Old Bones Never Die

by Lesley A. Diehl

  I enjoyed the feeling of sitting and riding while someone else did the driving. Sabal Bay is a sprawling town, neighborhoods interspersed with commercial establishments. There’s a town center, a four-block strip of pharmacies, gift shops, several coffee places, my favorite diner, and two furniture stores. Our business was located south of town center. The back roads Madeleine took to the shop were sheltered by stands of live oaks, their shade interrupted by fields dotted here and there with palm trees. Large herds of cattle grazed on the grass, sometimes lifting their heads to stare back at us as we sped by.

  “Do you ever miss Connecticut?” I asked.

  “Never. I love this place, and I’m happy I’ll be raising my kids here.” Madeleine smiled at me, then her happiness turned to a look of concern. “Don’t you like it here? You’re not thinking of going back to the Northeast, are you?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I miss the order there. The malls and cities with their businesses are separate from the neighborhood where people live. Here everything is jumbled together. No zoning of any kind.”

  “That’s what makes it charming,” Madeleine said.

  “I guess so.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Madeleine’s uneasy look.

  “Sorry I brought it up. Don’t worry. I’m not about to book an airline ticket to Hartford.”

  At the shop, Grandy and Shelley greeted me with hugs. Clearly they interpreted my visit as evidence I was healing from the attack. I assured them I was feeling better and would be coming into the store to work several days during the week.

  “Don’t rush on our account,” said Grandy. “Shelley, Madeleine, and I are taking care of everything just fine.”

  “What about the RV shop?” I asked. “And who’s picking up merchandise from the coast?” I looked around the store and saw the racks were half empty. The three of them couldn’t do everything here. It was time I dedicated time to our business.

  “I know the shop looks bare,” Grandy said, “but Max and I are going down to West Palm this evening. I’ve scheduled appointments with several of our best customers. After hearing about your, uh, mishap, they’ve been gathering merchandise from their friends for pick-up. The store and the RV should be packed by tomorrow.”

  Grandy to the rescue, as always, and I loved her for it, but I had to get back up to one hundred percent and soon.

  “Maybe I can talk Grandfather Egret into accompanying me this weekend, and I can drive the RV over to the flea market in Stuart,” I said.

  “Are you certain you’re up for that?” asked Shelley.

  “Yup. I’m good.” I hoped the bravado in my voice hid the uncertainty I felt inside.

  As Madeleine and I left the shop, Crusty McNabb stuck his head out the door of his office.

  “I hear you got yourself in a bit of a scramble,” McNabb said.

  I walked over to him. “Yep.”

  “I also heard you gave the guy what-for.”

  “Well, if you call plunging my high heel into his eye what-for, then I guess I came out the winner.”

  “You might have done better if you’d simply shot him in the eye. That would get his attention.”

  “Mr. McNabb, I didn’t want to kill him.”

  “Didn’t you know? He wanted to kill you, from what I heard.”

  On the way back to the airboat business, I thought about what McNabb had said, rolling the thought of using a gun on someone who was attacking me around in my mind. I wasn’t Crusty McNabb, and I didn’t have his casual attitude toward using a weapon, but the idea of apprenticing myself to McNabb as a PI in training made me again consider learning more about guns. I knew private detectives usually had gun permits. Alex had sometimes carried one, but I’d never heard him talk about using it.

  I felt a spark of the old Eve reasserting herself.

  Chapter 12

  “Frida stopped by this afternoon while you were gone. She told us her boss wanted her to put Walter’s hit-and-run on the back burner,” Grandfather Egret told me when Madeleine dropped me off at my new home.

  “It’s a hit-and-run. Isn’t that murder?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Sammy, “but Frida’s captain believes it was an accident, and whoever was responsible is too scared to turn himself in. Given what Walter found at that construction site, I can’t believe that. There’s also the threat your attacker made, Eve.”

  “I know Frida informed her boss about the threat. What did he say? If the hit-and-run wasn’t intentional, why send someone to warn me away from investigating it?” I asked.

  “She’s not happy with her orders, but she’s overwhelmed with the cases assigned to her. Although the threat seems to confirm Walter’s death was no accident, your head injuries from the attack at the house make it possible you were only imagining the threat. Or so says Frida’s boss. It doesn’t look as if Linc will be back on the job anytime soon. He’s in the hospital now with pneumonia. Frida feels really awful about that, especially since your assault has been pushed aside also.” Sammy paced the room as he spoke.

  “What about the bones?” I asked.

  “That case is also on hold,” said Grandfather.

  “Well, what’s so important then?” I asked.

  “An old hunter’s cabin on the edge of the swamp was burned to the ground last night,” said Sammy, “and the fire marshals have declared it arson. A guy’s body was found inside with a gunshot wound in the back of the head. Frida says it looks like a professional hit.”

  Uh-oh. I felt icy fingers on my spine. Frida and the local authorities knew Nappi Napolitani spent time in this area visiting me. Frida knew he and I were close, close enough that he helped me in some tricky situations. I worried they would see this as a situation where Nappi used his influence. What I couldn’t see was why he would bother with some guy in an old cabin.

  “We need someone to help us with Walter’s case,” said Grandfather.

  “Yes, I can understand that,” I said. “I hear that Crusty McNabb is a good detective. And his rates are reasonable. How about hiring him?”

  “No, we were thinking of hiring you,” Grandfather Egret said with calm determination.

  “You can’t hire me,” I said. “I’m not a detective. I’ve got no license. And I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but I’m having a difficult time adjusting to life after my assault. I’m really not myself, not the Eve who takes on impossible missions. I can hardly get out of bed in the morning. I’m not the person you want to do your detecting.”

  I heard a ruckus out back. Three children slammed through the door, then stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of me. Three sets of black eyes regarded me with curiosity. They were all boys, neatly dressed in clean jeans and crisply ironed, colorful shirts. The oldest came forward and shook my hand.

  “I’m Jason Egret, and these are my brothers, Jeremy and Jerome.” He pointed to the other two boys, lined up by their older brother, each a head shorter than the one next to him. The smallest boy had his thumb in his mouth and held onto his older brother’s hand. Jason’s manner was grave and polite. “I understand you’ll be finding the man who killed our dad.”

  I what? I gulped.

  I looked at Grandfather and Sammy for help in explaining my position, but they simply smiled at the boys and me.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” I said. “I’m not a detective, you know.”

  “But Grandfather says you’re as smart as one, and you’re like a coon hound once you’ve got the scent,” said Jason.

  I’d never thought of myself as a hound. Sure, I was one determined gal, or had been, but now?

  The middle boy dropped his brother’s hand and stepped forward, then looked up at me with a serious expression. “Sammy says everyone loves and admires you, and I know Sammy wouldn’t love someone who wasn’t as strong and brave as him.”

  Oh gulp. How could I refute that argument?

  “Look,” I said, “here’s the thing. I’m not a real detective.
Real private detectives have licenses, carry guns, and have training in detective work. I don’t, so Grandfather and Sammy can’t hire me to find the man who ran into your father.”

  “Is that the law?” asked Jason.

  I looked at Sammy. He was still no help. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it is.”

  “That’s white man’s law, but we’re Indians,” Jason said. “We know you don’t need a license and a gun and stuff like that. Sammy says you’re real good at snooping into things, so we say we can hire you.” He gathered his brothers in a huddle, and they whispered among themselves. Jerome, the middle boy, ran off toward Grandfather’s bedroom and came back with a glass jar.

  “We’ve been saving to go to Disney, but this is more important.” He handed the jar to me. “There’s more than thirty dollars in there. We want you to be our detective.”

  I took the jar and examined its contents, mostly coins, but a few dollar bills and one five.

  “We did work around the house and Dad paid us. He’d want us to use it to help him. It’s yours,” Jason said.

  “I can’t take this money. What about Disney?”

  “We’ll go some other time,” said Jerome. “When we’re older,” he added in a mature tone of voice.

  “I-I-I …” I stuttered, so shaken by their request and their confidence in me that I wanted to cry.

  The youngest boy tugged on my shirt to get my attention. “I miss my daddy,” he said, a single tear spilling from his chocolate brown eyes and streaming down a chubby, round cheek.

  “I can’t bring him back to you, you know,” I said, kneeling and putting my hands on his shoulders.

  He brushed away the tear and nodded.

  So that’s how I became the Egret family’s private PI for the sum of thirty dollars and fifty-three cents. The children insisted upon paying me and calling the arrangement an “Indian contract.”

  Sammy drove the three boys back to their own house, where an adult cousin was caring for them in the evenings and at night.

  “It’s not a good arrangement. They need a permanent home,” said Grandfather. We were sipping tea on his porch, waiting for Sammy’s return. The phone in the house rang.

  “I’ll get it.” I ran in and picked up.

  “I’m trying to get in touch with Sammy Egret,” said the male voice.

  “This is his home, but he’s not here. Can I take a message?”

  “This is Cal at Renfro Pawn Shop. Are you the gal he came in with the other day?”

  I assured him I was.

  “I found out something interesting about that watch you were asking about. Can you come down here tomorrow so we can talk?”

  I said yes and arranged to meet him at his shop at noon. I didn’t want to take any more time than necessary away from my own business, and I knew Sammy was working David’s ranch tomorrow afternoon, but this was important to squeeze in somehow.

  I told Grandfather about the call.

  “There’s something about that watch,” he said. “I think it’s the key to everything—the bones, the hit-and-run.”

  “And the disappearance of Sammy’s father, don’t forget that.”

  Grandfather poked around in the bowl of his pipe and said nothing for a minute. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  What did this old man know that the rest of us did not? Or was it simply his ability to read a world beyond this one, like his kinship with the swamp and all its creatures, human and others.

  The headlights from a truck lit up the porch.

  “Sammy’s back,” said Grandfather. A good guess because he expected Sammy or that second sight again?

  Sammy bounded up the porch steps and took me in his arms. “Thank you, Eve, for taking this case on for the boys and for us.”

  “I may find out nothing. And if I don’t, they will have wasted their hard-earned money.”

  “You’ll find out plenty,” said Grandfather. He got up and went into the house, calling back to us, “It’s leftover stew for dinner.” I heard him bang around several pans. After ten minutes or so, the smells of meat and onion began to drift out way.

  I told Sammy about the call from the owner of the pawn shop.

  “Hurry up, Grandfather. I want to eat fast and get over to the Renfro place as soon as possible,” Sammy said.

  “I told him we’d meet him tomorrow.”

  “Not soon enough, Eve. Something wrong with your snooping sense?”

  Sammy was right. I’d simply have tossed and turned all night thinking about what the pawn shop owner had to say to us.

  Less than twenty minutes later we were in Sammy’s truck and on our way to see Cal Renfro.

  “I’ve never eaten so fast. I think I burned the roof of my mouth.” I snuggled close to Sammy. We’d had little time to ourselves, and I missed the feel of his strong body next to mine. “Maybe, if we get back early enough, we could take your canoe out.”

  “Let’s see what Renfro has to say, and we’ll go from there.”

  I looked at Sammy’s face. His mouth was set in a tight line. Was he keener to get to the bottom of this case than I was? I mentally shook my head. No one was snoopier when it came to crime than Eve Appel. Or that used to be the case. I slapped my hand down hard. It still was the case. I was just a little slow in getting back up to speed.

  “Ouch!” yelled Sammy. “You slugged me with your fist.”

  Did I? “Sorry!”

  Sammy gave me a questioning look.

  “Just thinking what I’d like to do to that guy who attacked me.”

  “Good girl.” He turned into the house at the address Mr. Renfro had given us.

  When we rang the bell, the outside light came on. Renfro opened the door and invited us into his living room. I noticed papers spread over the coffee table.

  “Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  I ran my tongue around my burned mouth. Coffee was the last thing I wanted. “Cold water?”

  He gestured toward the couch, and then walked into the kitchen. I heard the water run in the sink, and he returned with three glasses. Sammy ignored his, but I downed mine in several gulps and murmured my thanks.

  “Something about that watch kept nagging at me,” said Renfro. “Then I remembered. The week after the watch was pawned, the shop was broken into and a lot of items were taken.”

  “Was the watch one of them?” I asked.

  “Now that’s the problem. I can’t find my father’s papers on what was stolen. I know he made a list, but it’s gone. I looked everywhere.”

  “So it’s a dead end.” I could hear the dejection in Sammy’s voice.

  “Perhaps not. I’m sure the police have a record of what was taken. You could check with them.”

  “So if it was on the list, then that’s it, unless the items were recovered. Were they?”

  Renfro shrugged. “I can’t remember if anything was recovered. I was just a kid back then. But again, the police would know.”

  “Wait a minute. Even if the items weren’t recovered, maybe the police had some suspects in mind. This might be a good thing.” I was excited. The trail might have gone cold, but it was heating up once more.

  Renfro gestured at the papers on the coffee table. “The only papers I found from back then were newspaper clippings recounting the robbery. I thought you might want to take a look at the story.”

  Sammy and I looked over the newspaper account. There was little detail, only several lines about the location of the shop, its owner, and a final sentence indicating the police were following some leads. That sentence got me more excited.

  “We need to talk with the police,” I said.

  Sammy didn’t look as eager to pursue this lead as I.

  “They won’t tell us anything.” He got up from the couch and shook Mr. Renfro’s hand, thanking him for the information.

  Sammy didn’t start up the truck. Instead he stared down the deserted street and sighed.

  “It’s late to go to the police station now, but I’
m going to call Frida and tell her what we found,” I said, rubbing Sammy’s arm to comfort him.

  “Her boss said Walter’s case wasn’t important enough to pursue now.”

  “I know, but she might help smooth the way for us to find out what the police had on the pawn shop robbery, and she could find out the names of the detectives who handled it.”

  “I’m sure they’re long gone, dead or retired. That was decades ago.”

  “We’ll see. Don’t lose hope, Sammy. I have a feeling this is only the beginning.” I gave him an encouraging smile and got a tiny one in return.

  On the drive back to his place, Sammy pulled over to the side of the road. “I owe you an apology, Eve. I’m being too negative about this while you are so upbeat.”

  “No need to apologize, Sammy. And don’t think I’m being positive just to make you feel better. A few hours ago, before I met your nephews and even after I told them I’d find their father’s killer, I wasn’t sure I could do the job, but now I’m raring to go. This is the Eve you fell in love with, the old in-your-face, damn-the-consequences Eve.” I sat back in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t lying. I felt as if I’d drunk a whole pot of coffee. My body was quivering with anticipation.

  Once I lay down in Sammy’s bed, the adrenaline rush I’d experienced in the truck drained away, and I felt limp with fatigue. Sleep came quickly, but I awoke toward morning with the feeling that someone had their hands around my throat, squeezing. I gasped for breath and awoke bathed in sweat. I must have cried out because the door to the bedroom slammed open and Sammy rushed to the bed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, folding me into his arms.

  “It was just a bad dream.”

  “About the attack?” He smoothed the damp hair off my forehead and kissed my cheek.

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe helping us find Walter’s killer is too much for you now. Maybe you should let it go. We could hire Crusty as you suggested.”

  I sat up and drew back from Sammy. “No! This is my case. I’m fine.”