff and awkward.

  "I never want anyone to apologize for feeling real emotion."

  Real emotion was something that I spent a lot of time avoiding, especially in front of someone who was practically a stranger. I ignored him, moving to hang the picture back up. "Did you find anything?" I sounded falsely bright, even to my own ears.

  His mouth pulled tight. I could see his inner debate about whether or not to continue pushing the discussion of feelings. He didn't. "No, but you're going to have to go through all those things. There could be something important in there that I overlooked. There are boxes and boxes of papers. None of them meant that much to me."

  "I don't expect that they'll mean that much to me either, but I guess it couldn't hurt to…look." I stared at the wall.

  Even though I was closer, Aodhagan got there first. "It's a combination safe." He pointed at the door. "You must know the combination."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "Because she didn't hide it behind her three-foot velvet picture of dogs playing poker. She hid it behind this." He snatched the frame from my hand and waved it. "She wasn't just trying to conceal it. She was trying to conceal it for you. In case she didn't make it until you got here."

  "She never gave me a combination."

  "No, she wouldn't have told you anything lately because you already have it." He tapped me lightly on the head. "In here. Think of numbers that were special to the both of you. There have to be some."

  I was doubtful. "Maybe."

  "Maybe, yes. Come on, think." He was so eager that I found myself wracking my brain for any numbers that Penny and I might have shared.

  There weren't that many, but Aodhagan insisted on trying every one of them in every order conceivable. By the time we had exhausted my meager store of numerical memories, it was after noon. With a sigh, he hung the picture back up. "We better go home and get some lunch. I have to pick up the Land Rover as well. Keep thinking, though. Penny had faith in you, and so do I. You'll remember."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Instead of buoying me up, Aodhagan's faith only made me feel the weight of my aunt's death, and possibly the weight of the very lives of Aodhagan and myself, rested on my feeble memory. By the time we got back to Aodhagan's, I was dying for a cigarette. While he made lunch, I stood on the porch and considered again any possible numbers I'd overlooked while my shot of nicotine slowly calmed my nerves.

  I was still standing there when an impossibly tall and thin man drove up in a Land Rover and folded himself out like some kind of giant praying mantis. I figured that it was Aodhagan's, since it was in the yard, but instead of the gray it'd been when we'd left it in a Lubbock ditch, it was now a deep forest green. It also showed no sign of what it had been through a scant few days before.

  The man approached me. He was dressed in cheap black slacks and a button-up, black shirt that hung loose around his neck, even though he had it fully buttoned. He was only a teenager I realized on closer examination and had a terrible case of acne to show for it. The sort that would later leave his face looking like an abandoned mine field. "Mrs. MacFarley?" He offered the keys to me.

  "Noooo." I drew the word out for an impressive four or five syllables. I gestured toward the door, but Aodhagan was already on his way out, having been watching me through the kitchen window the whole time like some kind of reverse Peeping Tom.

  Aodhagan and the boy shook hands, while the boy shoved a fat wad of cash into his back pocket with his other hand. "Thanks again, Mr. MacFarley, and give me a call the next time you need something." He got into the rented Jeep and pulled out of the drive in a cloud of dust, nearly plowing over a woman and her dog.

  After lunch, we spent hours going through all the boxes in Penny's spare room. It was largely old records of bank accounts and insurance forms. We chose to shred most of it. The room also contained the sorts of things that people collected over years. Old grubby coins, half-empty matchbooks, torn corners of papers with phone numbers written on them, pens. Most of it was garbage, but it consisted of the bulk of what was left of Penny's life, so I tried to use care. I put a few things she would have cringed to see in a garbage can off to the side, even though I had no idea what I'd do with them.

  "Here it is again." Aodhagan handed me a photograph of someone's feet. It had that grainy over-red quality of an early eighties pic.

  "We've seen these feet before?"

  "No." He flipped it over. "But we've seen these numbers."

  4128 stared back at me, written in the same mannish hand I'd found on the cigarettes. "What can that mean?"

  His eyes met mine intently, and all my tension seeped out of me without warning. He had that calming effect. "Don't worry about it, Helen. You'll figure it out eventually." I appreciated his faith, but what if it was misplaced? It was only helpful if I managed to remember before someone killed us both.

  It was nearly nine at night before we finished our inspection, none the richer for it. Unless, of course, you counted the badly painted picture of a nineteenth-century, lazy-eyed street urchin, who looked like he was either screaming or yawning, the pseudo cup lamp, a bobbing-head dog, and all my aunt's little treasures I didn't know how to dispose of.

  "Nothing." I tossed all the things I couldn't bear to throw out into one of the now-empty boxes, and put it in the spare-room closet. Otherwise, the place was empty, and I was totally defeated.

  "We've got it figured out, Helen. Don't be discouraged. We have all the information. We just don't know exactly where it goes yet. We'd better go home and eat and think about bed. We have to be at the funeral home at nine." He opened the door for me. He actually seemed to know more about tomorrow than I did, but then again, what was the surprise in that? Aodhagan knew more about pretty much everything than I did. I should have been at least marginally grateful for his guidance, but instead I was just irritated. Again, where was the surprise?

  In the morning, I was up at my usual time. I was adjusting to Texas time. Which could only mean one thing. I had been in Birdwell too long. I prepared my appearance with care, but I might not have bothered when I emerged from the bathroom and slid into Penny's dress.

  On closer inspection, it turned out to be a polyester minidress with a wide belt that rode low on the hips and was sewn to the dress, so I couldn't remove it. I'd never been to a funeral before, but I suspected that pantyhose were in order. Unfortunately, I didn't have any. I had only three pairs of shoes. My strawberry thong sandals, my brown buckled sandals, and my shiny knee-high black leather boots from Prada.

  It had to be the boots, of course, but combined with the dress, I looked like some kind of vampire go-go dancer. Sadly, there was nothing to be done about it. I didn't even have time to stop at the store for a pair of hose. Just for comfort, I added my favorite jewel
ry, which might have been a little much for a somber occasion, but for me it was like a security blanket.

  When I came down for breakfast, Aodhagan was nursing a glass of orange juice and staring out the window. When he heard me, he turned. He had obviously taken pains with his appearance as well. As mayor, he probably had an official position in all this.

  I wondered if he was even giving an address. I had given leave to the guy at the funeral home to arrange all those things, since he had known Penny and her friends far better than I did. Aodhagan wore a thoroughly modern dark suit, Armani, without question, and a charcoal-gray, silk dress shirt that had the earmarks of Gucci. He was also wearing a black silk tie with understated gray circles that I knew was from Versace, only because I'd gifted Lenny the same tie. I knew his shoes though. They were Prada, my favorite. Square-toed black leather, gleaming like they were polished.

  If he'd ever maligned the extravagance of my wardrobe, now would be the moment I could get back at him in his four-thousand-dollar outfit, but he'd never even mentioned my clothes. He couldn't have been in better taste, and I felt ridiculous next to him. He was wearing contacts, and his unruly hair had been tamed by something, gel maybe. He smelled faintly woodsy and altogether incredible.

  He cleaned up so well that I was struck dumb. The effect was ruined when he looked up and said, "You look like a gothic go-go dancer."

  If I was surprised he'd used almost the same words I had in my head, it was overridden by annoyance. "I know what I look like. It can't be helped. I don't have anything else. As it is, this dress is from Penny's closet and probably was from the sixties. But I appreciate you pointing it out."

  Apparently, he wanted to avoid confrontation. He handed me a bagel. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be obnoxious. You didn't come here prepared for a funeral. You can eat this in the car."