Leftover Dead

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  By the time Jack wandered into the kitchen in search of caffeine, Wanda Nell was on her second cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead. Sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Jack yawned. “No, I’ll get it. Stay where you are.”

  Wanda Nell sipped her coffee while she watched her husband. His coffee poured, Jack turned back to her with a smile. He dropped a kiss on her forehead before he sat down at the table with her.

  “How about some breakfast?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “In a little while. Let’s just sit and enjoy being alone together for a bit.” He stretched out a hand to her, and she clasped it.

  They spent a leisurely morning, lingering over breakfast. While they were clearing away after the meal, Wanda Nell asked Jack what time he wanted to leave for Water Valley.

  “It takes, what? About thirty minutes to get there?”

  “At the most. And on a Sunday there won’t be much traffic out that way.”

  “Then let’s leave about one. By the time we get there, people will be home from church and done with lunch. That ought to be a good time to talk to anybody. Depending on how long it takes, we can find somewhere to eat lunch while we’re there.”

  They walked out the front door of the trailer a few minutes past one, both of them dressed less casually than they usually did on a Sunday. Wanda Nell had insisted. “If I’m going into someone’s home on a Sunday, I want to look nice.”

  Jack loosened his tie before they set off in the car. “Are you sure I have to wear this?” He grimaced. “I don’t even wear them to school half the time anymore.”

  “Yes, you do,” Wanda Nell said. “If I’m wearing pantyhose and heels, you have to wear a tie.” She grinned at him.

  Jack stared into the mirror and sighed. “Henpecked already.” He turned and winked at Wanda Nell. “I love it.”

  “Pay attention to your driving.” Wanda Nell pretended to be stern. “I don’t want to end up in a ditch before we get even a mile from home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  During the drive they discussed how they would approach this T.M. Havens. Jack thought they should be as honest as possible about why they were looking for Sandra June Havens, and Wanda Nell agreed. They would be discreet, but they both felt directness was probably the best approach.

  Jack had double-checked the address on the Internet, getting directions, and when they reached Water Valley, he had no trouble finding the street.

  “Nice neighborhood,” Jack said, gazing with appreciation at the old trees that lined the street. “These houses are pretty old, from at least around World War I, I’d say.” He pulled the car to a stop in front of a two-story frame house with a wide verandah around the front and one side of it. “This is it,” he said after consulting his notes.

  Wanda Nell sat looking at the house for a moment before Jack shut the car off. “I wonder what we’ll find out.”

  “Only one way to know that. Come on, honey, let’s go knock on the door.” They got out of the car.

  “Your tie,” Wanda Nell said. She straightened it, and Jack’s hands closed over hers for a moment. Smiling, he finished the job. He took her arm as they walked up the sidewalk and the five steps to the verandah.

  Jack opened the screen door, holding it with his shoulder. There was no doorbell, only an ornate brass knocker. Jack lifted it and rapped it three times. He and Wanda Nell waited for almost a minute, and Jack was about to use the knocker again when the door opened.

  “Yeah, whadda ya want?”

  Wanda Nell and Jack stared at the girl who had opened the door. Her hair was an improbable shade of red, straight out of a bottle of henna, Wanda Nell figured. She had a ring in her nose and multiple rings in her ears. Her eyes were sullen as she slouched in front of them, her tight jeans riding low on her hips.

  “We’d like to speak to Mister or Miz Havens,” Jack said, his voice firm. “We’re not selling anything, but we do have an important matter to discuss.”

  “Ain’t no Mister,” the girl said. “Just Granny.” She stared at them, her eyes hostile.

  “Then could we speak to Miz Havens?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “Who is it, Lucinda?” A strong voice came from somewhere behind the girl.

  Lucinda turned. “I done tole you not to call me that. My name is Britney now.” Her body was stiff with annoyance, and Wanda Nell had to suppress a smile. The girl was only about fourteen, though the hair and rings and makeup aged her by six or seven years.

  “You were christened Lucinda, and that’s what I’m going to call you, missy.” The woman’s voice came clearly to them, and as Jack and Wanda Nell watched, the woman herself appeared from the gloom of the hallway.

  She was short, erect, and neatly dressed in a faded house dress. Wanda Nell judged her to be in her midseventies. Her hands were gnarled from arthritis, and her expression was severe as she regarded her granddaughter. Lucinda stomped off, leaving her grandmother at the door.

  “What do you folks want? I’ve got no use for salespeople or Jehovah’s Witnesses. You can just go on about your business if that’s what you’re after.”

  “We’re not,” Jack said. “My name is Jack Pemberton, and this is my wife, Wanda Nell. Are you Miz Havens?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed a moment. “I am,” she said in a grudging tone. “What is it you want?”

  “We’re from Tullahoma,” Jack said. “And we’re trying to find a Sandra June Bates, who was married to a Pete Havens about twenty-four years ago.”

  An expression of outrage settled on Mrs. Havens’s face. “If that tramp owes you money, you’re not getting one red cent from me.” She stepped back and slammed the door in their faces.

  Ten

  Wanda Nell and Jack stared at each other in dismay. “What now?” Wanda Nell asked.

  Jack took a deep breath. “Please, Miz Havens,” he called out, his voice strong. “She doesn’t owe us any money. We don’t even know her, but we need to find her. Please talk to us.”

  They waited, and for a moment there was nothing but silence. The heat of the day was beginning to get to both of them, and Wanda Nell could feel herself wilting. She didn’t wear pantyhose all that often, nor heels, and her feet were starting to ache. Jack looked as hot as she felt, and she knew he was itching to loosen that tie.

  Jack had lifted a hand to rap on the door again, and it opened. Mrs. Havens stood there, her face clouded with suspicion. “Are you sure she doesn’t owe you any money?”

  “No, ma’am,” Jack said. “As I said, we don’t even know her.”

  “Then what business do you have with her?” The elderly woman now seemed more curious than hostile.

  “It’s a long story,” Jack said. “And I don’t think it really has anything to do with you. It’s about her family, really. Not her husband’s family,” he hastened to add when Mrs. Havens’s expression turned doubtful. “Her own family.”

  “Well, I guess you can come in.” Mrs. Havens stood aside and motioned for them to enter.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said and gave her a friendly smile. “We sure do appreciate it. It’s getting awful hot out there.”

  “It’s July,” Mrs. Havens said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wanda Nell replied meekly.

  “Come on in here,” Mrs. Havens said after she had shut the door behind Jack.

  The house was cool and dim, and Wanda Nell felt better, just being off the hot verandah. Even with the shade it provided from the afternoon sun, it wasn’t any good against the oppressiveness of the humid day.

  She and Jack followed Mrs. Havens into a room that reminded Wanda Nell a lot of Mrs. Culpepper’s front room. Many of the pieces of furniture looked even older than the house, but it was all gleaming with polish and dust-free. Mrs. Havens obviously kept a spotless home.

  “Sit there,” Mrs. Havens said. She sat in an elderly armchair upholstered in deep red material, indicating they should take their seats on a sofa covered in th
e same fabric. Wanda Nell found it surprisingly comfortable, and she ran her hand appreciatively over the bit of vacant seat between her and Jack.

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us, and I apologize for intruding on your privacy.”

  Mrs. Havens’s face softened a fraction at Jack’s obvious courtesy. “I reckon it’s okay. But get on with it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” After a quick glance at Wanda Nell, Jack went on. “I’m a teacher at the high school in Tullahoma, and I’m also a writer. I’m doing some research for a book right now, and my wife is helping me.”

  Wanda Nell smiled demurely at their hostess while the old lady assessed her thoroughly. “You both look respectable.”

  “If you’d like,” Wanda Nell said, “you can call the sheriff of Tullahoma County, and he’ll vouch for us. His name is Elmer Lee Johnson.”

  Mrs. Havens gave a sudden bark of laughter. “You don’t mean old Ezekiel Johnson’s boy, by any chance?”

  Amazed, Wanda Nell nodded. “Why, yes, ma’am. That was Elmer Lee’s daddy. Did you know him?”

  Mrs. Havens laughed again. “Know him? I almost married him.” She shook her head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. So Zeke’s son is a sheriff? That’s one for the record books, I have to say.” She shook her head, smiling and obviously enjoying some private joke.

  “Elmer Lee’s a good man,” Jack said. “He’s a fine sheriff.”

  “The sins of the father,” Mrs. Havens said. “My, my, I bet Zeke is spinning in his grave. His son a sheriff. My, my.”

  Wanda Nell and Jack exchanged looks. Wanda Nell didn’t remember anything about Elmer Lee’s daddy besides his name, and Jack was just as stumped.

  Taking pity on their confusion, Mrs. Havens explained. “Zeke Johnson was about the biggest bootlegger in Tullahoma. That’s why my daddy wouldn’t let me marry him. Zeke took over after his daddy died, and my daddy knew all about it. So I married somebody a lot more respectable.”

  Wanda Nell shook her head. “Well, I am truly amazed, Miz Havens. I never knew that about Elmer Lee’s family.” It did explain a lot, though, about Elmer Lee. He sure hadn’t followed in his daddy’s footsteps.

  “I reckon it’s neither here nor there,” Mrs. Havens said, “but it sure is funny.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “But about Sandra June Bates. We know she married a Pete Havens. Was that your son?”

  Mrs. Havens scowled. “To my everlasting sorrow, she did. I had a real sweet girl picked out for him, she lived just down the street from us. But once he met that painted whore, he was bewitched, I swear.” Her twisted fingers gripped the arms of her chair, and Wanda Nell could see the pain it caused her.

  “We had no idea,” Wanda Nell said. “Like my husband told you, we didn’t know her, not even very much about her.”

  “Her family was bad. Her daddy ran off and left her slut of a mother and that brother of hers.” Her eyes widened in shock. “That’s why you want to talk to her, isn’t it? Her brother.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “I guess you know about him disappearing.”

  “I sure do. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want my Pete getting mixed up with that family. Her brother killed a girl and ran off, and her just as wild as she could be. No telling how many men she’d been with before she trapped my son into marrying her.”

  Neither Jack nor Wanda Nell was sure just what to say next. After a moment, Wanda Nell spoke, her voice soft. “Miz Havens, what happened to your son? Did he divorce Sandra June?”

  Mrs. Havens looked away from them for a moment, her body tense. Finally, with a deep sigh, she faced them. Wanda Nell could see the glint of tears in her eyes, but the old lady was determined not to cry in front of them. It showed in the way she sat, her back a ramrod in the chair.

  “Pete died sixteen years ago. He was killed in a car wreck. He was going after that tramp, because she’d run off with some man. He was desperate to get her back. I told him he ought to let her go, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” Her voice broke, and the tears streamed down her face.

  For a moment Wanda Nell sat, Jack stiff with distress beside her. Acting on instinct, Wanda Nell got up and went over to her. Kneeling in front of the elderly woman, she took those gnarled hands in her own and held them. “I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to hold back her own tears. “I’m so sorry we caused you pain. We surely didn’t want to do that.”

  Mrs. Havens stared down at Wanda Nell. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “You had no way of knowing.”

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” Wanda Nell asked, still clasping her hands.

  Shaking her head, Mrs. Havens said, “No, I’ll be all right in a moment. I’m sorry you had to see me this way.” Gently she pulled her hands away, and with her right, fumbled in a pocket of her dress. She pulled out a heavy cotton handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  Wanda Nell gave her one last consoling pat on the arm before she stood. Resuming her seat beside Jack, she reached for his hand. He squeezed it, and his eyes thanked her. He was still distressed by Mrs. Havens’s reaction. Wanda Nell offered an encouraging smile, and his shoulders relaxed. He mouthed the words “thank you.”

  Wanda Nell glanced back at their hostess. Mrs. Havens had regained control of her emotions, and she was gazing at them with a resigned look in her eyes.

  “What happened after that?” Jack asked.

  “She had the nerve to come back here and try to apologize to me. My husband was still alive at the time, and he almost had to throw her out the door. I just thank the Lord she and my son never had a child.” A slight smile passed over her face. “Lucinda’s my only grandchild, my daughter Elizabeth’s child. Elizabeth and her husband are in New York on business. Her husband is a doctor in Oxford.”

  “I’m sure you’re very proud of them,” Wanda Nell said.

  “I am. But nothing ever makes up for losing a child. Do you have any children?”

  “Three,” Wanda Nell said, “and one grandson with another one on the way. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose one of them.”

  “I pray you never do,” Mrs. Havens said. “But you want to find that woman. Why, though? Are you writing a book about that poor girl her brother killed?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. “They’ve never tried anybody for the murder, and I’d like to see whoever killed her brought to justice. She deserves that much. We still don’t even know who she was.”

  “Good luck to you,” Mrs. Havens said. “I get a letter from that woman every few years.” She sniffed. “She’s probably as drunk as Cooter Brown when she writes them. They’re so full of maudlin self-pity, you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Do you still have any of those letters?” Jack tried not to sound too hopeful.

  “I don’t. I can’t even believe I read them, but I do. And once I do, they go straight into the trash.”

  “Do you have any idea where she is these days?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “There’s always a return address. Like she thinks I’m going to write back to her and forgive her. I know it’s my Christian duty to forgive her, but the Lord strike me dead, I can’t.” Mrs. Havens sighed and shook her head. “The last one I got was about two years ago, maybe less. I seem to recall she was living in Tullahoma again.”

  “Do you know what name she was using?” Jack asked.

  “She married again at some point. The name on the return address was Baker. Other than that, I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you the address.”

  “You’ve given us something to go on,” Jack said. “We sure do appreciate that. I’m very sorry that we caused you so much distress with all this. It’s not what we intended.” He and Wanda Nell stood.

  “You couldn’t know,” Mrs. Havens said, looking up at them. “I know I should just let all this hatred go, but I can’t. I just hope the Lord will forgive me, come Judgment Day.”

  “No one can bl
ame you,” Wanda Nell said. “I know I’d have a hard time forgiving somebody for something like that.”

  “You find that brother of hers, if he’s still alive.” Mrs. Havens’s tone was suddenly fierce. “Make him pay for taking some other mother’s child away from her. He should pay for what he’s done.”

  “We’re going to do our best,” Jack said. “I promise you that. Thank you again for talking to us.”

  Mrs. Havens rose from her chair, and Wanda Nell touched her arm. “We can see ourselves out. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Havens’s gaze softened. “Bless you for your loving heart.” She took Wanda Nell’s right hand in her two misshapen ones and held it for a moment.

  Wanda Nell had to hold back tears until she and Jack were out on the verandah again, the door shut behind them. Without a word, Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and handed it to her. He wrapped his arm around her as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She tucked the handkerchief in the small purse she was carrying and extracted her sunglasses.

  “This is tougher than I figured it would be,” Jack said, donning his own sunglasses against the fierce afternoon sun. He led his wife down the sidewalk and back to the car. Waves of heat from the pavement struck them as Jack opened first her door, then his. They stood, letting the hot air inside the car dissipate a moment. Jack got in and started the car, turning up the air conditioning.

  Wanda Nell got in and shut her door. They sat there for a moment. “Feeling better, honey?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. I just feel so sorry for her. How awful to lose a child that way.”

  “Yeah.” Jack put the car in gear and drove down the street until he reached the next intersection. “It just breaks my heart to see someone living like that, after all these years.”

  “Some things you just never get over.” Wanda Nell stared out her window, but all she could see was Mrs. Havens in her grief.

  “Do you feel like getting something to eat before we drive back? I’m sure we can find a decent restaurant somewhere in town.”