Chapter 6
“So what’s up with Aunt Daphine?” Richard asked as we climbed into the car.
“I don’t know. Like Aunt Nora said, she’s not saying. I tried to set up a time to talk with her, but she kept wriggling out of it.”
“Now what?”
“I suppose we might as well go by the police station and sign our statements for Junior.”
“And perhaps find out about any new developments in the shooting?”
“I am curious. After all, it’s not every day that we find a dead body.”
Junior was on the telephone when we walked into Byerly’s tiny police station, but she gestured for us to sit down. After a few more minutes, in which she didn’t get a chance to say a word, she said, “Yes, sir, I certainly will try to track down that leak. Thank you for calling.” She hung up the phone quickly.
“This has been a day and a half!” she said. “It’s just now lunch time and I’m already worn slap out.”
“The murder investigation, I assume,” Richard said.
Junior nodded. “That was Big Bill Walters on the phone. Word has gotten around that the deceased bears a definite resemblance to him, and he’s more than a little irate at the suggestion that this person could be related.”
“Have you found out who he is yet?” I asked.
“Finding out who he was was easy,” Junior said. “He had a wallet with credit cards and a driver’s license. Plus his car, including registration, was found parked on the road that runs back behind the mill. His name was Leonard Cooper, and he was an architect from Richmond, Virginia. He was a widower with a nice house, a twenty–year–old son, and a dog named Frisky. I’ve found out his bank balance, the church he attended, and the grades he made in college. I just can’t find out what he was doing at Walters Mill yesterday afternoon!”
“Was he staying with somebody in town?”
Junior shook her head. “No such luck. We found a hotel key in his pocket for the Holiday Inn on Highway 321, and the manager there identified him from his driver’s license. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t notice him having any visitors. We searched the room, but didn’t find anything but a suitcase with the stuff anyone might have to spend the weekend away from home. With one exception: he had last Wednesday’s Byerly Gazette.”
“Does that mean something?” I asked.
Junior threw up her hands. “How should I know?”
“What about the son?” Richard asked. “Doesn’t he know why his father might have come here?”
“Michael Cooper didn’t even know his father was out of town until the police tracked him down this morning. He’ll be here to identify the body later today. He’s studying at NC State in Raleigh, as it happens. He’s never heard of Byerly and was certain that his father had never lived here and fairly sure that he had never visited here. A neighbor was watching the dog, but all he knew was that Cooper was going out of town for a few days. He was supposed to be back by this morning at the latest. I’ve got the Richmond police talking to everybody else Cooper knew to try to find out if he told somebody something useful.”
“And he’s not related to the Walters family?” I asked.
“Not as far as I can tell. Big Bill was an only child, and Burt is his only surviving son. No one knows of any Coopers from any branch of the family, and besides which, Cooper was born in Tennessee. Big Bill assures me that he has no relatives in Tennessee. In fact, he quoted me his entire family tree from the Civil War to the present day to make sure that I understand that this man could not possibly be related to him.”
“Not legitimately, that is,” I said, thinking of Gladys’s idea.
Junior looked exasperated. “Not you, too. I’ve had a dozen calls this morning from people who think that Big Bill has been leading a double life with another family somewhere else. As much as that man was always on my father’s case, and has been on mine since I took over, I feel sure that he never had time to look after another family.”
I started to say something else about the idea, but Junior held up one hand to stop me. “Don’t worry, I’m checking into the possibility, just in case. It’s pretty farfetched, but even that’s better than what one woman told me. She thinks that the man was the ghost of Small Bill Walters, risen from the grave to claim his birthright. I was foolish enough to ask her how you could shoot a ghost and why a ghost would have Leonard Cooper’s belongings, and she started in on reincarnation or crystals or something like that.” She shook her head again.
“They say that everyone has a double. Maybe the looks are just a coincidence,” Richard said.
“Maybe they are, but I’d be more likely to believe that if the man hadn’t died in Walters Mill. Anyway, enough of that. I assume y’all had some reason to come down here, other than to hear about my troubles.”
“You wanted us to sign our statements from last night,” I reminded her.
“So I did.” She rummaged in the stacks on her desk until she pulled out two typewritten sheets. “Just look these over, and make sure that you didn’t leave anything out.”
Richard, the fastest reader I’ve ever met, read his twice and had it signed before I was finished. I was about to sign my own when I remembered something. “This probably doesn’t mean anything, Junior,” I said, “but when we got to the mill yesterday, Ralph said that Burt Walters was supposed to come over that evening.”
“Is that so? Walters didn’t mention it, but like you said, it probably doesn’t mean anything. Big Bill, Burt, and Burt’s wife were at a barbeque at the time Cooper was shot.”
“If that’s really when he was shot,” Richard said speculatively.
“Y’all did hear the shots,” Junior said.
“We thought we did,” Richard said, raising one eyebrow meaningfully. “What if it was a recording, and the man was actually shot earlier?”
“Richard, the body was still warm when we got up there,” I said. I didn’t care much for that particular memory.
“And unless you think the murderer kept the victim warm in the microwave in the break room,” Junior said with a wide grin, “I think we can assume that you heard the actual shots.”
“I suppose so,” Richard said reluctantly.
“I hope I don’t have to remind you two not to get involved in a police investigation,” Junior said sternly.
“We did catch two murderers last time,” I said.
“And nigh about got shot in the process,” Junior said.
“Don’t worry,” Richard said. “I’ll keep Laura out of trouble this time.”
“Uh–huh,” Junior said. “And who’s going to be keeping you out of trouble?”
The phone rang again, and Junior answered it with a look of distaste. We took that as a hint, and left her to her business.
Chapter 7
Richard and I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting folks a bit more thoroughly than the reunion had allowed for. First there was a stop at Aunt Ruby Lee’s house. She played a tape of a song her son Clifford had written, and pulled out her photo albums so we could look at the latest family pictures. Ruby Lee’s daughter Ilene was looking more and more like her mother, but unfortunately, Ilene was all too aware of how pretty she was.
Next was a visit with Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben. They showed us their water filters, and gave us a stack of printed material to take home.
We only made a short stop at Aunt Edna’s. I knew she didn’t blame me for her husband’s death, but I felt uncomfortable all the same. Besides, she had a prayer meeting to attend.
Finally we ended up at Aunt Nora and Uncle Buddy’s house, just in time for dinner. This was not accidental. Aunt Nora is the best cook in the family, and always makes enough for an unexpected guest or two. We tried to refuse her invitation for the sake of politeness, but were soon seated happily at her table.
“I wish I had known you were going to be here for dinner,” Aunt Nora fussed. “I’d have fixed something special.”
I looked at the platters o
f pork chops and fresh biscuits, and the bowls of snap beans and macaroni and cheese in disbelief. “Aunt Nora, I don’t think you could have fixed anything that I would have wanted any more than this.”
“I second that,” Richard said.
Conversation was sparse, as it always was at Aunt Nora and Uncle Buddy’s table. For one thing, food that good deserved one’s full attention. For another, Aunt Nora was too busy filling plates to talk, and Uncle Buddy and my cousin Willis never spoke two words when a grunt would do. Thaddeous was more talkative, but he had long since grown used to quiet at the table.
Only when the dishes had been cleared, and we were lingering over generous wedges of apple pie did Aunt Nora ask what Richard and I had been up to.
I said, “We went to see Aunt Daphine this morning, but we may as well not have bothered. I could not pry her out of that shop for love or money.”
Aunt Nora shook her head. “She’s been like that for nigh onto three months. At first I thought she was depressed about Paw, because some people don’t make their peace with a death right away. But I don’t think that that’s it. Daphine always could handle things like that. When Mama died, she was like a rock. Not hard like a rock, mind, but strong for the rest of us. When your mama and daddy died, she was just the same.”
“I remember,” I said.
Aunt Nora said, “That’s how she’s always been. Shoot, she lost her own husband when she was only nineteen years old, and I think she spent as much time comforting her mother–in–law and father–in–law as she did being comforted.”
“If she was so strong then,” I said, “what can it be that’s got her so down now?”
“Money,” Uncle Buddy said.
“Daddy thinks it’s something to do with money,” Thaddeous elaborated. “He heard that Aunt Daphine’s been taking money out of the bank, and even looked into taking out a second mortgage on her house.”
“I thought that the beauty parlor was doing well,” I said. “It’s always packed to the gills when I go by there.”
Aunt Nora shrugged. “It’s doing fine, as far as I know. And her car hasn’t needed any work, and she hasn’t had any medical bills. I just don’t know what it could be.”
Conversation turned to more pleasant family news after that, and we chatted for an hour or so until the phone rang.
Aunt Nora answered it. “Crawford residence. Hey there, Daphine. What can I do for you? Yes, she’s here. Hold on for a minute.” She held her hand over the receiver and said, “I guess her ears were burning. She wants to talk to you, Laurie Anne.”
I took the phone from her. “Hey Aunt Daphine. What’s up?”
“Laurie Anne, would you mind coming over to my house? Right now?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic at her change in attitude. “We’ll be right over.”
“Do you mind not bringing Richard? I’d like to talk to you alone, if that’s all right.”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll be over there directly.” I hung up the phone. “She wants me to come over there to talk.”
“Hallelujah!” Aunt Nora said. “She’s got to talk to somebody soon or she’ll just bust.”
“Richard, she wants to see me alone. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” he said.
“Shall I take you back to Aunt Maggie’s?” I asked.
“Why don’t you stay here for a spell, Richard?” Thaddeous suggested. “Monday Night Football will be on in a minute. I’ll ride you over to Aunt Maggie’s when you’re ready to go.”
“Sounds great,” Richard said.
Since I knew that Richard has no use for football, I was impressed by his devotion to family. I kissed him goodbye, hugged the rest of the folks, and left for Aunt Daphine’s.
Chapter 8
Aunt Daphine’s house was a lot like her. It had a lot of character, and was so well cared for that it looked a lot younger than it was. Aunt Daphine didn’t come to the door when I rang the bell. Instead, I heard her call out, “Come on in.”
She was on the couch in the living room, with a large photo album across her lap. She was crying, and for the first time I realized how rarely I had seen her cry. Once at my parent’s funeral and once at Paw’s—that was it.
“Aunt Daphine?” I said.
She smiled, and blew her nose into a tissue. “I’m all right. Just remembering the old days. Did I ever show you these pictures of my John Ward?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered as I sat down beside her, “but you know I love looking at family pictures.” I wasn’t sure why she had called me over to look at photos, but I knew that she must have a reason.
“This was his high school graduation picture,” she said, pointing to a carefully posed picture of a serious young man wearing a mortarboard. “This is him later that day, at the party Big Bill Walters threw for Small Bill.” This time the young man was smiling, with a beer in one hand and his arm around a young Aunt Daphine’s waist.
“That was some party. Big Bill wanted to keep it formal, but Small Bill showed up in shorts and ordered cases and cases of beer. He got the dance band so drunk that they couldn’t find their instruments, much less play them, so we danced to records instead.”
“I didn’t know you were friends with any of the Walters,” I said. The line between mill owner and mill worker was pretty sharp, mostly because of money. People in Byerly had long memories, and the local strikes had been pretty bad.
“Oh, Small Bill wasn’t anything like his father,” Aunt Daphine said. “He always wanted to be one of the gang. John Ward was his best friend, you know.”
I hadn’t known, but I nodded anyway.
She turned the page. “This was taken the day John Ward went to Vietnam. He looked so handsome in that uniform. So grown–up.”
He didn’t look grown–up to me. He looked painfully young to be going off to war.
“I don’t think of him that way, anymore,” Aunt Daphine said. “I’ve been kind of aging him in my mind all these years, imagining what he’d be like if he was still alive. I talk to him, you know, late at night when I’m alone. I loved him so much, Laurie Anne.” Her voice caught a little.
I patted her arm awkwardly, and thought about how I would feel if anything ever happened to Richard. We had already had more time together than what Aunt Daphine and Uncle John Ward had shared.
Aunt Daphine tenderly closed the album. “Laurie Anne, I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told a living soul since the week I found out that John Ward was dead.” She didn’t say anything for a minute, and I guessed she was wondering where to start. Finally she said, “You know about what happened when John Ward went to Vietnam, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I had heard it often enough when growing up, and it still sounded awfully romantic. After Uncle John Ward finished basic training, he had to go through Norfolk, Virginia on his way to Vietnam. He was only there for a couple of days, and they wouldn’t let him come home, so he called Aunt Daphine to say goodbye to her. After she got off the phone, crying her eyes out, Paw handed her the keys to his truck and some money for gas and told her to go say goodbye for real. She drove all night to get there, and they got married at a justice of the peace that day. After a two–day honeymoon, he left for Vietnam and died there, never knowing that Aunt Daphine was already carrying Vasti.
“The way you’ve always heard it isn’t the way it really happened,” Aunt Daphine said. “You see, the day I got to Norfolk was Washington’s Birthday. That’s a federal holiday, so the justice of the peace had the day off.”
It took a minute for her meaning to sink in. “If the justice of the peace wasn’t around, then how …?”
“How did we get married? We didn’t.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather, and I guess it showed on my face, because Aunt Daphine started talking faster, as if to get the rest of it out in a hurry. “We were going to, I swear that we were, but when we found out that we couldn’t, we decided to
go to a motel and tell them that we were married. I felt like John Ward was going away to do a man’s job, and he deserved to be treated like a man.” She looked down at her hands. “And I guess I wanted it, too.
“Afterwards I went home, and waited for his letters. I hadn’t gotten but a few of them when we got the telegram from the Army saying that he had been killed. His being gone was bad, but I felt even worse when I realized that my period was late. I told Maw the whole story.”
“Was she upset?” I asked.
Aunt Daphine shook her head. “She wasn’t mad at me, if that’s what you mean. Maw knew that I wasn’t the first girl it had happened to, and I wasn’t going to be the last. She was just worried about how I was going to get by. They didn’t call babies illegitimate then, they called them bastards, and what they called girls like me was even worse.
“Anyway, she and Paw and I talked it all out, and I guess it was Paw who came up with the idea. We’d just tell everybody that John Ward and I really had got married. That way, the baby could have his name.”
For a minute, I was surprised that Paw had been the one to suggest Daphine’s lying. He had always been such an honest man. But then again, he had always said that it wasn’t the letter of the law that mattered, it was the spirit.
Aunt Daphine went on. “Of course we had to tell John Ward’s parents the truth. I was dreading what they would think of me, but I should have known better. You see, they had just lost their only child and were feeling awfully alone. It’s hard on people, losing a child. Then I come tell them that they’re going to have a grandchild. They were tickled to death.
“I didn’t like lying to everybody like that,” Aunt Daphine went on, “but I had to think about Vasti. I didn’t want her to suffer for my mistake.”
“Didn’t you tell anybody else? Didn’t you even tell Mama?” I knew that Aunt Daphine had been particularly close to my mother.
Aunt Daphine shook her head. “I’ll tell you, it was hard not to tell Alice the truth. I knew I could trust her, of course, but I was pure ashamed to tell her. There she was with her husband in that pretty little house they had. And there you were, such a sweet baby. I just couldn’t tell her what I had gone and done.”
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 02 - Dead Ringer Page 6
